Chapter 209

The morning sun had just begun to filter through the window when the sharp ring of the doorbell startled Lin Xiaoman awake.

"Who is it—this early?" Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled to the door.

Outside stood an elegant middle-aged woman, clutching a limited-edition Hermès bag, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping over Lin Xiaoman.

"So, you're Lin Xiaoman?" The woman tilted her chin slightly. "I'm Gu Beichen's mother."

Lin Xiaoman snapped to full alertness.

"G-Good morning, Mrs. Gu!" She hastily smoothed her sleep-mussed hair. "I didn’t expect—"

"Aren’t you going to invite me in?" Mrs. Gu arched a brow.

Lin Xiaoman quickly stepped aside. As Mrs. Gu passed, her eyes lingered for two seconds on the pair of men’s slippers by the entryway.

"Does Beichen come here often?" Mrs. Gu settled onto the sofa, cutting straight to the point.

Lin Xiaoman’s hands trembled as she offered tea. "Please, have some tea. Beichen... visits occasionally."

Mrs. Gu took a delicate sip before sliding a check across the table.

"Five million. Leave my son."

Lin Xiaoman’s eyes widened. Was this some cliché drama trope?

"Mrs. Gu, Beichen and I truly—"

"Truly?" Mrs. Gu scoffed. "Do you have any idea how much the Gu Group is worth? How many socialites are lining up to marry into our family?"

Lin Xiaoman drew a deep breath, ready to retort, when the lock clicked.

"Xiaoman, I brought your favorite—" Gu Beichen froze in the doorway, breakfast in hand.

Three pairs of eyes locked in stunned silence.

Five seconds ticked by.

"Mother?" Beichen’s face paled. "What are you doing here?"

Mrs. Gu rose gracefully. "Just meeting the girl my son is so taken with." She cast a meaningful glance at the check. "Seems you two have some talking to do."

With that, she picked up her bag and strode to the door. As she passed Beichen, she murmured something that drained all color from his face.

The moment the door shut, Lin Xiaoman collapsed onto the sofa.

"Beichen, your mother—"

He pulled her into a tight embrace. "Don’t worry. I’m here."

But the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Lin Xiaoman suddenly understood—that check wasn’t just about money. Something far more shocking lay beneath its surface.

"Your grandmother from the city is here?" The village cadres stared at David and Tommy in surprise.

They'd never met any of Emily's relatives. When Emily got married years ago, none of her family had attended. Why would they show up now?

This was highly unusual.

"Captain Stone, you should go check on this," someone suggested.

John Stone Sr. felt uneasy. Michael was away again, leaving only Emily with the two children. Though no one dared cause trouble after the Peter Wilson incident, who knew what might happen with this sudden city visitor?

He knew what Michael had done secretly - breaking into Peter's house with threats: "Lay one finger on my wife, and I'll break your son's leg." Emily certainly didn't know about that.

"When did Grandma arrive?" John asked as they walked.

Tommy tilted his head. "Right after breakfast. Mama had just finished teaching us writing."

So she'd come this morning, meaning she must have stayed overnight at the town guesthouse.

"Is Grandma home?"

"She's cooking."

John didn't press further. He couldn't tell the boys their grandmother might be here to take their mother back to the city.

Recently Emily had made noises about returning to the city before Michael stopped her. She'd been quiet since - was that all an act?

As the gate opened, Tommy dashed inside. "Mama, we're back!"

"Grandma..." David hurried toward the kitchen with the tofu basket.

John immediately spotted the city woman in the main room. Her features resembled Emily's, but she looked much younger than his wife.

City folks were different.

"Hello, Mrs. Johnson," he greeted.

Margaret Johnson nodded coolly. "Hello." Her tone placed galaxies between them.

John's heart sank.

"This is the children's grandfather," Emily interjected smoothly.

"David, Tommy, keep Grandma company. I'll help with cooking." She moved toward the kitchen.

John suppressed a scoff. Decades of "all men are equal" slogans, yet city people still carried this superiority. Ironically, villagers ate it up, treating urbanites like royalty - unaware how desperately city dwellers coveted rural produce.