The courtyard had gone quiet.
Only the faint rustling of leaves and distant village sounds remained.
Mei Lin slowly stood up from the ground. Her knees ached slightly, but she didn't care. Compared to the pain in her chest, it was nothing.
Behind her—
Ming Li was still there.
She could feel his presence, steady and silent.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
Mei Lin turned.
Her eyes were slightly red, but clear.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
The words were simple.
But they carried years of regret.
Ming Li didn't reply immediately.
He just looked at her.
Carefully.
As if trying to see through her.
As if wondering whether the woman standing in front of him… was real.
Mei Lin lowered her gaze slightly.
"I know what I've done," she continued quietly.
"I know how I've been."
Her fingers tightened at her sides.
"In the past… I didn't act like a wife. I didn't act like a mother."
She swallowed.
"I won't repeat it again."
Ming Li's expression didn't change.
But his eyes darkened slightly.
"I'll take care of this family," she said.
"I'll cook. I'll work. I'll raise our daughter properly."
Her voice steadied.
"I'll be a good wife… to you."
Silence.
The wind passed through the courtyard.
Ming Li stood there, unmoving.
Looking at her.
Not with anger.
Not with warmth.
But with disbelief.
As if he was looking at a ghost.
Finally—
He gave a small nod.
Just one.
Then he turned—
And walked out.
No words.
No reassurance.
Nothing.
The door creaked softly as he left.
---
Mei Lin stood there alone.
She didn't feel hurt.
She expected this.
Trust… is not built in one moment.
She let out a slow breath.
Then turned toward the kitchen.
---
The house felt different now.
Empty… but no longer cold.
She rolled up her sleeves.
Her eyes fell on the storage area.
And her heart tightened.
So little.
So empty.
In her past life—
She had never noticed.
Or maybe she had noticed… and ignored it.
Because every month—
The fifty yuan Ming Li gave her—
She spent it outside.
On those so-called educated youth friends.
Meals in town.
Snacks.
Clothes.
Laughter.
Especially with the male students.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Zhang Xiu's voice echoed faintly in her memory—
"You're young, why waste your life in this place?"
"Go out, enjoy, meet people…"
And she had followed.
Not because she loved them.
Not because she wanted them.
But because she was restless.
Because she didn't value what she had.
She had never crossed the line.
Never betrayed physically.
But—
She had already crossed the line in her heart.
And that was enough to hurt him.
Her chest tightened.
"I really was…" she whispered.
Selfish.
Blind.
Foolish.
She opened her eyes.
Not anymore.
Mei Lin stood alone in the kitchen.
The small space felt unfamiliar—yet it was the place she should have belonged all along.
She opened the storage jar.
Empty.
Another.
Almost nothing.
Her fingers paused.
Then she saw it—
Six eggs.
Her breath caught slightly.
In her past life… those eggs were always hers.
She would eat them casually, without thinking—without ever asking if her daughter had eaten.
Her chest tightened.
"…How blind was I?" she whispered.
She turned.
A small sack of wheat flour sat in the corner.
No rice.
No proper grain.
Just enough to survive.
Her gaze slowly shifted outside.
Through the open kitchen door, she could see the small kitchen garden.
Neatly arranged.
Cared for.
She knew who did it.
Ming Li.
On Sundays—after teaching all week—he would bend down in the soil, planting vegetables.
Not for himself.
For his daughter.
So she could eat something fresh.
Something good.
Because everything better…
Had been taken by Mei Lin—
And given away to others.
Her throat tightened painfully.
"I really…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
There was nothing left to say.
---
She walked outside.
The soil was soft beneath her feet.
She picked what she could:
Eggplant.
Tomatoes.
Cabbage.
Simple things.
But grown with care.
---
Back inside—
She made a decision.
No complicated dishes.
No waste.
Just something warm.
Something honest.
She mixed the flour carefully.
Cooked simple pancakes.
Cracked eggs into the pan—making a soft omelette.
Then—
She boiled three eggs.
She stared at them for a moment.
Then placed them aside.
"One each," she murmured.
Not just for her.
For all three of them.
---
By the time she finished—
Footsteps came from outside.
Ming Li returned.
Their daughter ran beside him, holding his hand.
Both stopped at the entrance.
The smell of food filled the air.
Ming Li frowned slightly.
Their daughter blinked in surprise.
Mei Lin turned, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Wash your hands," she said calmly.
"Dinner is ready."
Silence.
They didn't move.
Because this—
Had never happened before.
Mei Lin cooking?
Impossible.
Then suddenly—
Their daughter broke into a smile.
"Mother cooked?!"
She ran forward and hugged Mei Lin tightly.
"I'm so happy!" she said excitedly.
"Other children always say their mother cooks—now mine does too!"
Her words were simple.
But they struck deeply.
Mei Lin's eyes softened.
"Go wash your hands," she said gently.
The little girl nodded eagerly and ran off.
Ming Li stood still for a moment longer.
Then silently followed.
---
They came back and sat down.
The table was simple:
Pancakes.
Omelette.
Three boiled eggs.
Pickle.
Nothing luxurious.
But clean.
Warm.
Carefully prepared.
Mei Lin placed one boiled egg and a portion of omelette in front of each of them.
"Eat," she said softly.
Their daughter picked up her egg immediately, smiling brightly.
"It looks so good!"
She took a bite—
And her eyes lit up.
"Mother! It's delicious!"
Ming Li didn't speak.
But he ate.
Slowly.
Quietly.
He didn't praise.
But he didn't stop either.
That alone—
Was already a change.
---
After a while, Mei Lin spoke.
"I want to go to the county."
Ming Li's chopsticks paused.
"I want to find work," she continued.
"My teacher's daughter is there. She might help."
A pause.
"Two days."
Silence filled the table again.
Ming Li's face—
Fell.
Just slightly.
But she saw it.
Clearly.
In his mind—
This sounded the same as before.
Leaving.
Excuses.
Distance.
He placed his chopsticks down.
"…Do what you want," he said quietly.
No anger.
No questioning.
Just—
Distance.
He stood up.
Picked up the dishes.
"I'll wash."
Mei Lin watched him.
Her heart ached—
But she didn't stop him.
She understood.
Trust had not returned.
Not yet.
---
That night—
She lay beside her daughter.
Holding her gently.
Listening to her soft breathing.
Outside, faint sounds of water could be heard.
Ming Li was still awake.
Still washing.
Still thinking.
Still doubting.
---
Mei Lin closed her eyes slowly.
It's okay, she told herself.
You don't need him to believe you now.
You just need to prove it.
---
Tomorrow—
She would go to the county.
Not to leave.
But to build a future—
For the three of them.