The room was silent for a while, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of water splashing from the koi pond and their own breath.
Su Jinhe looked even more nervous as he gulped down hot tea and cleared his throat before continuing to talk, more like acting.
His expression softened, and his voice dropped to a gentle, almost fatherly timbre.
"ilin... I know I was wrong. I’ve had ti to reflect, and I realize now how much pain I’ve caused you."
He clasped his hands together on the table and sighed, as if the weight of years were suddenly pressing down on him.
"I wasn’t a good father. I admit that. But... I’m here now. I want to make ands."
He was proud of his performance. If not for money he would never did this, ’Damn it this brat! I will make sure you drop to your knees when this is all over.’
His eyes flicking slightly to Zhao Yiming, he tried his best to appear friendly, ’And this bastard too... I will kill him!’ he clenched his hands tightly.
Su ilin sat in silence for a mont. Her tea had long gone cold and untouched. She looked down, lips pressed tightly together, her shoulders visibly tense.
Then her voice broke through the quiet, trembling and raw. "Why now?"
Su Jinhe blinked. "What do you an?"
Her eyes slowly lifted, red-rimd and glistening. "Why now?" she repeated, louder this ti.
"Why not when I was married to that horrible man? Why not when I cried myself to sleep every night, praying soone—anyone—would take away from that place?"
A crack began to form in the delicate veneer of the teahouse’s tranquility.
Su ilin was braver today, even when she was ashad of Zhao Yiming. But she knew he would never judge her for what was happening in her miserable life.
Zhao Yiming was part of her courage anyway, as his hands held her gently but firmly.
"Do... Do you know what it was like?"
ilin’s voice cracked again as she spoke, her words tumbling out faster now, each one sharp and jagged.
"He mocked in front of his friends. Called dumb and poor. A ’farmgirl with no manners’... even when I did everything for him. EVERYTHING!"
Her voice was slightly higher, even when her tears were almost falling.
Zhao Yiming remained quiet beside her, his hand reaching to rub her shoulder gently. He didn’t interrupt. He knew this wasn’t his mont to speak, it was hers.
But deep down in his heart, he was angry, rage toward the dead Jin Haolong and Su Jinhe!
"I cooked for him, cleaned for him, smiled when his friends laughed at , when they mocked !’
"I was his goddamn maid! Not a wife, not soone that equal to him! A MAID!"
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, the handkerchief long forgotten on the table.
"And-and he never even touched . Never! Not once! He said my body made him sick."
Zhao’s hand briefly clenched at that. In his mind, he was glad that damned bastard died!
"I begged you," she continued, looking directly at her father now.
"Don’t you rember? I called you once. Just once. I asked you to co visit ."
’To just stay with for one day, since you are the only one I know, I close to and I hope you understand your daughter’s pain!"
"But... You hung up on instead," She frowned, rembering about her sad past life.
"Told I was being dramatic. Said I should be thankful soone like Jin Haolong even took . As if I never mattered as a human being. Just as a wife, a maid, and nothing more..."
A flash of mory hit her. A younger ilin sitting on the cold marble tiles, even when Jin’s apartnt was big, bigger than even her dream. But it felt suffocating.
Pressing a bruised arm to her side, phone pressed to her ear, only to hear the click of disconnection.
Her father’s voice was sharp in her head: "You’re embarrassing yourself. If you ruin this marriage, don’t co crawling back to ."
"I was your daughter," she whispered.
"You still are," Su Jinhe said softly, but there was a flicker—barely perceptible—in his eyes.
Zhao Yiming caught it.
He said nothing, only tightened his arm protectively around ilin’s shoulder as her sobs returned.
And still, Su Jinhe kept his mask on.
"I know, sweetheart. I know. That’s why I’m here. To fix things."
The silence lingered long after Su ilin’s voice faded into a broken sob.
Su Jinhe sat quietly, staring at his daughter with a strangely hollow look. He took a deep breath and lifted the teacup again, his hands trembling just slightly, this ti, not entirely from acting.
"...Do you rember your little brother?"
That caught ilin off guard. Her sobs stilled. Zhao Yiming’s brow furrowed as he glanced at her.
"Zhihao," Su Jinhe said quietly. "Your baby brother. You used to call him ’Xiao Hao’. He always followed you around like a little tail."
Su ilin blinked, her expression softening as a flicker of old mory stirred.
"Why are you bringing him now?"
Her little brother was a taboo conversation in the Su Family because of how sadness and rage they felt toward what happened to their lovely boy.
But still, Su Jinhe continues. "Just hear , ilin. Everything has a reason, even greed and neglect."
"He died when he was twelve," his voice heavy, gaze distant. "A fever. We couldn’t afford the hospital, or even the right antibiotics."
"Do you rember how despair we felt that day?" His hand moved toward his jacket pocket, then stopped, fingers curling.
"I rember that night like a nightmare I can’t wake up from," he murmured. "Your mother was working overti at the textile factory, and you were also helping her. I—I was supposed to be watching him."
Zhao Yiming’s sharp eyes caught the slight twitch in Jinhe’s jaw, the mont of hesitation. He said nothing.
"I ca ho late..." Su Jinhe went on.
"The air was hot, and the whole house slled like sweat and dicine. He’d been left alone in bed, sweating through his blanket. He’d cried so much that day, but no one heard."
ilin’s hand clenched, and her expression was unbearable. Her heart was also the sa, there were mixed emotions she couldn’t describe, but most of it was anger.
"I-I don’t know that."
"Because I didn’t tell you," Jinhe said, bitterness edging into his voice now. "I was too ashad."
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