3: Chapter 3 Xiaoyang, I'm not leaving tonight.

Wang Yang squeezed her hand, his gaze burning.

"Is there a place for me in your heart?"

Zhao Yaqin's tears finally fell.

She had been a widow for fifteen years, raising her daughter alone, and never imagined she would see a day like this in her life.

Never imagined that a man would stand before her, saying he liked her, saying he wanted to treat her well.

Never imagined that this man would be the person she had watched for three years, the person she had suppressed her feelings for for three years.

Zhao Yaqin bit her lip, her vision blurred by tears.

Her voice trembled, barely audible.

"Yes..."

A single word. A word suppressed for three years.

Wang Yang's eyes also reddened. But it was out of excitement.

He reached out, gently wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace.

Zhao Yaqin's body stiffened for a moment, then softened, leaning against his chest.

Tears dampened his shirt collar.

"Xiao Yang..."

"Call me Wang Yang."

Zhao Yaqin looked up at him, her eyes misty with tears.

Wang Yang lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers.

"From now on, you are not my aunt, not my mother-in-law."

"You are my woman."

Zhao Yaqin's face flushed completely. She wanted to say something, but he lowered his head and covered her lips with his.

The faint scent of gardenias lingered at the tip of his nose, and the soft, warm touch left Wang Yang's mind blank.

He only knew one thing: he was determined to have this woman.

After some time, Zhao Yaqin gently pushed him away, blushing and lowering her head, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum.

"You... you let me go first..."

Wang Yang didn't let go; instead, he held her tighter.

"I won't let go. Not in this lifetime."

Zhao Yaqin was too shy to look up, her fingers gently poking his chest.

"You... you child, why are you so overbearing..."

"I am not a child." Wang Yang lowered his head to whisper in her ear, "I am your man."

Zhao Yaqin's ears turned blood-red. She bit her lip, and after a long while, managed to squeeze out, "Then... what about Qianqian..."

"She is her, you are you." Wang Yang's voice deepened.

"She despised me for being poor, for being spineless, for not being able to provide the life she wanted. But she didn't know, what I wanted to provide was never for her."

He looked down at the woman in his arms, his eyes gentle.

"What I wanted to provide, is for you."

Zhao Yaqin's tears welled up again. She raised her hand, gently stroking Wang Yang's face.

"Silly child... I am so much older than you..."

"So what if you're older?" Wang Yang held her hand.

"I just like them older."

Zhao Yaqin froze for a moment, then realized what he meant, blushing and pounding his chest.

"You... what nonsense are you spouting!"

Wang Yang laughed and pulled her into his embrace.

"I'm not spouting nonsense. I just like you. And I will only like you from now on."

Zhao Yaqin leaned into his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. Her heart, widowed for fifteen years, finally had a place to call home.

She looked up, met his eyes, and said softly, "Xiao Yang, I..."

Before she could finish, her cheeks were already burning red. She bit her lip, her eyelashes fluttering, her mature and gentle appearance making Wang Yang's heart burn.

He lowered his head, covering her lips once more. This time, Zhao Yaqin did not dodge.

She closed her eyes, her hands climbing up to his neck, responding awkwardly. In the cramped rented room, the air gradually became warm and soft, filled with lingering affection.

After an unknown amount of time, their lips parted. Both were panting, their foreheads touching, their eyes locked.

Zhao Yaqin blushed, her voice as light as a mosquito's hum. "Xiao Yang... I... I'm not leaving tonight..."

Zhao Yaqin's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, but it hit Wang Yang's heart like a heavy hammer. He looked at her shy appearance.

Seeing the affection suppressed for fifteen years in her eyes, his throat bobbed hard.

Before he could react, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly exploded in his mind—

[Ding! Detected that the host and Zhao Yaqin are of one mind, Multi-Children Multi-Blessings System officially activated!]

[Newbie gift pack has been issued, waiting for the host to open!]

[Ding! Target object detected: Zhao Yaqin, age 42, comprehensive score 90. Physical indicators are excellent, no adverse medical history, determined by the system as a qualified conception target. Do you want to immediately bind as an exclusive conception target?]

A qualified conception target? Wang Yang's heart tightened, his gaze falling on Zhao Yaqin, who was shyly lowering her eyes in his arms.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyelashes fluttering, her small hands tightly clutching his shirt hem. The mature and gentle woman looked like a young girl at this moment, even her breathing was trembling.

Wang Yang felt a rush of blood go straight to his head. Without a moment's hesitation, he decisively thought in his heart: Yes!

[Ding! Exclusive conception target successfully bound! Target: Zhao Yaqin! Multi-Children Multi-Blessings System officially starts the conception process!]

As the system prompt ended, Zhao Yaqin felt weak all over from his burning gaze, burying her head lower. Her earlobes were so red they seemed about to bleed, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum. "Xiao Yang, don't... don't look at me like that..."

Zhao Yaqin's shyness was like a feather, gently plucking at Wang Yang's heartstrings. He reached out to gently cradle her cheek, his fingertips caressing her delicate, smooth skin.

Forty-two years old, yet her skin was still so good; he wondered how she maintained it.

Zhao Yaqin was too nervous to look up, her eyelashes fluttering violently, her breathing in disarray. "Sister Yaqin." Wang Yang called her softly.

Zhao Yaqin's body trembled, and she slowly lifted her eyes. The moment their eyes met, she saw the burning heat in his eyes, the deep affection in his eyes, and in his eyes—she saw herself, the one he had suppressed for three years and finally dared to let out.

"I..." Zhao Yaqin wanted to say something, but Wang Yang lowered his head and covered her lips.

The soft, warm sensation exploded instantly. Zhao Yaqin trembled all over, her eyelashes fluttering violently. Yet she had no intention of pushing him away, simply accepting it passively. Her hands moved from clutching his shirt hem to slowly climbing up to his neck.

Between their lips and teeth, gentle affection flowed slowly in the cramped rented room. The faint scent of gardenias on Zhao Yaqin intertwined with Wang Yang's crisp, clean scent. Lingering and soft, it left both of them intoxicated.

The kiss ended. Both were panting, their foreheads touching, their eyes locked.

Zhao Yaqin's face was flushed completely, her eyes glistening with moisture, hazy and shy. The allure of a mature woman was fully revealed at this moment, making Wang Yang's heart tremble.

"Sister Yaqin." He called out again.

"Hmm..." Zhao Yaqin responded softly, her voice as soft as cotton.

Wang Yang looked at her, at the attachment in her eyes. At the defenses she had let down for the first time in fifteen years. He could no longer hold back. He leaned over and swept her up into his arms.

Zhao Yaqin gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her little face in his neck. Hot breath spilled onto his skin, making his heart tighten.

"Xiao Yang..." "Hmm?" "You... be gentle..."

Wang Yang lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "Okay."

He carried the warm, soft, and delicate body in his arms, walking step by step toward the old wooden bed. He laid her down gently.

Zhao Yaqin lay there. Her brown, wavy hair spread across the worn pillow, making her skin appear even fairer and more delicate.

She didn't dare to look at him, her eyes closed, her eyelashes fluttering violently, her hands gripping the sheet beneath her. The unique, gentle allure of a mature woman was fully revealed at this moment.

Wang Yang leaned over. The cramped, cold rented room was instantly filled with endless tenderness and warmth. Time flowed quietly, full of peace and lingering affection.

... After some time. The sky outside was pitch black. The cold night of the twelfth lunar month shrouded Yuntian City.

Wang Yang opened his eyes slowly. His first feeling was—tired.

His whole body was sore and weak, as if all his strength had been drained. His limbs and bones were filled with extreme exhaustion, as if he had been hollowed out.

But Wang Yang's heart was full of satisfaction and peace. Zhao Yaqin was just too gentle.

He moved his fingers, turned to his side, and his gaze fell gently on the woman sleeping beside him.