Chapter 10: What Exactly Is His Relationship with His Sister?

Not tell him?

At that moment, his entire focus was on little Feng, who was "crying himself into a faint." How could he have noticed her injuries? The irony was that while little Feng had been faking it, she had been truly hurt. Tang Xi did not believe a five-year-old child could pull off such tricks; it was self-evident who was coaching him from behind the scenes.

"Don't worry about me." Tang Xi pushed Gu Yu's hand away and turned to head upstairs.

Gu Yu was just about to follow when he heard Gu Wennuan’s panicked voice, "Brother, it’s bad! Little Feng has fainted again! Little Feng, don't scare Mommy! The doctor said you cannot be agitated. How can some people be so heartless, insisting on picking on a child?"

Tang Xi stood on the stairs, watching them with cold eyes. She saw Gu Yu scoop up little Feng and rush out, his panicked demeanor as if the end of the world had arrived.

Tang Xi went back into her room, packed a few things, and drove to Song Xining’s house. Upon learning the sequence of events, Song Xining was so furious she looked ready to blow a fuse.

"What is Gu Yu playing at? What exactly is his relationship with that Gu Wennuan?"

If they were truly just siblings, this was far too excessive. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was keeping a mistress at home. That mother and son were clearly trying to stir up conflict between Tang Xi and Gu Yu, hoping to seize the nest for themselves. It was too insidious.

Tang Xi’s phone rang again; it was a call from Gu Yu. She found the noise annoying and simply turned it off.

Not long after, there was a knock at Song Xining’s door. Song Xining hopped over on her crutches and immediately turned back to mouth the words to Tang Xi: *Gu Yu.*

Gu Yu knew Tang Xi didn't like socializing. Aside from studying antiques and jade at home, she only went out to volunteer. She didn't have many friends; Song Xining was her childhood companion. He had already called the Tang residence, and since Tang Xi hadn't returned there, she could only be at Song Xining’s.

Tang Xi shook her head.

The knocking persisted for quite a while, very stubbornly, until the neighbor from next door opened her door and unleashed a torrent of angry shouting. Only then did the sound cease abruptly. Gu Yu was a man who cared deeply about his reputation; he certainly wouldn't knock again.

Just then, a flash of lightning illuminated the window. Song Xining said, "He must have left. It’s about to pour."

Tang Xi sat on the sofa reading a book, remaining silent.

"What are you planning to do? You can't just ignore him forever, can you?"

Tang Xi pondered for a moment. "If he doesn't send that mother and son away, divorce is our only path."

She had always believed that she and Gu Yu would grow old together. Just as he once said, even when they were gray and withered, they would never let go of each other’s interlaced fingers. But when it came to the word "divorce," unless it was an absolute last resort, how could she ever say it easily?

"Is that Gu Yu?" Song Xining, who had wandered to the window at some point, pointed downstairs and shouted, "It’s raining, why hasn't he left yet?"

Thunder rumbled, and bean-sized raindrops began to hammer against the glass. Tang Xi hurried over. Sure enough, she saw Gu Yu standing by his car downstairs. He seemed to see her too, tilting his face up as it was continuously drenched by the rain, his eyes filled with deep affection.

Tang Xi’s heart softened for a moment, but she quickly pulled the curtains shut, forcing herself not to look.

The rain grew heavier.

Song Xining was still watching the spectacle, "It's raining so hard, is Gu Yu here to borrow money or beg for medicine?"

Tang Xi did not feel well. Those raindrops seemed to be tapping against her heart, leaving a trail of scars.

In the past, whenever she caught even a slight cold, Gu Yu would cancel all his work and social engagements to care for her day and night. Knowing she disliked rainy days, he always kept raincoats and boots in the car. Once, when they were out and it suddenly started raining, he had insisted on carrying her on his back all the way down from the mountain, refusing to let her feet touch a speck of mud.

Three years—bit by bit, moment by moment—Tang Xi was not made of stone.