Blooming Dreams

Chapter 4: Reconnecting Bonds

When Lu Rong was summoned, Lu Mingyu had already washed her face, her demeanor composed, with no trace of her earlier tears.

“Ah-Nuan, is something wrong?” Lu Rong paused at her bedside, leaning lightly on his bamboo cane. Concern etched his features as he gazed in her direction, though his blindness left his expression searching and uncertain.

The worry on his face was genuine, and Lu Mingyu could see it. Her mother’s earlier reminder had dispelled her longstanding assumption that her mother’s death had been a direct consequence of her father’s neglect. If her mother’s demise had other hidden causes, her years of resentment toward him seemed misplaced. But it wasn’t easy to bridge the emotional chasm left by those nine years of estrangement. Trying to act as though they were the same father and daughter as before felt foreign to her.

She glanced at her mother for reassurance.

Standing nearby, Madam Xiao nodded encouragingly.

Lu Mingyu looked back at her father. Her gaze fell on the bamboo cane in his hand, and suddenly, memories of her wedding day in her previous life surged forward. According to tradition, it was her father’s role to carry her to the bridal sedan. Instead, her uncle had taken the responsibility. Draped in red silk, she had turned her head and caught a fleeting glimpse of her father standing silently in the corner, his crimson robe pooling near the very cane he held now.

Her heart tightened with guilt and sadness.

If her mother’s death truly wasn’t his fault, hadn’t she wasted all those years blaming him? After her mother passed, she had her uncle, cousins, and even her husband, Chu Sui, to console her. But her father had no one—no wife, no daughter to comfort him in his loneliness. No wonder he had wasted away so quickly after her mother’s death.

Blood runs deep. Realizing this, Lu Mingyu flung aside her blanket, jumped barefoot from the bed, and ran to embrace her father. “Father!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion.

Nine years. It had been nine years since she last called him that. Nine long years since she had allowed herself to reach out to him like this, despite secretly yearning to do so.

Startled, Lu Rong instinctively wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t understand why his daughter had suddenly grown distant after waking up, nor why she now clung to him with such fervor. But his confusion was overwhelmed by relief—relief that she was no longer angry at him.

He tightened his grip slightly, balancing himself with the cane as he gently stroked her hair. “Ah-Nuan, why are you crying?” His voice was warm, filled with tenderness.

“I missed you, Father,” she whispered, clutching him tightly. Her words were simple, yet they carried the weight of years she could never express.

Lu Rong laughed softly, a rare sound from the normally reserved man. It was a laugh like sunlight breaking through clouds, carrying an unexpected charm that softened his usually somber demeanor.

Though Mingyu couldn’t see her father’s expression, Madam Xiao did. Sitting nearby, she watched the exchange. Her husband’s unexpected laughter caught her off guard. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she allowed herself a moment to admire him. If only he weren’t so good-looking, she thought bitterly. It made his indifference toward her all the more infuriating.

“Ah-Nuan, back to bed with you,” Madam Xiao chided gently. “Your illness isn’t gone yet, and the floor is too cold.”

Only then did Lu Rong realize his daughter’s bare feet must be touching the icy ground. He quickly urged her to return to bed.

Reassured by her parents’ shared concern, Lu Mingyu let go of her father and obediently climbed back into bed. Her tear-streaked face was flushed, but her spirits had lifted. She looked, at last, like the carefree seven-year-old she was meant to be.

Seeing her transformation, Madam Xiao’s heart softened. She tucked the blanket around her daughter, her hand lingering for a moment before stepping back. But as Lu Rong approached the bedside with his cane, she glanced at him with surprise. He knew where the edge of the bed was without even seeing it?

“Ah-Nuan, were you just missing your father?” Lu Rong’s voice was gentle as he settled into the chair beside the bed.

“No,” Lu Mingyu replied, shifting closer to him under the covers. “I have something important to tell you.”

Sharing a glance with her mother, she began recounting the details of her strange knowledge. Carefully, she omitted anything too sensitive—especially the parts involving Chu Sui and her mother’s untimely death. Those were matters she trusted her mother to relay when the time was right.

Lu Rong, ever the patient listener, remained silent as she spoke. His furrowed brow betrayed his growing unease, yet he never interrupted—until she mentioned the mysterious doctor who claimed he could cure her father’s blindness.

“Ah-Nuan,” he said abruptly, his voice sharp with urgency. “Do you know where this Dr. Ge resides?”

Lu Mingyu shook her head. “Master travels the world, Father. He has no fixed home.”

Lu Rong’s expression remained composed, yet there was a flicker of disappointment behind his stillness.

“But,” she added hesitantly, “Master taught me the needle technique. I can use it to heal you.”

For a moment, Lu Rong froze. Then, as if a dormant spark had been reignited, his face came alive with hope. Though his body stayed still, the sudden light in his expression made him seem almost radiant.

Madam Xiao, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t help but snort softly. She knew her husband too well. Blind or not, he’s always been so dramatic.

Yet, even as she mocked him inwardly, her thoughts turned heavy. If he regained his sight, what would that mean for their marriage? His blindness had kept him withdrawn, detached from worldly temptations. But once he could see again, would he drift further away—or closer to her?

“Father, do you believe me?” Mingyu asked timidly, breaking the silence. She gazed at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

Lu Rong’s lips curved into a small smile. “Answer one more question for me, Ah-Nuan, and I will.”

Mingyu blinked, curious. “What is it?”

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “In your past life... did you have any siblings?”

The question stunned her. Slowly, she turned to her mother for guidance. Madam Xiao, catching her gaze, silently mouthed her own question, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.

The interaction was oddly childish, and it made Mingyu smile despite herself. Turning back to her father, she teased, “But Father, shouldn’t you tell me first? Do you want me to have a little brother or a little sister?”

Her playful tone caught Lu Rong off guard. His fair complexion turned crimson, his embarrassment impossible to hide. Madam Xiao, equally flustered, stood abruptly and shot her daughter a pointed glare. “Ah-Nuan, don’t forget about your third sister. Brothers and sisters aren’t only born to me, you know.”

The room fell into a brief, awkward silence before Madam Xiao swept away, leaving both father and daughter to their thoughts.

“Father,” Mingyu said gently once her mother had left. “You didn’t take any concubines in my past life. But... you weren’t kind to Mother either. She was so unhappy.”

Her words struck Lu Rong like a blow. His grip tightened on his cane, his breath unsteady.

“Please,” Mingyu whispered. “Let Mo Zhu go. Be good to Mother. I want brothers and sisters. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Lu Rong closed his eyes, his heart heavy with unspoken regret. So it was because of Mo Zhu that the rift between him and his wife had never healed.