Qiao Hailou had noticed it from a distance—Shen Yuan was limping, even though he was trying hard to hide it.
Shen Yuan’s lips were pressed tight, his face drawn. At that moment, he hated Qiao Hailou even more. Not only was he limping, he reeked of alcohol, his clothes were stained, and he looked anything but presentable. Why was it that every time he ran into Qiao Hailou, it was at the worst possible moment? He was either a mess, or in some kind of self-destructive spiral.
Shen Yuan glared at him, about to speak—when Qiao Hailou cut in first.
“Don’t want me to interfere, right? That’s what you say every time. My ears have calluses from hearing it.”
The words choked him—he couldn’t swallow them, couldn’t spit them out.
“Then why ask? It’s pointless. Stirring up trouble for no reason. It has nothing to do with you.”
He turned and walked off. The streetlamp stretched his shadow long and lonely across the ground.
To Qiao Hailou, Shen Yuan suddenly looked like a small wild creature that had lived alone too long—naturally wary, clever at pretending, sometimes using a cute face to beg for food, then running off the moment he got it without letting anyone get close. And the moment he got hurt, every spike stood up, alert to the world, trying to find a quiet place to lick his wounds.
He seemed close to people, yet trusted no one.
So of course, Qiao Hailou refused to play along. He quickened his pace and caught up.
“If you don’t want me to step in, then who should?”
The question hit a sore spot. Right—his grandfather was gone, his mother was dead, his stepfather was remarrying. He was legally an adult. No one was obligated to take care of him. But so what?
Shen Yuan didn’t want to talk, sped up—but walking fast made it harder to hide the pain. His limp became obvious.
After a while he couldn’t take it anymore. He whipped around and snapped, “Stop following me!”
Qiao Hailou spread his hands.
“I just happen to be walking the same way. Or is this road reserved for you alone?”
Shen Yuan, caught off guard, grew even angrier.
“You’re lying. This is the way to my rental, not the way back to school.”
Qiao Hailou admitted it without shame.
“Yeah, I’m lying. I wanted to check on you.”
That stunned Shen Yuan for a moment.
Qiao Hailou moved to stand beside him, voice calm.
“I’m asking because I mean well. Forget your… partner thing with me, forget being Qiao-shu’s son. Even if I were a total stranger, I’d ask if I saw someone injured. That’s basic decency. I asked around—everyone says you’re a gentle, polite guy.”
Shen Yuan blinked. He had to admit—Qiao Hailou made sense. He had been rude. And honestly… just a little bit… he kind of wanted to accept that concern.
He was just thinking that when Qiao Hailou added,
“Don’t overthink it. If I saw an injured stray cat on the street, I’d stop to help it too. I’m just a naturally charitable person.”
That snapped Shen Yuan right back. He gave a short laugh.
“Yeah, right.”
They sat down on a bench under the quiet night sky.
Shen Yuan pulled up his pant leg. A dark purple bruise stretched across the back of his calf near the crease of his knee.
“See? It’s not serious. I can walk. It’ll fade tomorrow.”
“Don’t lie,” Qiao Hailou said. “You can’t get that from a fall. Someone hurt you?”
Shen Yuan swallowed the lie he’d prepared about tripping. He hesitated, then said, irritation and earnestness mixed,
“You grew up privileged—you don’t get it. To survive, to climb up, you have to pay certain prices.”
Qiao Hailou paused—then burst out laughing.
“Pfft—ha! Hahaha!”
Shen Yuan’s face flushed.
“What are you laughing at?”
Qiao pinched his puffed-up cheek, still amused.
“Just imagine a grade-schooler solemnly warning you: ‘Society is cruel.’ Wouldn’t you laugh?”
For a second earlier, Shen Yuan had almost thought Qiao Hailou wasn’t so bad. Almost. Complete illusion. The man was a certified bastard.
Flustered and angry, Shen Yuan stood to leave, but Qiao grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go, don’t go. My bad, okay? I shouldn’t have laughed. You still haven’t told me how you got hurt.”
Already feeling wronged, Shen Yuan burst out,
“I was already upset! And you laughed at me!”
Something must’ve fallen into his eye—or so his mind tried to rationalize—because tears suddenly rolled down his cheeks.
Qiao Hailou froze.
What the hell? He cried just like that?
So childish.
The sharp-tongued, brazen Shen Yuan he knew—or the calm, reliable Shen Yuan his background checks described—neither seemed like the type to cry.
(The times he cried in bed didn’t count.)
Shen Yuan tried to hold it back—humiliating—but the harder he tried, the worse it got. After a few tears spilled, he gave up, standing ramrod straight as he cried, like a sword refusing to bend.
Qiao Hailou was at a total loss. This was why he never hung out with young people—their moods flipped like weather, impossible to predict.
He fumbled, panicking.
“I apologized already, didn’t I? I won’t laugh. It’s all my fault. Why are you crying? Don’t you care so much about your pride? Crying here on the street?”
Shen Yuan glared at him through watery lashes.
“I’ll cry if I want to.”
Qiao Hailou scrambled through his pockets—no tissues, no handkerchief. In desperation, he used his sleeve to wipe Shen Yuan’s face.
“Okay, okay—don’t cry. Don’t cry, alright? My fault. All my fault.”
Shen Yuan’s temper broke fully.
“I told you not to ask! You insisted! And then you laughed! I knew you wouldn’t understand—none of you would!”
“My dad’s gone, my mom’s gone, I grew up in other people’s houses. Even eating, I only dared eat leftovers after everyone else was done.”
“You think I want to act like some damn dog flattering those people? You think I have no pride? What do you expect me to do when I can’t afford to offend them? If I don’t, it’ll only get worse!”
“I have to rely on them to survive. If bowing and scraping keeps me safe, then I have to do it. I don’t want to trouble anyone!”
“How is that my fault?”
“Is it wrong to try to survive? What’s so funny about that? Why do I deserve to be laughed at?”
“You grew up with everything—parents who love you. If I had parents who cared, who protected me, of course I could live like you! I wouldn’t have to swallow everything and crawl.”
Qiao Hailou finally understood. The anger wasn’t really aimed at him. And seeing Shen Yuan’s eyes filled with tears yet still sharp and defiant like blades—something in his chest tightened painfully.
He stood quiet for a moment, then said softly,
“Alright. Uncle was wrong. Uncle apologizes.”
Then,
“Who were they?”
After crying, Shen Yuan was calmer. He yanked his arm free and gave a cold, mirthless laugh.
“And what would you do if you knew?”
Then:
“Stop following me. I don’t want you knowing where I live.”
Qiao Hailou didn’t follow this time. He watched Shen Yuan’s slim, lonely silhouette melt into the night. Then he looked down at his sleeve—damp with tears.
Cool to the touch.
He’d wanted to pet the wounded little creature, but it had panicked and bitten him instead.
He walked a short distance, but his heart wouldn’t settle.
That little thing was probably hiding somewhere right now, hurting all by himself.
Pitiful.
Why did he run his mouth just now? Why tease a kid?
It was his fault.
He was the one who made Shen Yuan this upset. How could he just leave?
—
Shen Yuan got back to his rental, washed his face. At first, cursing Qiao Hailou had felt great—then slowly, guilt crept in.
He felt awful.
Cowardly, really.
If he were truly capable, he’d go confront Wang Ziqin head-on. But no—he didn’t dare say a word to him and instead took everything out on Qiao Hailou.
That shameless old man had weird temperaments for someone his age—still bickering with a kid more than ten years younger. Ridiculously immature. What had he even been doing all those years?
And after this fight, everything was so awkward.
Just thinking about having to report to Qiao Hailou’s company after exams made Shen Yuan’s head ache.
Whatever—he had things to finish: his portfolio and the piece due for competition at the end of the month.
He was just about to start when the doorbell rang.
Shen Yuan frowned. Who would come this late?
His heart dropped—could Qiao Hailou have followed him? How annoying could one man be?
Scowling, bristling with hostility, he opened the door—
“Uncle.”
His stepfather, Li Chen, stood there.
Shen Yuan froze.
Li Chen was holding a bag. When the door opened, he smiled gently.
“I was passing by and thought I’d come check on you. I bought you some fruit.”
Then he noticed Shen Yuan’s reddened eyes and the traces of tears he hadn’t fully washed off. He paused, worry unfeigned.
“What happened? Why were you crying?”