Chapter 35 Still hesitating whether to

Xu Ruoxin bit her lower lip, and in just two short seconds, she’d already mapped out every possible outcome—and weighed the consequences of each.

Then she decided: she couldn’t take the risk.

“Chengyu,” she said, her voice trembling with shame. “It was me… I never thought those people would go after Miss Nan like that. I was just so scared… please don’t blame me…”

She gently tugged at the sleeve of Xie Chengyu’s coat, tears splashing down one by one—soft, fragile, heartbreakingly beautiful.

“You know how much Old Master Xie hated me. Only Grandma Xie ever liked me… but she’s gone now…”

“After you finally divorced Miss Nan, I thought we might have a chance at last. But then all that happened afterward…”

“I’ve been so afraid… and I’ve waited for you for so long. I can’t wait anymore. My baby can’t wait either. That’s why I lost my head… I did something terrible…”

She clutched her stomach, her sobs growing louder—but even in grief, she looked devastatingly lovely, the kind of woman anyone would want to protect.

Xie Chengyu remained expressionless, his face cold as stone. He turned toward the window, silent. The only sound in the quiet room was the faint, uneven rhythm of her weeping.

After a long pause, he turned back, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke more gently than before.

“I know you’ve had a hard time these years. I remember what you’ve done for me. But you didn’t have to do this. Nan Xiao is innocent.”

In those few seconds, memories flooded back—the past between him and Xu Ruoxin.

Back then, when he’d been inspecting a construction site, a heavy beam nearly crushed his head. In that split second, it was Xu Ruoxin who shoved him aside—saving his life. But she’d been left with a scar, ugly and deep, running along her temple.

That moment had always stayed with him. Whenever he thought of her, there was a quiet warmth beneath the cold.

Xu Ruoxin wiped her tears, eyes full of guilt. “I understand now. I promise—I’ll never hurt Miss Nan again.”

“Mm.” Xie Chengyu nodded. “Rest well. I’m leaving now.”

He turned to go, taking the backup copy of the letter with him—something Xu Ruoxin didn’t understand.

Alone in the room, she paced restlessly. The letter from Nan Xiao had caught her completely off guard. And Chengyu’s reaction? Not what she’d expected at all.

Normally, seeing such a document, he’d have dismissed it as absurd—or felt deeply insulted. Instead, he’d come straight to confront her, as if Nan Xiao hadn’t done anything wrong.

But that didn’t mean much. At the end of the day, Nan Xiao’s face was Xu Ruoxin’s greatest weapon.

Still, something felt… off. Her eyes darted around the room. She needed to change tactics.

Back at her apartment, Nan Xiao was exhausted. She barely made it to the couch before collapsing into sleep.

Later that night, her phone buzzed—Xie Chengyu calling.

She didn’t know what he wanted, but she sensed it had something to do with earlier that day. She answered: “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Nan Xiao.”

His voice, slightly distorted by static, carried that low, magnetic quality that always made her shiver.

“I’ve confirmed it. The article online was written by Xu Ruoxin. I’ve warned her. It won’t happen again.”

Nan Xiao froze.

She wasn’t surprised the article was her doing—she knew it was.
What stunned her was that Xie Chengyu had actually *tracked it down*. Worse, he hadn’t covered for her. He’d told her the truth.

But then she remembered the vicious online attacks, the sleepless nights, the way she’d felt broken for days.

And yet… he’d only *warned* Xu Ruoxin. No real punishment. No public exposure. Nothing.

So maybe it meant nothing after all.

A bitter smile curled at the corner of her lips.

“I see,” she said flatly. “Anything else?”

Silence.

The line crackled with weak static. No immediate reply.

“Nothing. I’m hanging up.”

Nan Xiao didn’t wait. She ended the call.

Under the dark sky, Xie Chengyu leaned against his car, staring at the dimming screen. His brow furrowed.

Was Nan Xiao… cold toward him?

He put the phone down, pulled out the backup letter from the drawer, and stared at it again—his fingers twitching, an urge to tear it apart rising in his chest.

But he didn’t. He shoved it back into the drawer messily, climbed into the car, buckled up, and drove off without looking back.

Nan Xiao rested at home all day. By evening, she got a text from Lin Yan asking if she wanted to grab dinner. She almost declined—she had to go to the set later.

But then she remembered something important she hadn’t told Lin Yan. So she changed her mind and replied: “Sure. Send me the location.”

Half an hour later, they met at a hot pot restaurant on Chenghua Street.

As Lin Yan stirred her vegetables in the broth, Nan Xiao spoke in a calm voice—so casual it nearly made Lin Yan jump.

“Yanyan… I’m pregnant.”

“…?”

Lin Yan looked up, stunned.

Nan Xiao’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “It happened that night. I forgot to take the pill. That’s how it happened…”

Her expression was strained. Lin Yan dropped her chopsticks, slapped her shoulder. “Hey, don’t be sad. It’s not the end of the world.”

“What are you going to do, Xiaoxiao?”

She’d suspected Nan Xiao might be pregnant. Now she felt guilty—guilty for not reminding her sooner to get checked.

Nan Xiao shook her head. “I don’t even know if I should keep it.”

Did she want a child? Of course she did. She’d always dreamed of having one of her own.

But her family… it was a disaster. She didn’t trust herself to raise a kid right. The fear of failing—of hurting a child—had always haunted her.

Lin Yan opened her phone, searched quickly. “You need to decide within two weeks. If not, get it done soon—bad for your body otherwise.”

She paused, then added: “If you do keep it… I’ll help raise it with you.”

Nan Xiao’s lips curved upward. “I can afford to raise one kid. Maybe even ten.”

Money wasn’t a problem. Between her earnings and the money Xie Chengyu gave her, she could support ten children.

But she came from a single-parent household. She knew her flaws—her people-pleasing nature, her tendency to absorb pain like a sponge.

If she had a child… it would grow up in the same situation. Was that fair to the kid?

“Xiaoxiao, stop overthinking. Let’s talk about something happy. There’s an auction this Friday. Want to go together?”

Lin Yan was trying to cheer her up. A few days ago, she’d scored two tickets—originally planning to take Li Jingting. But now she changed her mind.
She’d bring Nan Xiao instead.