Ruofei's POV:
Two years later - Four days before the twins' sixth birthday
The plane touches down in Shanghai, and I have to grip the armrests to keep my hands from shaking.
Six years. I've been gone for six years. And now I'm home.
"Mommy, are we really in China?" Liqin presses her face against the window, eyes wide with excitement. "It looks different than Korea!"
"We're really here, baby." My voice sounds steadier than I actually feel.
Mingyu is quieter, watching me with those too-perceptive blue eyes.
He's been suspicious since I told them about this trip, asking careful questions that suggest he knows there's more to this visit than I've let on.
He's always been the observant one. Too smart for his own good.
The immigration process is smooth—I made sure of that, calling ahead, ensuring we'd have minimal delays.
The twins are fascinated by everything, chattering in a mix of Korean and Chinese, drawing smiles from the other passengers.
We collect our luggage and head toward the arrivals area, and that's when I see her.
Lexin.
My little sister looks exactly the same—sharp features, determined expression, the Huang family pride evident in every line of her body.
When she spots us, her face lights up.
"Gege!" She pushes through the crowd, and I barely have time to brace before she's hugging me. "You're really here. I can't believe you're really here."
"Hi, Lexin." I hug her back, throat tight.
She pulls away and immediately crouches down to the twins' level. "And you must be Mingyu and Liqin! I'm your Auntie Lexin. I've been waiting so long to meet you!"
"Hi, Auntie!" Liqin is never shy, immediately launching into introductions. "I'm Liqin and I'm almost six and this is my brother Mingyu and he's almost six too and we're twins!"
"I can see that," Lexin says warmly. "You're both so beautiful. And you know what? I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Even Mingyu perks up at this.
"Yes! I thought maybe you'd like to come to my apartment for a bit? I have some toys and games, and I'd love to spend time with my niece and nephew."
This is the plan we discussed. Get the twins somewhere safe while I handle the first meeting with Qingyue.
But Mingyu is watching me carefully, and I can see the question in his eyes.
Why are you sending us away?
"Auntie Lexin has been wanting to meet you for so long," I say gently. "And Mommy has some things to take care of. But I'll come get you very soon, okay?"
"Okay!" Liqin is already holding Lexin's hand.
Mingyu hesitates. "What things?"
"Adult things," I say, which is true even if incomplete. "Boring work stuff."
He doesn't look convinced, but he takes Lexin's other hand.
"Be good for your auntie," I tell them, kissing both their foreheads. "I love you."
"Love you too, Mommy!" Liqin chirps.
"Love you," Mingyu says quietly, still watching me.
They leave with Lexin, and I'm alone in the airport with our luggage and a building sense of dread.
I need to use the bathroom. Need a moment to collect myself before... before whatever comes next.
The bathroom is blessedly empty. I splash cold water on my face, staring at my reflection.
Six years. I've changed—anyone would after single-parenting twins while running a criminal empire from abroad.
My face is thinner, more drawn than it used to be, the weight loss evident in my hollow cheeks.
My hair is longer now, falling past my shoulders instead of the shorter style I used to keep.
There's a weariness in my expression that sleep can't fix.
But I'm here. I made it.
The twins are six. They're safe, healthy, smart, perfect. And now it's time to face their father.
I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and push open the bathroom door.
And freeze.
Because leaning against the doorframe, looking like he's been carved from stone and patience, is Luo Qingyue.
He looks different.
Not older, exactly—we're both still in our late twenties, after all. But changed.
His frame is broader, more muscular than I remember, like he's spent the past six years working out obsessively.
His face is leaner, more defined, carved into sharper lines. But his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—are exactly the same.
And they're looking at me like I'm water in a desert.
For a moment, we just stare at each other.
Six years of silence. Six years of separation. Six years of daily messages and unanswered questions and desperate longing.
All of it condensed into this single moment.
I should say something.
Should explain, apologize, demand answers—something.
But all I can do is stand there, hating how my heart leaps at the sight of him, hating how the bond immediately starts purring with satisfaction.
Mine, it whispers. Finally.
Qingyue straightens slowly, and I brace for accusations. For anger. For demands about where I've been, why I left, how dare I—
"How are you doing?"
The question is so unexpected that I actually take a step back.
"What?"
"How are you doing?" he repeats, voice gentle. "You look tired. Are you okay?"
This—this isn't right. This isn't how this is supposed to go. He's supposed to be angry, hurt, demanding. Not... concerned.
"What are you doing here?" I ask instead of answering. My voice comes out cold, indifferent, even though inside I'm screaming.
"I received word you'd landed." He doesn't move closer, doesn't crowd me. Just watches with those intense eyes. "I wanted to see you. Make sure you were safe."
"Why do you care?" The words are sharp, defensive.
Something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe, or resignation.
"It's natural for me to care about the person I love."
The person I love.
Present tense. After six years of silence, he still—
"The bond is making you mistake it for feelings," I say, and I hate how my voice wavers. "That's all it is. Biology. Not love."
"Ruofei—"
"I don't want to talk right now." I cut him off, pushing past him. The brief contact—my shoulder brushing his—sends electricity through my entire body. "I just got here. I'm tired. I need to—I need to go."
"Wait—"
But I'm already walking away, pulling my luggage behind me, not looking back even though every instinct is screaming at me to turn around, to run back, to throw myself into his arms and never let go.
I can feel his eyes on me until I turn the corner.
Then I lean against the wall, hand pressed over my chest where the bond is singing with joy and agony in equal measure, and try to remember how to breathe.
That was awful, I think. That was cruel and awful and exactly the opposite of what I should have said.
But I wasn't ready. Six years of preparation, and I still wasn't ready to see him.
Lexin's apartment is in a upscale part of Shanghai, the kind of place that screams money and power.
Her secretary—a efficient-looking man named Zhirui—greets me at the door.
"Mr. Huang. The children are in the living room with Miss Lexin. Can I take your bags?"
"Thank you."
The twins are indeed in the living room, surrounded by toys that Lexin has clearly bought specifically for this visit.
They look up when I enter, and Liqin immediately runs over.
"Mommy! Look what Auntie got us!" She's holding some kind of elaborate doll. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Very pretty, baby." I smooth her hair, trying to ground myself.
Mingyu is slower to approach, watching me with that careful expression. "Did you finish your work?"
"For now." I crouch down to his level. "Are you having fun with Auntie Lexin?"
"Yes. But..." He leans in closer, voice dropping. "Mommy seems sad. Are you okay?"
Of course he noticed. He always notices.
"I'm okay, sweetheart. Just tired from the trip." I pull him into a hug. "How about we go see Grandmother and Grandfather? They're so excited to meet you."
"Really?" Even Mingyu's eyes light up at this.
They've video called with my parents over the years, but they've never met in person.
The only time they saw each other was when they were born but they can't remember that.
"Really. Auntie Lexin, can we impose on your hospitality a bit longer, or should we head out?"
"Take them to Mum and Dad," Lexin says, understanding immediately. "I'll have Zhirui drive you. And Ruofei... we'll talk later, okay?"
"Okay."
My parents' estate looks exactly the same.
The gates, the driveway, the gardens my mother tends obsessively—all frozen in time, as if the six years I was gone never happened.
Except they did happen.
And the two children climbing out of the car with wide eyes are proof of that.
"Mommy, is this where you grew up?" Liqin asks, staring at the mansion.
"Yes, baby. This is home."
The door opens before we reach it, and my mother is there, tears already streaming down her face.
"My babies," she breathes, and I'm not sure if she means me or the twins or all of us.
"Come here, come here."
She pulls me into a hug first, fierce and tight. "You're home. You're really home."
"I'm home, Mum."
She releases me and immediately crouches down to the twins' level. "And you must be Mingyu and Liqin. I'm your grandmother. I've been waiting so long to meet you in person."
"Hi, Grandmother!" Liqin, as always, has no hesitation. She throws her arms around my mother's neck. "Mommy talks about you all the time!"
"Does he?" My mother's voice cracks. "Well, I've been talking about you too. To everyone who will listen."
Mingyu is more reserved, but he allows himself to be hugged, even returns it tentatively.
My father appears behind my mother, and the sight of him makes my throat tight.
He looks a bit older—more grey in his hair, deeper lines in his face from six years of worry. But his smile is the same as he opens his arms to me.
"Welcome home, son."
I step into his embrace, and for the first time since landing, I let myself feel it.
I'm home. I'm really home.
"Come in, come in," my mother says, ushering the twins inside. "I have so much to show you! Do you want to see where your Mommy used to play when he was little?"
The twins are whisked away by their grandparents, leaving me standing in the entrance hall with our luggage.
"I'll take that up to your room," my father says, appearing beside me. "You remember where it is?"
"I remember everything." I follow him up the familiar stairs, down the familiar hallway, to the room that was mine for eighteen years before I moved out.
It's exactly as I left it. My parents clearly haven't changed a thing.
"The twins can stay here with you, or we have the guest rooms ready," my father says, setting down the luggage. "Whatever you're comfortable with."
"Here is fine. They'll feel safer with me nearby." I pull out their small overnight bags, finding their pajamas and toiletries. "At least for the first few nights."
"Ruofei..." My father's voice is gentle. "Did you see him?"
I don't need to ask who he means.
"At the airport. Briefly."
"And?"
"And I was cruel to him." I sit on the edge of the bed, exhaustion crashing over me. "He asked how I was doing, and I was cold and dismissive. Told him the bond was making him mistake biology for feelings."
"Ah."
"I know. I know it was awful. I've been planning this reunion for two years, and the moment I saw him, I panicked." I press my hands over my face. "I'm such an idiot."
"You're scared," my father corrects. "There's a difference."
"I shouldn't be scared. I've forgiven him. I decided years ago that I would forgive him."
"Forgiveness doesn't mean you're not allowed to have complicated feelings," my father points out. "You've been separated for six years. You're the single parent of his children that he doesn't know exist. You're running on fumes emotionally and physically. It's okay to not have the perfect response in the moment."
"I just..." I drop my hands. "I wanted it to be different. I wanted to be calm and composed and ready to have the conversation we need to have. Not defensive and cruel."
"Then you'll apologize tomorrow," my father says simply. "And you'll try again. That's all any of us can do."
Tomorrow. I can try again tomorrow.
For now, I need to focus on the twins. On getting them settled, on letting them meet their grandparents properly, on giving them the stability they need.
The rest can wait.
Has to wait.
That evening, I find the twins in the library with my parents, spread out on the floor with books scattered around them.
"And this one," my mother is saying, holding up a photo album, "is your Mommy when he was about your age. See? He had the same white hair."
"Mommy looks funny!" Liqin giggles, pointing at a picture of me with a missing tooth.
"Very funny," I agree, settling onto the floor beside them. "What are you reading?"
"Grandmother is showing us pictures!" Mingyu is more animated than I've seen him in days. "There's one of you fighting with Uncle Wenlan over a toy!"
"I won that fight," I inform him solemnly.
"Did not," my father mutters, but he's smiling.
We spend the next hour going through photos, my parents telling stories from my childhood, the twins asking a million questions.
It's warm and easy and exactly what we all needed.
Eventually, though, the yawns start.
"Alright, little ones," I say gently. "It's been a very long day. Time for bed."
"But we're not tired!" Liqin protests, immediately contradicted by another yawn.
"Bed," I repeat firmly. "We have lots of time to explore tomorrow."
The bedtime routine is familiar even in an unfamiliar place.
Pajamas, teeth brushing, tucking in. I settle them into the large bed together—they prefer sleeping in the same bed anyway, have since they were babies.
"Mommy?" Mingyu asks as I'm turning off the light. "When do we meet him?"
Him. Their father.
"Soon," I promise. "Very soon. But not tonight. Tonight we all need rest."
"Okay." He seems satisfied with this. "Mommy? I'm glad we came home."
"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."
I kiss both their foreheads and slip out, leaving the door cracked so I can hear if they need me.
My parents are waiting in the hallway.
"They're perfect," my mother says softly. "Absolutely perfect."
"They are." I lean against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Thank you for... for everything. For understanding why I left, for supporting me, for waiting."
"You're our son," my father says simply. "What else would we do?"
We stand there for a moment, three generations of Huangs in this hallway, before my mother breaks the silence.
"Go to bed, sweetheart. You look dead on your feet."
"I will. I just need to..." I gesture vaguely.
"Unpack?" my father supplies. "It can wait until tomorrow."
"I know. But I need to do something with my hands, or I'll start thinking too much."
They understand, leaving me to it.
I return to my room and methodically unpack the essentials.
Pajamas in the drawer, toiletries in the bathroom, the twins' favorite stuffed animals on the nightstand where they can see them if they wake up.
Normal, mundane tasks that ground me.
I'm home. The twins are safe. My parents are thrilled to have us.
Tomorrow, I'll figure out the rest.
Tomorrow, I'll face Qingyue properly.
Tomorrow, I'll start untangling the mess I've made.
But tonight...
Tonight, we all deserve to rest.
I collapse into bed, and for the first time in six years, I sleep in my childhood room.
And I dream of Qingyue's eyes, asking How are you doing? with such genuine concern that it breaks my heart all over again.