Chapter 16 Lu Yan’s Gift

Shen Qingyi was slightly surprised; this was the first time she had ever received a gift from Lu Yan.

She placed the dish she was holding on the table, walked over to the sofa, glanced at the tape recorder on the table, and picked up the cassette to take a look. To her surprise, it actually contained several songs she quite liked.

Her feelings were a bit complicated as she picked up the tape recorder and inspected it from all sides.

Lu Yan watched her fair, slender fingers pressing the buttons on the tape recorder, her long lashes gently curled, and her lips drawn into the faintest of smiles. His mood brightened at the sight.

"You need to plug it in for it to play!" Lu Yan blurted out, only to feel a little foolish—did she really need to be told that?

Shen Qingyi didn’t seem to mind. She lifted the recorder and said, “Thank you. Go wash your hands; dinner’s ready.”

With that, she carried the tape recorder and cassette into her room.

That night’s dinner was, as always, sumptuous. The braised pork was tender and flavorful, several small fish were fried to a golden crisp on both sides, the water spinach was stir-fried until bright green and crunchy, and a bowl of string beans was also fresh and delicious.

Naturally, most of these dishes ended up in Lu Yan’s stomach; An'an only ate a little fish, while Shen Qingyi had half a bowl of water spinach.

An'an had never found his mother’s cooking especially tasty before, but seeing how much Lu Yan was enjoying the meal, he couldn’t help but ask with a bright-eyed smile, “Are these dishes really that good?”

Lu Yan paused his chopsticks and answered earnestly, “They’re delicious. I didn’t expect your mom to be such a good cook.”

An'an thought he’d misheard, but the truth was right in front of him—his father had really said that. He couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Did you have a hard life before?”

Shen Qingyi had never told her son anything about Lu Yan, so she was puzzled by his sudden question.

Lu Yan considered for a moment. “When I was a child in the countryside, life was quite hard. But things got better after I went to university.”

An'an nodded with the air of a little grown-up. “That explains it!”

Lu Yan was intrigued by An'an's look of enlightenment. “Why do you ask?”

An'an glanced at Shen Qingyi, who looked curious as well, then hesitated before saying, “Aunt Cheng and Uncle Xia never ate at our house before. Not even now…”

Hearing this, Shen Qingyi finally understood: her little boy was implying her cooking used to be terrible. Her temper flared, and she reached over to twist An'an’s ear. “You cheeky thing—what do you mean by that? I worked so hard to improve my cooking, and you still dare to complain?”

An'an, caught by the ear, dared not struggle and pleaded repeatedly, “I was wrong! Mom’s cooking is much better now—just look how happy Dad is eating!”

At the sound of “Dad,” Lu Yan was momentarily taken aback, a long-awaited emotion stirring within him. His gaze fell on his son's scrunched-up face, and a deep, indescribable sense of satisfaction washed over him.

A smile lit Lu Yan’s dark eyes, and he nodded at Shen Qingyi. “Yes, it’s delicious!”

After a pause, he added, “Really!”

Shen Qingyi released An'an’s ear and said, “You hear that? Your father says it’s good!”

At her words, the curve of Lu Yan’s lips deepened, and he promptly polished off the rest of the braised pork and fish.

This time, Shen Qingyi didn’t leave the table early but sat with An'an, waiting for Lu Yan to finish eating.

Only when Lu Yan had emptied the plates did she speak: “Have you written An'an’s certificate? I plan to register his household record for him this weekend.”

Lu Yan stood up to clear the dishes. “It’s in my bag. I’ll give it to you after I wash up.”

Lu Yan went into the kitchen to wash the dishes, An'an ran to the sofa to watch TV, and Shen Qingyi went into her room.

When Lu Yan finished washing up, he fetched the certificate from his bag and asked An'an, “Where’s your mom?”

“In her room,” An'an replied, propping his chin in his hands and gazing at the TV.

Lu Yan walked to Shen Qingyi’s door and knocked. A gentle voice called from inside, “Come in, the door’s not locked.”

The door opened softly. This was his first time entering Shen Qingyi’s room. It was neat and cozy, spotless. The tape recorder he’d just bought was sitting on her desk, beside a vase holding pale blue hydrangeas.

He approached, handed the certificate to Shen Qingyi, and as he glanced down, noticed several sketches on her desk.

They were excellently drawn—just a few strokes, but vivid and lifelike.

Shen Qingyi closed the sketchbook, accepted the certificate, and said, “Thank you.”

“There’s no need for such formality between us. Besides, it’s what I ought to do.”

Shen Qingyi didn’t know what else to say besides thank you, so she simply replied softly, “Alright.”

She stood and placed the certificate into a bag in her wardrobe.

It was then that Lu Yan noticed several photographs under the glass on her desk: An'an’s one-month-old photo, his first birthday portrait, and family pictures from her childhood, including one of him with Professor Shen.

Seeing Lu Yan’s gaze linger on the photos, Shen Qingyi guessed he was looking at An'an and smiled. “An'an was very cute when he was little.”

Lu Yan returned to himself. “You’ve worked hard.”

Shen Qingyi was not one to make a fuss. “It wasn’t hard. Since I chose to have him, I should’ve been prepared.”

But the more sensible she was, the more Lu Yan felt a pang in his heart. Before marrying him, she had been a girl who’d never so much as dipped her fingers in household chores.

Yet he didn’t know what to say. “I’ll go keep An’an company.”

As Shen Qingyi watched Lu Yan’s departing figure, a strange thought crossed her mind—perhaps, in his heart, An'an had surpassed his childhood sweetheart.

That night, after Lu Yan left, she bathed An'an and noticed he was chattier than usual.

“Mom, Dad is really amazing!”

“How so?”

“I just realized that a storybook doesn’t have to have only one ending. Dad came up with so many possibilities. That way, one book can become many, and you can make up anything you want.”

Unlike his mother, whose stories always had only one beginning and one ending, with never any surprises.

…

Early the next morning, Shen Qingyi took An'an out to handle his household registration.

She held An'an’s hand, just about to leave the military housing compound, when she spotted Wang Chunlian approaching in a red floral jacket. Shen Qingyi considered turning away and pretending not to see her. Her relationship with Wang Chunlian had always been lukewarm, and after what happened with Doudou, she’d kept her distance.

Even when Wang Chunlian had tried to curry favor, it was always out of self-interest.

But Wang Chunlian had no intention of letting her slip by. She called out with a beaming smile, “Qingyi, has Lu Yan been over these past two days?”

Shen Qingyi replied coolly, “Yes.”

“Oh, that’s good! My husband said Lu Yan’s family reported him to his supervisor the day before yesterday, and they had a long talk—apparently, it was serious. Then Doudou’s father went to find out what happened, and, well, it turns out…”

Wang Chunlian deliberately trailed off, and sure enough, Shen Qingyi, who had been about to walk away, stopped in her tracks.