When Will My Childhood Sweetheart Marry Me?-Chapter 52 - 0: Will Feel Guilty for a Lifetime

Jiang Shuyao returned home just as her mother, who had completed surgery, arrived at the doorstep. She swiftly composed herself and gently called out, "Mom."

Hearing her daughter’s voice behind her, Zhu Yun turned around for a closer look and, indeed, it was her own daughter. She asked in surprise, "Yaoyao, why are you outside?"

It was already past midnight, and under normal circumstances, she should have been asleep.

Even though Zhu Yun was often busy with work, she kept a clear and precise grasp of her daughter’s routine.

Faced with her mother’s inquiring gaze, Jiang Shuyao smiled faintly and lied, "I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs to take out the trash. Mom, are you hungry? I can make you a bowl of noodles."

Seeing her daughter’s thoughtful demeanor warmed Zhu Yun’s heart. She reached out and tousled her hair, "I’m not hungry. Have you been under a lot of pressure from studying recently, causing insomnia?"

"No, I just had too much for dinner; I’m a little stuffed."

After listening, Zhu Yun said with a sour tone, "Auntie’s cooking must be good. You never get stuffed from the dishes I make."

As they talked, mother and daughter entered the house. Jiang Shuyao turned on the lights at the entryway and placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders, guiding her towards the kitchen.

"Ah, Auntie is, after all, someone we pay, so it only makes sense to eat our money’s worth."

Zhu Yun was amused by her daughter’s pragmatic and simple logic. She quickly stopped at the kitchen doorway and urged her towards the bedroom, "If I want to eat something, I’ll do it myself. You go on and get some sleep. If you really can’t, just put on an eye mask and listen to some music."

Just then, there was the sound of keys turning in the front door.

Jiang Tingsong had just walked through the door when he was met with the gazes of his wife and daughter, smiling unexpectedly, "What special day is it today that both young and old are waiting up for me?"

The air fell silent for a few seconds before Jiang Shuyao, with keen eyes, spotted a set of architectural survey drawings in her father’s hand. Her eyelids twitched and she quickly said, "I’m going to my room now. Goodnight, Mom and Dad."

Watching her daughter dash off, Jiang Tingsong stared blankly at his wife.

Zhu Yun shot a glance at him and sighed, "The child is sensitive right now. You shouldn’t just shove books into her room all day. It even irritates me to see it."

"..." Jiang Tingsong was the very picture of innocence.

The survey drawings in his hand were a real accumulation of experience, something money couldn’t buy on the market. Yet, in his daughter’s eyes, they appeared to be avoided like landmines.

Lost in thought, he suddenly heard his wife change the subject, "Old Jiang, we need to pay more attention to Yaoyao’s mood lately. I suspect she’s going through something."

Zhu Yun was not easily fooled. Seeing her daughter return from outside in the middle of the night, with red-rimmed eyes, low spirits, and neatly dressed with damp hair — clearly not the look of someone who just took the trash out.

As someone who had been through it all, her first thought was teenage romance.

But as a mother, Zhu Yun also had firm faith in her daughter’s self-control.

Remembering a recent news story about a bullying incident at school, Zhu Yun couldn’t shake her unease. At last, she and her husband decided to find time to visit the homeroom teacher at Yunzhong the next day to understand the situation with their daughter.

Whichever it was, both situations warranted parental concern. It was a critical time, and they had to ensure nothing jeopardized their child’s college entrance exam preparation.

Jiang Shuyao thought she had acted nonchalant, not knowing her mother had seen right through her pretense.

What had started off as a joke about insomnia had inadvertently hit the mark.

Tossing and turning in bed, she told herself not to think about everything that happened tonight, but her mind uncontrollably replayed those images, that person.

Pei Yan was always active as a child, mastering skateboarding while other kids were still playing with LEGO, and zipping down the motorbike track dozens of times while other children were being forced into tutoring classes.

She wasn’t sure when he learned to ski, probably around the two years she went to Qi Middle School.

In just two years, he had the guts to compete in races on Qingcheng Mountain.

Did he think he was invincible, or was he simply so carefree that it bordered on foolish?

Jiang Shuyao closed her eyes, recalling the video Tang Xing had shared with her. She felt scared each time she watched it.

If Pei Yan had really met with an accident on Snow Peak, for the sake of a painting, a painting she liked—if he had lost his life or suffered some serious consequence.

She would feel guilt for the rest of her life.

Even then, she couldn’t face Uncle Pei.