Contrasting Mrs. Du, Daughter's Boyfriend

In the room, the sound of Madam Du excitedly dancing around by herself lasted for quite a while. Finally, after laughing her fill, she resumed questioning the short-haired woman before her about the details she had witnessed earlier.

A few minutes later.

"Huh? That's it? No kissing, not even holding hands? How could you just kick him off as soon as he sat down, Little Lan? What a shame..." Du Wanyi pouted, looking genuinely disappointed.

It was as if she had been listening to a thrilling story from ancient times, only for the climax to fall flat. The immense mental letdown left Madam Du feeling sullen, her alluring red lips puckered in displeasure.

What a pity. Such a terrible shame.

But now, Du Wanyi could somewhat understand why her dear Little Lan had returned home earlier wanting to perform a dramatic seppuku. Indeed, it was infuriating—she hadn’t even gotten to hear her favorite part of the story.

"So, was that boyfriend of hers handsome?" Du Wanyi asked, her face alight with gossipy curiosity.

The question actually stumped the short-haired woman. It had been too dark outside at the time, and she hadn’t gotten a clear look at Ye Cheng’s face—only a rough outline before she had kicked her young mistress’s "boyfriend" off.

She was guilty!

Little Lan nodded. "Though I didn’t see him clearly, based on my personal taste, the young mistress’s boyfriend is quite handsome!"

Her answer was delivered with utmost seriousness. Meanwhile, Du Wanyi rose thoughtfully and rummaged through the room before returning with a small box of ointment.

Click. She opened the jade-carved container and gently dabbed the ointment onto her fingers.

"Hold still, Little Lan."

Her voice, laced with a hint of seduction, dripped from those irresistible red lips, each word sending a shiver down the short-haired woman’s spine. She didn’t dare move, sitting rigidly on the soft cushion.

As the ointment was evenly applied, a cooling sensation spread across her face. The faint fragrance of the medicine mingled with Du Wanyi’s natural scent, flooding Little Lan’s senses.

Her body and mind unwittingly relaxed into pleasure.

"Madam, this medicine is too precious to waste on me—"

"Oh, but wasting things is my specialty! You know that. It’s just a shame that our Du family is so vast and prosperous—no matter how much I squander, it never shows any sign of decline. Ah..." Du Wanyi even shook her head regretfully.

Little Lan: "..."

The room fell into silence once more. For the rest of the process, the short-haired woman named Little Lan stayed quiet, letting her mistress do as she pleased.

"There, all done. Don’t do this again, okay? Just talk things out next time—no need to pull out knives and guns at the drop of a hat. People might think our Du family is some kind of... you know." Du Wanyi’s tone was half-teasing, half-reproachful. After finishing, she lightly patted the other woman twice, as if venting her frustration.

Little Lan remained silent, though a question lingered in her mind: But... aren’t we?

"Ah, Little Lan, remember—we’ve washed our hands of that life! No more shady business. We can’t scare off Qinghan’s boyfriend when he visits, or she might run away from home again!"

Du Wanyi rambled on, sounding more like a whimsical young lady than the formidable head of both the Shen and Du families.

And that was exactly how she had once been—though it was long ago. Now, she was a good mother, a good wife. The capricious young mistress was a thing of the past, and anyone who dared bring it up would have their tongue ripped out!

Which raised the question: If Du Wanyi was the family head, what was Shen Ming, Shen Qinghan’s father?

Undoubtedly—the lady of the house!

Yes, in the Du family, gender roles were reversed. Du Wanyi was the head, at least within the household. Outside, men needed their dignity, and she was willing to compromise—publicly, Shen Ming was the patriarch. But at home? He obediently played the role of the matriarch.

"Alright, go rest now. I’m going to see my little Qinghan. I haven’t seen her in days, wuuu..."

Du Wanyi fake-sobbed, putting on a pitiful act before setting the ointment aside and padding barefoot across the floor, her steps light and cheerful as she headed toward her daughter’s room.

Left behind, Little Lan stood alone in the room, silent and contemplative.

Her gaze fell on the ointment her mistress had given her, and her resolve hardened. She had to apologize. That boy was the first friend the young mistress had made in years—she couldn’t let her ruin this!

......

Tap tap tap.

"Qinghan, can Mommy come in?"

"No."

"Hehe, Mommy’s coming in anyway~" Du Wanyi giggled behind her hand, then shamelessly pushed open the door and stepped inside, even closing it behind her with exaggerated care.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

There wasn’t a trace of the dignified family head in Du Wanyi’s demeanor now. She beamed at her daughter, eyes sparkling with adoration, as if she couldn’t get enough of looking at her.

And then the touching began.

"Hey, Qinghan, look—a mosquito!"

She pointed dramatically beside Shen Qinghan, feigning shock. The girl didn’t even flinch, her expression deadpan as she stared at her mother.

"Mm." Shen Qinghan replied flatly, refusing to take the bait. She knew the moment she turned her head, the mosquito would "fly away," and when she turned back, a certain lady’s face would suddenly be in hers—leading to an "accidental" kiss.

This trick had been used on her since elementary school. She wasn’t falling for it again.

Du Wanyi blinked, pouting when her daughter didn’t react. "Qinghan, don’t you trust Mommy?"

"Correct." Shen Qinghan answered bluntly.

"Mommy doesn’t believe you!" Du Wanyi huffed stubbornly.

Shen Qinghan: "..."

No matter what Du Wanyi said or did afterward, Shen Qinghan ignored her, burying herself in the book she had brought back from school, feigning deep concentration.

Du Wanyi quieted down too, no longer making a fuss, and simply watched her daughter read in silence.

"Qinghan, your book is upside down, isn’t it?" Du Wanyi batted her big eyes, radiating "innocence."

Shen Qinghan stiffened, quickly checking—only to find the book was perfectly upright. She had been tricked. Again.

"Haha, got you! Admit it, Little Hanhan, you weren’t actually reading just now—you just wanted to brush me off so I’d leave!"

Du Wanyi instantly transformed into Sherlock Holmes, her expression one of triumphant revelation as she exposed the truth.

Shen Qinghan narrowed her eyes, and then… Du Wanyi was unceremoniously tossed out.

Du Wanyi: "…"

Bang bang bang!

"Open the door, Hanhan! It’s your mom! Wuwuwu…"

"How could you do this? Weren’t you the one who loved Mommy the most when you were little? Wuwuwu… What a cold-hearted woman, kicking your mom out the second mealtime’s over, wuwuwu…"

Outside in the hallway, Du Wanyi lamented her "ungrateful" daughter.

To be fair, the young miss had been quite fond of a certain Madam Du back in the day—but that was purely out of necessity. When mealtime rolled around and her stomach growled, survival instincts kicked in.

Back then, the little miss hadn’t yet adjusted to formula, so she’d crawl all over the house in search of "food." Yet in Madam Du’s retelling, this became "affection."

Well, of course it was affection—what’s not to love when the alternative is starvation?

Perhaps out of embarrassment, or perhaps because Madam Du’s wailing finally wore her down, the door finally creaked open.

"Shut up."

Shen Qinghan’s voice was icy, her expression unamused as she glared at the woman before her.

Du Wanyi blinked rapidly, nodding like an eager puppy while putting on her best "Mommy’s sorry, forgive me, pleaaase?" face, laying the pity act on thick.

Did it work?

Yes. The effect was undeniable. Shen Qinghan sighed and reluctantly let her mother in, her face a portrait of resignation. Meanwhile, Madam Du’s expression radiated sheer mischief.

Success again!

Bang!

The door closed, ushering in mother-daughter private time. Learning from past mistakes, Madam Du behaved herself this time, sitting primly on a chair and watching her silent daughter.

A long pause.

Du Wanyi cracked first.

"Little Hanhan, how’s school lately? Everything okay? Have you gained weight? Come here, let Mommy feel—thunk!"

Her voice cut off abruptly as Shen Qinghan’s fist came down like a mallet on a whack-a-mole game, bonking the head of her own mother—who’d just attempted to molest her. Madam Du clutched her skull, pouting.

"Wuwuwu… Hanhan, you’ve changed! Before, you’d just glare at Mommy with disgust or annoyance. Now you’re hitting me? Wuwuwu… Mommy’s heart is broken, wuwuwu…"

Shen Qinghan: "…"

Admittedly, this was a misstep. No matter how outrageous Madam Du’s antics had been in the past, she’d never been physically struck—until now. But lately, whenever Ye Cheng acted up, Shen Qinghan had reflexively resorted to whack-a-mole tactics. Hearing her mother’s nonsensical babble, she’d mistaken her for Ye Cheng and… well.

That single bonk triggered nuclear meltdown. Madam Du erupted into theatrics, demanding compensation through crocodile tears. When fake crying failed to move her stone-faced daughter, she escalated to full-blown floor tantrums.

"Wuwuwu… No justice in this world! A daughter hits her own mother and won’t even compensate her! Wuwuwu… All that love wasted on you as a baby, wuwuwu…"

Shen Qinghan: "…"

Ear-splitting nonsense. Clearly, Madam Du had been a "demon child" in her youth—tormenting her family, then her peers, and now her own daughter.

"Shut up. I’ll compensate you," Shen Qinghan growled, glaring at the grown woman rolling on the floor like a toddler.

Instantly, Du Wanyi perked up. Tears vanished mid-swell as she scrambled to her feet, hastily dictating terms before her daughter could reconsider.

"One whole day of kisses!"

She raised a finger, launching into shameless extortion—specifically, kisses from her darling daughter, that sweet, soft little mochi cake of a girl… Mwah!

Madam Du’s grin turned downright villainous as she fantasized about her imminent victory.

Silently, Shen Qinghan began dragging her toward the door. Panicking, Madam Du backpedaled.

"Half a day! Fine, half a day!"

No response. The pushing continued.

"Six hours? Okay, okay—three hours! What? One hour is highway robbery! Is this how you apologize to Mommy? Fiiiine, thirty minutes…"

After Shen Qinghan’s ruthless bargaining, the original "one day" was whittled down to… a single peck.

Madam Du was shell-shocked.

Since when did Great Sea City become this corrupt?!

But… a peck was better than nothing!

Slurp, slurp… Prepping for her prize, Madam Du licked her lips obsessively, devouring her own edible lipstick until her mouth gleamed like glossed satin. She puckered up like a suction-cup starfish. Mwah~

"Here comes Mommy, Little Hanhan! Mmmmuah~~~"

Shen Qinghan: "…"

The "peck" lasted thirty seconds.

"There! Mommy forgives you!" The instant she got her way, Madam Du switched personas, morphing into a magnanimous saint.

"Now leave. I’m going to sleep." Shen Qinghan wiped her cheek—now slick with a certain shameless housewife’s saliva—and spoke flatly.

Du Wanyi blinked. "Little Hanhan, aren’t you forgetting something very important to say to Mommy? Like…?"

Shen Qinghan nodded. "Mm."

Then… bracing against the wall, she walked to the door, opened it, and stared deadpan at her mother.

"Please get out."

Du Wanyi: "…"

Polite. But barely.

This child… who on earth did she inherit this from? If not a genetic fluke, her Little Hanhan got her eyebrows, courage, and intellect from her—meaning the abysmal emotional IQ had to be from the other parent.

Quietly, Madam Du added "the father" to her revenge checklist, already drafting excuses to hang him up for a whipping later: left foot entered the room first, right eyelid twitched twice, exhaled too much CO2…

"Wait, those are all good options."

"Um... Little Hanhan, maybe what Mom means is to ask about that boyfriend you've been seeing at school..." Du Wanyi pressed her index fingers together in front of her chest, gazing expectantly at her daughter.

Shen Qinghan's calm demeanor instantly faltered. Her chest heaved, and her small hand clenched into a fist before she slammed it into the doorframe.

BANG!

A hole was punched straight through the wood.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Du Wanyi: "..."

Du Wanyi glanced at the hole in the wall, then back at her now visibly agitated daughter, and fell silent. You call this 'having no idea'?