Hong Yi returned home just before evening.
The moment the door opened, Xiamen looked up from the living room.
Her eyes searched his face.
"It's done," Hong Yi said quietly.
"Lin chengwei has been arrested."
For a second, Xiamen didn't move.
Then her shoulders relaxed, as if something heavy finally lifted from her chest.
"…Really?" she asked softly.
He nodded.
"All evidence confirmed. He confessed. He's in jail."
Xiamen closed her eyes.
A breath escaped her lips—one she felt she'd been holding for years.
"I'm okay," she said after a moment, opening her eyes again.
"I feel… free."
Hong Yi reached out, squeezing her hand gently.
"I'm glad."
Across the room, Haoyu was sitting on the floor, completely unaware of the storm that had passed. He was lining up his toy cars, humming quietly to himself.
Hong Yi looked at him.
"Want to go out?" he asked suddenly.
Haoyu looked up, eyes bright.
"Where?"
Hong Yi smiled.
"Anywhere you want."
Minutes later, Hong Yi lifted Haoyu into his arms as they stepped outside.
Xiamen watched them from the doorway—her heart tight, but warm.
They walked down the street together.
Hong Yi bought Haoyu an ice cream, carefully wiping his hands when it started to melt. They played at the small park nearby, Hong Yi pushing him on the swing, laughing when Haoyu squealed with delight.
After that came toys.
Too many toys.
Stuffed animals. Cars. A robot that Haoyu refused to put down.
By the time they finished shopping, Haoyu was clinging to Hong Yi's neck, exhausted but smiling.
As they walked home, Haoyu tilted his head curiously.
"Hong Yi uncle," he asked seriously,
"why do you do so many things for me?"
Hong Yi paused.
Then he laughed softly.
"Because you're cute," he said lightly.
Haoyu thought about it, then nodded as if that explained everything.
"Oh."
Hong Yi held him a little closer.
He understood now.
He didn't need to explain. Didn't need a title. Didn't need to rush.
For now—
Being there was enough.
And as Haoyu rested his head against his shoulder, Hong Yi knew—
This was only the beginning.
Hong Yi walked home slowly, Haoyu asleep in his arms.
The child's head rested against his shoulder, ice-cream stains still faintly visible on his shirt, fingers curled loosely in sleep. Every small breath Haoyu took seemed to echo inside Hong Yi's chest.
For the first time in his life, Hong Yi felt fear—not of enemies, not of loss of power, but of a child's rejection.
When they reached home, Xiamen opened the door quietly.
Her eyes softened at the sight of them.
"He fell asleep?" she whispered.
Hong Yi nodded and carefully placed Haoyu on the sofa, covering him with a small blanket. The boy shifted slightly, then settled again, peaceful and trusting.
Xiamen watched them for a long moment.
"He likes you," she said gently.
Hong Yi's lips curved into a faint smile, but it faded just as quickly.
"I wanted to tell him," he admitted in a low voice.
Xiamen stiffened.
"Today?" she asked softly.
He shook his head.
"Every moment I'm with him, I want to say it. I want to tell him I'm his father." His voice cracked. "But I'm afraid."
Xiamen turned to him.
"Afraid of what?"
Hong Yi looked at Haoyu.
"Afraid he'll look at me and ask why I wasn't there before," he said.
"Afraid he'll cry. Afraid he'll push me away and say he doesn't want me."
His fists clenched.
"I can face hatred from the world," he continued quietly.
"But I don't think I could survive it if he rejected me."
Xiamen's eyes filled with emotion.
She sat beside him.
"He's still a child," she said softly.
"He doesn't understand blood or titles. He only understands who makes him feel safe."
Hong Yi swallowed.
"Today, when he asked why I did so many things for him…" He let out a small, broken laugh. "I almost told him then."
"What stopped you?" Xiamen asked.
Hong Yi exhaled slowly.
"I remembered how many years I lost."
"I remembered that love can't be demanded."
He reached out, brushing Haoyu's hair lightly.
"I don't want him to accept me because of a word," Hong Yi said.
"I want him to accept me because he feels it."
Xiamen placed her hand over his.
"You don't have to rush," she said firmly.
"You're already becoming his father… without saying it."
Hong Yi closed his eyes.
For the first time, he allowed himself to believe that.
Haoyu shifted again, murmuring softly in his sleep, and his small hand reached out—catching Hong Yi's finger.
Hong Yi froze.
Then his grip tightened carefully, protectively.
A silent promise formed in his heart.
When you're ready, he thought, I'll tell you.
And if you're not… I'll wait.
Because love, this time, would not be late.
It would be patient.
It would stay...