Guilt and Redemption
Witnessing Yan Xiaonian’s near-manic quest for revenge against Su Yao at the clubhouse, Xiao Sheng felt as though his heart were being battered by surging, turbulent waves, leaving him in a state of emotional turmoil. As he gazed into her eyes, brimming with agony and resentment, he felt as if countless steel needles had pierced his soul, the pain radiating through his entire body. Every glance from her felt like a silent indictment of his past stupidity and callousness, fueling a regret that gnawed at him, with guilt tightening around his heart like tenacious vines.
Once the chaotic scene at the clubhouse subsided, a frantic Xiao Sheng lost no time, swiftly escorting Yan Xiaonian back to the Xiao estate. Throughout the journey, he held her hand firmly; it was deathly cold, her slender fingers trembling slightly, betraying an ocean of sorrow. Xiao Sheng was desperate to warm her with his own body heat, yet that chill seemed to have seeped into her very bones, stubborn and unyielding.
The moment they stepped through the door, Xiao Sheng rushed toward the kitchen. The business titan, usually composed and commanding, was now flustered by anxiety. He shouted, "Prepare the Madam's favorite sweet and sour pork immediately! Use the freshest ribs, and ensure the sauce is seasoned perfectly to her taste. Also, make the braised prawns—use the largest, live ones. And that jade pearl soup; the ingredients must be of the finest quality, and there is no room for error!" The servants, having never seen him in such a state, hurried to carry out his orders.
After seeing to the meal, Xiao Sheng strode upstairs and dived into the walk-in closet. He rummaged through piles of clothing, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, until he finally unearthed the limited-edition silk scarf he had once stumbled upon in Paris—a piece he had known at first sight was meant for Yan Xiaonian. The scarf was like a magnificent tapestry, its pattern exquisite and its colors vibrant, every thread seemingly woven with his dreams for their future. Holding it carefully, he returned downstairs to her side. His movements were as gentle as if he were handling a rare treasure as he draped the scarf over her shoulders. When his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, he felt a subtle, involuntary tremor in her body, like that of a startled fawn.
"Xiaonian, I know that nothing I do now can immediately mend the wounds in your heart, but please, give me time. Let me spend the rest of my life making amends," Xiao Sheng murmured, his voice low and raspy, thick with a near-choking tremor. His eyes were filled with such sincerity and remorse that it felt as if he were laying his very soul bare for her to inspect.
Yan Xiaonian merely nodded slightly, her gaze vacant as she looked out the window, her thoughts trapped in the agonizing past, unable to break free. Seeing this, Xiao Sheng’s heart tightened, and he silently vowed that no matter the cost, he would dispel the shadows from her soul.
In the days that followed, Xiao Sheng cleared his schedule of all unnecessary social engagements, dedicating every spare moment to her. In the early morning, when the first rays of sunlight played through the thin clouds and filtered through the garden leaves, dappling the ground in gold, he would rise early, tiptoe to her bedroom door, and call out softly, "Xiaonian, it’s time to wake up. Let’s go for a walk in the garden and get some fresh air." Once she rose, he would accompany her on a leisurely stroll along the garden paths, watching the sunlight pierce through the foliage to cast dancing, mottled shadows—playful sprites leaping upon them. He listened to the birds singing in the branches, their melodies seeming to recount the beauty of the world. Occasionally, he would rack his brain for clumsy jokes, laughing heartily himself until the lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, all just to coax a faint smile from her lips.
In the lazy, sun-drenched afternoons, they would curl up on the soft sofa, Xiao Sheng resting his head on her shoulder as they leafed through photo albums filled with memories of better times. His long fingers would trace their smiling faces in the photographs, each one a key unlocking a sweet recollection. Lost in the past, he would whisper, "Do you remember when we went hiking? You were so tired you couldn't take another step and insisted I carry you. I carried you all the way to the summit, and the sunrise we saw was truly breathtaking..." A hint of a smile would occasionally touch the corners of Yan Xiaonian’s mouth, but before it could fully bloom, it would be swallowed by sorrow, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
When night fell and the city lights flickered to life, Xiao Sheng would don an apron and head to the kitchen, embarking on a somewhat clumsy culinary journey. He cut vegetables into uneven, jagged pieces; when oil splattered onto his hands while stir-frying, he would gasp and wince, his brow furrowed, but he held his ground, gritting his teeth. He did it all just to prepare her a warm, heartfelt dinner. When he finally brought the steaming dishes to the table, he looked at her with hopeful eyes: "Xiaonian, try it. See if it's to your liking. If not, I'll make it again."
Beyond that, Xiao Sheng meticulously planned a short getaway. They traveled to the seaside, where the vast, azure ocean met the horizon, the waves lapping gently against the sand like a soft, soothing whisper intended to calm the soul. Xiao Sheng held her hand tightly as they strolled along the shoreline, the sea breeze brushing past them, carrying the unique, crisp saltiness of the ocean.
"Xiaonian, I hope this sea can help open your heart. I don't want to miss another beautiful moment with you for the rest of my life." Xiao Sheng stopped, turned to face her, and gazed into her eyes with a profound, burning intensity—an ardor so deep it seemed the vast ocean itself could not contain it.
Looking at the man who was giving his all to make amends, the wall of ice that Yan Xiaonian had built from pain and resentment began to show cracks. She knew that the loss of their child was a wound that would never fully heal, but Xiao Sheng’s persistent companionship and wholehearted devotion were slowly warming her. Perhaps, she thought, she could truly try to let go of the past and embrace the future once more.