After dinner the conversation drifted, inevitably, to children.
“Xiao Lu, have you and Miaomiao been thinking about having kids?” Ning Zhijing asked from his place on the sofa, watching the young couple across from him with a kindly look.
“We’ll start planning after the wedding early next year,” Anmiao said, then slipped her arm through her father’s as she smiled up at him. “Isn’t that a little soon, Dad?”
“I’m still a kid myself,” Ning Zhijing teased, softening when his daughter puckered up. “There’s no rush.”
He glanced at her with indulgent affection. “Besides, we’re still healthy and strong—your mother and I can help look after them. If it’s on our end they’ll be well taken care of. You two won’t have to worry.”
Logically, it made sense. Because of their family background, Ning Zhijing and Bai Jiaying were known for raising children in a way far superior to most. Leaving a child in their hands would put any parent’s mind at ease.
Lu Yan nodded. From his point of view, a child needed a good environment to grow up in; that mattered more than anything.
Ning Zhijing didn’t press. Seeing Anmiao’s lukewarm response, he waved a hand magnanimously. “It’s your decision. We’re here if you need us. We won’t let you two flounder.”
Anmiao acknowledged him with a smile and, almost on instinct, stole a glance at Lu Yan. He sat quiet, eyes deep in thought. The subject of trying for a baby needed time for him to consider.
“I heard Xixi is pregnant,” Bai Jiaying said, taking the thread of conversation in another direction. “You should call her more, Miaomiao. It’ll be good experience.”
Anmiao answered perfunctorily, but her mind wandered back to the day at the hospital door—Lu Yan’s strangely weighted comment: “Better if it’s a boy.”
She turned to look at him. He, too, seemed affected; his face stiffened, his expression unreadable. Something told her he knew more than he let on.
…
Since the pregnancy had been confirmed, Jiang Xixi’s health had taken a steady decline. Persistent, relentless morning sickness had left her thin and exhausted. The doctor had warned her that an unexpected pregnancy often brought harsher symptoms than a couple who’d planned and prepared; sleep deprivation left dark hollows beneath her eyes.
Each day survived felt like punishment. She’d thought about asking for a termination—more than once—but every time she looked into Lin Chuluo’s hopeful eyes she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She wasn’t stupid. She could see how much he cared about this child. And she’d felt a subtle rise in her standing in the Lin household since the news came—people’s deferential gazes, the attentions paid to her—she liked being cherished.
That fragile contentment shattered one evening.
Lin Chuluo had brought Jiang Xixi back to the family home for dinner. The room was full: relatives, house staff, the old butler moving about with his usual pleasant smile. At some point he remarked, innocently enough, “The little one in Madam’s belly is quite lively—must be a boy. Looks like the Lin line will be continuing.”
The words were casual, but they struck Xixi like a bell. Her hand went to the faint bump at her waist; she felt suddenly uncertain and tried to recover. “It isn’t certain to be a boy,” she offered hurriedly. “Girls can be lively too—my mother said when she was carrying me…”
Before she could finish, Lin Senior—seated in the head position—cut in, his voice booming and unyielding. “Girls are too noisy when they’re spirited. A boy will grow steadier.”
The sentence closed her mouth. She swallowed the rest of what she wanted to say and felt smaller than a whisper.
The food on the table, once sumptuous, became impossible to swallow. Morning sickness had already stolen her appetite; now every bite felt sour in her mouth. She reached for her glass, but the water was ice-cold; the chill made her teeth chatter.
“Husband, could I have some hot water?” Her gaze searched Lin Chuluo’s face, pleading and hopeful.
He glanced at her once, expression indifferent. “There’s hot water in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
It was a different man from the gentleness she’d known. The expected tenderness—the small comforts she’d assumed were hers—had vanished in a soundless, total way. She closed her eyes and forced a breath.
She should play the part of the obedient wife here, she told herself: gracious, compliant. Not demanding. Not fragile. She rose, fingers unconsciously protecting her belly, desperate to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
But a few steps later, nausea rolled over her like a wave. She gripped the couch as the room spun. Before she could reach the bathroom she bent forward and vomited in the living room.
A sharp, foul smell spread immediately, hanging heavy in the air. Even the maids flinched. Lin Senior’s face soured. He stood up with an exaggerated show of disgust and barked, “What is that smell? It’s unbearable—how is anyone supposed to eat with this here? Clean it up at once!”
Then, with one dismissive sweep of his sleeve, he left the table.
Lin Chuluo did not move from his chair. He looked calm, almost clinical. “Wu, clean it up. Aunt Zhang, take Madam to the bathroom to freshen up.”
The tone left no room for help. He issued orders, not comfort.
Zhou Si watched the scene with a cold little smile, amusement and pity mixed in his eyes. The whole thing was almost amusing to him; his glance at Xixi carried more mercy than was offered by the Lin family.
Xixi’s eyes burned with sudden, humiliating tears. She felt humiliated to the core. For twenty years she had been the darling of the Jiang household—pampered by parents, adored by her brother. She had never been treated with such blunt contempt.
Alone in the bathroom, she looked at her hollowed cheeks in the mirror and at her glassless, dull eyes. The lively little princess she used to be seemed like someone from another lifetime. Her body felt numb. A single thought, cold and precise, cut through the fog: divorce.
She finished cleaning herself in a mechanical daze. Standing there, she felt as if her life had been seen through—an ending already written.