Chapter 37: Let’s chat, son

Zheng Yang was stunned.

Those few words were enough to bring back a flood of memories.

The awkward school years, the fragile friendships she tiptoed around, the distant classmates…

That was her youth—the one she didn’t like to recall when she was still a boy.

‘So this is what my son is going through. It’s almost exactly like what I went through back then.’

She glanced at Zheng Siyuan.

He was reading, his expression calm, as if he hadn’t written that note at all.

But the twitching corner of his mouth and his bright red ears betrayed his unease.

Zheng Yang smiled.

‘Ah, the sensitive teenage years.’

She knew her son was insecure and anxious—just like she used to be.

No, maybe even worse.

After all, he wasn’t supposed to be in this “elite private school.”

Did he feel inferior to the other kids?

All she could do was comfort him as best she could.

She picked up the pen and wrote a few words with a scratch-scratch-scratch, then slid the note back to Zheng Siyuan.

“No way! Don’t overthink it, handsome boy!”

Zheng Yang bit her lip.

She’d added “handsome boy” on a whim, hoping to show her friendliness, but it made her cringe inside.

For Zheng Siyuan, though, it was just right.

She saw him smile—a genuine, happy smile.

The note came back, with an extra line added:

“Your handwriting reminds me of my dad.”

Bzzz~

Zheng Yang felt as if her little head had been hit by a truck.

Zheng Siyuan took the note back, wrote a few more characters, and pushed it to her again.

“But it’s softer than my dad’s.”

She breathed a small sigh of relief.

She looked at her own handwriting on the note and felt a chill.

She knew that, to some extent, handwriting could prove who you were even better than an ID.

Of course, she could just call it a coincidence—but she had far too many coincidences as it was.

Luckily, “the writing reflects the person.”

After her mindset had changed so drastically, her handwriting really had become more delicate than before.

She wrote back on the note:

“Then I’m honored.”

Zheng Siyuan replied: “Also, your name is the same as my dad’s.”

‘There it is…’

Just as Zheng Yang was about to say it was a coincidence, he snatched the note back, wrote a few more words, and handed it over again:

“It’s really fate!”

Pfft…

So this kid actually had that strong of a desire to express himself?

‘I guess when I was his father, I didn’t pay enough attention to him.’

But all of this started because she had denied his question of “Do you hate me?”

Just saying she didn’t dislike him made him this happy.

She knew that feeling all too well—it was exactly how she used to be.

A wave of guilt washed over her.

She had cared too little for her son.

But what could she do?

Work was so busy, and she had to handle the housework too.

Could she really spare time to run in the sunset with him?

She wasn’t a superhero.

Then Zheng Yang suddenly realized something: if she had been in that situation before, then the male Zheng Yang—her former self—must be in the exact same spot now.

That meant Zheng Siyuan, her son, would still grow up without enough family affection.

She had no hopes for Bai Jie, and now that he’d transferred to this elite school, he’d have even less chance of making real friends with these rich kids.

So the only one who could truly care for him was herself.

Thinking this way, Zheng Yang felt as if fate was playing some huge, cruel joke on her—and the joke had come full circle.

She wasn’t sure if being able to take care of her son so closely was a blessing or a curse.

Zheng Siyuan pushed the note again.

“What are you spacing out for?”

Zheng Yang smiled and leaned close to his ear.

“You can just talk. No need to write notes.”

Zheng Siyuan’s ears turned bright red immediately.

He pursed his lips and wrote a few words:

“Afraid of disturbing the other students sleeping.”

‘Sigh.’

Zheng Yang looked at the note, then turned her head to scan the few students dozing in the classroom.

She shook her head inwardly.

‘This kid, with his cautious thoughtfulness, really takes after me.’

She checked her watch.

Less than an hour until afternoon class.

Perfect.

No more passing notes.

Zheng Yang stood up and walked out, patting Zheng Siyuan to signal him to follow her.

Behind them, Wu Chun hadn’t been asleep either.

When she saw Zheng Yang leaving with her new deskmate, she couldn’t help grinning mischievously, shaping her mouth into a silent “Wow~.”

Zheng Yang shot her a helpless, red-faced look and raised her hand in a fist-pounding gesture to warn her not to get any weird ideas.

Wu Chun stuck out her tongue, but the curiosity in her eyes was still impossible to hide.

Zheng Yang led Zheng Siyuan to a relatively secluded bench and sat down.

Just as she was about to say something, she noticed Siyuan’s face was red, and he kept glancing nervously at her lower body.

She looked down and saw that she was sitting with her legs spread wide apart under her skirt—a wide-open posture like a guy’s.

Shocked, she quickly clamped her legs together.

She hadn’t even said anything yet, and she’d already embarrassed herself in front of her son.

Zheng Yang felt like slapping herself.

But when she was with her son, her old “father mode” from deep in her memory naturally kicked in—it couldn’t be helped.

She would just have to remind herself to be careful from now on.

Zheng Siyuan spoke first.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Ah, it’s all this skirt’s fault. If I were wearing pants, none of this would have happened.”

Zheng Yang laughed and patted Siyuan’s shoulder.

“Classmate Siyuan, from now on you can just say whatever you want. After all, we share the same surname—Zheng.”

Zheng Siyuan nodded solemnly.

Zheng Yang could tell he felt a little flattered too.

“Then… classmate, can I call you… Yangyang?”

Siyuan bit his lip and explained, “Because my dad’s name is Zheng Yang. If I include the surname, I always feel like I’m calling my dad.”

“Well… okay.”

Zheng Yang reluctantly thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

Being called by her childhood name from her own son felt a bit off, but for Siyuan’s sake, she agreed.

“Yangyang, I know saying this on our first conversation sounds like I’m trying to get close to you, but I mean it. I feel… I feel like we really are fated.”

Zheng Siyuan gathered his courage and looked at Zheng Yang, speaking seriously.

“Mm, I believe you. I really do have a name and handwriting similar to your dad’s, don’t I?”

“Yes, and even the way you talk is so similar!”

“Ahem—well, that’s really quite a coincidence, haha.”

Zheng Yang thought to herself, ‘He’s definitely my son—so sharp. I’ll have to be careful with every move and every word when I’m around him from now on.’

Zheng Siyuan asked gratefully, “You don’t think I’m lying?”

“How should I put this… Have you ever heard of a woman’s intuition?”

Zheng Yang gave him a smile.

“I think you’re not the kind of kid—I mean, guy—who tells lies.”

‘Whoa, that was close. I almost slipped up.’

But that old father mode was really hard to shake, even though she’d already gotten used to life as a high school girl.

Her son was like a key—whenever he got close, that mode unlocked and resurfaced.

‘What am I going to do…’