Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 282: Remembered Everything

Chapter 282: Chapter 282: Remembered Everything

The evening wind roared fiercely, balloons danced with the breeze, resembling countless adorable little animals frolicking in the sky.

He Xing, holding a handful of balloons, experienced an illusion for a moment, feeling as if the balloons in his palm were his happiness, that the more balloons he had, the more happiness he possessed.

Now that his hands were full of balloons, did that mean he was brimming with happiness?

He Xing placed all the balloons in Fu Han’s room. Then he went back to his own room to take a shower. He had been running around, worried about Fu Han, and had sweated, feeling uncomfortable all over.

By the time he had bathed and changed into comfortable home clothes and came downstairs, the dining table was laden with delicious meals, their tempting aroma wafting through the air. He Xing’s stomach growled with hunger, a hunger that made vocal demands.

Yet, he had not long ago enjoyed street barbecue with Fu Han; it seems one gets hungry easily when happy, not without reason.

Fu Han was gnawing on a Chicken Drumstick, her cheeks stuffed. Seeing He Xing, she paused, slightly embarrassed, "I said I’d wait for you, but Grandpa insisted that I eat first."

"Yes, I was the one who told her to eat," He Xing’s grandfather glanced at He Xing, his threat unspoken yet clear, "What, do you have a problem with that?"

"How dare I have any problems?" He Xing, with a deadpan expression, managed a smile and sat next to Fu Han, casually placing another Chicken Drumstick into her bowl, "This one’s for you too. From now on, all the drumsticks are yours."

Even though the He Family had always lived well materially and could satisfy any craving, the old gentleman had kept a decades-old custom; if chicken soup was made at home, the drumsticks were always given to the most treasured child in the house.

When Fu Han and He Xing were both children, they had often fought over the drumsticks. But their battles were different from those of others; there were only two options, either Fu Han would eat two drumsticks, or she and He Xing would each have one.

As a general rule, He Xing only got to eat a drumstick if Fu Han didn’t want them, as the old gentleman always unconditionally supported Fu Han, no matter what.

Memories flooded back, and Fu Han’s face involuntarily brightened with a smile. She looked at He Xing, "I’m not a pig, I can’t eat two drumsticks. You have it."

A smile spread across He Xing’s face as well. He chuckled, "You’re quite generous this time," and then unceremoniously helped himself to the drumstick.

Across the table, the smiling old man watched them. Although his face bore deeper wrinkles, he seemed much younger.

Dinner was more than half done when the He Family patriarch, as if struck by a thought, looked affectionately at Fu Han, "Xiaohan, does that mean you remember everything now?"

He Xing was eating an abalone when he heard this; he startled, almost swallowing the entire abalone.

Facing the impactful gaze of both He Family men, Fu Han felt her stress double. She cleared her throat and confessed honestly, "Yes, I remember everything now."

In fact, from the second Fu Han woke up that day, He Xing had wanted to ask the same question his grandfather had just posed numerous times, but he was too fearful that a single word might irritate Fu Han, so he had been holding back.

Now, hearing her answer firsthand, he felt a great shock, indescribable in words, mixed, of course, with joy, though also with an undercurrent of worry.

...

That night, the sounds of insects and birds had diminished considerably, and the lights of the entire villa had dimmed, leaving only the gentle glow of the corridor’s night light.

With a creak, a door at the end of the corridor was pushed open from the inside, Fu Han emerged first, with He Xing following close behind.

The old gentleman had been peculiar today, insisting Fu Han stay until he fell asleep. He Xing was marginalized by his own grandfather yet another day. But to spend more time with Fu Han, he thickened his skin and followed her in.

As Fu Han continued walking towards her room without stopping, He Xing hurried his pace to catch up, "Xiaohan, wait, I need to talk to you."

To avoid waking the old gentleman, his voice was very low, sounding especially hoarse in the night, tinged with a hint of world-weariness.

Fu Han had raised her foot to leave, but at his words, she stopped, though she did not turn back, asking with a touch of unease, "Do you have something else to say?"

"I have a lot to say." He Xing closed the distance to Fu Han in just a few steps. In the quiet of the night, his footsteps were particularly clear, like a hammer striking stone.

Fu Han instinctively glanced towards the old gentleman’s room. Frowning in displeasure, she said, "Are you trying to wake Grandpa deliberately?"

"I... I’m not," He Xing struggled to articulate a convincing argument, even as a blush crept up his cheeks, his words tumbling out desperately, "I was just afraid you’d ignore me. Let’s walk slowly and talk on the balcony, okay?"

Fu Han had anticipated that He Xing wouldn’t let her go back to sleep just like that. She had prepared herself to refuse whatever excuse He Xing made because she didn’t want to speak with He Xing at all.

However, when she heard He Xing utter "okay?" in such a subservient tone, her heart softened all at once.

By the time she came to her senses, He Xing was holding her hand, and she was obediently following behind him, heading to the open-air balcony they often visited in the past.

As they stepped out from the glass door, a strong gust of wind hit, nearly knocking the unprepared Fu Han off her feet. Luckily, He Xing held her hand tightly, firmly becoming her support.

There was a liquor cabinet on the balcony, custom-made by He Xing who had asked someone to carve out a niche in the wall; Fu Han remembered criticizing him for his extreme hedonism, but now she found the idea of having a liquor cabinet there quite appealing.

The ruby-red liquid swayed in the clear glass, the scent of wine diffusing into the air.

Only after emptying a glass of wine did He Xing speak, "Fu Han, do... do you have anything you want to say to me?"

"No!" Fu Han’s response was crisp and decisive. After responding, though, she felt her words were too callous, adding, "Not at the moment."

But her addition did nothing to improve He Xing’s pallid complexion. His lips quivered, he murmured low, "Xiaohan, I really should apologize to you. If I hadn’t lost my temper on the phone with you, you wouldn’t have had that car accident, wouldn’t have suffered so much, I’m sorry, can you forgive me?"

"I never blamed you," Fu Han tilted her head, a mischievous and endearing smile on her face, "If we’re really to blame, it’s actually my fault. You instructed me to stop Bai Wei, and I failed to prevent her from hitting Qin Xiaonian."