With the help of the embassy and local staff, I handled the funeral arrangements for Naomi and her husband’s family.
Following local customs, I buried her in a peaceful place, free from the fires of war, surrounded by birds and flowers. I knew she loved places like this when she was alive.
That night, I stayed by her grave until dawn, talking to her and reliving our memories. I never imagined that our first meeting in years would also be our final goodbye.
After taking care of everything, it was time to fulfill my promise. I had to go back and look after Naomi’s flesh and blood, her only child.
I don’t know if it was a coincidence, but my wife, Yumi, taught Chinese at Jiaying Middle School… the exact school Naomi’s son attended.
Everything happened so suddenly, I didn’t know how to break it to Yumi.
The boy’s identity was sensitive; he was the son of my first love.
If Yumi knew, would she accept him?
Knowing her, she probably would, but it might leave a knot in her heart. Plus, neither of us was prepared to adopt a child.
I explained the situation to the TV station and applied for an early transfer back to China. It didn’t take long to get approved.
Carrying my promise to Naomi and her dying wish, I returned to China to find the child I had never met—my future adopted son, Lee Jihoon.
The name “Jihoon” clearly had a special meaning.
Naomi must have chosen it. My name is Kim Sanghoon, and her son was named Jihoon; it was likely a tribute to her longing for me.
After seeing Naomi again, even though she had passed away, her place in my heart had somehow deepened.
She didn’t give me a marriage, but she gave me a child. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe heaven was quietly making up for the regrets between us.
I still hadn’t told Yumi because I wasn’t sure if she’d accept it. Hell, even I was struggling to accept it, and I hadn’t even met the kid yet.
The boy was mixed-race.
Even though he was only one-third African and two-thirds Chinese, I’d heard that African genes were dominant.
If you have even a drop of it, you usually look it.
I’ll be honest: I didn’t have a great impression of Black people. It wasn’t that I was a blatant racist; it was because an African man had snatched Naomi away from me.
After she married him, it left a shadow over my heart, and I harbored zero goodwill toward Black people.
The thought of a little Black kid calling me “Dad” made me feel a bit awkward. Still, his mother was Naomi. That was my only comfort.
The moment I decided to adopt him, I resolved to slowly accept him and raise him as if he were my own flesh and blood. I just hoped he didn’t look *too* Black.
I decided to keep the details of his parentage a secret for now.
Upon arriving in China, I went straight to Yumi’s school.
I called her ahead of time, and she was waiting at the gate in her professional teaching attire.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, she ran over and gave me a massive bear hug.
We had been apart for half a month, only able to express our longing over the phone. Every time we reunited after a trip, the passion between us was intense.
“Hubby, why did you come back so suddenly? You wouldn’t tell me on the phone,” Yumi asked, holding my hand as we walked through the campus.
“I need your help finding a child,” I started, not knowing quite how to break it to her. “He’s a student here at Jiaying, but I don’t know his grade or class. I only have his name.”
“What’s going on? Are you doing some kind of undercover investigation?” Yumi knew my job well, so no matter what weird request I made, she wouldn’t find it strange.
I hesitated, weighing my words…. Eventually, I decided to be mostly honest. Honesty is the foundation of a marriage, after all.
However, I deliberately hid the fact that the boy’s mother was my first love.
I had told Yumi about Naomi in the past, but because it was a painful memory, I rarely brought it up.
I slowly explained the whole story to Yumi, starting from the beginning. I told her about a Chinese woman I met abroad who had entrusted her child to me on her deathbed.
I told Yumi everything, except that this woman, Naomi, was my first love.
Yumi was stunned for a good while, but she didn’t object.
She was a kind-hearted woman. She just sighed, lamenting how war ruins lives. She fully supported my decision, believing it was the right thing for anyone with a conscience to do.
Getting her approval was a massive relief. A huge weight lifted off my chest.
“So, what’s the boy’s name? I’ll go check the school records,” she said once she’d calmed down.
“His name is Lee Jihoon…” I had already mentioned that the boy was mixed-race.
In the past, whenever Yumi saw mixed-race kids on TV, she’d always comment on how unique and handsome they looked.
She probably never expected me to bring one home so soon, especially a Sino-African mix, which was relatively rare.
“Ah… hahaha…” To my surprise, upon hearing the name, Yumi covered her mouth and giggled. Her laugh was always so gentle and sweet.
“What is it, honey? What’s so funny?” I was baffled by her reaction. Did I say something wrong?
“Nothing, it just… feels like too much of a coincidence. We don’t need to check the records. This Lee Jihoon is in my class. He just started seventh grade, and I’ve been teaching him for over half a year. I’m actually his homeroom teacher…” Yumi stopped laughing and gave me a warm smile.
“Uh…” I was speechless. It really felt like heaven had orchestrated this whole thing. He was in my wife’s class.
“It’s true, that kid does look a bit unique. I’ve noticed him before. His skin is slightly dark, but not overly so. It’s actually similar to your complexion, since you’re pretty tanned. The only difference is his eyes are huge, and his lips are a bit thick. Overall, he doesn’t look African at all; he looks just like any Chinese kid,” Yumi recalled as she led me toward her classroom.
The moment Yumi brought the boy out of the classroom, I saw him. The second our eyes met, it felt like a bolt of lightning flashed through my mind.
I couldn’t explain why, but my brain short-circuited for a split second. It was as if we had known each other in a past life, or as if our meeting in this life was predestined.
I felt a bizarre, undeniable connection to him, even though I couldn’t quite grasp where that strange feeling was coming from.
He looked about 13 or 14. Despite his young age, he had a steady, calm vibe that didn’t match his years.
It was just as Yumi described: despite his heritage, aside from his skin tone and lips, he looked no different from a Chinese boy.
If I hadn’t known his background beforehand, I never would have guessed he was mixed.
Yumi and I took him to the principal’s office. I didn’t know how to break the news to the kid. I had Yumi wait with him while I spoke privately with the school administrators.
I showed them the adoption papers issued by the Chinese embassy and explained that the boy was now an orphan.
After coordinating with the school, we contacted the civil affairs bureau and other relevant departments. I have to admit, the process was incredibly complicated, especially since the boy held dual citizenship.
Even with all the official paperwork in my hands, it was going to take a lot of time to sort out.
We decided not to keep him in the dark. We called Jihoon over and told him his father had been killed in the war.
We expected him to break down, to cry, to scream. Instead, he stood frozen for a few minutes. He lowered his head and clenched his fists, his body trembling as he fought back tears.
Finally, he tilted his head back, forcing the moisture to stay in his eyes.
“Actually, I already guessed…” he said. His Chinese was perfect; his years of schooling here hadn’t been wasted. But his words caught us off guard.
“How did you guess?” Yumi, who also served as the school’s part-time counselor, had been fully prepared to offer him psychological support.
Hearing him say that, she couldn’t help but ask.
“My mom used to call me every two days. It’s been a week since I last heard from her. That’s not normal. Even though they sent me to China to stay safe, I’m not blind to what’s happening over there. I’ve been watching the news. I knew this day would come. You’re just confirming what I already knew.” He wiped his eyes and spoke with a chilling, quiet logic.
He was grieving, but he was incredibly composed.
I looked at him with newfound respect. His intuition and judgment were on par with an adult’s.
This level of composure, stability, and intelligence were exactly the traits needed to achieve great things in life.
I felt a sudden surge of excitement about raising and educating this boy.
As for the emotional work, Yumi was the expert. She was a teacher and a counselor; she would be the one to bridge the gap and handle the adoption transition.
Given their bond as teacher and student, and Yumi’s gentle approach, I knew there wouldn’t be any issues.
While Yumi and Lee Jihoon were waiting for the school day to end, I went to see Naomi’s parents.
When they first saw me, they looked at me with the same old disdain and contempt.
But the moment I pulled out the bank card with Naomi’s one-million-yuan savings, their faces lit up like Christmas trees.
Their grief over their daughter’s death vanished instantly. I was disgusted by how cold-blooded and materialistic they were.
I didn’t keep a cent of Naomi’s money; I gave it all to them. In exchange, I made them sign a legal agreement: Lee Jihoon was mine now, and they could never try to take him back for any reason.
They probably saw the boy as a burden anyway, so they signed and fingerprinted the papers without a second thought.
Disgusted by her family, I drove back to the school.
Classes were over. I saw Yumi at the gate, holding Jihoon’s hand, waiting for me to take them both home.
