Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 464: Happiness in the Future

Chapter 464: Chapter 464: Happiness in the Future

Before Li Tao could react, Zhao Ting had already run off without looking back. Faced with everyone’s varied gazes, Li Tao’s face turned beet red. In a hurry, he grabbed a large bunch of roses from the table and chased after her.

...

In M Country, Fu Family’s villa.

Laughter like tinkling bells echoed around the room, not unlike the enchanting song of a nightingale in the forest.

The girl’s cheerful laughter was always particularly infectious. Fu Xingbo and Bai Qian, who were admiring the snow in the Garden, looked up at Fu Han’s room. Warm light spilled out from her window, orange and filled with warmth.

Bai Qian smiled, "It’s rare to see this child so happy."

Fu Xingbo nodded in agreement, "Yes, she’s had too tough a life."

"Not anymore," Bai Qian turned to look at Fu Xingbo, her smile curving her eyes, "From now on we’re her family. She’ll have a lover, her own career, and her own children."

Fu Xingbo continued to gaze up at Fu Han’s curtains, a smile slowly appearing on his face, "Yeah, just that I wonder whom she likes. I think both Su Cheng and Ji Liangchuan are good kids."

A cold wind blew by. Bai Qian huddled in closer, her smile playful, "Children will have their own blessings; as the elders, we shouldn’t interfere too much. Whether it’s Su Cheng, Ji Liangchuan, or He Xing, I think it’s fine as long as they truly care for Fu Han."

"He Xing?" Fu Xingbo was surprised to hear this name, as far as he was concerned, He Xing and Fu Han had already broken up and He Xing was out of the picture; but after thinking it over, he smiled, "You do have a point."

The couple exchanged a knowing smile, and the cold wind seemed gentler somehow.

Holding her stomach, Fu Han still couldn’t stop laughing as she looked at the dejected Zhao Ting on her phone screen, "So, the reason you refused Li Tao is that you don’t want to marry so early?"

Zhao Ting coughed uncomfortably, "Yeah, I only graduated from university half a year ago, I haven’t truly enjoyed life yet. I don’t want to marry so early."

"But you could date first," Fu Han coughed to suppress her laughter feeling she shouldn’t laugh, but mainly because she just couldn’t help it, "Date for a few years, see if you’re compatible, and then consider marriage."

Zhao Ting called her to talk about heading to M Country tomorrow, but it turned into a venting session about Li Tao’s public confession and his proposal for a marriage-minded romance, which terrified her so much she ran away on the spot.

Truth be told, had Zhao Ting not mentioned it today herself, Fu Han would’ve been clueless about Li Tao pursuing Zhao Ting for such a long time; she’d never imagined the two of them together.

On the other side, Zhao Ting’s head wobbled like a bobblehead, "Better not, Li Tao has played me his mother’s voice messages several times, all urging him to hurry up and get married. His family is that eager; if I lead him on to date, I’d just be wasting his time. Better to end it."

Fu Han felt there was some sense to her words, but somehow she pitied Li Tao. After a thought, she added, "It’s right to not waste someone’s time, but I think you should still be honest with Li Tao. Being rejected in front of everyone is hard, it could leave a psychological scar."

"You have a point, I better go and explain to him," Zhao Ting hastily said before hanging up the video call, not even saying goodbye.

Fu Han stared at the now dark screen of her phone, her lips still curved in a smile.

It’s good to be young, to courageously express your likes, to speak your heart, to be as pure in appearance as in soul.

Years ago, she too had such moments, those times when she wished the whole world knew she liked He Xing. But now, even if she still liked He Xing, it seemed she wouldn’t confess her feelings anymore.

Today was Christmas, and every year the streets would be unbearably crowded.

Every Christmas, Fu Han would rack her brain for excuses to get He Xing to go shopping with her; the failure rate was incredibly high, but she was always enthusiastic about it.

He Xing couldn’t fathom why it was necessary to go shopping when it was crowded, as jostling with the crowd was joyless for him; however, Fu Han believed the significance of holiday shopping wasn’t in the act itself but rather in the meaning that could come from an otherwise mundane experience.

Last Christmas, they were filming "Homesick," unable to shop and only managed a hot pot meal together. This year, she had hoped to make up for the past four years of Christmas regrets, yet their separation spanned half the globe.

Reflecting on the smile on Zhao Ting’s face, one derived from being liked, Fu Han suddenly felt a twinge of sadness. She pulled out her phone and sent He Xing a message, "What are you up to?"

He almost instantly replied to her message, "I’m about to get up."

These mundane exchanges without any substantial content had become frequent lately, making Fu Han lose interest. She set her phone aside, not wanting to continue the conversation, but then He Xing sent another message, "Xiaohan, are you reaching out because there’s something you need?"

His words instantly pulled her back through time to a remote past; the young He Xing had already been aloof, a coolness that came from within, noticeable only when he was alone with Fu Han.

Back then, Fu Han would fantasize about being Cinderella, with He Xing as her prince; she’d often exhibit the angst of youth, occasionally having wild outbursts.

He Xing was used to her ways, his tone remaining as cool as ever, but he’d always end by asking, "What’s wrong?"

That question was always the outlet for Fu Han’s emotional eruptions; she would pour her heart out endlessly, and even if she got little in response from He Xing, just having him listen was enough, even if he listened with a grimace.

When Fu Han snapped out of her reverie, she realized she had sent He Xing a message at some point without being aware of it, "I miss you."

There was no moment more awkward than this. Fu Han wanted to retract the message, but two minutes had passed, and it was too late to retract, though thankfully He Xing hadn’t replied yet—he probably hadn’t seen the message.

She slapped her forehead in agony, racking her brain for an explanation to save face. She began to type one letter at a time, "Sorry, the message was sent..."

But before she could send "by mistake," He Xing responded. To say it was a reply wouldn’t be quite accurate; what he sent was a picture, more specifically, an image of a plane ticket, with less than two hours before departure.