Chapter 2

After the guests left that evening, He Yuheng handed me a folder.

Inside were the documents registering the transfer of ownership of the shop premises and a long-term lease.

“There's nothing wrong with the papers your grandmother left,” he said. “But your father may still make trouble. I asked the lawyer to make the arrangements more watertight.”

I didn't take it immediately.

“Are you helping me because of the cooperation between our families?”

“No.” He looked at me. “Because it's something you want to protect.”

The balloons by the window bumped softly together.

Suddenly, the man I had always called “Mr. He” felt very close.

7

It was when Xiaoman fell ill that I truly realized how deeply he had settled into the most vulnerable part of my heart.

He had been perfectly well during the day. That evening, his temperature suddenly rose above thirty-nine degrees.

A doctor examined him at home and said it was a common viral infection that needed monitoring. He Yuheng canceled the next day's appointments. I closed the studio's booking calendar too.

Delirious with fever, Xiaoman kept murmuring, “Mom, don't go.”

I sat beside him, wiping away his sweat and helping him drink. By midnight, my eyes stung with exhaustion, but I didn't dare close them.

He Yuheng brought hot congee from the kitchen and took the cloth from my hand.

“Get some sleep. I'll watch him.”

“No.” I shook my head. “If he wakes and doesn't see me, he'll be frightened.”

After a moment, he pulled up a chair beside mine.

Toward dawn, Xiaoman's forehead finally cooled. He opened his eyes, felt for my finger, and only then fell peacefully asleep again.

All the tension left me. I sank back in my chair.

He Yuheng spread a light blanket over my legs.

“Cheng Wu, you've done more than enough.”

I looked up. “Did you look after him like this before?”

“Yes.” He paused. “After what happened to Zhiyao, he used to cry at night. He wouldn't let anyone else hold him. I just sat beside the cot until he cried himself out.”

It was the first time he had spoken of those days without being asked.

“Why don't you tell him how much you love him?”

He watched the sleeping child, weariness and self-reproach flickering in his eyes.

“I'm afraid I'm not doing enough. And I'm afraid he'll say he misses his mother, and I won't know what to tell him.”

I laid my hand over his.

“Then learn, little by little. You can teach him to read, ride a bicycle, and eat on time. I'll teach you both how to be together.”

He turned his hand and held mine. His palm was warm.

The next morning, Xiaoman woke to find us slumped asleep on either side of his bed.

He reached out and touched our hair in turn.

“I think I've got two really good grown-ups.”

My nose stung. I deliberately teased him.

“Then you'll have to grow into a really good child too.”

“All right,” he agreed seriously.

8

Before the summer holidays, the kindergarten held a family sports day.

Xiaoman signed up for the tied-leg family race and the parent-child relay, but the space for his parents' names remained blank.

At previous school events, He Yuheng often hadn't made it in time. Aunt Zhou would go with him instead.

He never cried. He simply put his medals away in a drawer afterward.

This time, I took a pen and wrote both our names.

On the day, He Yuheng appeared on the field in sportswear, drawing repeated glances from the other parents.

Xiaoman ran three circles around him, checking that his father really wasn't wearing a suit, and laughed without stopping.

Before the tied-leg race began, a child from the next class deliberately bumped into him and said he “didn't have a real mom.”

His face flushed. His fingers curled into fists.

I was about to step forward when he looked up at me, then copied my usual manner and spoke each word clearly.

“I have a mom. Her name is Cheng Wu. She picks me up every day.”

The other child's parent hurried to apologize.

I didn't tell Xiaoman to put up with it.

“Well said. When someone says something you don't like, protect yourself first. Then come to Mom or Dad.”

The whistle blew. We tied our legs together.

He Yuheng's steps were steady, but Xiaoman and I couldn't find the same rhythm. We lurched sideways almost as soon as we started.

He caught us at once and counted softly.

“One, two. One, two.”

Xiaoman called the rhythm louder than anyone.

We didn't win. But when he received a bronze medal, he looked as happy as though he held the whole world.

That evening, he hung it in the most visible spot on the living-room wall. He insisted on bringing out all the certificates he had previously hidden away too.

He Yuheng helped him stand on a chair to put them up, while I steadied it.

Suddenly, Xiaoman said, “Dad, Mom, our home feels more and more like a family.”

He Yuheng paused, then lowered his head and laughed softly.

Looking at the wall of crookedly mounted certificates, I felt my heart soften too.

9

Eventually, the Cheng family came after the shop again.

My father summoned me to the company. The two families were about to collaborate on a hotel project, he said. The board considered the image of Mist & Blooms “insufficiently stable” and hoped I would transfer ownership to the company for centralized management.

I pushed the agreement back across the table.

“The hotel project has nothing to do with my shop. If you want to work together, negotiate on business terms. Don't throw my property in as a free gift.”

He frowned.

“Cheng Wu, you've grown more difficult since marrying into the He family.”

“I've always been like this. Before, I held back because you're my father.” I met his gaze. “When Grandma was in hospital, you said her leaving me the shop disgraced our family. Now it's made a little name for itself, you want it back. You want the shop. You're not worried about me.”

His expression turned ugly. He was about to speak when the meeting-room door opened.

He Yuheng came in carrying Xiaoman, who held a drawing.

He had finished work early and gone straight to the studio to collect us. Finding I hadn't returned, he had brought Xiaoman here.

He made no attempt to intimidate my father. He simply set a folder on the table.

“Chairman Cheng, the assets in Cheng Wu's name have no connection with our project. He Group will assess the project according to the original plan. We won't accept additional conditions.”

My father looked at him.

“Yuheng, are you disregarding the relationship between our families for her sake?”

“No,” he said. “That's exactly why that relationship needs to be built on respect.”

Xiaoman slid from his arms, ran to me, and secretly pressed his drawing into my hand.

It showed a little flower shop, with three people standing outside. Across the sign, in crooked writing, were the words: Mom's Shop.

I stroked his head. My last trace of hesitation disappeared.

Outside the company, He Yuheng asked, “Do you feel I interfered too much?”

“No. But next time, you could tell me first.”

He nodded very seriously.

“All right. Then next time you're upset, tell me first too.”

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

“He Yuheng, are you repeating the lesson I taught you?”

“Yes.” He smiled too. “Lesson one: family members shouldn't have to guess.”

10

That autumn, the studio secured an important brand event.

The venue was the botanical garden on the outskirts. The date coincided with He Group's anniversary banquet.

I had planned to decline the banquet, but He Yuheng said, “Your work was arranged first. Go and do what you want to do. I'll take Xiaoman.”

I asked whether he minded.

He adjusted my scarf.

“Cheng Wu, I didn't marry you to shut you in a glass cabinet.”

The event ran late. When I hurried to the banquet venue, a little pollen still clung to my dress.

Xiaoman waited in the lounge, swaying with sleepiness. The moment he saw me, he woke right up.

“Mom, you're here!”

He pressed a little box into my palm.

Inside lay a simple silver cufflink, with a tiny daisy hidden along its edge.

“Dad and I chose it together,” he said shyly. “His cufflinks are always so black. I wanted them to have flowers.”

He Yuheng stood beside him, looking unusually awkward.

“He spent a long time choosing.”

I looked at the cufflink and remembered the daisy sticker on his sleeve at the studio. Suddenly, I understood how this family had grown warmer, little by little.

Xiaoman had been the first to reach out, drawing together two adults who weren't good at showing affection.

After the banquet, He Yuheng drove me home.

The car stopped at the courtyard gate. For once, he didn't get out immediately.

I turned toward him.

“What is it?”

He held the wheel in silence for a long time.

“Cheng Wu, when we registered our marriage, I told you that you didn't need to take on a mother's responsibilities. Looking back, that was selfish.”

“You were afraid I'd feel pressured.”

“But I was afraid too.” His gaze was utterly sincere. “Afraid you'd grow tired one day. Afraid Xiaoman would lose another mother. More afraid that once I fell for you, I'd have no right to ask you to stay.”

Something brushed against my heart.

I unfastened my seat belt and leaned over to fasten the daisy cufflink to his sleeve.

“He Yuheng, I've never thought of Xiaoman as a burden,” I said. “And as for you... it isn't as though I don't like you.”

His breath caught. Then he reached out and drew me into his arms.

The embrace was restrained but wonderfully steady, as though he had finally agreed to give me what he had kept hidden.

Osmanthus blossoms carpeted the courtyard. Xiaoman, pressed against the car window, caught sight of our return and waved excitedly.

As I opened the door, He Yuheng took my hand.

This time, he didn't let go.

11

Before winter arrived, Xiaoman's kindergarten held an exhibition on the theme “My Family.”

He was mysterious for days, refusing to let us see his work.

On exhibition day, we sat at the back of the classroom and watched him step onto the little stage with his drawing board.

His picture showed neither the grand house nor the wall of medals.

It showed a round dining table, with broccoli, strawberry cake, and a bunch of lisianthus.

Dad had a daisy on his cuff. Mom held flower shears. Xiaolan lay beneath his chair.

“Xiaoman, what does your family mean to you?” his teacher asked.

He thought for a moment, then answered in his soft little voice.

“Someone waits to eat with me. When there's thunder, someone builds a house with me. And when I do something wrong, they ask if I'm hurt first.”

For a moment, the classroom was still.

My eyes grew hot. He Yuheng took my hand. The warmth of his palm slipped between my fingers, familiar and reassuring.

That evening, after his bath, Xiaoman crawled under the covers with Xiaolan.

Suddenly, he asked, “Mom, will you and Dad get divorced?”

I froze.

Perhaps he had overheard the word in some conversation among adults. Children didn't understand marriage, but they understood the fear of separation.

I sat beside him. Instead of reaching for pretty words, I answered seriously.

“Sometimes Dad and I will disagree. We'll get angry, and we'll talk things through. But we won't leave you behind, and we won't make you guess all on your own.”

He Yuheng sat on the other side.

“We'll always be your mom and dad.”

Xiaoman looked between us and slowly relaxed. He shifted into the middle, making room for us.

“Then can you stay until I fall asleep tonight?”

“Yes.”

We answered together.

The lights went out. A soft wind stirred beyond the window. With one hand holding mine and the other holding He Yuheng's, Xiaoman soon fell fast asleep.

Leaning against the headboard, I whispered, “I once asked whether I could have Xiaoman if we divorced.”

He turned toward me.

“I remember.”

“I don't need to ask anymore.” I smiled. “Because I don't want a divorce.”

He said nothing. He only tightened his hand around mine.

In the darkness, the daisy cufflink quietly caught a little moonlight.

12

The following spring, Mist & Blooms opened a second shop beside the botanical garden.

On opening day, Aunt Zhou bustled about welcoming guests. Xiaoman wore a little suit with a lisianthus bloom he had chosen pinned to his chest, handing out illustrated maps.

His handwriting was still crooked, but he insisted on filling an entire stack of cards with: “Welcome to Mom's Flower Shop.”

He Yuheng helped me carry buckets of flowers by the entrance, the same daisy cufflink at his wrist.

Now, he sometimes took a detour to collect us after work. When Xiaoman said, “I'm a little sad,” he would stop working on his computer and listen properly.

I had finally learned to tie the child's hair so it wouldn't come loose, not to rush him with questions after a nightmare, and to cut broccoli into little trees so he would eat a few more bites.

That afternoon, sunlight streamed through the greenhouse, falling over green leaves and fresh petals scattered across the floor.

Xiaoman ran toward me with a bunch of lisianthus in full bloom, so fast he nearly stepped on his shoelaces.

He Yuheng caught him. Smiling, I accepted the flowers.

Their petals were soft, with a faint, delicate scent.

I looked down at the little face lifted toward mine, then at the man nearby shielding us from the spring breeze.

Beyond the glass, traffic flowed slowly past. Inside, flower stems stirred gently in the light.

I gathered Xiaoman into my arms, took He Yuheng's hand with my free one, and walked with them toward the brightest part of the greenhouse.

13

Only after the second shop opened did I discover that running two flower shops while caring for an energetic child was much harder than I had imagined.

Not long after opening, the employee responsible for purchasing suddenly needed extended leave for a family matter.

Mother's Day orders arrived all at once. For several days, I went to the flower market at dawn and checked the accounts at night, often coming home very late.

At first, Xiaoman didn't make a fuss. He simply left his little night-light on for me.

Then one night, I opened his bedroom door and found him asleep over his small desk. Beside him lay a sheet recording the times I came home.

Crooked suns and moons covered the page. Beneath each box he had written: “Mom's home” or “Mom's not home yet.”

My heart sank.

He Yuheng came in behind me. His face changed at the sight of the paper.

He didn't reproach me. He simply lifted Xiaoman gently into bed and tucked him in.

I stood beside the bed for a long time without speaking.

I had thought that if I worked hard enough and tried hard enough to come home, I could fulfill every role well.

But children didn't grow according to an adult's timetable. Having a good reason didn't make his waiting any less lonely.

The next morning, I apologized at breakfast.

“I've been very busy, and I didn't explain properly. I made you wait too long.”

I placed the paper before him.

“If I'm going to be late, I'll tell you beforehand. And if you're unhappy, you can tell me directly.”

Xiaoman rubbed his eyes. His first question was, “Is it because you don't like me anymore?”