Su Huilan let herself in without knocking, the way she'd started doing a couple of years back, once Qinran had finally told her to stop bothering with the doorbell.
"Luoli!" she called out, setting a bag down on the counter. "I brought you something."
Thundering footsteps down the hallway.
"Grandma!" Luoli skidded into the kitchen, already reaching for the bag. "Is it the pastries from mimi?"
"It's the pastries from mimi."
"You're the best!!!"
She patted his head, then held him at arm's length, studying him.
"You've gotten taller."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
Qinran came in from the other room, drying her hands on a towel.
"You didn't have to bring anything."
"I wanted to."
Su Huilan settled into her usual chair at the table, the one that had unofficially become hers over the past few years.
"Where's my son?"
"Still at the office. Should be back soon."
"Working too much. As always." She sighed, though there wasn't much heat in it anymore — more habit than complaint.
Qinran poured the tea.
Luoli was already talking with his mouth full again.
"Grandma, guess what. I know Dad's my dad now. For real. They told me and everything."
Su Huilan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Qinran.
"Oh? And how did that go?"
"Fine. I already knew." He shrugged, reaching for another pastry. "I have his face."
"You do," Su Huilan agreed, amused.
Qinran, watching from the counter, let herself laugh — quiet, easy, the kind of laugh that didn't used to come naturally, back when every conversation with this woman had been careful and measured.
Su Huilan caught it. Held her gaze a moment.
"You look well," she said, simply.
"I am well."
"Good." She reached for her tea. "That's all I wanted to hear."
The front door opened a while later — Beichuan, tie already loosened, looking mildly surprised to find his mother sitting at the table like she owned it.
"You're here."
"Obviously."
"Did you bring the pastries?"
"He only asked about you after the pastries," Su Huilan said, nodding at Luoli.
Beichuan hung up his coat, crossed the room, and pressed a brief kiss to the top of Luoli's head on his way past — a habit so ordinary now none of them remarked on it.
"Dad, I told Grandma. About the whole — you know. Dad thing."
"And?"
"She already knew too, apparently."
"Everyone knew before you did," Su Huilan said. "It was written all over your face. Literally."
Luoli considered this, unbothered, and reached for another pastry.
Qinran shook her head, refilling the teapot, the kitchen full of noise and easy overlapping voices.
Su Huilan watched Luoli eat with the faint, satisfied look of someone whose gift had been well received.
Beichuan loosened his tie the rest of the way and sat down across from Qinran, quiet, at ease.
Outside, the evening settled in slowly, the kitchen light the warmest thing in the apartment.