Chapter Sixty-Six: The Nanny Who Once Disappeared

Friend? Lin Yang frowned slightly. He did have quite a few friends in Jinhai, but when it came to those who enjoyed being mysterious, none immediately came to mind.

“Where is this person?” Lin Yang asked directly.

If he couldn’t figure it out, there was no point in wasting brain cells or getting worked up about it. Lin Yang never bothered with thankless, exhausting tasks.

“Since she said she was your friend, I let her into your office,” Liu Meng whispered, worried that her decision might displease Lin Yang. For this principled and handsome director, Liu Meng felt both admiration and a touch of fear. It wasn’t as if being with him was like walking on eggshells around an emperor, but there was certainly a line between superior and subordinate.

When he reached the office door, Lin Yang glanced through the head-sized glass panel. The person sitting on the sofa, cloaked in black, immediately caught his attention. Because the figure sat sideways, Lin Yang could only see half her face beneath the brim of her hat.

A large pair of black-rimmed glasses covered a third of her face. A clean chin, long eyelashes, and smooth, delicate skin—just from this, Lin Yang could tell she was a young woman, and a beautiful one at that. On closer inspection, she even seemed a little familiar.

He pushed open the office door casually. The woman in black was still sitting cross-legged, savoring the Longjing tea brewed by Nurse Liu Meng, showing no intention of rising when Lin Yang entered.

“Hello. The nurse said you’re a friend of mine. May I ask your name?” Seeing that she remained seated, treating him as if he were invisible, Lin Yang was not the least bit offended. Instead, he walked over gracefully and asked in a kindly tone, studying her face more intently.

At this close distance, Lin Yang confirmed she was indeed a woman. Despite her masculine attire, there was no mistaking it.

As if testing Lin Yang’s patience, the mysterious guest continued sipping her tea unhurriedly, even pausing to praise its quality.

Lin Yang loved to smoke, disliked alcohol, and adored fine tea. To call him a paragon of men would be a stretch, but two out of three wasn’t bad.

He never compromised on tea. He never drank the cheap stuff—only the best would do.

“The tea is excellent, but you have no sense of how to appreciate it,” Lin Yang sighed, shaking his head. He cursed silently: “Damn, this tea is thousands of yuan per jin. Even if you didn’t chug it like water, you finished a cup in three gulps! That’s a few hundred yuan per cup!”

If anyone claimed Lin Yang didn’t care about wasting expensive tea, they’d be lying. He earned his money honestly, accumulating it bit by bit, so he couldn’t help feeling the pinch. If his friends heard how much he fretted over a cup of tea, they’d probably laugh themselves sick.

“Oh? Dr. Lin, do tell me, how am I lacking in the art of tea?” At last, the woman in black spoke, putting down the delicate porcelain cup and looking up at Lin Yang. Her pleasing voice immediately betrayed her femininity despite her masculine disguise.

When he heard that voice, Lin Yang involuntarily trembled. It was so familiar, painfully so. For fifteen years, it had been a constant in his life, until he turned fifteen and never heard it again. Now, hearing it once more, it felt strange yet deeply ingrained.

“Aunt Qin, Aunt Qin, is that you?” Lin Yang’s voice choked with excitement, his hands trembling as he reached out to take hers.

She laughed. “So I didn’t dote on you for nothing, kid. Back then, you drained all my breast milk dry—no wonder my chest is sagging now.” Her words were shocking, her tone crude and unrestrained. Just moments ago she’d seemed the picture of serenity, perhaps even a lady, but now her mouth ran wild, shattering any pretense of elegance.

Some things can only be faked on the surface; a person’s true nature cannot be changed. It hadn’t even been five minutes and her real self was on full display.

Clearly uncomfortable in her outfit, the woman quickly shed her disguise in a performance worthy of a quick-change artist.

Under the black cloak was a deep V-neck top, revealing a lacy black bra and an abundance of supple curves. Her lower half was more demure—tight jeans accentuated her shapely hips and long legs, her figure set off perfectly with three-inch black heels that made her appear even taller.

Standing up, she was at least 1.75 meters tall, just half a head shorter than Lin Yang.

Once all her disguises were gone, Liu Meng, standing behind Lin Yang, widened her eyes and blurted out, “She’s so beautiful.”

Indeed, the woman was stunning—easily on par with beauties like Tang Yixue, Leng Nini, or Zhu Yunyun. Despite the traces of age, she radiated a mature charm.

“Aunt Qin.” Lin Yang’s eyes grew moist as he took in the familiar face. In a single stride, he threw himself into her arms, calling out in a voice thick with emotion.

Lin Yang was a master at taking advantage. Normally, given his height, hugging her should have meant her head nestled against his chest, but somehow he managed to bury his head in her ample bosom, pressing close with all his might. The woman’s curves shifted with the embrace, leaving Liu Meng behind them staring in disbelief.

“Xiao Yang, you little glutton, haven’t you had enough? Let go of Aunt Qin, you’re hurting me!” The woman struggled, grumbling in annoyance, but her cheeks blushed crimson. With her exquisite features, even Liu Meng, who considered herself a beauty, was left starry-eyed.

Her allure was irresistible, every gesture filled with charm.

A sharp-tongued woman can be terrifying—no truer words were ever spoken. After her outburst, Lin Yang’s face burned red, and even Liu Meng slipped out of the room in embarrassment.

Reluctantly, Lin Yang released the beautiful woman and quickly changed the subject to avoid awkwardness. “Aunt Qin, where have you been all these years? I missed you so much.”

As Lin Yang’s wet nurse, Su Qin held a place in his heart every bit as important as his own mother, Qin Moyun. His mother was always busy with business, spending nearly half the year flying around the country, so Su Qin had been his constant companion. No wonder, after years apart, Lin Yang was so moved to see her.

“Oh, I had to go back and deal with some private matters, and before I knew it, several years had passed,” Su Qin replied wistfully, her eyes tinged with sorrow.

Since mastering the “Thirteen Heavenly Blades,” Lin Yang’s mental acuity had reached new heights. Although Su Qin tried hard to restrain her emotions, he could sense her underlying sadness.

Seeing she was unwilling to talk about it, Lin Yang didn’t press. Instead, he grinned and asked, “Aunt Qin, did you come here because you’re in trouble? And what’s with this disguise?”

Lin Yang was no fool. Clearly, she was trying to hide her identity, which could only mean she was in serious trouble. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have traveled all the way here. After all, Su Qin’s hometown was in Linjiang County, a thousand miles away. If it weren’t for her husband Zhang Zifeng being one of the old man’s most trusted lieutenants and his adopted son, she wouldn’t have come to the Lin family and become Lin Yang’s wet nurse.

This all traced back to over twenty years ago, when Lin Yang’s mother had just given birth but, due to health reasons, couldn’t nurse him. For nearly a month, Lin Yang survived on a mix of breast milk and formula. Yet for some reason, he didn’t absorb formula well and was often left hungry and crying.

At that time, Zhang Zifeng’s wife, Su Qin, had just given birth to a daughter, Zhang Qiqi, and had an abundance of milk. So she moved into the Lin household as Lin Yang’s wet nurse, staying for fifteen years.

Asked about her painful memories, Su Qin couldn’t help but break down, tears streaming down her face as Lin Yang watched with aching heart.

“Your Uncle Feng—eight years ago, after returning from a mission, he suddenly fell ill and has been bedridden ever since. It’s been years now, and honestly, I don’t think he’ll make it through this year,” Su Qin sobbed, her face growing even paler.

Lin Yang was puzzled. He remembered hearing at the time that Uncle Feng had returned from a mission in Japan and caught a cold. The family suggested he recover at home, but he hadn’t realized the illness was so severe.

“Didn’t he ever go to the hospital for a checkup?” Lin Yang frowned, his tone grave. He’d always been fond of the uncle who used to tease him.

“He did. For years, we’ve been in and out of hospitals, but nothing has helped,” Su Qin choked out, her eyes swollen from crying.

“What did the doctors say? And why didn’t you ask the family for help?” Lin Yang sensed something was amiss. As the old man’s adopted son, Zhang Zifeng should have had support, but he’d never heard the family mention him in years.

“The hospitals gave us all kinds of diagnoses—tuberculosis, some mysterious virus, even HIV. After all these years, I’m just exhausted. Eventually, the three of us settled down here in Jinhai,” Su Qin said, her voice low and weary. News of Lin Yang’s much-gossiped-about exploits had reached her ears, and when she came, it was half out of hope. She never expected that this Dr. Lin would be the same boy she’d nursed.

“But why didn’t you contact the old man? He has so much influence—maybe he could’ve helped.” Seeing her fall silent, Lin Yang pressed, his expression darkening.

“Your Uncle Feng didn’t want to trouble him. As for why, I really don’t know,” Su Qin replied helplessly. She’d considered asking for help, but each time, her husband’s fierce resistance put an end to it.

Listening to Su Qin, Lin Yang was left full of questions, his mind spinning.