Chapter 39: Both Women Arrive

Miss Gu?

Who the heck is she? And why’s she making pear syrup for Little Stiff herself?

Mobo, mid-bite, tilted his head up curiously toward Dad across the table—only to see Dad’s usually sharp, handsome face instantly cloud over at the mention of her name.

“Who invited her? Not needed!”

“But sir,” Chen Mama insisted, “this pear syrup… only Miss Gu can make it right. Master Xiao Yi gets coughs every winter. He’s tried medicine after medicine—nothing helped. But once he drinks this, he’s fine. You forgot?”

Huo Sijue didn’t smile, not even a little. His jaw stayed tight, but the edge in his voice softened just slightly.

This man—ruthless, cold, impossible to please—had one absolute rule: when it came to his son’s health, he never played games. And Gu Xia knew that better than anyone. That was why she’d sent Chen Mama to plead her case.

Finally, Gu Xia stepped through the door, holding a small wooden box.

“Sijue? Xiao Yi? You’re eating?”

She wore a light ivory sweater, paired with a khaki plaid winter skirt. No heavy makeup. Her face was pale, drawn—like someone who hadn’t slept in days.

“Oh dear,” Chen Mama said, rushing over to take the box. “Miss Gu, you look awful. Are you unwell?”

Gu Xia shook her head. “Just a cold, nothing serious.”

Her eyes drifted to the man across the table—full of quiet hope. But Huo Sijue didn’t so much as glance her way. Instead, he tapped his long fingers sharply on the table.

“Xiao Yi. Focus on your food.”

“Ooooh…”

Mobo snapped back into attention, shoveling rice into his mouth like he’d been caught sneaking dessert.

Who *is* this lady?

Huh. Looks like she’s got serious game. Wearing barely anything, and painting her face ghost-white on purpose? Trying to win Dad’s pity?

Mobo chewed thoughtfully, stealing glances like he was watching a drama unfold.

Sure enough, when Huo Sijue ignored her completely, Gu Xia’s expression froze. The disappointment was plain—raw, painful.

“Xiao Yi,” she said softly, “remember to drink the pear syrup. Oh! And I made you a pair of gloves too. It’s getting cold out—remember how you kept asking me to knit them for you? For playing outside? Look!”

Like magic, she pulled a pair of hand-knit wool gloves from her bag.

In a mansion like this, knitting gloves by hand? That wasn’t just effort—it was devotion.

Chen Mama rushed over, eyes wide. “Oh my goodness, Miss Gu, you’re such a gem! Who even *does* this anymore? These are way better than store-bought. Look at the stitching—look at the pattern! You couldn’t buy something this perfect, no matter how much money you spent!”

And before anyone could stop her, Chen Mama marched straight over to Huo Sijue, holding up the tiny gloves.

Huo Sijue turned his head slightly.

They were beautiful—delicate, thoughtful. Thick wool on the outside, soft fleece inside. Perfect for a fragile child like Xiao Yi.

For the first time, the ice in his eyes cracked. He gave a barely perceptible nod.

Gu Xia lit up like a Christmas tree.

She stepped beside Mobo, holding out the gloves. “Come on, Xiao Yi. Let Auntie try them on for you? See if they fit?”

“Okay!” Mobo grinned, offering his small hand.

Whatever. Gloves weren’t his problem. He’d just pretend to be Xiao Yi’s stand-in for now.

But then—just as Gu Xia was slipping the gloves onto Mobo’s hands—a sudden commotion erupted outside.

A figure burst through the front door without warning—no announcement, no pause—just a whirlwind of panic.

“Huo Sijue?! Huo Sijue?! Is Xiao Yi back?! Is he okay?! Did anything happen?!”

“!!!”

Mommy?!

Mobo yanked his hand back so fast it looked like he’d been burned.

Huo Sijue and Gu Xia both froze—then, within a heartbeat, their faces darkened like storm clouds rolling in. Especially Gu Xia—her expression twisted, almost ugly.

Wen Xuxu. Just *perfect*. You show up at the worst possible moment.

Wen Xuxu had come running, heart pounding. She’d heard from Xiao Lin that the boy who’d been mistaken for Xiao Yi—this kid named Mobo—had nearly died today. Terrified, she’d raced here to see what happened.

But when she walked in…

*Why is she here?!*

Her gaze locked onto the woman standing beside the table—cold, venomous, like she’d just seen a ghost.

Not a ghost. A nightmare.

Back on the yacht, she’d gone through hell—cutting herself, begging, sacrificing everything—to get Huo Sijue to agree: *Never let this woman near Xiao Yi again.*

And now? Here she was. Sitting at the dinner table. Smiling. Holding gloves. Touching his son.

The three of them—eating together, laughing, close. Like nothing had ever happened.

Like they were a family again.

Wen Xuxu’s face turned green with rage.

Then she saw it—the tiny gloves on her son’s hand.

And the pink slippers on the woman’s feet.

A sharp, searing pain shot through her chest.

It wasn’t just jealousy.

It was betrayal.

It was the past, clawing its way back in.