Chapter 558 - 481: Confiding
Chapter 558: Chapter 481: Confiding
Yang Liu’er didn’t stay at a hotel or the office, nor did she go to the new courtyard home she had just bought. That evening, after having dinner at the Lu Family’s house, Weiwei clung to her and wouldn’t let her leave, so she ended up staying the night.
She was certain Bai Junfan wouldn’t come back for her. And just as she expected, after leaving her at noon, he had vanished without a trace, not a single word from him.
Yang Liu’er sneered. ’So this is my dear Brother Jun Fan. He talks about liking me, loving me, swearing that I’m the most important person in his heart. But the moment he has to make a choice, he leaves me every single time, without a moment’s hesitation!’
Weiwei considered himself a big boy now and no longer needed Aunt Yang to read him stories. All he wanted was for her to sit by his bed and knit while keeping him company. The little guy was kicking and somersaulting on the bed until Yang Liu’er scolded him, afraid he’d get too excited and have an even harder time falling asleep. She allowed him to lie under the covers and play with his toys, looking at a new comic book from Aunt Xiao Man. As he read, he drifted off. Yang Liu’er put down the small, half-finished crocheted cotton vest, stood up to tuck him in, and gazed at the boy’s peaceful face. A gentle smile appeared on her own as she leaned down and kissed his forehead.
Although the little guy was still especially attached to his aunt, he was old enough to be a little particular. He refused to give out kisses or let any woman kiss him, not even his aunt. If she wanted to kiss him, she had to "ambush" him after he fell asleep.
A sound came from behind her. Yang Liu’er turned to see Lu Jian Country standing in the doorway on a pair of crutches. He was tall, his gaze gentle and smiling as he asked softly, "Is he asleep?"
Yang Liu’er nodded. "This winter break has spoiled Weiwei rotten. He’s been playing late into the night and refusing to sleep. This can’t go on. Once school starts and things are back to normal, I won’t let him mess up his schedule on the next break... Brother Lu, you must be tired too. I’ve already made your bed. Should I give you a hand and help you get to bed?"
"I slept for a long time this afternoon, so I’m not tired yet. Are you hungry? Jianling made a late-night snack. She left two bowls warming in the pot. I’ll have some with you," Lu Jian Country said with a smile.
Yang Liu’er realized she really was hungry. She packed her crochet hook and cotton yarn into a cloth bag, looped it over her arm, and walked to Lu Jian Country’s side to help him turn around slowly. The two of them left the room and went into the outer living area. Yang Liu’er hung the bag on the wall and went to the kitchen to get the food, while Lu Jian Country sat down at the round table to wait.
Lu Jianling had made lamb wontons. Yang Liu’er handed a bowl to Lu Jian Country and held her own, taking a sip of the savory, hot broth and sighing in contentment. "This is delicious. It’s Weiwei’s favorite. It’s a shame he ate so much tonight, or I’d have him eat some too."
"Weiwei is happy just seeing you at home, so everything tastes good to him. Jianling didn’t tell him when she was making it on purpose. She was afraid he’d overeat. She’ll make him a fresh batch tomorrow morning."
Lu Jian Country looked at Yang Liu’er, his voice full of concern. "You haven’t seemed yourself these past few days. You look pale, and you haven’t been going home. Jianling told me you’re thinking of selling the courtyard home you just bought. What’s going on? Can you talk to me about it?"
The moment he brought it up, all her troubles came rushing back. Her heart ached, and the food in her mouth suddenly tasted like ash. "Brother Lu, let’s talk after we finish the wontons."
"Alright, let’s eat first. Just remember that this is your home. Me, Jianling, Weiwei, and Dad—we’re all your family. No matter what happens, you have to tell us. We’ll face it with you."
Yang Liu’er nodded and swallowed a wonton. She stole a glance at Lu Jian Country, who was focused on his soup. A warm current flowed through her heart, and her eyes began to sting and itch, as if from the steam of the hot soup.
The Lu family treated her like one of their own, and she was very fond of them. Her bond with Weiwei, in particular, was no different from that of a real mother and son.
Before Brother Lu returned, she had seen a framed photo of him on the wall. It was taken before Weiwei was born, when he was eighteen or nineteen. He looked tall and skinny, with a boyish face and an indifferent expression. Yang Liu’er had glanced at it without giving it much thought. Later, when Weiwei insisted on writing a few lines himself in a letter to his father, Jianling had no patience for his chicken scratch, so Yang Liu’er stepped in to guide his hand. In the end, Jianling washed her hands of the matter entirely, leaving all correspondence with Brother Lu to Yang Liu’er and Weiwei. That was how Yang Liu’er came into contact with Brother Lu. Perhaps he was happy to see his son’s childish handwriting, because Brother Lu began to write frequently, sending at least two letters a month. In return, Yang Liu’er would help Weiwei write back. She noticed that this made Weiwei more interested in learning to read and practice his characters. She was, of course, happy to see the child making progress, so she was glad to help.
Lu Jianling had laughed, saying her brother’s personality had changed. In previous years, he hadn’t written home so often—they were lucky to get one letter every six months. Even when he sent money home, he wouldn’t write more than a few words in the memo section of the remittance slip.
Yang Liu’er and Brother Lu’s correspondence became a series of questions and answers, and they got along quite well. She greatly admired his penmanship. His handwriting was concise and forceful, yet neat and steady, not the least bit sloppy. He even placed every punctuation mark perfectly. He didn’t seem like someone who spent his days eating in the wind and sleeping in the dew. Yang Liu’er imagined him as a warm-hearted and extremely conscientious older brother. A road or bridge built by a team he led would undoubtedly be a project you could trust one hundred percent.
When Brother Lu came home injured, seeing him in person gave Yang Liu’er a real shock. This was no scrawny youth from the picture frame, nor was he the preachy, kind-hearted old brother she had imagined. Even injured and in a wheelchair, he seemed so tall and strong, with bronze skin, well-defined, heroic features, thick brows, and deep-set eyes. He had an imposing air without being angry—a true tough guy, through and through.
But that was just her first impression. After spending a couple of days with him, Yang Liu’er came to understand that Brother Lu really was the warm-hearted person she’d thought, just with a cold exterior. He also treated people differently based on who they were. With his own family and the neighbors, he was very attentive. But outsiders couldn’t expect to see him smile, no matter how rich or powerful they were. If he wasn’t in the mood, he could go the entire time without saying more than a word or two.
The small Lu household had always been quiet and peaceful, but since Brother Lu’s return, they’d had quite a few visitors.
Brother Lu doted on Weiwei, and he was quietly protective and indulgent toward Jianling and Yang Liu’er. He said he saw Yang Liu’er as a little sister and didn’t treat her any differently. Yang Liu’er was incredibly grateful and respected Brother Lu as if he were her own flesh-and-blood brother.
Brother Lu had waited up for her tonight to have a late-night snack, obviously because he’d noticed she was unsettled. Now that he had asked, Yang Liu’er felt she shouldn’t hide it from him.
But for some reason, the moment Yang Liu’er opened her mouth, before she could even say a word, tears began to fall like rain. She couldn’t stop them. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak, only able to let out choked sobs.
A flash of sympathy crossed Lu Jian Country’s eyes. He instinctively reached out to Yang Liu’er, but he froze for a second when his fingers touched her soft hair. With a soft sigh, he pulled his hand back, took a plaid handkerchief from his pocket, and offered it to her.