After Madam Meng passed away, Meng Shixu had once, for a time, considered remarrying. He even seriously dated several girlfriends—each with distinguished family backgrounds and outstanding looks—but all of it ended without result.

Objectively speaking, it was precisely because Meng Yanxi’s destructive power was far too strong.

When a man remarries, the resistance often comes from his children. But at that time, Meng Zhuxi was still too young—only five years old—knowing nothing, and one could not expect her to see very far ahead. She only felt that the father before her was very good, that her father loved her very much. If there were someone who could love her father together with her, and accompany him for a long, long time, that would also be very good.

She very easily betrayed Meng Yanxi, and so Meng Yanxi showed little Meng Zhuxi a movie.

In the movie, the little girl was five or six years old, about the same age as Meng Zhuxi. Her parents divorced, and she was awarded to her mother by the court. The mother soon remarried as well. But the child was ignorant of such matters and always ruined the adults’ mood, so the stepfather drove the little girl out of the house. The little girl went to look for her father. By then, the father also had a new girlfriend and, afraid she would find the child an eyesore, he did not dare acknowledge her, even hiding her in a wardrobe. The little girl stayed in that airtight, cramped space for an entire afternoon, nearly suffocating to death. When the little girl got hungry, she went back to look for her mother. Not daring to go upstairs, she shouted downstairs, ‘Mom, hungry.’ The mother wanted to take food down to her, but was hindered by the stepfather’s opposition and, in the end, did not go. The stepfather once again drove the little girl away. With nowhere to go, the little girl wandered into a zoo and, by accident, entered the tiger enclosure…

To this day, Meng Zhuxi still does not know what the little girl’s ending was, because Meng Yanxi had cut the ending out.

And Meng Yanxi also had not expected that, in his eyes, it was nothing more than the most insignificant bit of scheming on his part, yet it would frighten his younger sister into a severe illness, one that took several years of intermittent treatment before she completely recovered.

Although Meng Zhuxi and Meng Yanxi, brother and sister, looked similar, their personalities were like two extremes. Meng Yanxi was decisive and ruthless, cold to the bone, while Meng Zhuxi was like a little sun, from a young age very good at empathizing with others. Empathy that was too strong was not a good thing. At such a young age, she had watched her mother leave her with her own eyes, and then been set up by Meng Yanxi to watch such a movie. After that, Meng Zhuxi developed severe vicarious trauma, and her cognition followed suit in becoming impaired.

During those years, Meng Zhuxi always felt that she herself was that little girl, that the little girl was her. She had no mother, and her father would abandon her once he had a new girlfriend. Her father would lock her into a wardrobe for another woman, give her nothing to eat… She often dreamed that she accidentally wandered into a zoo and was eaten by a tiger.

In all the years he had grown up, Meng Yanxi had never been beaten—that was the only time.

That year, Meng Yanxi was twelve years old, and Meng Shixu whipped him with rattan.

At that age, a boy’s figure has a particular kind of slender thinness. Kneeling on the ground, each time the rattan fell, it was as if a gash were cut open across his back, a burning, hot, sticky wetness.

He clenched his teeth and did not utter a single sound.

Meng Shixu thought that his silence meant he did not know his fault. His heart ached for his daughter’s suffering, and he was also shocked that his son, at such a young age, could be so unscrupulous. Afraid that he would go astray in the future, angry and pained, he beat until the rattan itself snapped.

Meng Huai rushed back in time and asked him whether he knew he was wrong.

The twelve-year-old boy knelt on the ground, blood seeping from his back, his slender spine still ramrod straight. His face was very pale, his fists clenched tight at his sides, yet his voice remained cold-blooded and indifferent.

He said, “If I’m wrong, then I’m only wrong in not being strong enough, not in anything else.”

“You bastard!” Meng Shixu flew into a rage and moved to fetch another rattan.

Meng Huai held him back and said to Meng Yanxi, “Then go and apologize to Xixi.”

“Fine.” Meng Yanxi’s pitch-black eyes fixed steadily on Meng Huai. “I’m sorry to her. It’s my fault, and I will make it up to her with my entire life. But she will know, sooner or later, that I was protecting her.”

Meng Shixu sneered. “Does it even fall to you to protect her?”

There was a calm on Meng Yanxi’s face that went beyond his years. He calmly looked at Meng Huai and Meng Shixu. “You will leave before her. Her future boyfriend may also change his heart. Only I—whether now or in the future—she is my full-blooded younger sister, born of the same mother. I will protect her for a lifetime. And compared to now, the future me will only be stronger. At that time, Dad, you may remarry as you please. But not now. Before my sister turns eighteen, not now.”

Meng Shixu was so angry he kicked him once.

But in the many years after that, Meng Shixu indeed never again had any thought of remarrying. Whether it was out of pity for his daughter, or whether he was truly threatened by that ruthless streak in his son, no one knew.

However, it had to be said—men like Meng Shixu truly possessed tremendous charm. Handsome and wealthy, in his early forties, right at the peak of a man’s prime. Put him in a television drama, and he’d be the older male lead—the kind fans would celebrate his birthday every year. That alone explained why so many beautiful and affluent women threw themselves at him like moths to a flame.

Among them was a currently popular actress who pursued Meng Shixu with great fanfare for over a year. The matter even made the trending searches several times. In the end, Meng Shixu finally succumbed to the beauty’s allure and fell.

Based on Meng Yanxi’s understanding of Meng Shixu, this relationship should have been the one he was most invested in over all these years.

Yet it was still cold-bloodedly torn apart by Meng Yanxi.

In the process, he was indeed scheming and unscrupulous. Whether Meng Shixu ever came to his senses afterward was unknown. In any case, not long after the breakup, paparazzi broke the news that the two had rekindled their relationship, and that the woman was pregnant with Meng Shixu’s child.

But before long, news spread that the woman had miscarried and would never be able to conceive again.

Meng Shixu’s relationship ended there, completely.

Within the circle, it was widely rumored that Meng Shixu’s son had made the move—and had done it flawlessly, leaving not a shred of evidence behind. Even calling the police was useless.

Even Wu Guo privately asked Meng Yanxi whether he had done it, and how he had done it.

Meng Yanxi neither said yes nor no. His gaze was distant and indifferent, as if to say—so what if it was me, so what if it wasn’t? Even if you learned how, what then? What Meng Yanxi could do was not something others necessarily could.

Because of the actress’s influence, the rumors spread wildly. Jin Wenhui heard about the matter without much effort.

In his view, it was this: after his daughter had been seatmates for two months with a dissolute heir whose hands were already bloody at a young age, his wife miscarried.

Just like the matter involving Meng Yanxi—equally watertight, equally lacking any evidence even after calling the police.

Jin Wenhui might have been willing to believe in his daughter’s innocence, though not entirely—but the premise was that he placed all the blame squarely on Meng Yanxi. He arbitrarily and stubbornly believed that even if Jin Zhao was innocent, the mastermind had to be Meng Yanxi. It was Meng Yanxi who had given her the idea and instigated her to do it.

One could imagine how furious and contemptuous Jin Wenhui felt when Meng Yanxi came knocking.

He had even somehow found out about that part involving Meng Zhuxi.

Meng Yanxi might have been invincible in the face of other people and other matters, but when it came to Meng Zhuxi, he truly felt guilt and remorse.

To this day, Meng Yanxi still remembered that day—how Jin Wenhui had received him with great courtesy.

People in this world were like this. No matter how much they disliked him in their hearts, at most they dared to be angry without speaking out. They did not dare to openly become his enemy. This, too, was the reason Meng Yanxi dared to come.

Jin Wenhui asked him, “Do you know why Jin Zhao’s childhood nickname is Lingling? Her mother gave it to her—pure white feathers, light and free, never trapped by momentary hardship, forever pure and clean, unstained by the mud of the world.”

“Jin Zhao has always cherished her feathers. I think she probably wouldn’t like being friends with someone whose hands are dirty.”

“She didn’t leave you any contact information, did she? Perhaps that is already her answer.”

“Sorry. She’s grown up now. She has the right to choose what kind of people she wants as friends, and also the right to choose what kind of people she cuts off. I cannot interfere.”

“Oh, by the way, how has your younger sister been lately? I was fortunate enough to see her once—a very pretty little girl. If she were Lingling’s younger sister, Lingling would surely cherish her.”

Meng Yanxi had not expected that one day, someone he despised and disdained would strike directly at his softest spot.

In just half an hour—twice.

His sister’s trauma had once pinned him down in a damp, dark swamp. For a long time, he felt both guilt and regret, unable to reconcile with himself, yet at the same time felt that what he had done was not wrong.

Before their mother died, she told him to protect his sister. He protected his sister, and he protected himself. So what if it meant being unscrupulous? Human nature was selfish and unscrupulous to begin with. The only difference was that he had the means—while most people wanted to, but did not.

For example, Wu Guo’s eldest daughter, Wu Nian.

She exhausted every means to fight for herself, equally unscrupulous, yet the result was only that she ended up mingling with a group of shady people, completely falling, pushing herself into the abyss—while her enemies grew ever more dazzling.

He did not believe that anyone could guard everything they had while remaining spotless.

His sister might be able to. But that was because his sister had him. The things she should have done herself, he did for her. She did not need to get her hands dirty; she could remain clean and pure.

Until he met Jin Zhao.

Jin Zhao, completely unlike him. Jin Zhao, who could dance atop ruins.

Everything about her was clean. If she wanted to become better, she simply became better; if she wanted to obtain something, she simply obtained it. There was not the slightest trace of sharpness, aggression, or filth mixed in between.

People are always easily drawn to what they themselves cannot do. Meng Yanxi was no exception.

At first, he truly disdained it. Later, however, he could not help but learn from her. He called it—deliverance.

But one day, that feather flew away, and was unwilling to leave him any contact information.

She abandoned him.

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

Meng Yanxi was the worst drinker Jin Zhao had ever seen—no exceptions.

Fortunately, his drinking manners were still decent. Once drunk, he would pass out on the spot.

After nine years, Jin Zhao suddenly understood what Lu Jingyue had said back then—don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you.

So that was what it meant.

When a boyfriend has good drinking manners, a girlfriend indeed has fewer awkward moments.

Meng Yanxi fell asleep. Jin Zhao turned off the bedroom light, briefly tidied up the dining area, and then prepared to leave.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a drawer being rummaged through in the bedroom.

She went back, still uneasy.

She decided to take back what she had just said. Meng Yanxi’s drinking manners did not seem to be that good after all.

After sleeping for a while, he had woken up again, and was now rummaging through boxes and cabinets in the bedroom, searching for something.

Jin Zhao did not know what he was looking for, but judging from his completely disorderly movements, it was obvious his mind was not clear.

He seemed to really like that Chinese flame tree lamp. When Jin Zhao went out, she had turned off all the lights. After waking up, he turned the Chinese flame tree lamp back on—a small, warm light glowing at the head of the bed.

“What are you looking for?” Jin Zhao walked over.

“Surgery form.”

Meng Yanxi stole a moment to turn his head and look at her.

Those pitch-black peach-blossom eyes, dulled by his lack of sobriety, looked moist, his bangs on his forehead somewhat messy. At this moment, Meng Yanxi looked like a clingy big puppy.

Jin Zhao was startled. “You had surgery? Where are you feeling unwell?”

Meng Yanxi turned back and continued rummaging through everything. “Not me. It’s Meng Shixu. Oh, you might not know him—he’s my dad.”

Jin Zhao: “……”

Alright, confirmed—he was very drunk.

She shouldn’t have let him drink that much tonight.

Meng Yanxi searched his bedroom once, didn’t find it, then stepped past Jin Zhao and went out.

Afraid he might go out and cause trouble while drunk, Jin Zhao hurried after him.

This apartment had originally been a four-bedroom, three-living-room layout. Meng Yanxi and his group seemed to have a particular fondness for large homes. When Luo Heng did the renovation, he knocked rooms through and turned it into two rooms—one bedroom and one study.

The moment Meng Yanxi entered the study, it was as if he’d found inspiration. Very quickly, he pulled a folder out of a drawer.

There really was a surgery form inside the folder.

Meng Yanxi shoved the surgery form into Jin Zhao’s hands.

He really did shove it—no exaggeration. The force was stubborn and a little rough, enough to crumple the paper.

Meng Yanxi said, “Look.”

Jin Zhao unfolded it in confusion.

The color of the surgery form had already yellowed slightly. The date was ten years ago.

Ten years ago, Meng Shixu had undergone a vasectomy.

Jin Zhao didn’t know why Meng Yanxi had suddenly rummaged through everything to find this and show it to her.

“Lingling, those rumors aren’t true. I didn’t do anything. My dad had a vasectomy, he couldn’t possibly have a child.”

Meng Yanxi lowered his eyes, his voice very low. If one listened carefully, there was even a trace of grievance. “I’m not that idle either, doing every kind of bad thing.”

Jin Zhao had originally been listening to his previous sentence, her heart filling with fine, tangled emotions. The moment she heard the latter sentence, she couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.

What kind of position did he even place himself in—an unforgivable villain?

Amused, she asked in return, “Why did you dig this out? Don’t you never explain yourself?”

She still remembered clearly—back then, when she had been feeding the cat a sausage and accidentally overheard his conversation with Meng Shixu. The cat ran off, and she was discovered by Meng Yanxi. She tried to prove that she hadn’t lied, only for him, aloof and arrogant, to interrupt her and say that she shouldn’t explain herself.

At this moment, the drunken Meng Yanxi seemed like a different person altogether. Someone usually so sharp-tongued was, for once, rendered speechless by her question.

“Alright, hurry and go back to sleep.” Jin Zhao supported him back to the bedroom.

She bent down to tuck the blanket around him, when Meng Yanxi suddenly grasped her hand.

The Chinese flame tree lamp at the bedside lit up every fine strand of his lashes. He looked straight at her, and there was a sense of brokenness Jin Zhao had never seen before.

Meng Yanxi said hoarsely, “I’m afraid you’ll look down on me.”