On my first day in a wealthy family, my five-year-old stepson slapped away the candy I offered him. Later, in the middle of the night, he clutched my lapel and cried “Mom” through a fever. Under the emergency room lights, Gu Huaian stood at the doorway with one shoulder soaked, raising a hand to wipe his face. Later still, Xingchen folded the candy wrapper he had treasured and placed it in my palm. “You gave it to me, so I’ll keep it. From now on, you’re my mom.”
Gu Huaian hung a wooden frame on the wall of his studio. Inside, he had written “Wanwan.” “Don’t go,” he said, not daring to look at me. I painted a crooked white star over the left side of his chest, on his shirt.
It turned out that the greatest luxury in a wealthy family was never crystal chandeliers or red carpets. It was having someone willing to wait for you and slowly warm your heart.
