Fu Zhiyé was recuperating at home, and his work had also been relocated there.
It was hard for Cecilia to take care of both him and Little Rice Cake at the same time, so for now, the two of them stayed in the old family house.
That afternoon, Ye Jing took Little Rice Cake out for tea with Sarah Chase, while Grandma Rivers was busy with something downstairs.
After her nap, Cecilia came down and headed for the sofa.
“Grandma Rivers, what are you doing?”
“Awake now? Come here, come here, help me organize these photos! We’ve taken so many pictures of Little Rice Cake lately.”
Grandma Rivers adjusted her reading glasses and beckoned Cecilia over.
There were several thick photo albums stacked on the table, both old and new ones blended together.
Cecilia obediently sat beside her and began flipping through the albums.
“Hey, is this Zhiyé?”
The old album opened to a family portrait—a photo of the three of them together.
Grandma Rivers leaned in for a look. “Yes, that's Zhiyé when he was little. Sigh.”
She slid out a slightly yellowed photo. In it, young Fu Zhiyé wore a tiny suit with a white shirt and a bowtie at the collar. He looked only five or six years old, clutching a toy robot in his hand and smiling with innocence. He looked nothing like he did when Cecilia first met him.
Back then, Fu Zhiyé always wore a cold expression and never smiled, making him hard to approach.
Grandma Rivers traced the edge of the photo with her finger and let out a soft sigh. “Zhiyé was such a good child when he was young—polite, sweet, always coaxing your grandpa and me. If it weren’t for what happened with his parents, he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.”
The other two people in the picture were Zhiyé’s parents. His mother was beautiful, radiating a gentle grace, while the man standing next to her looked on with a composed expression.
Cecilia had some idea about what happened with Zhiyé’s parents. His father’s unfaithfulness had disappointed him, but even more hurtful was that after his father's death, his mother left him behind as well—almost as if she’d chosen to follow her husband.
“It was our fault. We had only one son, but failed to teach him properly,” Grandma Rivers’s eyes turned misty with the memory. “But thankfully, Zhiyé met you and learned how to truly care for someone. Otherwise, how could I ever be at peace, Cecilia?”
She reached out and gently patted Cecilia’s hair.
Cecilia hugged Grandma Rivers, her chest tight with emotion. “Grandma Rivers, please don’t feel sad. If it wasn’t for Zhiyé bringing me into the Fu family, I wouldn’t have this home, or you and Grandpa Rivers. I even found my mother and gave birth to Little Rice Cake.”
“Even though Zhiyé and I have had our share of hard times, we still found each other. Now, and in the future, our family will always be happy—together, forever.”
“Yes, yes, forever. I’m not sad anymore,” Grandma Rivers said, smiling as she patted Cecilia’s back. “Let’s look at Little Rice Cake’s photos. I’m getting bored of Zhiyé’s old pictures.”
“Haha, okay! Let’s look at the new ones. But keep Zhiyé’s out for me—I’m not tired of them yet.”
The two of them burst out laughing and got to work sorting through the photos.
Upstairs, on the second-floor landing, someone watched the scene unfold below—Fu Zhiyé, quietly observing his little wife.
He felt as if all his luck in life had been spent just to meet Cecilia.
Little Rice Cake’s pictures were adorable, and Cecilia couldn’t help but snap a few more to post on Weibo.
#LittleRiceCakeIsGrowingUp!#
Her personal account now had hundreds of thousands of followers, and as soon as she posted, the likes and comments poured in.
[Adorable! Little Rice Cake, what’s your favorite color for a Santa sack?!]
[Recruiting a handsome guy, so I can have a daughter who can still marry Little Rice Cake!!]
[Too slow, everyone! I'll just marry him myself!]
[Move over, let me through, you crazy aunties!]
[This kid is too cute! Is he even real or just a porcelain doll? I doubt he’s a real child. Mail him to me and let me check.]
[...]
The netizens’ banter made Cecilia laugh out loud, and she shared the comments with Grandma Rivers.
Not long after, a Weibo account named “Fu Zhiyé” replied underneath.
[For anyone thinking of stealing my kid—expect a lawyer’s notice! And yes, my son really is that cute!]
Pfft—Cecilia shook her head, fighting a smile. Just as she wondered if he was finished working, she glanced up and saw him at the second-floor corridor.
“Zhiyé!” Cecilia grabbed two photo albums from the table and dashed upstairs.
Fu Zhiyé reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Slow down.”
“Come on, Grandma Rivers and I finished organizing the photos. Let’s look together.” Cecilia carefully avoided his injured leg and handed him his crutch.
They returned to their room and curled up together on the bed to look at the albums.
Fu Zhiyé held her from behind, the open albums resting on the blanket as Cecilia flipped through them. One was filled with Little Rice Cake’s pictures, the other with photos from Fu Zhiyé’s own childhood.
“Zhiyé, Little Rice Cake looks just like you did as a boy.”
That same pair of round, dark eyes.
“Grandma Rivers says you were both so well-behaved, never crying when you were little.” Cecilia turned to look at him. “And you used to smile all the time. Why are you so icy-cold now?”
She pinched his cheek and leaned in for a kiss.
Hearing Grandma Rivers’s story, Cecilia felt a pang in her chest.
In Zhiyé’s world, after his parents left, everything must have turned dull and grey.
She wondered if he thought his mother had chosen his father, leaving her little boy alone in the world.
“Zhiyé, were you very sad back then?”
Cecilia asked softly. He’d never told her about that time. From the moment they’d met, he always seemed invulnerable—except, perhaps, for that one moment at Clearwater Bay, when he wanted her to come back home.
Fu Zhiyé’s hand paused over the photo, then he pulled Cecilia into his arms.
“Yeah, it hurt a lot. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t think she was right to leave because of him,” he finally admitted, something he’d never said before. “Fu Qingyan had women all over, but my mother still loved him, even twisted herself up over him.”
He felt his mother was foolish, and, yes—he resented her for leaving him behind.
Listening to his calm but detached words, Cecilia ached for him. After all, these were his parents.
His father was at fault for not cherishing his wife, for not being faithful—but he did care for Fu Zhiyé.
And it cut deepest because they were the ones closest to him.
Cecilia rested her head on his shoulder and gently patted his back, just like she comforted Little Rice Cake.
“That’s why Grandma Rivers says you stopped smiling. You shut yourself away, never letting anyone in.”
“It's all in the past.” Fu Zhiyé sighed. “Back then, I thought love was too complicated. I thought it could make people lose themselves. I regret thinking like that—if I hadn’t, maybe I wouldn’t have hurt you.”
Cecilia shook her head. “Don’t say that. You’re right, it’s all over. Let’s never bring it up again.”
“That was between your parents. Their choices were their own. You don’t have to carry their burdens. We’re going to be happy together.”
“Mm.” Fu Zhiyé leaned over and kissed her—not with any possessiveness, just gentle warmth for the girl he loved.
“Next time, let’s take Little Rice Cake to visit your parents.”
Fu Zhiyé hesitated, but finally nodded. “Alright.”
He’d truly let go. After getting Cecilia back, he’d learned a lot more about love.