In seven years of marriage, Ruan Shuhe and I never had a child. She once held me in her arms and said earnestly, “Don’t overthink it. I’ve never liked children. Having you is all I need in this life.” But just as the bell rang to celebrate her company’s listing, the hall doors were suddenly shoved open. My half-brother burst in, carrying a baby who was crying at the top of its lungs.
Gu Yuchuan cried out in anguish, “Ruan Shuhe! This is your son! How can you abandon us?”
Her face went deathly pale. She turned to look at me, panic and pleading in her eyes. But she didn’t know that I’d known about this child for a long time.
