My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

The party ended promptly at 5 p.m.

The band had left, the balloon arch on the lawn was dismantled by several staff members, and the long dining table under the sunshade was gradually becoming empty.

Cheng Xiaoyu's head was still drooping, probably still reeling from the trauma of his ripped pants. As Jiang Yi passed by, she patted his shoulder mischievously and said her condolences, but he waved her away listlessly.

Jiang Yi climbed into the back seat, and before she had even fastened her seatbelt, she began to vividly recount Cheng Xiaoyu's skateboarding accident to Jiang Ren, laughing so hard at the end that she slapped the seat.

Jiang Ren leaned back in the passenger seat, casually exchanging a few words, occasionally glancing at the black sedan following behind in the rearview mirror.

The atmosphere in the car was relaxed, but Butler Wu felt a heavy weight on his heart.

After returning to the Jiang family home, Jiang Ren let Jiang Yi go inside first. Jiang Yi, carrying a box of cream puffs she had packed from the party, skipped and hopped up the steps.

Jiang Ren turned around and looked at Butler Wu standing by the car door, her tone casual but serious: "Uncle Wu, if you have any difficulties, you must tell me."

He had said this at least a hundred times, and each time Butler Wu would just smile and say that the young master was overthinking it, then subtly change the subject.

It's not that I don't appreciate it, it's that I can't appreciate it.

He did such a thing, yet he worked for the Jiang family, who treated him so well, for over a decade. Every day, looking into the eyes of his wife, into the trusting gaze of his master, and into the young master's life, the guilt he felt had become a thorn in his very bones.

He is not entitled to their kindness.

  

Butler Wu watched the young master's figure disappear into the warm yellow light of the porch, his fingers slowly loosening and then tightening again as he gripped the steering wheel.

He had worked for the Jiang family, who had treated him exceptionally well, for over thirty years. Even though Jiang Mingyuan and Cui Ying would never have stood idly by if he had simply asked when his wife was seriously ill, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

At that time, he was too proud and too aware that once he asked to borrow the money, he would no longer be the composed and proper butler in the Jiang family, but a servant who owed a favor and was inferior to others.

Cui Jiayi had calculated this perfectly. She knew what he valued most, and she knew he would rather do something shady than lose face in front of his master. That's why she pushed the check in front of him that night, smiling confidently and calmly...

Looking back now, he realized how incredibly stupid he had been. Butler Wu chuckled self-deprecatingly before driving to the hospital.

In the lobby of the inpatient department, instead of going directly to his wife's ward, he turned into a familiar office and handed the two samples to a doctor wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

One was the lady's hair, which he took from the wooden comb on the dressing table in the master bedroom.

The other one was for the girl; he had taken a strand of hair from her shoulder while she was playfully fighting with Jiang Yi at the party.

His hands were steady when he did these things, but when he handed over the sample, his fingertips were as cold as if they had just been pulled out of ice water.

The doctor took the sample bag, looked it over a couple of times, glanced at him, and didn't ask any further questions.

Butler Wu thanked him and turned to walk down the corridor toward his wife's hospital room.

He stood at the door for a while before pushing it open and going in.

The ward was quiet, with only the occasional beeping of the monitor.

On the hospital bed by the window, Yin Wan was receiving an IV drip, the clear medicine dripping down the tube one drop at a time.

Years of drug abuse had already taken a toll on her body. She had lost all her hair a few years ago, and she was so thin that her figure under the covers was as frail as a sheet of paper, as if a gust of wind would shatter her.

Wu Yue sat down on the old chair by the bed.

The chair leg scraped lightly against the floor, making a soft sound. Yin Wan's eyelids twitched, and she slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze was somewhat unfocused, and it took her a while to focus on the face of the person beside the bed. Then, a faint, tired yet gentle smile slowly curved her lips: "What's wrong today? Your brows are furrowed so deeply you could raise fish in them."

Upon hearing this, Wu Yue also smiled.

He reached out and grasped her hand that wasn't receiving an IV. The hand was cold, the knuckles were slightly deformed from long-term malnutrition, and the skin was so thin that you could see the veins underneath.

He cupped that hand between his own palms, gently warming it with the warmth of his hands, and said softly, "Raising fish is great, then we won't have to go to the market to buy fish anymore."

Yin Wan chuckled softly at his teasing, but then started coughing.

Wu Yue quickly got up and patted her back until her breathing stabilized before sitting down again.

The two of them stayed there quietly, the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the blinds and casting fine beams of light on the white sheets.

"A-Yue," Yin Wan suddenly spoke, her voice very soft, as soft as a feather falling on the water, "We should thank the Jiang family properly. You said they treated you very well, and we can't do anything behind their backs to betray them."

Wu Yue tightened his grip on her hand slightly.

He lowered his head, looking at his and her intertwined fingers, and remained silent for a long while before saying, "I know."

Yin Wan didn't say anything more, but just very lightly rubbed his hand with her thumb.

She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with heartache she couldn't hide.

The heartache wasn't because she was lying in a hospital bed, but because of the man in front of her who had done so many things he shouldn't have done for her.

She withdrew her hand from his palm, slowly raised it, and stroked his cheek.

Her fingertips were cool, but the touch on his skin was gentle.

"Then let's stop lying to them, okay?" she whispered, her voice trembling with an almost pleading tone, her eyes already red.

Wu Yue's heart sank, but he still instinctively tried to play dumb, forcing a smile as he asked her what she was saying.

Yin Wan looked at him, a tear sliding down her cheek and disappearing into the pillow.

She suddenly withdrew her hand from his cheek, and then abruptly pulled the needle out of the back of his hand with her other hand.

Crimson blood gushed from the needle hole, flowing down her pale hand and dripping onto the white sheets like blooming blood flowers.

Wu Yue jumped up from his chair as if struck by lightning and reached out to press the call button.

But Yin Wan's words made him freeze in place.

"Cui Jiayi came to see me..."

He turned around in a daze, his eyes filled with horror and fear, his fingers trembling involuntarily.

He asked her what she said.

Yin Wan gave a bleak smile, shook her head, and let her bleeding hand hang limply by the bedside.

She didn't answer his question, but looked at him with tearful eyes, her voice soft and even, yet every word seemed to pound on his heart: "Ah Yue...do I need to repeat myself?"

Wu Yue was startled.

He hurried back to the bedside, grabbed a handful of tissues, and pressed them against the still-bleeding wound on the back of her hand. His voice carried a panic and pleading tone that he himself didn't realize: "Wan, let's get better. Let's focus on getting her treated first. We can talk about these things later..."

"Do we even have a future?" Yin Wan's voice suddenly rose, echoing in the quiet ward, carrying a despair that had been suppressed for a long time and finally broke through.

She pushed him away with all her might, and the hand that was pressing on the wound was freed. The tissue slipped off the back of her hand, revealing shocking bloodstains.

She looked up at him, tears blurring her vision, but her voice was unusually clear: "You said the money for your treatment was what you saved up while working for the Jiang family... From what you told me, I can tell they treated you very well, right? They never mistreated you."

Wu Yue lowered his head.

He couldn't deny it.

Jiang Mingyuan treated him like a brother and a friend, and his wife treated him like family. He watched the young master grow up and he held the young lady in his arms from a baby.

They never treated him like a servant, yet he did such things behind their backs.

Looking at his silent expression, Yin Wan understood everything.

She also understood who he was doing this for.

She thought about not being a burden to him, knowing that her illness was incurable.

But he told her that if she died, he would never live on alone.

She knew it wasn't just a casual remark; it was a promise he made to her, just like that wedding years ago when no one blessed them. Only the two of them stood in front of the Civil Affairs Bureau counter, and he held her cold hand in his palm, saying, "Awan, I will give you a lifetime of happiness."

Her Yue should be that upright and honest man, the one who blushed but made that vow at the wedding with a firm gaze, not like this now, forced into a state he can't even recognize himself because of her.

She forced back the waves of pain surging through her body, raised her head to look at him, at the man who had given everything for her and who had lost his way because of her.

Her voice was soft but steady: "A-Yue, tell me what you did. I want to hear it from your own mouth."

Wu Yue stood by the bed, her legs feeling as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

Looking into her eyes, once clear and bright but now filled with tears and disappointment, he finally couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed into the chair that had been with him for countless nights.

He grasped her uninjured hand, buried his head in her palm, and his shoulders began to tremble violently.

He recounted everything that happened back then in a broken, intermittent voice.

He described how he was driven to desperation by medical expenses, how Cui Jiayi approached him at that time, and how he drove the newborn baby to the orphanage late at night.

He said he had slipped a note into the baby's swaddling clothes with the name he had overheard from the lady of the house.

For a long time after he finished speaking, there was no sound in the ward.

Then he felt the hand he was holding gently pull away.

He thought she would push him away again, but she didn't.

Her hand landed on his head, gently stroking his gray hair—the same gesture she made when they lived together in their rented apartment.