By the time Yibo's footsteps carried him into the hospital, he was certain his ears had gone completely numb. He could not hear the sound of movement or the murmur of voices as he passed people in the hallway on his way to the room Dr. Kanu had told him Qiaoxi had been transferred to.
He could not even walk fast.
His steps were slow, deliberate...as if some hidden part of his mind feared that if he hurried, the doctor's words might unravel and turn back into nothing.
She's awake.
Dr. Kanu had repeated it to him.
Just two words...yet heavier than anything he had ever heard in his life.
His palms were damp with sweat. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears. Unprofessional. Unmeasured. For a man accustomed to controlling hearts in the most dangerous operating rooms, today his own refused to obey him.
She's awake.
Mom is awake.
Mom.
The mother whose absence had hollowed him out for years, in these past few days, filled every corner of him again.
As he approached the corridor, he saw a nurse stepping out of Room C-18....the one Dr. Kanu had mentioned. The door was slightly ajar.
He stopped there.
What if he went in and she looked at him… and did not recognize him?
Or worse....what if she did?
The two possibilities tore through his mind.
God knew how many times over the years he had imagined this moment....how they would meet again.
Would she simply stare at him in silence, as if trying to confirm he was real?
Or would she approach him in anger, slapping him the way she used to whenever he did something that involved Haozhi?
Would she hit him through tears until he caught both her wrists...or pulled her into an embrace?
Ever since he was a child, whenever he was hurt or angry, he would run to her and hugged her until his heart calmed. Yet in all his countless imaginings, he had never pictured this version of their reunion...never this fragile form that fate had thrust between them.
Slowly, he lifted his hand and pushed the door open.
The silence inside the room washed over him as he stepped in carefully. Without obstruction, his eyes went straight to the hospital bed.
He saw her immediately....just as he had through the ICU glass.
She was thinner.
So much thinner.
And that was the first thing that shattered him.
Qiaoxi....Mom....his vibrant, full-figured mother who, whenever she dressed up, commanded every eye in the room. Now she looked frail, smaller somehow. Even her face carried a maturity and weariness he had never accounted for.
Her eyes were open...half-open, as though she might drift back to sleep. But when she sensed his presence, she tried to open them wider.
His feet moved closer to her bedside.
He stopped there.
"Mom…"
His voice came out uneven, unfamiliar even to himself.
Her eyes shifted slowly, searching...until they found him.
She stared for a long moment, struggling to focus.
Something inside him melted and broke at the same time.
Then her lips parted.
"Yibo…?"
Her voice was soft, almost a question...one that carried the weight of all the years between them.
His feet felt rooted to the ground. His body trembled, as though any sudden movement might make the moment disappear.
"Mom, it's me…" he said, his voice shaking.
She tried to lift the hand attached to the IV line. Instantly he stepped forward and caught it in both of his. The warmth of her skin sent a powerful surge through him...something overwhelming, indescribable.
"Yibo?" she asked again.
"Is it really you?"
He couldn't answer. Tears blurred his vision.
"Is it truly you, Yibo?… I thought I would never see you again…"
Her words struck him deep...into both heart and mind. His past mistakes, his stubborn pride, flashed before him with cruel clarity.
He shook his head, clutching her hand.
"Please, Mom… forgive me. Please…"
"Yibo…" she interrupted softly.
Through his tears, he saw that her eyes too were filled with them.
"Why are you asking me for forgiveness?… I always knew you would come back. You would come back and find me...wherever I was."
Her words threw him into a storm greater than any guilt he had ever carried.
Where had his mind been all these years? How had he convinced himself that loving her from a distance was enough? How had he ever forgotten the depth of his mother's love?
He bowed his head over the hand he held and broke down.
It was the kind of sobbing he had not allowed himself since the day they parted. The kind he cried while holding her...and A-Bo's lifeless body. A cry he had buried for years.
Until today.
"Please, Mom… forgive me. Please,… forgive me…"
Yibo kept repeating the words without pause, his voice breaking between breaths.
Qiaoxi lifted one finger and gently brushed it against his tear-soaked cheek. In that moment, only one thought filled her heart and her weary soul:
"Now that you've come back to me, Yibo, I have no more worries left in this world."
But deep inside, Yibo knew those words alone were not enough to quiet the storm within him. Not enough to make the world instantly right again.
He didn't know how long they remained like that before he finally lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were struggling to stay open. Instinctively, he glanced at the IV line, recognizing the medication flowing into her veins. He tightened his hold on her hand and leaned closer.
"I'm here, Mom. I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly.
"I won't leave you ever again. Just relax… and sleep."
Her eyes flickered once more. She didn't speak...the sedative was already pulling her under. Slowly, she closed them completely.
Still holding her hand, he watched her as though everything unfolding before him were a dream. Unreal. And as he studied her face, he understood something with painful clarity:
All these years, he had only learned how to survive without her. But his heart...his very soul...had never once left her side.
:
:
He didn't inform his father or the rest of the family until nearly eleven o'clock...only after she had woken again and her condition was confirmed stable. During that second waking, he repeated her earlier words to be sure they were real. It was also then that he told her about Zhan… about their marriage.
Just like his father, she surprised him.
She accepted it wholeheartedly.
All the fears he had once harbored about how they would react dissolved into nothing. They left behind only the uncomfortable realization that the rejection he had braced himself for had existed solely in his own imagination.
Especially when nearly the entire extended family gathered...her relatives, his father's relatives from Hong Kong...he saw something that stunned him even more.
Tears.
Words of gratitude directed at Zhan.
After he was formally introduced, several of them thanked Zhan openly, their eyes shining.
Yibo could not remain in the room any longer. He quietly stepped out, needing space to steady the chaos inside him.
He told himself that whatever darkness they had endured… it ended here. It would not repeat itself again.
Zhan had never imagined feeling such overwhelming joy.
When Yibo told him Qiaoxi had regained consciousness, something powerful surged through him....something so intense it seemed to run through his bones. It felt as though he had been holding his breath for days, and only now could he finally inhale. The words echoed in his mind all the way to the hospital. His heart overflowed with gratitude to heavens.
And when his eyes found Yibo, he saw something else:
A weight lifting.
It was as if the invisible chains Yibo had carried for years...tight around his shoulders...had finally fallen away. And in that moment, Zhan realized that it wasn't only Qiaoxi who was healing.
Yibo was healing too.
Perhaps in ways only Zhan could see.
And in some quiet corner of his heart, Zhan knew he was healing as well.
Qiaoxi's warm acceptance of him had soothed something deep inside....something that had been fragile since he first entered their lives.
No one challenged him.
No one made him feel unwelcome.
From close relatives to distant ones visiting the house...even Wang Haozhi, whose visible regret lingered in his expressions....Zhan noticed a softening in his eyes whenever they met or whenever he went to greet him.
On their way back to the Yibo's family house, amid all the anxiety of returning, Zhan had prepared himself for every possible reaction from Yibo's relatives. Even Yibo himself had not been certain how things would unfold.
But what awaited them was the opposite of fear.
Both he and Yibo were treated with care.
Someone would bring him tea. Someone else would insist he eat. Nearly everyone who crossed paths with him asked whether he had eaten, whether he was comfortable. Many sat with him to talk about ordinary pieces of their lives...as though he had always been there with them.
As though he had always belonged.
Their love and care overwhelmed Zhan in those few days. It made him realize something he had never understood before...that sometimes the goodness you receive in life first arrives disguised as a destiny that shakes you in ways you never expected.
Even though one of Qiaoxi's legs had been affected by partial paralysis and she still couldn't move it properly, that did not stop the entire household from being filled with joy.
The house was never empty. Visitors came constantly to see her. And each time Zhan opened his eyes to the lively atmosphere, he found himself wondering how Yibo had managed to live alone for so long, far away from these people.
Even now, when Yibo walked into the sitting room where everyone had gathered, Zhan could see him silently calculating the scene—especially as one of his cousins teased him for still keeping his quiet, reserved nature.
Zhan himself was rarely left alone.
Someone would always ask him, laughing:
"How are you managing with Yibo's stubborn quietness? Oh, A-Bo, may he rest in peace...if only you had known him, he was such a cheerful, talkative man…"
"Zhan, where did you put the sugar container? This silly boy went to the kitchen and says he couldn't find it!"
It was Aunty Lema...Qiaoxi's younger sister...scolding Tao-ge's son for taking the sugar back to the kitchen.
"I'll get it, Aunty Lema," Zhan replied, rising from beside Qiaoxi. Whenever he stepped into the living room, Qiaoxi would call Zhan over to sit near her.
After they had made porridge earlier, the sugar had indeed been used there. It took Zhan a moment to locate it among the tools and things scattered in the room. He had just turned to leave when the door suddenly opened.
To his surprise, Yibo stepped inside...and closed the door behind him.
He was holding a bottle of water and his phone. Zhan blinked in disbelief. How had he managed to slip past all those people just to come here to see him?
"What are you doing here?" Zhan asked, stepping closer, suddenly aware of how rare it was for them to be alone in this crowded house. He couldn't even remember the last time they had stood like this. Most of the time, they only spoke on the phone. Sometimes Yibo would enter and leave a room without Zhan even noticing.
Zhan paused mid-question.
Instead of answering, Yibo simply said softly:
"Come here."
Before Zhan could react, Yibo closed the distance between them and pulled him into his arms. The scent of a new cologne lingered around him, and Zhan's heart raced...not only from the embrace, but from the fear that someone might walk in.
The sugar container slipped from Zhan's hand and hit the floor. He reached behind Yibo, trying to loosen the arms wrapped firmly around his waist.
"Someone might come in."
"I don't care… How many times have I told you I've been missing you?" Yibo murmured, pulling him even closer.
Zhan's lips betrayed him before he could stop himself.
"Yibo…!"
"Yes, darling," Yibo answered, his voice low, his eyes fixed on Zhan's mouth.
Zhan managed to pry Yibo's arms apart...but Yibo caught both of Zhan's wrists in his own, holding him there.
The closeness sent a wave through Zhan from head to toe. He tried to steady himself, pushing the feeling aside.
"Please, let me go for now… Aunty Lema is waiting."
Yibo's gaze lingered between Zhan's lips and his eyes. He smiled faintly and shook his head.
"Nice try… But I'll get what I want first."
Without waiting, he closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips to Zhan's.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't hesitant.
It was deliberate.
As if Yibo needed him to release the weight he had been carrying...to acknowledge what both of them had been trying not to feel too deeply.
Zhan forgot how to breathe.
His heart pounded everywhere....against his chest, in his face, inside his thoughts. He could feel tension in Yibo's breathing too, as though he was holding himself back from going further. And instead of frightening Zhan, it made him cling to him more.
Zhan's hands gripped the front of Yibo's shirt, twisting the fabric in his fists. It was his silent answer.
The uneven rhythm of Yibo's breath near his ear sent another rush through him. Every small movement Zhan made seemed to affect Yibo profoundly...and that realization filled him with a quiet, powerful warmth.
This is what I do to him, Zhan thought.
This is how deeply I reach him.
The thought overwhelmed him.
When Yibo rested his forehead against Zhan's, their breaths mingled....desperate, restrained. Yibo's hands held his waist on both sides, firm yet careful, as though afraid of crossing a boundary they both knew they shouldn't right now.
Slowly, Zhan lifted his face to look at him....so slowly it felt like time itself had softened.
Yibo leaned in again, brushing his lips gently across Zhan's, as if memorizing them. Zhan could feel gratitude in the touch. Pride. And an intense love rising straight from Yibo's heart.
Warm tears gathered in his eyes.
And when Yibo kissed him again, Zhan felt himself melt completely into his embrace.
At that very moment, the police arrived at the residence of Mr. Min Ghao with an arrest warrant for Fuyue, having confirmed that it was his registered address.
✴✴✴
This is not the end.
It is the moment when everything begins to make sense.
It was eleven o'clock on a Thursday morning.
Zhan was at Qiaoxi's house with Qile, busy preparing cupcakes for a dinner that would be held the following day in honor of Qiaoxi's younger sister. Tao-ge's wife had come as well, bringing her son. The kitchen was lively with laughter, chatter, and the comforting clatter of baking trays.
In the three months that followed the chaos, the most significant event was Qiaoxi's firm decision regarding her marriage to Haozhi.
After the dust settled...after the visitors, the condolences, and the whispers faded...Qiaoxi declared that she was done with the marriage. No matter how many discussions were held, no matter who tried to persuade her, something inside her had hardened. Words no longer carried weight.
Eventually, she was allowed to make her choice. Their marriage had long become a mere formality in any case. Yet Haozhi refused to grant a divorce immediately. After all the years they had endured together, he could not accept that their union would end this way.
Seeing that hesitation, Qiaoxi chose to leave the house instead.
A new home was arranged for her nearby. She moved there with her children, and family members continued to visit and look after her regularly.
Zhan did not fully know what their life had been like before, but from what he could see now, peace had slowly returned. Daily life resumed its rhythm. In just two months, their world had shifted in ways he had never imagined.
After everything settled, he and Yibo returned to Beijing. Yibo met every Zhan's elder, every relative who needed an explanation. He told the full story openly. Each of them listened carefully...and to his surprise, most responded with understanding.
The only resistance came from Nainai.
At the time, the police had arrested Fuyue for his involvement in the crimes Peng had confessed to.
Soon after, Aunt Hsiao publicly accused Yibo of being indirectly involved for framing Fuyue, since the case had passed through his professional hands.
It took time to calm Nainai. Only after the court finalized Fuyue's sentencing did the tension subside.
Then preparations began for their move to Nanjing...something Zhan had known about even before they left. Yibo had secured an apartment near the neighborhood where Qiaoxi now lived. The distance between them was small. The apartment had been renovated before their arrival, though the upper floor was still unfinished. The down floor had two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and three bathrooms.
Yibo did not resign from his position. Instead, he arranged to travel to Beijing twice a week to continue his work at PrimeCare. Because of this, they did not move all their belongings. Only essential items from the kitchen and living room were brought. The furniture in the Beijing bedrooms remained, replaced here with new pieces in Nanjing.
Gradually, their life stabilized...though Zhan often felt homesick though his brother Bai visit him on vocations.
Yufei teased him relentlessly, saying it was only fair that he now experienced what it felt like to leave home behind.
At first, Nainai, Yufei, and even Duan were upset after Yibo explained everything from beginning to end.
Duan was hurt that Yibo had not confided in him earlier. Yufei was equally offended that neither Yibo nor Zhan had informed her, even by phone.
But with time, those grievances softened. Life returned to its usual flow.
Beyond the unresolved strain between Qiaoxi and Haozhi, the greatest private struggle between Zhan and Yibo was their hope for a child.
Four to five months passed without news, and the silence frightened Zhan more than he wanted to admit. He prayed constantly and did what he could, while noticing that the matter did not seem to weigh on Yibo the same way.
Yibo, meanwhile, was focused on repairing the fragile peace between his parents.
One day, Zhan finally asked him directly whether he truly wanted children.
Yibo's answer stayed with him.
"What you're thinking isn't true, Zhan. I want children with you… I want a little you. I want more of you...not one, not two, but many. I just… there's something holding me back. Maybe it's fear. Fear that I might become like my father. Or worse...that I might fail the child we bring into this world."
Those words silenced Zhan.
But five months later...just as they entered the eleventh month of their marriage...his prayers were answered.
He was pregnant.
Yibo was in Shanghai that day, having taken on a temporary assignment with a hospital under federal administration. When he returned, Zhan took his hand and led him straight to their bedroom.
They stood before the tall mirror.
Without understanding what was happening, Yibo wrapped his arms around Zhan's waist and lowered his face to his neck, kissing him softly, murmuring how much he had missed him.
Zhan gently lifted Yibo's chin so their eyes met in the mirror. Then he guided both of Yibo's hands to rest on his stomach. Tears filled his eyes as he watched Yibo's reflection.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Yibo's breath faltered. His hands trembled, as though he were afraid to move. Before doubt could take root, Zhan turned to face him and cupped his face in both hands.
"I know what you're thinking," Zhan said softly.
"I know you still feel unsure… like you're not ready. But I want you to remember something...God never burdens a person beyond what they can bear. Whatever has happened in your life was part of your fate. Nothing could have altered it."
Yibo shook his head faintly. "Zhan...."
Zhan stopped him.
"Everything will be fine. We will face every challenge together. We will be good parents. I know we will."
To his astonishment, tears gathered in Yibo's eyes.
"By heaven's favor," Yibo whispered.
He shook his head again, smiling through emotion.
"You're not just a part of me, Zhan. You are part of my soul."
And with those words, a new chapter of their lives quietly began.
In time, Yibo succeeded in reconciling his parents beneath a shared understanding, as regret had already softened both of them.
In time, the court sentenced Peng and his boys to thirty-nine years in prison for their crimes.
In time, Fuyue was fined so heavily that he and his mother were forced to sell nearly everything they owned...including compensation received from Zhan's side...in order to secure bail.
And life, at last, moved forward.
THE END...
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Morning sunlight spilled across the balcony of the apartment in Nanjing, warming the wooden floor where small toys were scattered in cheerful disorder.
Zhan stood by the kitchen counter, slicing fruit while keeping a careful eye on the living room.
"Daddy! He took mine!"
A small voice rang out, indignant and dramatic.
Yibo looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by building blocks and two nearly identical little faces frowning at each other.
"I did not," the older one insisted, clutching a blue block as if it were a priceless treasure.
"You did," the younger replied, already on the verge of tears.
Yibo pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a smile.
Five years.
Five years ago, he had stood frozen in front of a mirror, his hands trembling against Zhan's stomach, terrified of repeating a history he had never fully healed from. Now, he was negotiating peace treaties between their son's over plastic bricks at eight in the morning.
Life had a strange sense of humor.
"Alright," Yibo said calmly, prying the block from tiny fingers. "We share. That's how this family works."
"Like you and Baba always sharing something with your mouths?" one of them asked innocently.
Zhan laughed softly from the kitchen.
"Yes," Yibo answered, glancing toward his husband. "Exactly like that."
Qiaoxi visited often. Her steps were slower now, though she refused assistance more often than she accepted it. The children adored her. She told them stories...some exaggerated, some suspiciously heroic....about their father's childhood.
"Grandma," one of them would whisper conspiratorially, "was Daddy really quiet when he was little?"
Qiaoxi would exchange a knowing look with Zhan.
"Quiet?" she would say. "Only until he decided something mattered."
And every time, her eyes would soften as they rested on Yibo.
The reconciliation within the family had not happened overnight. It had taken patience, humility, and many uncomfortable conversations. But time had done what force never could.
Even Duan now visited without tension. He had become the uncle who brought loud gifts and louder laughter.
As for Fuyue and the others—those chapters had closed firmly. The weight of courtrooms and accusations no longer hovered over their daily lives. Justice had drawn its lines, and everyone had learned to live within them.
That evening, after the children were finally asleep...one sprawled sideways, the other clutching a stuffed rabbit....Zhan stepped onto the balcony where Yibo was leaning against the railing.
The city lights flickered in the distance.
"You're thinking again," Zhan said gently.
Yibo huffed a quiet laugh. "Am I that obvious?"
"Only to me."
For a moment, neither spoke.
"I used to think happiness would feel bigger," Yibo admitted at last. "Louder. Like fireworks."
Zhan stepped beside him, slipping his hand into Yibo's.
"And what does it feel like now?"
Yibo looked back through the glass doors, toward the faint outline of their children sleeping inside.
"Quiet," he said. "Steady. Like something that isn't going anywhere."
Zhan rested his head against his shoulder.
"You were afraid once," Zhan murmured. "Afraid you'd become someone you didn't want to be."
Yibo exhaled slowly.
"I know."
A pause.
"But every day I wake up and choose differently."
Zhan smiled.
That was the thing about healing...it wasn't a single moment. It was a decision made over and over again, in small, ordinary hours.
Yibo turned to him then, brushing his thumb across Zhan's cheek.
"You remember what I told you the day you showed me?" he asked softly.
Zhan pretended to think. "You've said many dramatic things in your lifetime."
Yibo leaned closer.
"You're part of my soul."
Zhan's eyes warmed.
"And you," he replied, "are the home I prayed for."
Zhan learned in Yibo's chest.
"Tomorrow, Uncle Bai is coming and take care of the children after their school, he finally finished his university and wants to rest before finding a job. And i was here wanting to request for leaving from this endless hospital job, to rest and had time with the children for a while."
"That's good thinking, I'm also taking a few weeks leave to be with my family." Yibo replied kissing Zhan's center of the head.
Inside, one of the children stirred and mumbled in sleep.
Yibo glanced toward the sound and then back at Zhan, his expression lighter than it had ever been in the years before.
"Shall we misbehave a little before going to sleep?" He added swiftly carrying Zhan into their room, he nudge the door close with his leg while already pressing his lips to Zhan's.
Five years ago, everything had felt fragile.
Now, it felt rooted.
Not perfect. Not without scars.
But theirs.
And as the night settled around their home...around the laughter that would return again in the morning...life continued forward.
Not as a story of survival anymore.
But as a story of choosing love, again and again.
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛