President Yan, Your Wife Doesn’t Care for You

She returned to Kyoto twenty years later, not for that so-called “last chance to see her,” and certainly not because she still had any affection for the man known in law and by blood as her father, Wang Jinchuan. What finally changed her mind was the rare, weary sigh from her mother, Chi Lanzhen, over an overseas call.

“Susu,” her mother said, as gently as ever, though sounding helpless. “I know you hate him. I’ve never forgiven him either. But... she really doesn’t have much time left. In her final days, the old woman kept asking for you by name. Could you go back and see her, just so I have one less regret? Think of it as... helping me put an old matter to rest.”

For Chi Xisu, it had been no more than a simple act of kindness. Anyone who knew first aid would have done the same. There was no need to make a fuss over it. But Yan Xiucheng had no intention of letting it end there. Leaning toward her and closing the distance between them, he lowered his voice, his innate authority making his words sound unquestionable. “It may have been a small thing for you, but to the Yan family, it was a kindness that saved us from immeasurable loss. I, Yan, will remember it.”

His voice trembled faintly, strained by pain he had suppressed for far too long. “I thought I'd never see you again in this life! And then you appeared! You showed up in Kyoto without warning and saved my grandfather! Chi Xisu, you drove me mad! I've been crazy about you since five years ago! Chi Xisu, I'm telling you now: I won't let you disappear again!”