Tao Zhi slipped through the door just as the clock struck nine.

Tao Xiuping and Ji Fan were sitting there—one holding a teacup, the other holding a can of cola.

“You’re back,” Tao Xiuping said.

Ji Fan took a sip of cola. “You’re back?”

Tao Zhi had dashed all the way from the community gate after getting out of the taxi. She braced her hands on her knees at the entryway, breathing hard, said nothing, and waved a hand at them.

Tao Xiuping glanced at the clock and calmly set down his teacup. “Nine o’clock. You’re quite punctual.”

“Quite punctual,” Ji Fan echoed, finishing the can in his hand and tossing it into the trash can not even an arm’s length away with an exaggerated basketball-throwing motion.

Tao Zhi finally caught her breath. She took off her shoes, walked to the sofa, and flopped down, not wanting to speak.

Only after she was home and finally resting did she feel tired, though she hadn’t actually done anything that night.

She hugged a couch cushion and sat for a while. Right on cue, her stomach growled twice.

Tao Xiuping looked at her. “Didn’t eat enough?”

“Didn’t eat dinner,” Tao Zhi said honestly. She stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat at home?”

“The dishes from dinner are all cold,” Tao Xiuping put down his laptop and followed her in. “Dad will make you some egg noodles?”

Tao Zhi gave a quiet “mm.”

She leaned against the kitchen island, watching Tao Xiuping take eggs and tomatoes out of the fridge.

“You went to see that little boyfriend of yours—why haven’t you eaten dinner yet?”

Tao Zhi said nothing.

Noticing her low mood, Tao Xiuping joked on purpose. “He didn’t give you food?”

There were dark circles under the man’s eyes. Since coming back last time, he hadn’t gone on any more business trips, but it didn’t seem to make things any easier—if anything, he seemed to have even more to do every day.

Tao Zhi didn’t answer. Suddenly, she called out, “Dad.”

Tao Xiuping cracked an egg into a bowl and whisked it. “Mm?”

“Are you going bankrupt?” Tao Zhi suddenly asked, completely out of nowhere.

“…”

Tao Xiuping looked at her in surprise, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Other kids all hope their dads make more money. Why do you keep wishing I’d go bankrupt?”

Tao Zhi frowned. “I just feel like lately… you seem tired every day.”

Tao Xiuping’s smile faded a little. He looked at her deeply, opened his mouth, then stopped.

After a pause, he smiled again, set the beaten egg on the counter, turned on the faucet, and rinsed the tomato.

“Adults are always like this. Don’t you already have your own worries now? Why can’t Dad have his?”

Tao Zhi nodded thoughtfully. “So, do you have a woman you like now? Are you getting married?”

Tao Xiuping was caught off guard and nearly choked.

Tao Zhi said very considerately, “If you really have an auntie you like enough to marry, I can accept that.”

She was open-minded about these things. Tao Xiuping always let her do what she wanted, so if he really had someone he liked, Tao Zhi had no reason to stop him.

Otherwise, that would just be too selfish of her.

She had someone she liked, things she wanted to do, and a life that belonged to her.

Tao Xiuping should have his own as well.

Even if she might feel a little uncomfortable deep down, she could make herself accept it and overcome it.

What a selfless and kind peach.

Tao Zhi was moved by her own understanding and empathy.

Tao Xiuping just watched his daughter’s face shift expression after expression—from conflicted, to resolute, to finally serene—and couldn’t help finding it funny.

Children were cute when they were little, but once they grew up and entered adolescence, their strange and curious thoughts became more and more—also quite entertaining.

He lifted his hand and flicked the water off his fingers at her. “What kind of nonsense are you thinking about? Besides Zhizhi and A’Fan, Dad doesn’t like anyone.”

Tao Zhi waved her hand, her face full of a “yeah, right” expression. “Got it, got it.”

Tao Xiuping: “…”

Tao Xiuping’s cooking was delicious, though she rarely got to eat it. He peeled and diced the tomato; the sweet and sour taste blended into the thick noodle soup with bits of egg. The hand-pulled noodles were perfectly chewy. Even though it was just a bowl of vegetarian noodles without meat, Tao Zhi ate with great relish.

Halfway through eating, Ji Fan came trotting over, craning his neck toward the kitchen. “Old Tao, got any more of that?”

The boy had a big appetite; just a few hours after dinner, he was hungry again. Tao Xiuping cooked another pot and filled him a big bowl.

Ji Fan sat next to Tao Zhi, slurping noodles.

Tao Xiuping sat across from them, watching them eat.

There was a kind of indescribable, peculiar satisfaction.

Although they were hard to manage, and sometimes he didn’t know how to educate them—often wondering if the way he spoke might backfire—and although it was difficult to balance the scales between family and work, in quiet moments like this, there was a feeling that couldn’t be put into words.

Perhaps Ji Jin had felt the same way.

Just watching them eat, sleep, study, and grow could make one feel deeply happy.

In those years when he had thrown himself completely into work and making money, she had been alone in this house, and what she had around her were only these two children.

At some point, Tao Zhi and Ji Fan suddenly looked up at the same time, gazing at him.

Tao Xiuping came back to his senses. “What’s wrong?”

“You just sighed,” Ji Fan said unclearly, with noodles still in his mouth.

Tao Zhi nodded. “So it really is that you’re about to go bankrupt.”

“…”

Tao Xiuping narrowed his eyes. “What’s with all the nonsense in you brats’ heads? No! Your old man is not bankrupt!”

Ji Fan, enjoying the commotion, added fuel to the fire. “Maybe it’s just because your boyfriend didn’t feed you.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

“Right, that little… boy—his name’s Jiang Qihuai, right?” Tao Xiuping asked.

Tao Zhi lowered her head, eating noodles, pretending to be deaf and mute.

Tao Xiuping said, “Why would someone from such a good school like the Affiliated High transfer to Experimental? I heard he’s been living with his grandfather since he was little?”

The fingers holding Tao Zhi’s chopsticks paused. She lifted her head.

Tao Xiuping asked, as if casually, “What do his parents do?”

“How did you know he grew up with his grandfather?” Tao Zhi said.

Tao Xiuping let out an “ah” and looked toward Ji Fan, but before he could speak—

“Don’t tell me you heard it from Ji Fan,” Tao Zhi cut him off. “I’ve never told Ji Fan anything about his family, have I?”

Her expression changed in an instant, even Ji Fan was caught off guard.

Tao Xiuping took a deep breath. “Zhizhi—”

“You investigated him, didn’t you?” Tao Zhi’s anger surged upward uncontrollably. “Just because your daughter is dating someone, you went and dug up his entire family background, didn’t you, President Tao?”

Tao Xiuping raised his voice too. “Exactly because my daughter is dating him, I have to know what kind of person he is!”

The dining room suddenly went quiet. Ji Fan glanced at Tao Zhi, then at Tao Xiuping, and silently pushed his noodle bowl back a little.

Tao Xiuping sighed. “The reason I asked you today is to see if you even know any of this. Do you know what kind of family he has?”

“I don’t care what kind of family he has,” Tao Zhi said stiffly. “What I like is him as a person. Whether he has money or not has nothing to do with me.”

“You think I care about whether his family is rich or poor?” Tao Xiuping took a deep breath and stood up. “It’s not that simple.”

Tao Zhi looked at him silently.

She remembered that man from tonight—and Jiang Qihuai’s reaction then—and suddenly couldn’t find a word to refute him.

Tao Xiuping pulled out a chair and went upstairs, entering his study.

Before long, he came back down holding a file folder and placed it in front of Tao Zhi. “Take a look.”

Tao Zhi hesitated, put down her chopsticks, and untied the string on the folder loop by loop.

She held those few thin sheets of paper, reading line by line. With each word she read, the invisible hand gripping her heart tightened a little more.

“Before he was four, he was in an orphanage. Later, his grandfather found him and took him home. His mother’s identity is unknown. His father was a thug, unemployed, went to prison for injuring someone during a burglary. Fortunately, the victim didn’t die. He was sentenced to over ten years, but got a sentence reduction for good behavior and was released recently.”

Tao Xiuping rubbed the corner of his eye and said slowly, “Has he ever told you any of this? No, right?”

The last trace of color drained completely from Tao Zhi’s face.

No wonder.

No wonder the father who usually didn’t care what time she came home suddenly set such an early curfew.

No wonder he knew she was in early love but never said much about it.

The fingers holding the paper tightened bit by bit. She lowered her head, and her eyes gradually reddened.

Suddenly she drew her hand back; the sharp edge of the paper sliced through her fragile skin, a thin line of blood seeping from her fingertip.

She clutched her bleeding finger and said, “What are you showing me this for?”

“I want to know how much you actually understand,” Tao Xiuping said, no longer hiding anything. “And because you’re too easily driven by impulse, Dad hopes you can look at things a little more rationally. You need to understand—your temperament is too simple, and some people just aren’t suitable for you.”

Tao Zhi was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. “You really have always been particularly rational.”

Tao Xiuping frowned. “Zhizhi—”

“When I got into fights, when the teacher called for my parents, what you cared about was never how I felt. You only told me how to solve the problem better. I’m used to it—you’ve always been like this.”

Her voice dropped. “But isn’t he the one who’s had it the hardest?”

Tao Xiuping stared at her, unmoving.

Tao Zhi’s voice trembled slightly. “He thought he finally might have a home too, but instead he has to face a father like that. When he was little, he must have been happy once, must have been carefree once. So why did he have to grow up suffering like this, all the time?”

Tao Zhi couldn’t help but think—what was she doing when she was five or six?

Clinging to her mother, begging for bedtime stories; pestering her father for more and more new stuffed toys; getting into trouble with Ji Fan, mischievous and fighting everywhere.

When she caused trouble, she could just hide in her mother’s arms, not worried about anything—because no matter what happened, her parents would always be there to take care of it for her.

Above her head, there had always been a sky—strong and unbreakable.

But Jiang Qihuai had never had a sky from the start.

He had nothing.

So everything he gained, every bit of love, even perhaps every piece of candy—in his eyes, it was a generous gift, a favor of fate, something stolen, a luxury of fortune.

Tao Zhi’s eyes turned red, and tears began to fall uncontrollably, one after another. “He’s really a good person. He can do everything well—he’s the most capable person I’ve ever met. He’s already worked so, so hard to make himself better. He’s tried so desperately to climb out of that swamp…”

“But you—you just want to drag him back like this? You want to tell him, in this way, that he never needed to try at all? That no matter how much he struggles, no matter how well he does, he’ll never escape it in this lifetime?”

Tao Xiuping stared at her in a daze, unable to say a single word.

Tao Zhi’s vision blurred completely. She lifted her hand and rubbed hard at her eyes, then stood up, choking as she said, “Dad, that’s not fair. You’re being too cruel to him.”

She didn’t look at his expression, just pushed back the chair and rushed out of the house.

The night streets shimmered under the lights. Tao Zhi got out of the taxi, crossed the road, and through the sharp, grating blare of car horns, she ran with all her strength toward the alley where Jiang Qihuai lived.

At the bus stop not far ahead, she saw his silhouette in the distance.

Jiang Qihuai had just gotten off the bus. Under the streetlight, his figure flickered in and out of the dim glow; his features were hidden in the night, but the only thing visible was the upright, proud line of his stance.

He stood just in front of the bus stop sign, and suddenly lifted his head to look at her from afar, stopping in his tracks.

Tao Zhi ran toward him with all her might.

The cold wind was laced with shards of ice, cutting her tear-streaked face raw, yet she felt nothing at all.

She crashed straight into the boy’s arms.

The force pushed Jiang Qihuai backward a few steps. Startled, he instinctively opened his arms to catch her, staggering half a step before barely steadying himself. “What’s wrong?”

Tao Zhi clung tightly to his waist, burying her head deep in his chest, almost greedily breathing in his warmth and scent.

She shook her head, rubbed her nose against him, her voice hoarse from crying. “Cold.”

Jiang Qihuai frowned. “Why did you come out without a coat?”

“I didn’t have time,” she mumbled, rubbing her head against him again. “I was in a hurry to see you.”

“Let go,” Jiang Qihuai said.

Tao Zhi shook her head and held on tight, refusing to release him.

Jiang Qihuai sighed. “Let go first. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tao Zhi loosened her grip slowly, reluctantly.

“Don’t move.” Jiang Qihuai tugged down the zipper of his jacket, took it off, and dropped it right over her, wrapping her up completely.

Warmth instantly shut out the cold.

The jacket was long on her, hanging down to her calves. Tao Zhi stood obediently, motionless, as he bent down to pull it around her, lifted the collar, and zipped it all the way up.

Once she was bundled properly, Jiang Qihuai straightened and looked at her.

The girl’s eyes were red at the corners, tear stains still faintly visible on her cheeks.

Jiang Qihuai raised his hand, his cool fingertips brushing lightly across her flushed eyelids. He said softly, “You sneaked out?”

Tao Zhi thought about it and felt it was more like she’d stormed out.

She nodded. “Mm.”

“Got scolded?” Jiang Qihuai asked again.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then why did you suddenly rush to see me?” he asked at last.

Tao Zhi didn’t answer. She looked at him pitifully for a few seconds, then once again moved forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pressing against him, sticky and unwilling to let go.

Jiang Qihuai chuckled. He let her cling to him, a hint of helplessness in his tone. “What are you doing?”

“I want to become a piece of sticky rice cake,” Tao Zhi said softly.

Jiang Qihuai lowered his eyes, his hand brushing her hair, playing along. “Hm? Why do you want to become a sticky rice cake?”

“So I can always stick to you, and you won’t be able to pull me off,” Tao Zhi mumbled.

“Why would I want to pull you off?”

“How would I know? You’ve always disliked me anyway. It’s always me pestering you,” Tao Zhi complained in dissatisfaction. “You never tell me anything that’s going on with you.”

Jiang Qihuai’s fingers froze, and he fell silent.

Tao Zhi didn’t notice his reaction.

She was simple, single-minded—she couldn’t, and didn’t want to, be as rational as Tao Xiuping.

Tao Zhi only wanted to act according to her own thoughts and impulses.

Because she liked him, she approached him.

Because she liked him, she tried her best.

Because she liked him, she didn’t want him to be alone.

What he didn’t have, she would give him.

What he’d lost, she would help him get back.

If he had to bear everything alone, then she would become his sky.

She loosened her hands slightly, lifted her head to look at him, and said with utter seriousness, “Your Highness, if someone annoying comes to pick a fight with you again, you have to tell me. I’ll protect you.”

Jiang Qihuai’s eyelashes trembled, then lowered. “Hm? And how will you protect me?”

Tao Zhi didn’t hide her plan. Her eyes still carried traces of dried tears, but her tone was crisp and ruthless. “I’ll find Ji Fan and have him beat that person up—so bad he can’t get up, hospitalized for half a year. He’s a scheming bastard, and that’s exactly what he’s best at. I promise no one will ever figure out who did it.”

Jiang Qihuai: “…”