“Why do you think this is what’s best for her? You just decided on your own! Did you even ask the child how she feels? Did you ask if An’an wanted to live with us?”
Shen Yuan felt that tightness in his chest again, remembering the time his grandfather passed. When his grandfather fell ill, he had called his mother back from abroad, hoping she would take him with her. He had refused. He couldn’t bear to leave his grandfather.
All the reasons sounded so polished: foreign schools were better, his mother had built her career and earned money, he could enjoy a better life abroad, and even his cousin was jealous that he would have such luxuries.
He hadn’t wanted any of it. He didn’t care about big houses or international schools—he only wanted his grandfather. He was content to sleep in the small bed in his grandfather’s room every night, writing on a tiny surface beside a cabinet, while his grandfather tucked him in and, with his reading glasses perched, checked his homework.
If his grandfather were still alive, he wouldn’t have cared about his uncle at all; he would never have gone with his mother to the Li family.
“You people are so self-righteous! She said she wants nothing else—she only wants her grandfather! Didn’t you hear her? Can’t you just live and care for her yourself?”
Old Qiao said bitterly, “Even if you say that… I wish I could care for her myself, but it’s not something I can control…”
Qiao Haixuan could no longer bear it. “Stop overthinking and cooperate with the surgery, please! Even if something happens, do you think I won’t manage? And you say I can’t handle her? Dad, where does that leave me?”
“And you never mentioned An’an to me! If you had, I would’ve told you—they already have a child.”
“And you said in front of me that I might not take care of An’an—I really…”
Hailou interjected gently, “Don’t be mad, brother. He’s just like that. Don’t take it to heart.”
Old Qiao finally felt embarrassed. He had thought his plan was clever: Hailou would have an heir, An’an would be cared for, and he would distribute money, appearing fair and generous.
But everyone saw it as a terrible idea. Not a single person was satisfied—An’an was unhappy, the adults were angry, and both children ended up crying.
He had no idea what he had done.
An’an clutched his hand, hot tears spilling over it. “I only want Grandpa.”
Old Qiao’s heart shattered.
Hailou watched the grandfather and granddaughter, emotions swirling. He murmured softly, “You never treated me like that with An’an… though I know it’s probably because you thought I didn’t deserve it, Dad.”
Old Qiao froze.
Hailou continued, “They say raising a child teaches one the value of parents. Now that I have my own child and am a father, I realize… we never had a true father-son bond. Compared to many families, you didn’t neglect me materially before adulthood. Big brother and sister-in-law treated me well. The Qiao family raised me—I owe them, not you.”
He chuckled softly. “Earlier, you said I was someone worthy of trust. Somehow, I felt happy about that. Ridiculous—I’m thirty-eight.”
“Couldn’t you just speak kindly to me? Then I wouldn’t have been so aggressive either.”
Old Qiao felt he had long missed something precious, irretrievably lost.
Hailou said casually, “If you insist on splitting the estate, I won’t take my share. Give it to An’an. I don’t need to compete with a child.”
“The situation with you and women is different,” Old Qiao muttered.
“I can promise you this—I’m a good father,” Hailou said earnestly.
Two days later, Old Qiao underwent surgery. It went smoothly. Shen Yuan, needing to return to classes, took the children home.
A week after the surgery, Old Qiao recovered well, so his will remained unused for the time being.
When Hailou returned, Shen Yuan asked, “How’s your father?”
“Full of energy,” Hailou replied. “I’d say he’s got at least twenty more years in him.”
Hailou felt he could never truly reconcile with his father, but seeing the old man frail and pitiful, with only a naive little granddaughter willing to care for him, he decided not to dwell on it. Their generation’s issues would end there.
Better to focus energy on Shen Yuan and Little Peanut.
When Hailou returned, Shen Yuan greeted him like a savior. “Finally back! That little troublemaker nearly drove me crazy.”
Hailou laughed. “What happened? Did Little Peanut cause more mischief?”
Shen Yuan rattled off complaints: “He can crawl! Crawls everywhere! Won’t eat properly, won’t sleep properly, won’t listen to me!”
Hailou laughed heartily, rolling up his sleeves. “Ha! And you’re getting bossed around by a baby? Leave it to me.”
Originally, Shen Yuan and Hailou had arranged for him to take Little Peanut to school twice a week, fearing Shen Yuan couldn’t manage. With the child, Professor Raphael could give him extra guidance. Shen Yuan planned to enter this year’s jewelry design competition and wanted advice from Raphael, so he slyly used Little Peanut as leverage.
He persuaded Hailou to take the baby one extra day a week.
Shen Yuan still felt uncertain, wanting to accumulate experience first. If he won this time, he’d test the waters.
That day at lunch in the library, a book fell open to reveal a debit card with the name of a previous borrower: XueYao·Ye
His mother had also read this book.
Shen Yuan felt a strange warmth in his heart.
He borrowed the book and left for a lecture.
This year, renowned jewelry designer Lyles Hill, winner of E Country’s “Jeweler of the Year,” gave a talk. Shen Yuan, ever ambitious, went to listen—and hoped to network. If he could get Hill’s card, all the better.
Hill, 43, with golden hair and blue eyes, was charming and witty. The audience laughed along throughout.
After the talk, many students approached for autographs. Shen Yuan took a magazine featuring Hill’s works.
Hill noticed him. “Chinese?”
Shen Yuan nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Hill spoke in Chinese, asking, “Your name?”
Shen Yuan, surprised Hill could write in Chinese, replied: “Shen Yuan.”
Hill didn’t just write the pinyin—he wrote the character “沈” and asked, “Which ‘Yuan’?”
Shen Yuan showed the character on his phone: “This one. Hard to write… or maybe just circle it. Doesn’t matter.”
Hill paused, then smiled. “I’ve heard this name… are you Ms. Ye’s child?”
In an instant, Shen Yuan realized who he meant: his mother.