This Is Stuart’s Childhood Home

Annette was stunned for a few seconds—she hadn't expected to meet the legendary ex-girlfriend so soon.

The woman everyone said Stuart should've married did look quite impressive.

Stuart shifted to the side. "Let's sit down and eat first."

Annette took a seat beside him. She didn't miss the flicker of disappointment that flashed across Laura's face but didn't comment.

After Annette was seated, Laura looked at Stuart and said, "When I heard you got married, I kept wondering what kind of wife you'd bring home. Never imagined she'd be so pretty. Stuart, you're a lucky man."

Stuart didn't respond. Instead, he poured a bowl of tea and slid it in front of Annette.

Knowing Stuart's temperament, Laura turned to Annette with a smile. "You two didn't hold a wedding banquet when you got married. Are you planning to host one now that you're back?"

Before Annette could reply, Stuart interjected, "No. We have other matters to handle."

Laura looked a little disappointed. "Why not? Everyone in the village knows you're married, but no one's had the chance to celebrate. I opened a tailor shop in the county. If you two wanted wedding clothes, I could have made them for you—only takes a couple of days."

Annette was puzzled. If Laura still had feelings for Stuart, how could she offer to make his wedding clothes? Wasn't that painful?

When the noodles arrived, Stuart remained mostly silent. Laura did most of the talking, updating them on village gossip.

Old Mr. Niu, who used to herd cattle, died of a cold two years ago. Their old writing teacher had planned to return to the city but was poisoned by coal fumes. And their childhood friend Qiutian married someone from the neighboring village.

Annette didn't know any of these people, so she simply ate quietly while listening to Laura talk. But hearing about all these shared memories made her feel strangely sour.

After the meal, feeling like a third wheel, Annette told Stuart she'd wait outside.

A short while later, Stuart and Laura came out. Laura's eyes were red. She glanced at Annette before walking away quickly.

Annette couldn't help but wonder what they'd talked about—what had made Laura cry?

They headed to the bus station again and, this time, arrived at the town center in just over thirty minutes. From there, they had to walk to Hewan Village.

It was already dark. There were no streetlights in the town, and the path to Hewan Village was pitch black.

Looking at the shadowy mountains in the distance and hearing the occasional hoot of an owl, Annette grew uneasy. "How much farther is it?"

Stuart did a quick mental calculation. "We'll need to cross two ridges. Walking slowly, it'll take about two hours."

Annette was shocked. "That far? Don't people ever leave the village, then?"

"Many never even visit the town."

Stuart grabbed her bag. "Let's go."

Annette tried to take it back. "I can carry it myself. You're injured."

He didn't relent this time. "It's fine. The mountain path is rough. Just stay close to me."

After an hour, Annette felt like her legs didn't belong to her anymore. She stumbled along, clutching Stuart's sleeve to keep from falling.

Just as she was about to give up, they finally saw flickers of light at the mountain's base.

Hewan Village was extremely poor, relying entirely on the land. Many households couldn't afford electricity and still used kerosene lamps.

Stuart's family was among them—too frugal to use electricity, they used kerosene at night.

Julia had already told the family that Stuart was coming home. The entire household had been restless, worried that the secrets they were hiding might be exposed.

What if Stuart got angry and stopped sending money?

When they heard the front gate open, Julia froze and nudged her youngest son, Carl. "I think someone's at the gate. Go see if it's your second brother."

Carl grumbled, "So what if he's back? Look at you all, jumping out of your skins."

Their father, Frank Dawson, coughed and snapped, "Just go! Stop running your mouth!"

Reluctantly, Carl got up, but before he could reach the door, it opened—Stuart entered with Annette.

In the dim glow of the kerosene lamp, Annette couldn't see much of the courtyard. Once inside, she froze at the sight of the room full of people.

There was a kang bed that took up half the room. An old man with a wrinkled but kind face reclined against it.

Julia sat at the small table on the kang, a shoe sole in hand. Beside her sat a young woman with a sharp expression—Carl's wife. A man in his thirties, with a simple, honest look, sat nearby. He resembled the old man—he must be Stuart's eldest brother, Charles.

Standing on the floor was a man who looked just like Julia—sharp eyes and calculating demeanor. That had to be Carl.

Annette looked around and had one clear thought—none of them looked like Stuart. There was no visible resemblance at all.

Julia jumped off the kang and fumbled to put on her shoes. "Oh my, you two are back already? We thought you'd wait a couple more days. With your injury, why didn't you rest longer?"

Frank Dawson sat up with a slow smile. "Yeah, you should've sent word. Charles could've taken the donkey cart to fetch you."

After a round of greetings, Annette learned that the old man was Stuart's father, Frank Dawson. The man on the kang was Charles, the one standing was Carl, and the sharp-tongued woman was Carl's wife.

Julia enthusiastically offered them a seat on the kang. "Come, sit. You haven't eaten, right? We still have two eggs—I'll make you some egg tea."

Stuart stopped her. "No need. We ate in town."

Julia frowned. "You were already so close to home—why waste money eating out?"

Carl stood off to the side, sneaking glances at Annette. He'd heard from Julia and Zhenni that his second brother's new wife was gorgeous.

Now that he saw her for himself, he had to admit they were right. Her skin was like porcelain, flawless and fair.

And that aura—he couldn't even describe it.

He felt a bit jealous. Stuart had it good: first Laura, the village beauty, and now this stunner of a wife.

Charles, ever straightforward, asked, "How was the trip? Your mom said you were hurt. Is it serious? Should we call Dr. Niu over to check on you?"

Stuart replied kindly, "No need. It's almost healed. No point bothering anyone this late."

Frank Dawson coughed deliberately. "Glad you're back. Your mom cleaned the room for you. Fresh sheets and all. Go get some rest—we'll talk tomorrow."

Julia smiled as well. "Yes, yes. We'll talk in the morning. Annette, your bag looks heavy. Let me carry it for you."