They never dared to get too close. It was as if an invisible wall stood between them, a wall they themselves had built many years ago when they abandoned Sheng Yin.
Every ti they saw the children, their hearts would ache.
They dread of holding their granddaughter in their arms, of feeling the small weight of their grandson resting against their chest.
They imagined giving them gifts, telling them stories, and hearing them call out "Grandma" and "Grandpa."
But those dreams never ca true.
An entire lifeti passed, and the day they longed for never arrived. The children grew up, and the Sheng family grew old, but they never once had the chance to hug them, to even touch their hands.
In the end, all they could do was keep watching from the shadows, carrying their regret with them until the very last day of their lives.
...............
When Mrs. Yu t Fu Jian for the first ti, her heart was full of anger. In her eyes, this was the boy who had taken her son away from the path she had expected for him. Her gaze was sharp, and her lips pressed tightly together.
She turned to her son, Yu Sicong, who was quietly making a small hand gesture, telling her not to make things hard. Mrs. Yu took a slow, deep breath before speaking.
"I am not ready to accept your relationship," she said in a cold but steady voice.
The words hit like a stone in the quiet room. Fu Jian’s face lost its color, his eyes flickering with worry. Yu Sicong’s brows furrowed deeply, his expression darkening.
Mrs. Yu did not stop there. "I need ti," she continued, her tone still stiff. "I need to understand what you have seen in him before I can make my decision."
Her words might have sounded cold, but Fu Jian caught the hidden aning. This was not a complete rejection. She was leaving a small door open for him, a chance to prove that he was worthy of her son.
Yu Sicong frowned, about to say sothing, but Fu Jian gave his hand a gentle squeeze and shook his head. In a quiet voice, he told Yu Sicong not to interfere now.
Mrs. Yu noticed their little interaction, and she pressed her lips tighter. She felt a knot in her chest. She had always been an old-fashioned woman, and seeing two n together filled her with confusion, doubt, and a deep sense of discomfort.
"Mrs. Yu," Fu Jian said softly, "I understand this is hard for you. I don’t expect you to like right away. I only ask for the chance to show you who I am."
Her eyes lifted to his face for a mont. They were still cold, but there was sothing else in them now. Curiosity, maybe.
"You think you can change my mind?" she asked.
"I don’t want to change you," Fu Jian replied. "I just want you to see for myself, not just for what I am to your son."
Her gaze stayed on him for a few seconds before she looked away again. She gave no answer, but the fact that she stayed silent instead of sending him out gave Fu Jian a small bit of hope.
................
The days after that eting were not easy. Every ti Fu Jian ca to the Yu house, Mrs. Yu greeted him politely but with distance. She never smiled at him, and she often found excuses to leave the room when he was there.
Still, Fu Jian did not give up. He rembered what Yu Sicong had told him about his mother: she valued respect, honesty, and family loyalty more than anything else.
If he could show her that he cared about those things too, maybe she would soften.
The first chance ca one rainy afternoon. Yu Sicong had gone to work, and Fu Jian stopped by the Yu house to drop off so homade soup. Mrs. Yu opened the door, surprised to see him standing there alone.
"What is this?" she asked, looking at the container in his hands.
"Chicken and vegetable soup," Fu Jian said. "I made too much, and I thought you might like so."
She hesitated, then stepped aside. "Co in."
Fu Jian followed her into the kitchen. He set the container on the counter, then started ladling the soup into bowls without being asked. Mrs. Yu watched him, still suspicious.
"You cook?" she asked.
"Yes," Fu Jian said. "My grandmother taught when I was young. She said food is one way to take care of people."
Mrs. Yu said nothing, but she took a sip of the soup. Her expression did not change, but she finished the whole bowl.
.......................
Over the next few weeks, Fu Jian found more ways to spend ti around Mrs. Yu. He offered to help carry groceries, fixed a squeaky door in the kitchen, and once even walked her to the market when she ntioned she was going alone.
At first, she kept her guard up. But slowly, her words beca less sharp. She began asking him small questions about his life.
"Where are your parents?" she asked one evening as they shelled peas together.
"They passed away when I was little," Fu Jian said quietly.
Mrs. Yu’s hands paused for a mont before she continued shelling. She did not say she was sorry, but her voice softened slightly when she spoke next.
"And what do you do for work?"
"I am the CEO of the Fu Corporation." Fu Jian replied.
Mrs. Yu made a small sound, almost like approval, though she did not say the words.
.....................
The real turning point ca one winter morning. Snow had fallen overnight, and the path in front of the Yu house was covered in ice. Mrs. Yu stepped outside to get the mail and slipped. Before she could fall, Fu Jian, who had been shoveling the walkway, caught her.
"You have to be careful," he said, steadying her.
Mrs. Yu looked at him for a long mont. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her breath ca out in little white clouds.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
It was the first ti she had thanked him directly.
................
After that day, things began to change faster. Mrs. Yu started inviting him to stay for dinner when he visited with Yu Sicong. She still didn’t speak much, but she listened when he talked. She even asked about his grandmother’s old recipes and let him cook with her in the kitchen.
One evening, while they were making dumplings together, Mrs. Yu surprised him.
"You are patient," she said suddenly.
Fu Jian looked up. "I try to be."
"It is not easy to win my trust," she said. "But you have not given up. That ans sothing."
Fu Jian smiled, feeling warmth spread through his chest. "I’m glad you think so."
................
Months passed, and by the ti spring arrived, Mrs. Yu’s attitude had changed completely. She no longer looked at him with suspicion. She spoke to him as if he were part of the family.
One afternoon, she asked Fu Jian to help her plant flowers in the garden. As they worked side by side, she said sothing that made his hands freeze in the dirt.
"Fu Jian," she said, "I still do not fully understand your relationship with my son. But I see that you make him happy. And you treat with respect. That is enough for ."
Fu Jian’s throat tightened. "Thank you, Mrs. Yu. That ans more than I can say."
She gave him a small smile, the first real smile she had shown him. "You can call Auntie," she said.
It was not "mother," but it was a door opening wide.
..................
The day she gave her full blessing ca unexpectedly. Yu Sicong had been sick with a high fever. Fu Jian stayed by his side all night, wiping his forehead, making sure he drank water, and keeping track of his temperature.
In the morning, Mrs. Yu ca into the room quietly. She watched for a mont as Fu Jian, exhausted and pale, changed the cool cloth on her son’s forehead.
She stepped forward and touched Fu Jian’s shoulder. "Go rest. I will watch him now."
Fu Jian shook his head. "I’m fine. I just want him to get better."
Mrs. Yu’s voice softened in a way Fu Jian had never heard before. "You love him very much."
"Yes," Fu Jian said simply.
She looked at him for a long mont, then nodded. "Then you have my blessing."
From that day on, she treated him like family. She invited him to family gatherings, cooked his favorite dishes, and even defended him when other relatives asked too many questions.
Fu Jian never forgot the first day they t, when her eyes had been so cold.
Now, when he looked across the dinner table and saw her smiling at him, he knew that patience, respect, and small acts of care had built sothing stronger than he had ever imagined.
And Mrs. Yu, though she never said it out loud, felt grateful too. She had learned that love did not always look the way she expected.
Sotis, it grew slowly, like a plant in winter, but when it blood, it filled the whole room with warmth.
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