That night onward, Lu Yixin never went to look for Fang Yongnian again.

After school she went straight home, and once home, shut herself in her room to do homework, speaking very little.

Her wife Liu Miqing was worried, but Lu Boyuan didn’t think much of it. Eighteen was supposed to be an age of steadiness, after all. He felt that Lu Yixin beginning to think about the future was a good thing.

Especially since it happened after that heart-to-heart talk he had given her, that was a great thing.

Lu Boyuan was immensely pleased with himself, even thinking that perhaps their family should have used this kind of pressure-based education from the start. Until a week later, when Lu Yixin’s monthly exam results came out.

Usually hovering between the top ten and top twenty in her class, this time her grades dropped straight down to the same level as the class bully from next door. The bottom thirty in the entire grade.

The homeroom teacher then dealt Lu Boyuan a second blow at the parent-teacher meeting:

Lu Yixin was the only student in class who hadn’t filled out the preliminary college entrance examination preference form. The form she turned in was completely blank.

“At this age, not every act of rebellion can be attributed to the physiological factors of adolescence,” said Lu Yixin’s homeroom teacher, a middle-aged woman who always spoke with a smiling face. It was rare to see Lu Yixin’s father at a parent meeting, so she spoke especially carefully and sincerely.

“They’re actually very afraid when facing an unknown future, especially children like Lu Yixin. Because they don’t have a clear blueprint for what they want to do later, they become even more fearful.”

“This fear-induced pressure might be the reason for her sudden drop in grades.”

“And also…” The teacher hesitated for a moment, then tested gently with a euphemistic tone, “Lu Yixin used to be a very optimistic child, but lately she’s looked rather preoccupied. Did something happen at home?”

Lu Boyuan’s old face flushed bright red. He could only nod and mumble.

But Lu Yixin was even quieter than him. On the way home, she didn’t lift her head once.

The moment she stepped into the house and called out “Mom,” her eyes turned red.

So Lu Boyuan couldn’t even bring himself to scold her.

He truly couldn’t understand. During that heartfelt talk that night, which sentence was it that turned Lu Yixin into this?

The delicate, sensitive thoughts of an eighteen-year-old girl finally made Lu Boyuan raise his hands in surrender, giving back the task of educating their daughter to his wife Liu Miqing.

Liu Miqing’s approach was straightforward.

She made some leek pies, packed them in a food container, and early Sunday morning dug Lu Yixin out of bed to run an errand.

“I’m not going.” Lu Yixin buried herself under the quilt, covering her head.

“Your Uncle Fang had a fever a few days ago. I’m worried he doesn’t have much appetite, so I made these leek pies especially for him.” Liu Miqing set the container on the bedside table and sat down on Lu Yixin’s bed. “I’ve been busy with work these days. If you don’t help me deliver them, I’ll have to ask your dad to go instead.”

Lu Yixin poked her head out from under the blanket, biting her lip.

“Your homeroom teacher said you didn’t fill out your college entrance exam preference form?” Liu Miqing tucked the stray hair from her daughter’s forehead behind her ear. “Why not take this chance to ask your Uncle Fang about it?”

Lu Yixin bit her lip harder, and this time her eyes began to redden.

“How come the moment your dad comes back you turn into such a little crybaby?” Liu Miqing couldn’t help but laugh. “What on earth did he say to you that night?”

He said Uncle Fang was leaving.

Lu Yixin answered in her heart, but didn’t dare say it aloud.

Her silence and gloom these days had another reason, one even Zheng Ranran didn’t know.

That reason had to do with Fang Yongnian.

She realized she could no longer boldly tell the adults that she was going to marry Fang Yongnian in the future.

She realized she couldn’t even say, as she once did, that she liked him most of all, so openly and righteously.

That night, the way Fang Yongnian had looked at her — the same way one might look at a child from next door — kept appearing in her dreams.

She had, without realizing it, changed a little.

That kind of change, the kind that made her unable to wear her feelings on her lips anymore, made her afraid.

Her mother was still coaxing her to get out of bed, urging her to take the leek pies to see Fang Yongnian. Just like she always did whenever Yixin was in a bad mood.

She would tell her to go see her idol, because no matter what Fang Yongnian said, just being able to see him always made her happy again.

Her mother had always trusted her and understood what Fang Yongnian meant to her. She often said that during adolescence, all those restless hormones needed somewhere to go and idolizing an outstanding top student was far more reliable than worshiping those empty celebrities on television.

But today, for some reason, that kind of trust made her feel ashamed.

Even now, just standing outside the pharmacy, dressed neatly and holding the lunchbox in her hands, she felt afraid to go in. Afraid of that glass door that used to make her happy the moment she saw it.

She hated herself like this.

Half of Lu Yixin’s face was buried in her scarf as she took a fierce breath.

She really hated herself like this!

When she pushed open the glass door, after the familiar “ding-dong” of the welcome chime, the person she hadn’t seen for a week and had been thinking about day and night, Fang Yongnian, lifted his head from behind the counter.

Lu Yixin stood there holding the box.

He looked thinner. His complexion was poor, almost ashen. His hair was still messy and uncut, his brows furrowed, his features severe.

He looked fierce, clearly in a bad mood.

“Sit first,” he said, pointing at the other chair beside the counter. “I’ll talk to you after I finish sending this email.”

Her mother must have already contacted him, just like she always did whenever Yixin got into trouble.

Lu Yixin moved slowly toward the chair, clutching the lunchbox, eyes fixed on her nose, her nose fixed on her heart, sitting there quietly.

She didn’t bounce around the pharmacy like before, full of restless energy. She was quiet now, so quiet she almost didn’t exist.

During a pause between typing, Fang Yongnian glanced at her.

Her head was bowed, her bangs covering his entire view of her face.

Still and unmoving, like a completely wilted cabbage.

Fang Yongnian looked away, his typing slowing down.

Lu Yixin—this was all something he had brought upon himself. Because he missed those carefree days when he could just focus on research, he had projected that same feeling of simplicity and freedom onto Lu Yixin.

He had always acted as her uncle.

Whenever her grades dropped or she became mischievous and Liu Miqing couldn’t handle her, she would ask him to help talk some sense into her.

He actually didn’t know how to give advice, sometimes he was even perfunctory about it—but fortunately, Lu Yixin wasn’t the type to overthink. She also listened to him.

After a few times of “educating” her, her obedient change afterward gave him a faint sense of achievement. Like a child really listening.

But this time, he resisted.

That unpleasant dinner that night had already made it clear: his scheming senior still harbored ulterior motives. The man even wanted to whitewash that tragic car accident.

The past is the past, he said. So casually, as if four lives and one leg could simply be brushed away like dust.

The daughter of such a disgusting man made Fang Yongnian feel that all the care he had once given her was laughable.

Even more, Liu Miqing had now asked him to talk to Lu Yixin about her college choices.

That was really crossing the line.

He wasn’t her real uncle, and he had no reason to give Lu Boyuan’s daughter advice about her future.

A control freak like Lu Boyuan had probably already mapped out every step of Lu Yixin’s life long ago.

Lu Yixin — what a pity, to have a father like that.

Fang Yongnian stopped looking at her. Frowning, he finished sending the email in his hand. It was entirely in French, a language he wasn’t very familiar with, and he had gotten stuck several times because of grammar issues, which made his mood even worse.

When he finally hit the Enter key, he did it with some force, the sharp pa sound echoing his irritation.

Startled, Lu Yixin, who had been sitting with her head down pretending she didn’t exist, jumped a little and instinctively held out the lunchbox with both hands.

The space behind the counter wasn’t large, barely enough for two people. When she extended her hands like that, the lunchbox ended up right in front of Fang Yongnian’s chest.

The transparent glass container was stuffed full of leek pies, their golden, crispy crusts faintly showing hints of green chives and yellow egg through the cracks.

Fang Yongnian thought he could almost smell the distinct oily fragrance of leek pies.

The surge of irritation he had been brewing for a long while was suddenly stuck in his chest because of those leek pies that had appeared out of nowhere. For a moment, he didn’t know where to vent it.

And just then, Lu Yixin was still bowing her head, holding up the lunchbox like an offering right under his nose.

“You’ve grown up.” Fang Yongnian’s tone was cold and low, laced with the agitation he hadn’t managed to release earlier, and with a strange note of sigh.

Lu Yixin’s hands trembled slightly. Because of that feeling inside her—something she couldn’t even name—she dared not lift her head at all.

She really had become strange. Maybe it really was because she had grown up.

“Got some shame now, huh.” Fang Yongnian’s tone remained cold. “You know you did badly on the exam and can’t show your face?”

Lu Yixin: “……”

Her arms, still holding the container, began to ache. She obediently withdrew her hands and held the lunchbox close to her chest, as if for comfort.

“What’s going on with you?” Fang Yongnian crossed his arms, taking on the posture of an elder. As he did, he frowned in self-disgust—he really had gotten too used to being her “uncle.” That tone, that stance, came to him too naturally.

Lu Yixin simply buried her head deeper into her scarf.

Her shame only deepened, because of the way her heartbeat sped up the moment she got close to him.

It was a kind of affection, but instinctively, she felt that this kind of affection was no longer open, no longer something she could speak of proudly.

This kind of affection made her feel that the words she once said—that she wanted to marry him—were almost a kind of desecration.

Fang Yongnian leaned down slightly, meeting Lu Yixin’s eyes beneath her bowed head.

Her fingers were tightly gripping the lid of the lunchbox, her knuckles pale, her lips trembling faintly under the scarf.

He looked into those wide eyes for a long time.

Then he straightened.

“Your mother asked me to talk to you about your college plans. I didn’t agree.” He had his own way of dealing with Lu Yixin. When he couldn’t read her emotions, he focused on solving his own problems first.

Lu Yixin blinked.

“I can only barely count as your elder, but I’m not your real uncle.”

“The path you take in the future should be decided by you alone.”

“You’ve grown up. At eighteen, you’re already an adult. Don’t keep running to me like before whenever something happens, expecting me to decide for you.”

“An adult’s choices should be made by the adult themselves.”

He spoke with sincerity, because what he really wanted to tell her was that her decisions should not only not be made by him, but also not by that controlling father of hers, Lu Boyuan.

She ought to take charge of her own life.

Lu Yixin blinked again.

Why was it that all of a sudden, everyone around her started telling her that she had already grown up?

She had grown up, so she shouldn’t go to Fang Yongnian so often anymore.

She had grown up.

And Fang Yongnian, was leaving.

Once again, she lifted the lunchbox with both hands and held it up to his nose. “This… is for you.”

She didn’t raise her head, and her words were as brief as they could be.

Then, as Fang Yongnian took the container in confusion, she stood up, lowered her head, and dashed out of the pharmacy door.

Adults are all bad people!