Chapter 2: Stepmom, Please Don’t Leave Me Alone

After an indeterminate length of time, Jiang Liwu sensed that Wei Xifeng was growing weak, his weight pressing mostly against her. Uncle Wang noticed this immediately and hurried over.

“Excuse me…” he hesitated, unsure how to address her.

“My surname is Jiang,” she replied.

“Alright, Miss Jiang.”

“I’ll take over,” Uncle Wang reached out to support Wei Xifeng, only to be brushed aside the next moment, meeting Wei Xifeng’s fierce, disdainful glare. Wei’s entire being radiated a beast-like possessiveness, unwilling to be separated from Jiang Liwu.

Uncle Wang, embarrassed, tried again, forcing a dry laugh, “Better if Miss Jiang does it. Please, Miss Jiang, help my master back to his room to rest. He will be very weak after his episode.”

Jiang Liwu frowned. “What exactly is his illness?”

Uncle Wang was candid, “Bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.” Naturally, Jiang Liwu, as the counselor they had sought out, was entitled to know the details.

Because of Jiang Liwu’s earlier composure, Uncle Wang had taken a special interest in her. He had felt a vague familiarity with her before but hadn’t thought much of it. Now, looking closely, he was struck by how much Jiang Liwu resembled Qiao Yiran — about thirty percent alike.

A thought flashed through his mind. Could it be that Wei Xifeng was soothed because Jiang Liwu resembled Qiao Yiran?

“When was this discovered?”

“As far as I know, since he was a child.”

“And the cause?”

Uncle Wang hesitated.

Seeing this, Jiang Liwu refrained from pressing further. Instead, she looked at Wei Xifeng, who leaned on her, with a complex expression.

Previously, she had traveled back twenty years and found Wei Xifeng and his family; naturally, she was deeply aware of Wei’s childhood.

He had grown up in an extremely twisted household. His father had forcibly taken his already married mother and fathered him. The father was a madman with violent tendencies; the mother was weak and tearful. Neither loved Wei Xifeng. The father used him as a tool to bind the mother, while the mother saw him as nothing, a dirty bastard reminding her constantly of her betrayal of her original husband.

Later, the mother ran away with her original husband but was caught. The mother was killed by Wei Xifeng’s father with his own hands, and the original husband was long dead and gone.

The most suffocating part was that little Wei Xifeng had witnessed the murder of his mother firsthand.

So, when Jiang Liwu left earlier, the healthy appearance of young Wei Xifeng was but a facade. He had lived under the shadow of that trauma for twenty years, enduring immense suffering.

Jiang Liwu’s eyes welled with pity. Suddenly, she thought of the five other children under her care. Could their situations be similar to Wei Xifeng’s? She felt a surge of worry.

Once in the room, Jiang Liwu helped Wei Xifeng lie down and pulled a nearby quilt over him. “Sleep now.”

Wei Xifeng did not close his eyes. He stared wide awake, clutching her hand tightly.

Seeing his anxious look, Jiang Liwu smiled softly and patted his chest through the quilt. “Go to sleep.”

“No. If I sleep, you’ll disappear. This is the first time in twenty years I’ve dreamed of my teacher.”

Jiang Liwu was taken aback. So, he thought all this was a dream.

She didn’t explain further, knowing well that Wei Xifeng was not fully conscious.

“Teacher, you’re just like before. You haven’t changed a bit,” Wei Xifeng said, convinced it was a dream.

Though he had often imagined, even crazed, that his teacher might appear alive before him again, he knew it was impossible.

Besides, if the teacher were truly alive, how could he have remained unchanged for twenty years? Today, twenty years later, the teacher would be forty.

Wei Xifeng gazed greedily and dependently at Jiang Liwu, afraid to miss so much as a glance. “Teacher, stepmother, don’t leave. Stay with me.”

Hearing the term “stepmother,” Jiang Liwu was surprised. Wei Xifeng had never called her that before, only “sister” or “teacher.”

Had he already taken her to be his mother in his heart?

Jiang Liwu’s heart softened even more. “I’m not leaving. Don’t worry.”

“Really?” Wei Xifeng’s eyes shone with hope.

“Really.” She had just returned; where else would she go?

Reassured, Wei Xifeng finally relaxed and fell asleep.

Uncle Wang cast a grateful look. This was the first time the master’s condition had stabilized so smoothly. “Miss Jiang, it’s late. I have prepared a guest room for you.”

“Alright.” Having just returned, Jiang Liwu was indeed tired.

Just as she rose, Wei Xifeng’s grip on her hand tightened.

“…”

“Maybe I should stay here for the night.”

Uncle Wang quickly agreed; it seemed to be the only option. He withdrew and closed the door behind him.

Jiang Liwu glanced at Wei Xifeng, who frowned. She reached out to smooth his brow, then laid her head down beside him and fell asleep.

***

At dawn’s first light touching her face, Jiang Liwu opened her eyes instantly. She turned to look at the still-sleeping Wei Xifeng.

Twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye. The little bundle had grown into a man. She had truly returned.

In this world, there was no virus.

No war.

No monsters.

The dead had come back to life.

Jiang Liwu faced the morning light, gazing out at the bright blue sky, a relieved smile blossoming on her lips, her spirit soaring.

How wonderful.

This time, as Jiang Liwu rose, Wei Xifeng relaxed his grip somewhat, allowing her to withdraw her hand and open the door.

Uncle Wang was already waiting. “Good morning, Miss Jiang. Breakfast is ready.”

“I’m not eating yet. I want to take a shower first,” she said. She needed to wash away the dust of her journey.

“Very well. I’ll have the servants escort you.”

Jiang Liwu nodded. Soon, in the freshly cleaned guest room, she stood under the hot water, letting it cascade over her. The sensation made her sigh softly.

***

Every day, Qiao Yiran performed the duty of waking Wei Xifeng. Whether she spoke or not, she stayed by his side. Today was no exception.

She pursed her lips, standing by his bed.

After a while, her gaze slipped uncontrollably to Wei Xifeng’s face.

So handsome, like a perfect sculpture, his usually sharp features softened by sleep.

Qiao Yiran stared, her cheeks flushing pink as she reached out to touch Wei Xifeng’s long black lashes.

Before she could touch them, he gripped her wrist tightly, causing her to cry out in pain.

Their eyes met—his dark and brooding now awake.

Qiao Yiran’s face showed stubbornness.

“Why is it you?” Wei Xifeng furrowed his brow deeply.

“If not me, then who? You told me to stay by your side.”

Hearing this, Wei Xifeng immediately recalled his dream of the teacher, pleading for her not to leave.

So he had mistaken Qiao Yiran for his teacher?

So, it was all an illusion.

How could his teacher have come back to life?

Shaking off Qiao Yiran’s hand, Wei Xifeng’s face twisted with agitation and impatience. “Go away.”

Staggering, Qiao Yiran clutched her wrist, tears welling in her eyes as she ran out.

Wei Xifeng sat up, legs curled, running his hands through his hair, the details of the dream still vivid in his mind.