What Did She Choose

Lily Evans nodded. "At that time, of course, Quentin Lin will help put her in her place. If she gets a few more beatings, maybe she’ll finally snap out of it and realize her father is the one who truly cares for her."

Linda Wang pursed her lips and sighed. "Sometimes there’s just nothing you can do. Some people are just blinded by foolishness and insist on jumping into the fire pit. You try to stop them, but they’ll only blame you for it. Sigh…"

Margaret Evans, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up: "But what if Lana Evans never wakes up and realizes her mistake?"

"Then she can just stay with the Quentin family. She’s old enough to live with the consequences of her choices." Lily Evans rubbed her brow. "Honestly, I’m starting to wish Third Uncle could just let go and act as if he never had this daughter."

Margaret Evans patted Lily Evans’s hand and sighed. "Lily, asking your Third Uncle to let go is easier said than done… You’ve never been a parent, so you don’t understand how parents feel about their children. No matter how much trouble they cause, they’re still your own flesh and blood. Besides, when Lana Evans was little, she was so close to your Third Uncle—he practically raised her himself. To ask him to pretend she doesn’t exist… that’s just too much to ask."

Lily Evans really couldn’t relate to this problem. She’d only ever been someone’s daughter, never a mother, so she couldn’t understand Third Uncle’s feelings for his child the way Margaret Evans did.

For a moment, all three women in the room fell silent.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Quentin Lin rushed in, wrapped in Margaret Evans’s cloak. He smelled of fresh herbs and a hint of cold, his voice crisp and lively: "Mom, Sis, it’s snowing outside!"

Lily Evans was taken aback and looked toward the door, seeing snowflakes drifting down from the sky like fluttering cotton.

"The snow’s come early this year—falling right on the Laba Festival." Linda Wang stood up and walked to the eaves, watching the swirling snow before turning back. "Auntie, Lily, Quentin, I bet you haven’t had your Laba porridge yet, have you? I’ve got some simmering in the kitchen—it should be ready now. I’ll go ladle out some bowls so we can warm up with something hot."

Linda Wang said this as she threw on a cloak and dashed out into the snow, full of energy.

"Quentin, has Dad come out yet? How’s Third Uncle?" Lily Evans asked.

Quentin Lin shook his head. "Not yet. I finished brewing the medicine and took it in—Third Uncle’s still asleep, and Dad’s still doing acupuncture. Dad said I’m done for now and told me to go play. He said he’ll probably have to spend the night in Third Uncle’s room."

"What!?" Margaret Evans and Lily Evans’s faces turned grim at the same time.

Dr. Leonard Lin’s medical skills were legendary—he could cure most illnesses with just a few needles. But now, if Quentin Lin’s Third Uncle’s illness could keep him busy all night, it must be very serious.

"Sigh… What a tragedy." Margaret Evans sighed and patted Quentin Lin’s head. "Be good, Quentin, go play with your sister Lily. I’ll head to the kitchen and make something for your dad. He’s picky about food, and I doubt he’ll like what’s here. Plus, he’ll be up all night—he needs something nourishing."

Quentin Lin replied obediently, "Mom, I’ll be good, don’t worry!"

Margaret Evans gave a few instructions to her daughter and son, then hurried off to the kitchen, afraid that if she was too slow, her husband would go hungry.

Lily Evans pulled Quentin Lin to stand under the eaves, watching Margaret Evans’s retreating figure. She could almost see the glow of happiness around her. Lily thought to herself, ‘This is the kind of marriage worth having. As for Lana Evans, what on earth did she choose for herself?’

Margaret Evans went to the kitchen and first asked Linda Wang for a bowl of Laba porridge, which she personally brought to Dr. Leonard Lin.

"It’s snowing and freezing outside, so have some of the Laba porridge my sister-in-law made to warm up. I’ll whip up a few light dishes for you later—makes it easier to get through the night." Margaret Evans said as she ladled out the porridge.