She hadn't brought the child.

"How did you find this place?"

"I saw the news that you opened a new shop in the capital. I came here to look for work."

"What kind of work?"

"Anything. Waitress, cleaner, kitchen helper."

I looked at her.

"Why are you coming to me? You're not here to ask for money, are you?"

"No." She lowered her head. "I’m here to pay it back."

She took an envelope out of her bag and placed it on the table.

I didn't take it.

"How much?"

"12,000. It’s what I’ve saved from working these past two months. I know my mother owes you 348,000; I want to help her pay it back."

"12,000?"

"I know it’s not much. But I’ll keep earning."

I looked at the envelope on the table, not knowing what to say for a moment.

"Lucy, you shouldn't be the one paying this back."

"My mother can’t pay it right now. She can’t leave the hospital."

"Her debt is not yours."

"But she is my stepmother." Lucy suddenly looked up. "No, wait. She is your birth mother; she’s my stepmother. I’ve had it backwards all along."

I was stunned for a moment.

"After my father married your mother, your mom was so good to me—better than my own mother. My birth mother left when I was three and never came back. Even though your mom wasn't my birth mother, she really doted on me."

"So I always thought she treated all children that way. Until I saw the news and the photos, and I realized—she gave all the kindness that should have been yours to me."

My fingers tapped on the table twice.

"You only realize that now?"

"Before... before, I didn't want to believe it. I always felt you were doing it on purpose. You didn't come back because you were cold-blooded. But then I went to the attic of the old house. I saw your father’s military uniform and the folding cot you used to sleep on."

Her voice turned husky.

"The springs of that bed were all broken, and the mattress was as thin as paper. I stood in that attic for half an hour, and I couldn't figure out how you survived sleeping on that bed for so many years."

I didn't respond.

"Nora, I’m not here to ask for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. When I was little, I watched you get beaten, and I never helped you once."

"But I want to pay the money back. Not for my mother, but for myself. I owe you."

She stood up and pushed the envelope toward me.

"Whether you take it or not is up to you. I’m leaving."

As she reached the door, I called out to her.

"Lucy."

She turned back.

"Did you find a job yet?"

"Not yet."

I thought for three seconds.

"I’m short a vegetable washer here. Room and board provided, 4,000 a month. Do you want it?"

She stood at the door, her lips pressing together repeatedly.

"Are... are you pitying me?"

"I don’t pity anyone. If you can do the work, come; if you can’t, leave."

She clenched her fist.

"I’ll do it."

Chapter 24

On her first day as a vegetable washer at the provincial branch of Nora’s Kitchen, Lucy turned three pounds of Chinese kale into mush.

Aze, the head chef, stomped his foot in anger: "Nora, she really doesn't know how to work."

"Teach her."

"What if she can't learn?"

"Teach her until she can."

Lucy’s hands were rough, and several of her nails had split—it was clear she hadn't done this kind of work before.

But she didn't complain. If she ruined the vegetables, she washed them again; if she didn't know how to do something, she asked; when Aze scolded her, she just lowered her head and admitted her mistake.

Three days later, she could wash the vegetables properly.

A week later, she started helping with prep work.

Two weeks later, Aze told me: "She’s clumsy, but she’s willing to endure hardship."

I didn't say much.

During this time, Beth’s condition took another turn for the worse.

Dr. Li called to say she had developed gastrointestinal bleeding and had undergone emergency hemostasis.

"Ms. Jiang, if this drags on, she may not last through the month."

"Has her place in the organ transplant queue come up?"

"It has, but there are still seven people ahead of her."

I hung up the phone, stood in front of the stove, and looked at the pot of broth.

Lu walked over on tiptoe.

"Nora, are you—"

"Help me check something."

"What?"

"What is Beth’s medical insurance reimbursement rate? How much is the self-pay portion for her ICU expenses? What is the current outstanding balance?"

Lu went to check. She returned half an hour later.

"Medical insurance reimburses 60%, the cumulative self-pay portion is 123,000. The outstanding balance is 47,000."

"Who is paying for it?"

"Auntie Liu covered it before—she paid over 30,000. Nobody has paid since then."

I thought for a moment.

"Help me transfer 50,000."

"To whom?"

"To the hospital’s inpatient department, marked with Beth’s inpatient number. Anonymous."

Lu opened her mouth to say something, then swallowed it back.

"Okay."

After transferring the money, I went back to cooking.

The food that day turned out exceptionally well.

Aze tasted it and said: "Nora, your touch today is superb."

I didn't know why. Maybe it was because I had made a decision that didn't require anyone else to know.

But I couldn't hide it.

Three days later, Auntie Liu called.

"Nora, the hospital said someone anonymously paid 50,000 in medical bills for your mother. Was it you?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me. Who else in our family can pull out 50,000 right now?"

"Then ask if it was someone else."

"Nora—"

"Auntie Liu, no matter who paid it, it has nothing to do with you. You don't need to thank anyone."

I hung up.

That evening, Cole came to the shop to eat.

He was alone, sitting at table No. 2 in the corner, ordering a Matsutake chicken stew and a plate of soy sauce pancakes.

After finishing, he walked into the kitchen and placed a file folder on my workstation.

"What’s this?"

"The site selection proposal for the central kitchen you wanted. I’ve visited all three options. I recommend the second one: in the suburban food industrial park, 5,000 square meters, cheap rent, and complete supporting facilities."

I flipped through the proposal.

"Fine. We’ll go look at it next week."

"There’s one more thing."

"Go on."

"I had someone do a feasibility analysis on your breakfast shop idea. If we operate it as a charitable project, it can be registered as a social enterprise, which allows it to apply for the Veteran Entrepreneurship Support Fund."

"When did you become so enthusiastic?"

He shrugged: "Investors have to worry about their investee companies."

"You worry too much."

"Are you annoyed?"

I looked at him.

"No."

He smiled.

It wasn't that polite business smile.

He actually smiled.

I lowered my head and continued prepping the ingredients, feeling that the stove was somehow hotter than usual.

"Nora," he suddenly called my name.

"Yeah?"

"After all of this is over, let me take you out for a meal. Somewhere not in your shop."

"A meal? You eat in my shop every day."

"A different kind of meal."

I looked up at him.

His eyes, reflected in the firelight of the stove, were a bit too bright.

"Let’s wait until it’s over to talk about that."

"Okay."

Chapter 25

Things came to an end on an ordinary Tuesday.

Without any warning.

At three o'clock that afternoon, I was at the construction site of the central kitchen, discussing the layout of the drainage pipes with the contractor.

My phone rang.

It was Dr. Li.

"Ms. Jiang, your mother, Zhao Meifen, successfully underwent liver transplant surgery this morning."

I paused for a second.

"Whose liver?"

"The organ transplant queuing system matched a suitable donor. The surgery was performed as an emergency this morning. It went smoothly, and the patient has been transferred to post-operative care."

"You're saying... her turn came up in the queue?"

"Yes. It was earlier than expected. Two patients ahead of her declined surgery for various reasons, moving your mother up in priority."

I stood on the muddy ground of the construction site, surrounded by the roar of machinery.

She lived.

Not because of me.

Not because of my liver.

It was a donor in the system—a complete stranger.

"How long will the post-operative recovery take?"

"Three to six months, if all goes smoothly. But her baseline health is poor, so she will need long-term medication."

"Okay. I understand."

I hung up and tucked the phone into my pocket.

The contractor was waiting nearby: "Ms. Jiang, what's the verdict on the drainage pipes?"

"Move them twenty centimeters to the east."

"Got it."

I went back to looking at the blueprints.

My hands didn't shake.