Chapter 701 A Snowy Reunion and a Hidden Warning

Given enough time, the fluid-filled sac in Elsie’s belly would fuse with her tissue, just like a foreign implant. She’d stay grotesquely bloated forever, tormented by the pain of a pregnancy that never ended–just like the innocent pregnant woman she once helped destroy. But unlike Yunice, Elsie would never escape the psychiatric ward.

Time passed quickly. New Year’s Eve was approaching. Carl, more traditional with age, called that morning, summoning Yunice and Wyatt to the house to help Freya and Victor make dumplings–an annual tradition. Yunice rolled up her sleeves. Glancing at Wyatt, whose sleeves were lazily cuffed, she instinctively reached over to roll them higher, remembering how last time he got them messy making clay.

Victor noticed the gesture. He blinked, then caught Wyatt staring straight at him. Pathetic. What’s there to show off? Victor kneaded dough at the table. Freya, who was famously bad at cooking, was in charge of tearing off dough portions. Wyatt picked up the rolling pin. He’d roll the wrappers; Yunice would fold them. Victor chimed in, “You know how to fold dumplings?” Without looking up, Yunice placed a wrapper in her palm. “I do.” Not only could she fold dumplings, her pleats were exquisite. Each dumpling looked like it had come from a mold–uniform, beautiful, precise. Freya, hands idle but mouth active, praised Yunice with a grin. “Didn’t think your hands were this skilled. I thought Wyatt did all the cooking at home. You seemed like someone who wouldn’t lift a finger in the kitchen.” True, Wyatt did most of the cooking at the West Courtyard. But Yunice could cook too. Growing up with an often-absent father, she’d learned early how to take care of herself. Her skills in the kitchen weren’t bad. Wyatt said, “She’s been capable since she was a kid.” “Since she was a kid?” Freya caught the phrasing and raised a brow teasingly. “So what, you’ve been watching our little Yunice since she was tiny? How do you know what parts of her are strong or not?” Yunice shot him a sideways glance while pleating, then covered for him. “I used to fold dumplings at the Powell house. He saw me then.”

Almost as soon as she finished, Wyatt added, “You made eleven dumplings. All of them got stolen.” Freya blinked. “Stolen? Who the hell steals dumplings at the Powell house?” They weren’t short on cash–who’d steal food? Victor didn’t even look up. “Because of exclusion.”

In other words, the Powells had looked down on Yunice behind her back. They’d let her join family traditions, but once she stepped away, the things she touched were thrown out. The dumplings Yunice folded were separated in the kitchen–and tossed. That Wyatt remembered even a detail like the number–eleven–meant one thing: he’d been watching her all along. Freya didn’t say anything, just smiled knowingly. Now she understood why Wyatt had latched onto Yunice so tightly. It wasn’t some impulsive crush or physical obsession. It was a slow-burning, years-long affection.

“Wyatt, give me a hand!” Carl’s voice rang from outside. He was perched on a ladder, holding a red Spring Festival couplet. Everyone turned. Freya immediately brushed the flour off her hands and stood up, worried. “Why are you climbing so high? There are so many people here–anyone can hang it!” Victor stood too, ready to help. But Carl raised a hand to stop them, stepping down a rung. “Let Wyatt help. You two keep going.” Victor paused, then understood–Carl wanted to talk to Wyatt alone. He exchanged a glance with Freya and sat back down. Freya sighed and sat too, picking up the rolling pin to take over Wyatt’s job. “Ugh… why can’t I get these round?” Yunice continued folding dumplings, but her eyes flicked toward the door. What did Carl want to say in private?

Carl stepped off the ladder. Wyatt offered a hand, then took the red scroll from him and climbed two steps up. He could easily reach the doorframe. Carl watched with admiration. “Ah, youth. Tall and strong. Not like me–shriveling up with age.” Then his expression sobered. Hands behind his back, he muttered, “With a frame like yours, if Yunice ever got pregnant… how hard do you think that would be for her?” Wyatt looked down at him from the ladder. Carl met his eyes directly. “You’ve been hiding Paul’s whereabouts for a while, but you can’t hide it forever. If Yunice catches on, you’d better be careful not to dig your own grave.”