I got into my husband’s Rolls-Royce and overheard my future daughter-in-law calling me a homewrecker behind my back. I tugged on my husband’s ear and said, “While I was abroad these past few years, how did you manage to raise our son into such a love-struck fool?” My husband shrugged. “I’m only good at making money. When it comes to dealing with gold diggers, that’s your department, my dear.” I’m a writer who just returned home after living abroad for five years. I had barely sat down when my son Jason came rushing over. “Mom, Emily is such a wonderful girl. She’s definitely not after our money.” “She’s incredibly hardworking. She came from a small town and worked really hard to get into a top university despite all the difficulties.” “Her parents are elderly, and she has a younger brother.” “But her brother won’t be a burden to her, I promise.” My first thought was that he was protesting too much. The more someone emphasizes they don’t care about something, the more they actually do care. I smiled and said, “As long as she’s a good person, it doesn’t matter. We have plenty of money. Even if she had seven brothers, it wouldn’t be an issue.” Jason threw himself at me, beaming from ear to ear. “Mom, I love you so much!” I smirked and suddenly asked my starry-eyed son: “If she’s not after the money, what does she see in you?” Jason stammered for a while, suddenly filled with self-doubt. “Maybe she thinks I’m handsome?” Oh dear, I knew it. While I was abroad these past few years, his father was busy making money and ended up spoiling him rotten. My son has always been pure-hearted and kind. When he was little, he would cry and refuse to leave until I gave money to beggars we passed on the street. I’m really worried this angel of mine will fall prey to a gold digger’s schemes. After that, I quickly investigated Emily’s company and pulled some strings to get hired there. My desk was right behind Emily’s. The first time I saw her in person, I had to admit she was quite beautiful – fair skin, rosy lips, delicate eyebrows, and large eyes. She had a soft and innocent look about her. I glanced at her desk, which was covered in expensive cosmetics. There were several jars of La Mer creams and three or four luxury handbags. After completing the onboarding process, I had just returned to my desk when I saw a group of young women gathered around Emily, listening to her brag about how wealthy her boyfriend was. “Jason treats me so well. He’s incredibly generous. He lets me use Chanel perfume to freshen up the bathroom, wash the toilet with bird’s nest soup, use Louis Vuitton bags as trash bags, moisturize my feet with Estée Lauder, and use La Mer to moisturize my body.” I listened in shock, thinking “Oh boy…” No wonder my son’s spending had skyrocketed over the past year. His credit card bills suddenly jumped to over a million dollars per quarter. My son’s excuse was that it was for his studies. My fool of a husband actually believed him and gave our son whatever he asked for. My heart ached. The money my husband and I earned didn’t just fall from the sky! I was furious inside, cursing my son, but outwardly I sarcastically said to Emily: “Bird’s nest soup isn’t meant for flushing toilets. It depends on whether the toilet is worthy. What kind of toilet are you flushing? A rental apartment toilet?” The group of young women finally noticed me, the newcomer. They were all surprised by my sharp tongue and stood there stunned. Emily was clearly no pushover. She immediately fired back. “What’s wrong with a rental apartment? I rented it with my own hard-earned money. Are you jealous? You look like you’re in your late 30s. Is it because no man will pay for your expenses?” Seeing her roll her eyes, I suddenly felt like the son I had raised for over 20 years had been defiled by a pig. I could finally understand those fathers who cry their eyes out at their daughters’ weddings. A plainly dressed girl spoke up in my defense. I later learned her name was Sarah. “Emily, don’t say that. This lady clearly comes from a good background.” The other young women sided with Emily though. It seems they often benefited from her generosity. “Emily, why are you bothering with her? She’s clearly just a bitter old maid who’s jealous of you!” “Yeah, why else would someone her age be competing for jobs with us young people?” I smiled and said, “Auntie here is 50 years old. My son is older than your boyfriends. I have a loving marriage and a harmonious family.” The young women who had just been mocking me were shocked. I only looked to be in my early 30s, which immediately piqued their interest. They crowded around me. “Auntie, how do you take such good care of yourself? You look so young!” “You don’t have a single wrinkle. You must come from a wealthy family.” “Auntie, is your son single?” “Auntie, do you want to adopt a goddaughter?” “Auntie, you’re so beautiful. Your son must be very handsome!” Emily was left standing there, her eyes wide with disbelief. I glanced at Emily disdainfully and said, “Of course. My son is 6’1″, with sharp features and bright eyes. He’s just not very smart.” Just then, Emily’s phone rang. She answered in a soft voice: “Yes, I’m free tonight. Where should we eat?” “Oh no, that place is too fancy.” “Being frugal is a virtue. Let’s go to a food truck instead.” After hanging up, Emily waved her phone at the other girls. Her expression was full of smugness as she pouted and said: “My boyfriend is so considerate. He insists on taking me to an expensive restaurant where the average bill is over $100 per person. I want to eat at a food truck, but he’s upset about it.” Then, she triumphantly showed me her phone wallpaper, which was a photo of my son. “Auntie, is your husband as handsome as my boyfriend?” I smiled and said, “No, your boyfriend is more handsome.” “After all, I gave birth to him.” I almost couldn’t hold back from saying that last part out loud. Emily smiled knowingly and said, “Of course. My boyfriend is half American and half Japanese.” I was stunned. Which one of us – me or my husband – was the secret Japanese person? After work, Emily was in a rush to leave. As she was leaving, she commanded me in an imperious tone: “Please hand in the report on my desk to the manager.” I coldly replied, “Don’t you have hands?” She smirked and touched up her lipstick in the mirror: “You’re new to the workplace. This is how things are done. Don’t be difficult!” “Fine,” I agreed reluctantly. I glanced at the manager’s office. No one was there. After she left, I tore out a page from the middle of the report and tossed it onto the manager’s desk. After doing that, I looked out the window and saw my son waiting downstairs in his Maserati. Jason opened the car door for Emily and carefully shielded her head with his hand to prevent her from bumping it on the doorframe. He had learned those gentlemanly gestures from his father, and he wasn’t bad at it. It’s just that with Emily as the female lead, my son seemed a bit… like a lovesick puppy. Just as I was feeling dejected, the group of young women invited me to dinner with them. I happily agreed. Being around young people made me feel younger at heart, which I enjoyed. I asked Sarah if she wanted to join us, since she had spoken up for me earlier. She declined, saying, “I can’t, I have a part-time job as a designated driver. Shh, don’t tell anyone.” I winked at her, silently agreeing to keep her secret. The young women took me to the food street near our office building. These young people’s tastes were certainly different from an old fogey like me. Along the way, they chatted about things like: “I’d sleep with Tom Holland on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, Chris Evans on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, and both of them together on Sunday.” I didn’t even know who they were talking about. Time really does fly. Unable to join the conversation, I focused my attention on the food instead. Sizzling grilled meat skewers, fragrant egg pancakes. The air was filled with the aroma of street food. I ordered an egg pancake and was about to enjoy it. Looking down, I suddenly spotted my son and Emily in a nearby alley, Crouched on the ground, eating something that looked dark and unappetizing. Next to him was a sticky black plastic bucket that looked like it was filled with gutter oil. Flies were buzzing around my son’s glossy short hair. In that moment, I truly felt I had failed as a mother. When he was young, I often took him to shabby restaurants to experience hardship and build character. Who knew it would turn him into someone with no standards, willing to eat anything! But honestly, how could I bear to see my son eating such dirty food! At home, when his father washed fruit for him, even tap water wasn’t clean enough. We had to soak it in baking soda and then rinse it with mineral water. In that moment, I really wanted to rush over, grab his ear, and tell him: “Your girlfriend eats street food in front of you, but behind your back she’s using Chanel to freshen up the bathroom. Don’t you know that, you fool!” My hands were shaking with anger, but I had to control myself. It wasn’t time for me to reveal myself yet. I hid in a secluded corner and finished my egg pancake without really tasting it, then went home fuming. Sitting on the couch, I pouted with my lips turned down. When my husband Henry saw me, he immediately sat down beside me to comfort me. “Honey, how was your first day at work?” I described everything I had seen and heard, then asked sheepishly, “Who do you think our son inherited his intelligence from?” Henry laughed. “It must be your chromosome 16 acting up.” His reminder brought back painful memories. We lost our first child unexpectedly. Later tests showed that a duplicated segment on my chromosome 16 was the cause. Chromosome 16 is responsible for intelligence. Children born with this issue would either be extremely smart or severely intellectually disabled. Back then, my husband and I couldn’t accept the possibility of having a child with severe disabilities, so we considered not having children at all. But Jason didn’t give up on me. We anxiously went through the ten months of pregnancy, and after he was born, the doctors said there were no issues with his intelligence. Only then did we breathe a sigh of relief. Now it seems his emotional intelligence might be a bit lacking, especially when it comes to choosing a girlfriend. With mixed feelings, I waited up for my son until the early hours of the morning. When he turned on the lights, he was startled to see me sitting on the couch. After composing himself, he suddenly pulled out a bouquet of carnations from behind his back and said with a smile: “Mom, these are for you. I haven’t had a chance to spend time with you since you got back.” I immediately burst into tears. This bouquet of carnations moved this old mother to tears. But then, he asked in the next breath: “Mom, can I have the keys to the villa in the small town?” My mood immediately plummeted again. I quickly wiped away my tears and asked warily, “What do you want it for?” “Mom, I can’t bear to see Emily living in a rental apartment anymore. I want to let her live in the villa. It’s just sitting empty anyway.” This Emily was quite clever. After I mocked her for living in a rental apartment during the day, she immediately whispered in my son’s ear that night about wanting to live in a big villa. I didn’t know how to refuse, but just then my husband leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and spoke up: “That house is being used as employee housing now. Some employees will be moving in in a few days. The beachfront villa is empty though, does she want to live there?” The beachfront villa was a two-hour commute each way from Emily’s office. A lazy person definitely wouldn’t want to wake up early and get home late every day for work. My husband was quite shrewd. Hearing this, my son’s eyes immediately dimmed. He didn’t even bother to take off his shoes at the door before lowering his head to send a text message. He was probably asking for Emily’s opinion. Sure enough, a moment later, he declined decisively: “Never mind then.” Leaving those cold words behind, he returned to his room. I was not in a good mood. My husband took the opportunity to score some points, trying to win my favor: “Our son brings you flowers but has ulterior motives. I’m better, aren’t I?” I asked in confusion, “How so?” He looked at me tenderly and said, “You’re not going to work tomorrow. I’ve booked a table at the revolving restaurant to welcome you home.” Hearing him say that, my anger immediately dissipated. “Wow, Auntie’s husband is so classy? What a coincidence to run into you here.” At the restaurant, just as my husband and I were having our private moment, a coquettish female voice rang out. I looked up and saw it was Emily, accompanied by two young women around her age. Before Henry could even turn his head to look at her, she had already plopped herself down next to him, then said to her companions: “You two go ahead and look around. I’ve run into a colleague.” The two young women walked away, chatting and laughing. Emily sat on the corner of Henry’s black coat. His face darkened. Emily smoothed out her long dress, crossed her legs to reveal her snow-white thighs, and said to my husband, “Uncle, I’m a colleague of Auntie’s. You don’t mind, do you?” Henry looked puzzled. He had never seen Emily’s photo before, so I quickly explained, “This is Emily.” Hearing this, a meaningful look flashed in my husband’s eyes. He quickly pulled the corner of his coat out from under her bottom, but smiled and said: “Of course I don’t mind.” “Where’s your young boyfriend?” I asked her curiously. She lowered her eyes to look at the menu, answering absent-mindedly, “He’s picking out a house for me.”
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