Chapter One: The Blended Family

The suffocating heat hung in the air like a tightly woven veil, muffling the world in a stifling embrace.

Fu Siqiao shrank behind Fu Chun, her frail figure even more diminished and alone, as if a mere breeze might topple her. Her complexion was pale as rice paper, and her eyes brimmed with alarm, like a wild rabbit hunted by men, desperately striving to suppress her inner terror. Her lips trembled faintly; the thought of meeting Lin Chaoyang filled her with dread, as if she were about to be swept into a storm she could not escape.

Lin Chaoyang wore a gentle smile, radiating pride as he wrapped his arm around Fu Chun’s, his dazzling grin almost blinding. At the same time, he called affectionately for the mischievous Lin Siqing, his voice brimming with fatherly warmth.

Around them, people whispered softly: in this newly blended family, Fu Siqiao was like a rootless duckweed. She was only a child, yet she was forced to face this sudden family upheaval—her tender heart unable to reconcile herself with this new reality.

Lin Siqing, standing before her, was as cold and forbidding as winter ice. Fu Siqiao needed only a glance to feel a surge of fear. This boy was to become her “elder brother” in this new home.

She could sense the smoldering fury in Lin Siqing’s heart—the stormy darkness of his expression was suffocating, pressing down on everyone present, only barely contained because Lin Chaoyang was there.

The youth bit his lower lip, cheeks puffed in defiance. Unconsciously, Fu Siqiao mirrored him, as if silently resisting the oppressive air. She hung her head low, like a battered flower, while Lin Siqing stood upright, struggling to restrain the flood of emotion threatening to break through.

Fu Siqiao’s lips moved, her voice as faint as a summer mosquito: “Mama, is Uncle Lin going to be my father now?”

No sooner had she spoken than she keenly sensed a sharp, chilling hostility sweep toward her. Looking up, she saw Lin Siqing glaring at her, his gaze as sharp as a blade, piercing straight into her heart, making it seize with fright.

Flustered, Fu Siqiao lowered her eyes, not daring to meet Lin Siqing’s murderous look. Yet in her mind, she could not help but picture him raging, fierce as an enraged lion.

Lin Chaoyang, oblivious, continued to smile and gently patted Fu Siqiao’s head. “This child seems unfamiliar.”

Fu Chun smiled elegantly and nodded. “She’s always been shy. This is her first time in our home. I hope you’ll be patient with her in the future.”

Those words—“our home”—were laden with significance.

Lin Chaoyang, delighted by Fu Chun’s quick acceptance, felt even more indulgent toward Fu Siqiao. Others could see through Fu Chun’s intentions: to win Lin Chaoyang’s heart so deeply, only three months after his first wife’s death, was no ordinary feat.

Her scheming was not born of malice, but of a desire for stability and benefit for herself and her loved ones—carefully weaving her future in this complex web of relationships.

Timidly, Fu Siqiao tugged at Fu Chun’s sleeve, her head still bowed. “Mama, I want to wait outside. Your wedding is important. I’ll just wait out there.”

Her obedience was the only trait in which Fu Chun could see herself reflected in her daughter.

Fu Chun agreed readily, patting Fu Siqiao’s head with gentle encouragement.

As Fu Siqiao passed Lin Siqing, he shot her a look so fierce it felt as if it could burn a hole through her. Frightened, she quickly averted her gaze and hurried toward the door and the garden.

Today was the wedding of Lin Chaoyang and Fu Chun—a day meant for celebration, yet the atmosphere was awkward and subdued.

Lin Chaoyang’s parents were displeased that their son had found new love before his late wife’s body was even cold. In protest, they refused to attend the wedding banquet, expressing their disappointment and disapproval in this silent way.

The wedding Lin Chaoyang had arranged for Fu Chun was lavish beyond compare, far grander than that for his former wife. Thirty thousand golden-purple roses adorned the site, a floral sea that dazzled the eyes, as if declaring to the world the uniqueness of this event.

“Hey, did you hear? Lin Chaoyang’s first wife struggled with him through thick and thin, helped him build his business, but three months ago she died suddenly. And Fu Chun swooped right in. You really can’t predict people’s hearts.”

“I think Fu Chun is just cunning—she’s got Lin Chaoyang wrapped around her little finger.”

The guests’ whispers drifted on the breeze into Fu Siqiao’s ears. She understood that Fu Chun’s actions were questionable, but Fu Chun had claimed to have truly fallen in love with the man who would do anything for her, risking everything for his affection.

Now, having won that gamble, she was the envy of all. But who could know the bitterness that lay beneath?

Fu Siqiao stood blankly in the garden, before the grand wedding reception Lin Chaoyang had so carefully arranged. The brilliant sea of purple-gold roses seemed harsh to her eyes.

The whole world rejoiced for Fu Chun’s lucky match, yet no one cared about Fu Siqiao’s aversion to Lin Chaoyang.

In her heart, she cherished memories of her real father—the one who took her bird-catching in the mountains, taught her to plant crops, crafted fans for her in the sweltering summer, warmed her in the frigid winter, and escorted her to school when spring returned.

Those days with her father were her most precious memories—happiness as warm as spring sunlight, bathing every corner of her childhood.

For her father always seemed to know her every need, a tacit understanding and warmth beyond words.

“Hey!” A cold voice cut through her thoughts like an arrow. She frowned slightly, annoyance stirring in her chest.

Lin Siqing regarded the timid, easily bullied girl before him with a mocking grin—Fu Siqiao, his so-called sister, whom he saw as little more than a joke.

Truth be told, he detested this sudden “sister” as much as he did her scheming mother. Her very presence made him sick. He wanted nothing more than to lash out, but prided himself on never hitting women. So all his anger was vented on this seemingly frail Fu Siqiao.

“Fu Siqiao, right?” She nodded dully after a long pause.

A sneer curled on Lin Siqing’s lips. He thought to himself: This foolish girl—she’ll be crying soon enough.

“Stay right there and don’t move, understood?!”

“Okay.” Fu Siqiao obediently stood in place, her limbs stiff and awkward, like a puppet at someone else’s mercy.

Satisfied, Lin Siqing turned and picked up the hose he’d hidden behind his back. He twisted the nozzle, and in an instant, a torrent of high-pressure water burst forth, spraying everywhere.

Fu Siqiao was stunned by the sudden attack. By the time she realized what had happened, she was already drenched from head to toe. The water battered her mercilessly, soaking her pale blue cotton dress until it clung to her body, her braided hair disheveled and plastered to her cheeks after Lin Siqing’s rough handling.

Forced to open her mouth to ease the pressure of the water, she looked utterly pitiful and bedraggled.

Lin Siqing was having the time of his life, ready to crank up the pressure when Lin Chaoyang suddenly appeared behind him, seized the hose, and twisted the nozzle shut.

Lin Chaoyang’s face was impassive, but rage burned beneath his calm. Years in the business world had taught him to hide his emotions, but now his anger was like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

Lin Siqing knew full well that Lin Chaoyang was livid.

With a swift backhand, Lin Chaoyang struck Lin Siqing across the face—a sharp crack echoing before the assembled guests, as pitiless as Lin Siqing’s bullying of Fu Siqiao had been.

Lin Siqing’s left cheek swelled and reddened at once, but he stubbornly clenched his teeth and kept silent, his eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness.

Fu Chun watched coolly from the sidelines, making no move to intervene. After all, it was her daughter who had been bullied—she would not tolerate it, even if the culprit was Lin Chaoyang’s own son.

Lin Siqing gave a bitter laugh, biting his lip hard, his words sharp as knives: “Lin Chaoyang, you’re heartless and cold. Mother only just passed away, and already you can’t wait to find someone new.”

“Mother’s barely been gone three months, and you’ve already found a replacement. You don’t deserve my mother’s love. You’re not worthy to stand beside her.”

“You. Are. Not. Worthy!”

The commotion was drawing more and more glances from the guests.

Afraid the scene would spiral out of control and become the day’s laughingstock, Fu Chun quickly reached out and took Lin Chaoyang’s hand.

With her calming touch, Lin Chaoyang managed to rein in his fury. “Get out of here! We don’t need you here today!”

Lin Siqing scoffed, “Gladly. I don’t want to stay.”

Fu Chun hurriedly fetched a large towel, wrapping it gently around Fu Siqiao’s trembling form and carefully drying her soaked hair.

“My child, you’ve suffered. I won’t let Lin Siqing bully you again.”

Fu Siqiao nodded slightly in response. Her gaze followed Lin Siqing’s departing figure, heading toward the front gate, past the fire hydrant.

In her heart, Fu Siqiao made a silent vow: Lin Siqing, I won’t forget you.