Ningning was the greatest gift Cheng Anya had ever received in this lifetime.
He was the flesh of her heart, her most precious treasure. Cheng Anya would never allow anyone to hurt him—not even a scratch. Yet the one who hurt him the most… was herself.
She remembered vividly the look in Ningning's eyes when he asked her about his father—there had been a touch of grievance there.
He was a genius child, with an IQ far above the norm from an early age. But at three years old, he was still just a little boy—just a bit more sensitive than others his age.
Misled by other kids, he began to believe that not having a father was somehow his mother's fault. Naturally, he resented her a little.
That was when Cheng Anya told him his father had died. She even spun an absurdly melodramatic tale of doomed love—a couple torn apart by tragedy, the man struck by a car, the woman raising their child alone out of love and sorrow.
From that moment on, Ningning never asked about his father again.
Cheng Anya had really struggled raising her son alone over the years—studying, working part-time jobs to pay her own tuition, and earning enough to buy formula for Ningning.
The UK was merciless, and London even more so with its brutal cost of living. At her worst, she once averaged less than four hours of sleep a day for an entire year.
As Ningning grew older, he also became more understanding of her hardship. His intelligence only sharpened with age, and his personality grew so formidable it often left people speechless.
The idea of being a "child of a single parent" could no longer hurt him. Eventually, both mother and son simply ignored the absence of a man in their lives.
Now, bringing up the long-buried topic of "Dad" again made Cheng Anya feel a bit awkward. She'd overplayed the lie—if she'd known back then, she'd have just told him his dad went to Mars.
At least that way, he might come back someday.
Now, claiming a resurrection might be a little late.
Cheng Anya didn't actually want Ye Third Young Master to know about Ningning, but she didn't want to keep lying to Ningning either.
Damn. Such a dilemma.
"Ningning, have you ever seen someone come back from the dead?"
"Yeah," Ningning replied calmly.
Cheng Anya froze. Then he added, "On TV."
Ye the Psychopath, when you finally meet my son one day, you deal with the fallout. I'm done with this mess.
"Forget it. Let's not talk about it. Sweetheart, next time those girls try to court you, tell them you like chocolate," Cheng Anya said as she tore open a beautifully wrapped package and popped the chocolate into her mouth.
Delicious!
It was only natural for a son to spoil his mom.
"Got it. Mommy, what else do you like? Give me something more challenging so I can test myself," Ningning said with a little shake of his head, smiling.
He really loved this kind of mommy—money-minded, cunning, and occasionally a bit of an airhead.
"Durian."
Ningning's eyelid twitched. "...Mommy, have you ever seen anyone use durian to confess their love to a boy?"
"That's why you need to test it. Like Comrade Deng Xiaoping once said—'Practice is the only criterion for testing truth.'"
"Understood!" Ningning accepted the challenge without a ripple of emotion. Then he leaned over, planted a kiss on her cheek, and beamed. "Mommy, sometimes you're not just a little silly—you're something else entirely."
Then, with the elegance of someone reassuring her not to worry because he was her son and wouldn't hold it against her, he gave her a perfectly smug sideways glance.