Jiang Ni had long ceased to merely hint.
Qin Jijing took her hand and sat down beside the bed.
On the bed, Jiang Ni's half-face was buried under the blanket, her long hair spread across the pillow, a strand curling around his finger.
"Jiang Ni, come home with me this year," he said.
Jiang Ni, terribly drowsy, blinked slowly, a tear rolling down her cheek.
The man lifted his hand and gently wiped away the tear.
"If you don't want to be with Ms. Lin and the others, we can stay here by ourselves, or anywhere you want—it's all fine," he said.
Jiang Ni didn't respond.
Her usually languid eyes now sparkled with intensity, silently staring at him as if pondering something profound.
Finally, she said, "Okay."
—
The next morning, Ms. Lin received a call from her son.
Two pieces of news.
Ms. Lin switched her phone to speaker and sat at the dining table, having breakfast.
"Go ahead, your father and I are listening," she said.