Chapter 1: Should We Have a Child? (Part 1)

“Mom, dinner is ready.” Lin Yan respectfully knocked on the heavy oak door before her, her voice soft and sweet.

The oak door was thick and solid; her knuckles ached slightly from the knock, but the sound was muted.

Madam Leng smiled warmly as she opened the door and came out, taking Lin Yan’s hand gently. Her voice was tender. “Yan Yan, why are your hands so cold?”

Lin Yan lowered her head slightly, pondering how to answer without seeming either overly sentimental or exaggerated, when a cool voice sounded from behind her, “She’s always been sensitive to the cold.”

Her heart tightened. Turning around, she saw Leng Mohan standing at the doorway, his pure white shirt immaculate, the collar slightly open without a tie, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, and a dark gray suit draped over his arm. He looked at Lin Yan with a warm smile.

“Oh, Xiao Han, you’re back?” Madam Zhang emerged from the kitchen, a broad smile on her face. “I was just about to have Yan Yan call to ask when you’d be home and whether there’d still be food left for you. Didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Listening to Madam Zhang’s chatter, Leng Mohan felt a sudden wave of nostalgia, as if he were still a teenager. Back then, Madam Zhang’s constant nagging filled his ears, and a young girl named Lin Yan would always call him, “Brother Han, Brother Han...”

Now she was his wife, yet she had never called him that way again.

“Madam Zhang,” Leng Mohan smiled lightly at her.

“You’re back,” Lin Yan said slowly as she approached the door, placing a pair of slippers with little puppy faces on the shoe cabinet by his feet. As she reached out to take his coat and bag, her gaze met his half-smiling, half-teasing eyes.

Her heart fluttered. “Sorry, I— I grabbed the wrong ones.”

Hurriedly, she put the slippers back deep into the cabinet, took out a plain pair of simple blue slippers, placed them by his feet, and then took his coat to hang it up, placing his bag in his study.

Leng Mohan stared blankly at the slippers on his feet. He had always preferred simplicity and clarity, while Lin Yan always favored things intricate and elaborate.

Their relationship was much the same. To him, she had been his best friend’s little sister, and now she was his wife—such a straightforward matter. But in Lin Yan’s eyes, their relationship was complicated beyond measure. Since their marriage two years ago, she had never opened her heart to him as she once did.

No matter how much he wanted to spoil her, she never once felt accustomed to being cherished.

He shook his head with a smile and stepped inside.

“Xiao Han, you’re home,” Madam Leng said, sitting straight on the sofa, her posture impeccable.

Lin Yan looked on, feeling exhausted just watching her. She could never imagine ever becoming like that—a wealthy lady who must always stand and sit with perfect poise.

If she sat on the sofa, she’d surely be curled up in a ball, clutching those fluffy pillows.

“Mom, are you here to inspect our work again?” Leng Mohan sat on the armrest of the sofa, his arm draped intimately around Madam Leng’s shoulders.

“You little rascal, staying in Huaicheng means you’ve truly become a local, huh? It’s been over two years since you married, and your father and I have only seen Yan Yan once—at your wedding. You don’t even come back to Qingyuan to see your mother during the New Year. Your father’s really upset.”

She shot Leng Mohan a sideways glance before continuing, “And you live with your grandfather in Huaicheng, but the old man says you rarely visit the old residence to see him.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Leng Mohan said, scratching his nose.