Ye Qingyang woke up the next day to find it was already past ten o’clock.
By this time, Ye Hong and her family had all gone to work.
He saw several missed calls from his homeroom teachers and guessed it was probably because he hadn’t gone to class, so they were checking on him.
Thinking quickly, Ye Qingyang called back. Before the teacher could even speak, he jumped in first.
In a trembling voice, choked with tears, careful and hesitant, every word dripping with both grievance and sorrow:
“Sorry, teacher. I just saw your call. My aunt suddenly had acute appendicitis last night. She was rolling on the floor in pain, writhing back and forth, and I got scared. My uncle was still asleep from drinking, my sister is pregnant, and my aunt was crying, saying she thought she was dying and asked me to take her to the hospital. I hurried and accompanied her, and only now do I finally have time to check my phone. Don’t worry, after I make sure my aunt is settled, I’ll come to school this afternoon.”
Hearing the near-crying tone, the homeroom teacher quickly reassured him, “It’s okay, take care of your aunt first. I just called because you weren’t in class. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you, teacher. Sorry to make you worry.”
“No problem. Take care of her first. If you can’t come this afternoon, call me again.”
“Okay,” Ye Qingyang said sorrowfully.
After a few more words of reassurance from the teacher, the call ended.
Ye Qingyang slipped his phone into his pocket, stretched, rubbed his face, changed his expression, and lazily sat up, got dressed, and got off the bed.
Before leaving, he cautiously peeked around to make sure Ye Hong really wasn’t home, then quietly slipped out.
After washing up in the bathroom, he headed to the kitchen for a snack—only to find the kitchen door closed.
A note stuck to the door read: Eat shit, you!
Calmly, Ye Qingyang tore off the note and slipped it into his pocket, saving it for later use to tease Ye Hong.
He pushed the door—and found it locked.
No mercy, then!
He raised his foot to kick the door, but paused mid-step. Instead, he ran to Ye Hong’s room, grabbed a thin hairpin, and straightened it.
He inserted it into the keyhole.
He remembered once as a kid when he forgot his key and couldn’t get in, waiting for his dad outside. His dad had forgotten his key too, and the two of them just stared at each other in confusion. Then his dad had borrowed a thin black hairpin from a neighbor, straightened it, and opened the door.
“Want to learn?” his dad had said, smiling.
Ye Qingyang’s eyes lit up, nodding furiously, even joking, “How do you still know this? When people say you were in the military, that’s believable. Otherwise, they’d think you were a thief.”
His dad calmly replied, “It’s called being adaptable. If you can’t pick a lock, how will you sneak behind enemy lines?”
Though Ye Qingyang doubted it, he quickly mastered the skill. And now, of all times, it was useful. He immediately planned how to irritate Ye Hong tonight.
Soon enough, the kitchen door opened.
The Ye family kitchen was small; the fridge wasn’t even inside.
Ye Qingyang tucked away the hairpin and went to the fridge.
Inside were only vegetables, ham, eggs, and some hot-pot meatballs. No bread, no yogurt.
Not bothered, he grabbed the ham and eggs, rummaged through the cabinets, and found two large packs of instant noodles.
He cooked a pack of noodles with one ham and two eggs.
After eating, he filled a large bag with all the remaining instant noodles.
With plenty of time, he boiled some eggs, shrimp balls, fish tofu, and crab sticks, bagged them, and added them to the stash.
He even sneakily stuffed the last pack of sausage into the bag when closing the fridge.
Supplies ready. Ye Qingyang clapped his hands and went to the balcony for his backpack.
Then he noticed his two exercise books had been torn.
No need to guess—it was Ye Hong.
He hadn’t planned to use the books anyway, so it didn’t matter.
He was about to toss them when a sudden idea struck—he bagged the torn paper.
These were evidence!
When he became an adult and reclaimed the house, this would be perfect proof to guilt-trip Ye Hong.
He wasn’t rushing to fight over the house yet. The body he was inhabiting wasn’t 18, and his father’s will stated Ye Hong was the legal guardian, with the house temporarily under her control until he came of age.
Ye Hong couldn’t sell it but could live there.
Once he turned 18, the house would officially be his.
His father had written the will out of concern that Ye Qingyang was too young to understand property. He wanted his sister to protect both him and the house until he matured.
But he hadn’t expected that his trusted sister was just a scheming, selfish person.
Ye Qingyang wasn’t eager to sue over the house before turning 18; lawsuits were time-consuming, and even then, Ye Hong had the will on her side.
She hadn’t physically abused him—only psychological torment. Hard to collect evidence or win in court.
It was far better to fight fire with fire.
He would reclaim the house and also the fifty thousand-plus his parents had left, and get back everything he had suffered.
He was free, high school workload light—perfect time to exercise.
He bagged the torn books, slung his backpack, and carried his supplies out.
Walking near the school, he noticed a small gold-buying shop.
He pulled out the gold earring he’d swept up yesterday. “Do you buy this?”
The owner glanced at it. “Sure.”
Small shops usually undervalue gold.
Ye Qingyang, seeing it as his first “earnings,” launched into a tearful story:
“My uncle is terminally ill. My aunt sold everything she could, and had no choice but to sell the earrings my uncle gave her. I couldn’t bear to, but we had no money. I wanted to keep the earring as a symbol of their love, but I couldn’t watch my aunt struggle, so I had to sell it. I’m so sorry to my aunt!”
Tears streamed onto the counter—and into the owner’s heart.
The owner, moved, wiped his eyes and said, “Child, don’t say that. You’re a good kid. Your aunt will understand.”
“Then… this earring, I should pay 235, but your family has it too hard. I’ll give you 300, hoping your uncle recovers soon.”
Ye Qingyang protested, “That’s too much. You’ve worked hard too. How about 260? Thank you so much.”
The owner sighed. “It’s fine. Take it. The important thing is your uncle’s health.”
Ye Qingyang accepted the money, genuinely thankful.
Three hundred in hand, he felt his financial chain come alive.
He could leave the money Lu Jingcheng sent yesterday untouched, and even repay the 20 he owed him.
Finally, a glimmer of hope! The sun had risen in his life!
He waved goodbye to the shopkeeper, holding back tears, and continued toward school.
Passing the hot-pot shop he had eaten at with Lu Jingcheng yesterday, he went in and haggled for ten transparent plastic lunch boxes, ten disposable chopsticks, and ten ladles—for a total of four yuan.
Everything was ready. Now he just needed the right timing.
Holding his supplies, he grinned triumphantly.
Meanwhile, Lu Jingcheng was fuming.
Sitting at his desk, fiddling with his phone, he kept glancing at Ye Qingyang’s seat.
Seeing it empty, his frown stayed tight all morning.
What was going on? Why was he skipping class?
Everything seemed fine when he dropped him home last night. How was he gone this morning?
Lu Jingcheng grew more anxious. He didn’t even have Ye Qingyang’s contact info!
He had wanted to be friends, so shouldn’t Ye Qingyang have shared his contact first?
The agitation continued until lunchtime, when he walked into the classroom and saw Ye Qingyang asleep at his desk.
Relieved at first, but then infuriated again.
Sleeping! After missing class all morning, he’s still sleeping soundly!
All his worrying this morning was wasted!
Heartless! Just sleeps all the time!
Lu Jingcheng turned his head in anger. Out of sight, out of mind.