Chapter 70:

“When that piercing whistle just faded away,

I walked along the path toward the shade of the trees.

The gentle wind kept blowing through the thick hawthorn trees,

Ruffling the hair of the young lathe worker and the blacksmith.”

Don’t get the wrong idea—it’s not some modern poem, but the lyrics to a song. The song is called “The Hawthorn Tree,” created in the Soviet Union in 1953, depicting the work, life, and love of young factory workers.

Lin Qiao had just given birth to a child, making her the hero of the Shen family. Shen Qingzhou cherished her health and practically gave in to her every request, which was why he was now singing to her.

Shen Qingzhou had a great voice, something Lin Qiao had known since the day they met. His voice was deep and melodious when he spoke, and his singing was no less impressive than a professional singer’s. Even without accompaniment, his a cappella singing highlighted the clarity and depth of his voice. Lin Qiao stared at him, wide-eyed, listening to him sing a short passage of “The Hawthorn Tree,” before praising him, “That sounds amazing.”

Holding Lin Qiao’s hand under the blanket, Shen Qingzhou glanced at the IV drip. It was almost finished; they could be discharged in the afternoon.

“Still hurts?” He didn’t comment on her praise for his singing, only concerned about her wound.

Lin Qiao shook her head. “It stopped hurting a long time ago. I just told you it hurt earlier so you’d sing for me.” She gave him a mischievous smile.

Shen Qingzhou raised an eyebrow, his handsome, usually expressionless face revealing a hint of something dangerous. Lin Qiao instinctively pulled the blanket up higher, avoiding his gaze. But his soft command, “Don’t move,” made her surrender immediately.

“Okay,” she readily agreed, smiling gently.

As Shen Qingzhou opened his mouth to say something else, their daughter suddenly started crying from the crib. Lin Qiao immediately turned with concern, and Shen Qingzhou let go of her hand and walked over to check on the baby.

“She’s wet,” he said, his expression odd. He awkwardly picked the baby up and tried to change her diaper, his movements stiff and inexperienced. Lin Qiao watched nervously, wondering if he could manage it properly. She almost suggested calling Xie Jiayi to help, but she held back, fearing it might bruise the pride of the new father.

Luckily, although Shen Qingzhou was clumsy, he eventually managed the diaper change successfully, with no major mishaps.

Seeing him finish, Lin Qiao sighed. “Maybe we should just use disposable diapers. It’s easier and saves trouble.”

Shen Qingzhou looked at her and said firmly, “No.”

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

“Disposable diapers may be convenient for adults, but they’re not good for the baby. They’re uncomfortable and unhygienic. We’ll use cloth diapers; Mom prepared a lot.”

He gently placed the baby back in the crib, bending over to play with her, his profile visible to Lin Qiao. From her angle, she could see his gentle, handsome profile.

People often said that serious men were the most attractive, but Lin Qiao always thought that men who were usually cold and aloof became the most charming when they showed tenderness.

Shen Qingzhou’s current demeanor, radiating such warmth and inclusive tenderness, stirred something deep within Lin Qiao—a married mother who had recently received little affection from her husband.

As if sensing her intense gaze from behind, Shen Qingzhou turned to look at her. He half-closed his eyes, his gaze flickering over her with a teasing closeness. Every subtle glance sent Lin Qiao’s heart racing. Especially when he finally turned back to the baby, his eyes brimming with tenderness, as if sparkling with springtime warmth, making her feel flushed and dry-mouthed.

“Did the baby wake up?”

Xie Jiayi’s entrance interrupted the silent, charged moment between them. She carried lunch and casually closed the door behind her.

Today, she looked different. Since the baby’s birth, Xie Jiayi had stopped wearing high heels and had replaced her usual expensive, elegant outfits with something simpler. Now, she wore comfortable pants and a shirt, flat shoes, her long hair tied up in a high knot, her face bare of makeup—clearly prioritizing the baby’s comfort.

Lin Qiao had just given birth and, even though she had recovered quickly from a natural delivery, she couldn’t take care of the baby yet. Her mother had passed away years ago, so it was up to Xie Jiayi to step in.

After setting down the lunch, Xie Jiayi sent Shen Qingzhou off to accompany Lin Qiao and stayed by the crib herself. The baby, seeing her pretty grandmother, stopped crying immediately and happily babbled with her.

Shen Qingzhou sat beside Lin Qiao on the hospital bed, watching Xie Jiayi and the baby, seemingly deep in thought. Lin Qiao, feeling ignored by her handsome husband, grew a little jealous and grabbed his hand with her free one, scratching it lightly with her nails.

Shen Qingzhou immediately turned to look at her. Sunlight bathed his face, making his eyelashes shimmer like stars. His long, curled lashes fluttered like butterfly wings in the golden light, radiating beauty.

He slowly clasped her hand in return, his expression gentle. His pale fingers curled slightly, caressing her palm, his lips curling into an indescribable smile.

…Once she was fully recovered, she’d definitely have to deal with this bastard.

Lin Qiao gritted her teeth inwardly, barely suppressing the urge to tear his clothes off, and turned her head away in feigned annoyance.

Being able to look but not touch was pure torture.

How could Shen Qingzhou possibly miss Lin Qiao’s subtle desires? But he didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he gently massaged her hand, his expression relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, half-closing his eyes in thought, not even mentioning lunch.

He had many things to think about—plans filling his mind, his brain working at full speed. But Lin Qiao, the new mother, had fewer concerns. She hadn’t felt hungry before, but now that Xie Jiayi had brought lunch, her stomach started to growl.

“Hey,” Lin Qiao called to Shen Qingzhou. “I’m hungry. Stop spacing out and bring the food.”

Hearing her, Xie Jiayi turned around immediately. “Exactly! Qingzhou, why aren’t you moving? Hurry up and bring the food for Qiaoqiao. I made porridge, eggs, and carp soup—it’s good for calcium and milk production.”

Shen Qingzhou readily fetched the lunch, carefully choosing the dishes Lin Qiao liked and placing them in front of her.

Lin Qiao took the bowl of carp soup and took a few sips before noticing someone watching her with a mischievous gaze.

She turned her head in confusion and sure enough, saw Shen Qingzhou staring at her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked casually. “Help me take the IV out first—it’s inconvenient to eat with it.”

Shen Qingzhou glanced at the IV. It was almost done. Since she wanted to eat, it would be uncomfortable to keep it in, so he didn’t object. He took her hand and carefully removed the needle.

Though not a doctor, Shen Qingzhou had some basic medical knowledge, which he described as “just in case”—the same reasoning he used for buying an RV.

“Eat,” he said after removing the IV, gently pressing the injection site for a moment before letting her start her meal.

Lin Qiao continued sipping her soup and asked, “What were you thinking about just now? Your look was strange.”

Shen Qingzhou didn’t look at her. He sipped his porridge and replied lightly, “Nothing.”

“Hmph, I don’t believe you. Tell me the truth, or I’ll be mad.”

This time, Shen Qingzhou looked at her. “You really want to know?”

Lin Qiao nodded. She put down the fish soup and reached for an egg, trying to peel it herself, but Shen Qingzhou took it from her hands and lowered his gaze to peel it for her.

“Lean closer,” he said softly, his tone slightly teasing.

They were already very close. He had sat beside the bed after removing the IV, their shoulders nearly touching. It wasn’t far for her to lean in, so she obeyed.

Shen Qingzhou slightly lifted his head and whispered in her ear, “The fish soup is good. Drink more.” Then he sat back and continued peeling the egg.

Lin Qiao frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Shen Qingzhou chuckled softly. “You really can’t tell?”

“Obviously. If I knew, why would I ask?”

He glanced at her again. “Nothing much.” He lowered his voice to a whisper only they could hear. “I just… really like… drinking milk.”

…

For the first time, Lin Qiao realized just how much of a rogue Shen Qingzhou could be.

That afternoon, Lin Qiao changed clothes and left the hospital with Shen Qingzhou and Xie Jiayi. Her father had come too, but had gone downstairs earlier to load things into the car. The car was parked right at the hospital entrance, and he was waiting inside.

Shen Qingzhou supported Lin Qiao on one side, while Xie Jiayi carried the baby, wrapped warmly to prevent cold exposure without overheating. To an ordinary observer, they were just a beautiful, wealthy family. But to those who paid attention, their story was far more complex.

Zhao Chunjun happened to be finishing work at the same time and took the elevator down with them. The elevator wasn’t crowded—only two other unrelated people besides them. Dressed casually, Zhao Chunjun stood in a corner of the elevator, his tall figure casting a shadow over the people in front. Lin Qiao happened to be standing right in front of him.

She wasn’t as tall as Zhao Chunjun, so his shadow felt somewhat annoying. But Shen Qingzhou was about the same height, maybe even a little taller, so it wasn’t a problem for him.

Uncomfortable, Lin Qiao frowned and tugged at Shen Qingzhou’s sleeve. Calmly, Shen Qingzhou glanced at Zhao Chunjun. Zhao, sensing the gaze, looked back. Their eyes met, and Zhao offered a polite smile.

Shen Qingzhou turned away without expression, stepping out of the elevator with his wife and mother, leaving the hospital.

Lin Qiao quickly got into the car where her father was waiting. Once seated, she looked out the window and saw Zhao Chunjun slowly descending the hospital steps.

He wore a dark green trench coat, accentuating his tall, slender frame. His gold-rimmed glasses sat on his high nose, softening his sharp gaze slightly. Yet, no matter his expression, there was always a shadow deep within his eyes.

The car slowly pulled away from the hospital, and Lin Qiao turned her gaze to Xie Jiayi beside her, who was holding her and Shen Qingzhou’s daughter. The little girl was sleeping soundly, her expression peaceful and sweet.

The car was warm—the air conditioning had been on for a while while her father waited downstairs, so the baby’s head was uncovered without getting cold.

But Xie Jiayi seemed a bit strange. She kept holding the baby, watching her with Lin Qiao, but unlike Lin Qiao’s joy, Xie Jiayi’s expression carried a trace of nostalgia and melancholy.

She must be thinking of Qingzhou’s father again.

Thinking this, Lin Qiao softly said, “Mom, why don’t I hold the baby for a while? You must be tired. Rest a bit.”

Xie Jiayi quickly refused. “No, I’m fine. You’re not fully recovered yet. It’s cold outside, and you need to be extra careful during your postpartum period. Otherwise, you might suffer for the rest of your life.”

Since her mother-in-law insisted, Lin Qiao didn’t push further. Just then, her phone rang. Someone had sent her a message, so she nodded and took out her phone.

The number was very familiar—she had seen it many times when she was in Zhoushan. It had brought her a lot of trouble, and the person behind it was equally annoying.

It was Zhao Chunjun.

The message was even more unpleasant than the man himself. He wrote: “Staring at me from inside the car—you know your husband might get upset.”

…What an unreasonable person, sending such a confusing message in such a suggestive tone. Who gave him the confidence to be so arrogant?

Frustrated, Lin Qiao deleted the message and blocked his number, finally achieving peace.

Meanwhile, Zhao Chunjun, who had just sent the message, sat in his car, calmly removing the phone’s back cover. He took out the battery and SIM card, replacing them with a new one before reassembling the phone and turning it on.

As the welcome screen appeared, he casually tossed the old SIM card into a box. The box had two clearly divided compartments—one empty, the other filled with brand-new SIM cards. The old one joined the empty compartment.

After finishing, Zhao Chunjun started the car and drove toward his home.