Chapter 30: She Was Really, Really Unworthy

This woman actually has some real skill!

That was the last thought racing through Lord He’s mind before he slipped into unconsciousness.

After that, weighed down by an exhaustion so deep it felt like his bones had turned to lead, he finally sank into sleep—something he hadn’t done properly in far too long.

“Finally asleep…”
Wen Xuxu exhaled slowly once she saw him breathing steadily.

That needle wasn’t easy to place. His condition was severe—several acupoints were completely blocked. This was the only point that could still bring him down. But she’d found it in the end.

She pulled the needle out, ready to rest for a moment.

But just as she did, the man who’d just fallen asleep suddenly tilted his head sideways. Her doctor’s reflex kicked in—she reached out instinctively and caught him mid-fall.

Perfectly. Right into her palm.

Wen Xuxu: …

In less than a second, the unfamiliar warmth beneath her fingers sent a jolt through her, like a tiny electric shock. She jerked her hand back as if burned, her face paling instantly.

It was ridiculous. They had nothing left between them. She’d told herself a hundred times over—he was just a stranger now.

So why did touching him still send that strange, sharp reaction through her?

Her knuckles turned white again. She looked down at him.

The sharp, cold intensity that always defined him—those piercing eyes, that unyielding glare—was gone. Now, all she saw was softness. Pale skin. A strong, sculpted jawline. Deep-set eyes framed by thick, slightly curled lashes, resting gently over his cheeks.

He looked just like the boy who used to nap under the magnolia tree years ago—the brother she’d once called *big brother*.

For a moment, Wen Xuxu forgot how to breathe.

“He’s really asleep?”

“…?”

She jumped at the voice behind her. Only then did she realize—Ho Yun had come downstairs again. He stood there, silent and serious, his cool little face fixed on his father.

“Yeah, he’s asleep,” she said quickly, composing herself. “Yunyun, what are you doing out here? Still not sleepy? Is it too noisy?”

She tucked the needle case away, forcing a smile.

Ho Yun didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped right up to his father’s side.

He cared deeply about his dad—just didn’t know how to show it. The kid barely spoke to anyone. In this house, he only ever talked to his father. The servants? He ignored them completely.

“You don’t have to worry,” she said gently. “Auntie will fix him. I promise.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Auntie’s a world-class doctor. I’ve never failed a patient in five years at Clearwell Hospital. Not one.”

To reassure him, she launched into a full recount of her achievements—her breakthroughs, her high success rate, the cases even specialists had given up on.

By the time she finished, the tight knot between his brows had loosened just a fraction.

“Okay.”

Ho Yun gave a flat, emotionless nod. Then turned to leave.

Wen Xuxu blinked. “Yunyun… you’re going back upstairs already?”

“Mm. Sleep.”

For the first time ever, he answered her directly. Probably because she’d helped treat his father.

Her heart leapt. “Then let me walk you up! It’s not safe for you to go alone.”

“No.”

Again, firm. Final.

Her chest tightened. A pang of disappointment shot through her.

But she wouldn’t give up. She’d waited years for this chance to see her son. She wasn’t letting go now.

“Oh! Auntie brought something special for you today—some delicious snacks. Are you hungry? I’ll get them right now!”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned toward her bag and pulled out a small box.

These green mung bean cakes—she’d made them herself that afternoon, at her aunt’s house. Originally meant for Mo Bao and Ruoruo, who loved them more than anything.

But then Xiao Lin called. Said she might finally meet her eldest son.

So she saved the last box and brought it here.

She held it out to Ho Yun.

But before he even reacted, the maid standing silently in the living room spoke up—sharp, cold, dismissive.

“What is *that*? How dare you hand something like that to our young master?”

“It’s homemade,” Wen Xuxu said quickly. “I made it myself. It’s perfectly safe.”

The maid scoffed. “You think your hands aren’t dirty? Our master isn’t some commoner’s child. Can you really expect him to eat food from someone like *you*?”

She turned to Ho Yun. “Master, ignore her. Let’s go to bed.”

“—You—”

Wen Xuxu’s face flushed red with fury. Her throat tightened.

She was his mother. And yet, she was being treated like trash—like her own cooking wasn’t good enough for her son.

She watched helplessly as the small figure disappeared down the hall, escorted by the servant.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

It wasn’t just pain. It was a knife twisting in her chest—slow, deep, unbearable.

And for the first time in years, she wanted to cry.