The bun shop fell into complete silence. Everyone stared at Lin Yu with strange expressions.
The yellow-haired thug inwardly admired him—What a legend! Daring to disown such a beautiful wife just like that.
At first, Lin Yu was surprised, then puzzled. This young man named He Jiarong seemed utterly ordinary—how had he landed such a stunning wife?
Spotting the BMW X5 outside, Lin Yu quickly pieced it together: Ah, so He Jiarong's a rich second-generation. Perfect. Paying off a few hundred thousand in debt will be a breeze.
"W-wife, I was just joking! I just woke up and wasn't thinking straight," Lin Yu stammered with an awkward laugh. Calling someone "wife" for the first time felt unnatural. "I owe these folks a bit of money. Could you hand over my bank card so I can withdraw the cash?"
"Bank card?" The woman in the long dress scoffed coldly. "You think there's a single cent in there?"
"Huh? Then where's my savings? Do you manage them for me? Just lend me some to settle this." Lin Yu was baffled. This rich kid's a henpecked husband too?
"Savings?" Her laughter was icy. "When have you ever had savings? For over twenty years, you've lived off my family. Not once have you earned a penny."
The shop grew even quieter. The stares aimed at Lin Yu turned downright bizarre.
The yellow-haired thug's admiration soared. An icon! Not only did he marry a goddess, but he's also a pro at mooching!
Lin Yu's face burned with humiliation. So much for being a rich heir—this guy was a live-in sponge.
"Young man, thank you for your kindness, but you don't need to repay this debt. I'll handle it," Lin Yu's mother interjected quickly, trying to spare him further embarrassment.
"Auntie, I was Lin Yu's closest friend. I will repay this for you—just give me some time." Lin Yu clenched his jaw.
Moochers can't be choosers. Since "He Jiarong" relied on his wife's wealth, Lin Yu couldn't ask her for money. He'd have to find another way to help his mother.
He drafted an IOU, pressed his thumbprint onto it, and handed it to the thug.
Noticing the luxury car outside, the thug had no doubts about repayment. He left with his crew, though not before leering at the woman's slender calves.
"I won't pay a dime of that debt for you," she snapped, puzzled by this sudden display of loyalty from her usually spineless husband.
"Don't worry. I'll repay it myself."
Lin Yu bristled slightly. Sure, she's gorgeous, but does she have to humiliate her husband in public?
"Auntie, I'll visit again tomorrow."
Before tears could spill, Lin Yu hurried out. At the door, he paused abruptly, voice thick with emotion. "Auntie… if Lin Yu knew, he wouldn't want you to give up. Live on—for both of you."
With that, he strode away without looking back.
His mother trembled, staring blankly at his retreating figure.
The woman in the long dress watched her for a beat, then followed Lin Yu out in silence.
In the car:
"If you want to play hero, fine. But disappearing right after waking up?" She gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. "Do you know how hard I searched for you?"
"Sorry. It won't happen again." His tone was frosty. His thoughts were solely with his mother.
Her next words died at his detachment. Shooting him a glare, she slammed the gearshift and sped toward the convalescent center.
Post-checkup:
Doctors cleared Lin Yu for discharge. On the ride back, he stole glances at her sharp profile, dazed. How is this my life now? A stranger's body, a stranger's wife.
Guilt gnawed at him. Is it right to take over this man's existence—his marriage, his bed?
His pulse spiked at the thought of sharing a bed with her tonight.
He longed to ask about "He Jiarong" and their relationship but feared exposing himself. The silence stretched.
(Note: "Memory loss" would've been a convenient excuse, but given her contempt for him now, faking amnesia might've made things worse.)
Clinic Emergency:
Her phone rang. After a terse call, she pulled over and shoved a hundred-yuan bill at him. "There's an emergency at the clinic. Take a taxi home. My parents are there."
"Let me come. I might help." Lin Yu hesitated. Facing her parents blind would be awkward.
"Help?" Her derisive glance said it all.
Hua'an Community Clinic:
A panicked bespectacled doctor rushed over. "Director Jiang! The child's fever won't break—two antipyretics already! She's hoarse from crying!"
Jiang Yan (Lin Yu now knew her name) threw on her white coat and strode toward the exam room.
Inside, a toddler writhed in her mother's arms, face scarlet, shrieking a high-pitched, wrong cry between dry heaves.
Lin Yu frowned. Was it a trick of light, or did black tendrils of something coil around the child?
Misdiagnosis:
"Just fright. Acupuncture will settle her," Jiang Yan declared, ordering a sedative.
The parents nodded eagerly. "She's always gotten carsick—we drove too fast today."
"Don't sedate her!" Lin Yu stepped forward. "This isn't normal fever agitation. It'll worsen her condition."
"Get. Out." Jiang Yan's voice could've iced the Sahara.
"Who's he?" the mother whispered.
The bespectacled doctor snorted. "That's Director Jiang's husband—a vocational school dropout turned professional freeloader."
Heat rose to Lin Yu's cheeks. Even the clinic staff disdained him.
Disaster Strikes:
The sedative backfired. The child convulsed, foaming at the mouth.
Jiang Yan's composure shattered. Chest compressions. Rescue breaths. Nothing worked.
"You killed her!" The father lunged, fist raised—
—only for Lin Yu to intercept the blow.
"Violence won't save her," Lin Yu said calmly.
"She's already dead!" the man roared.
"Not while I'm here."
Jiang Yan gaped. For the first time, this "waste" of a husband radiated something unfamiliar: competence.