Chapter 22: I Had Hoped My Father Would Become a Dragon 7

Because of this, Huang Mingyuan learned that Qin Zhan had no father, and all the burdens of the household fell on his mother, whose health was never very good.

He also discovered that the reason Qin Zhan skipped evening self-study wasn’t because—as his classmates assumed—his good grades made him the teachers’ favorite. Rather, it was because Qin Zhan had to work to earn money for his living expenses and for his college tuition.

Ordinary students couldn’t even comprehend this concept. College tuition? Wasn’t that something parents were supposed to take care of? They never had to worry about such things.

Knowing how difficult things were for Qin Zhan’s family, Huang Mingyuan felt a kind of indulgent compassion for him—an empathy far more mature than his years.

This was something Huang Mingyuan’s other friends could neither understand nor accept. Perhaps they bore no ill will; they merely thought Qin Zhan was difficult to get along with. Even if they wanted to befriend him, it was impossible—Qin Zhan always disappeared the moment school was out.

Between classes he slept, during class he listened attentively, engaging in a natural give-and-take with the teachers. Even the strictest, most demanding teachers seemed to show him special favor.

It wasn’t that the others meant to exclude him—there was just no way to break through. After bumping into this wall a couple of times, they gave up.

Only Huang Mingyuan seemed not to understand the word “give up.” He knew perfectly well that Qin Zhan would never agree to hang out after school, yet every time there was an activity, he would invite Qin Zhan all the same.

Naturally, Qin Zhan refused every time.

Huang Mingyuan’s persistent enthusiasm made his friends look upon Qin Zhan with some discontent, seeing him always turn down Huang Mingyuan’s efforts.

Now, seeing Qin Ye, Huang Mingyuan’s eyes flickered and his face openly betrayed a host of thoughts.

What flashed through Huang Mingyuan’s mind was that Qin Zhan’s mother had found him a stepfather. And since time immemorial, the relationship between stepparents and stepchildren had always been a thorny issue.

Huang Mingyuan now worried that this would affect Qin Zhan’s performance on the college entrance exams.

Qin Zhan was such a good student, and he himself regarded the exams as his path out in life—he took them very seriously.

The months before vacation brought oppressive heat, and by afternoon everyone was drowsy. Even as the classroom drooped in a sea of sleeping students, there was always one person still awake, and that was Qin Zhan.

He only napped during breaks; during class, even self-study periods, he was focused on reading or practicing problems, never chatting or fooling around with classmates.

The teachers favored him, his academic performance stood out, and he was always singled out for praise—none of which stirred the slightest jealousy in Huang Mingyuan. Nor did any of the other students mind.

If Qin Zhan were affected and failed the college entrance exams, regardless of what became of Qin Zhan, Huang Mingyuan would certainly feel it was a terrible shame.

High school students, so young and unguarded, wore their hearts on their faces, their expressions shifting like a kaleidoscope.

With a single glance, Qin Ye could guess what Huang Mingyuan was worrying about, as anxiously as an old housekeeper.

He slung his arm around his eldest son’s shoulder, adopting a chummy manner. “Your best buddy?”

“Deskmate,” Qin Zhan replied.

Qin Zhan had never had a best friend. When he was younger, the neighbor kids, after hearing their parents gossip about him, had immediately turned hostile, jeering at him for being fatherless.

Qin Zhan had often snuck around, ambushing them and giving them a good beating.

Of course, he never went too far, just gave them a lesson.

He had to do it in secret because those brats would always play the victim and run home to complain first.

Worse still, their mothers would bring them right to his door to make a scene.

Yang Xiufen, when it came to her bottom line, was fierce and unyielding. But on other matters, she was easily bullied.

It was then that Qin Zhan learned a lesson: without a father, his family was seen as easy prey—a house others could barge into and insult at will, without consequence.

When children fought, the parents would take sides, and it was always the “widow and orphan” who suffered.

So, Qin Zhan learned to put on a mask.

He smiled sweetly at everyone, greeted everyone politely, so much so that people would praise him for his manners and compare him favorably to their own unruly children.

If there were adults around during a conflict, he would never talk back or fight, presenting himself as the picture of a bullied, pitiable child.

But as soon as the adults turned their backs, he would settle scores, holding grudges and paying them back. Even stray dogs passing by would get a glare from him.

When the bullies ran home crying, their parents never comforted them; instead, they’d get a scolding and a beating.

This was because the parents never believed their children, thinking they were lying troublemakers making false accusations.

More reasonable parents would be furious, determined to correct their child’s bad habits.

Less reasonable ones would simply be angry that their child thought them fools.

In the neighborhood where Qin Zhan lived, his peers all had a hostile relationship with him.

The setbacks from childhood followed him into adolescence—all because his home was lined with awards and certificates, a constant, silent rebuke to others.

As children, they had been outsmarted by him and resented him the most. As they grew older, realizing the hardships of his family, their fleeting sense of superiority was dashed whenever their parents praised “that other kid”—the very one they’d always seen as their nemesis.

The combination only deepened the rift.

So, a best friend? What a joke. Not only did he not have a best friend, he only had one true friend at all: Ruan Jiaojiao. And that was thanks to her persistent efforts, and the strange coincidence that they’d been classmates from elementary through high school.

Now, though, they weren’t even in the same class—Qin Zhan had moved to the advanced “Rocket Class,” while Ruan Jiaojiao stayed in the regular class.

Poor eldest son, starved for affection since childhood.

Qin Ye’s gaze was nearly overflowing with fatherly tenderness.

Catching this look, Qin Zhan grew instantly uncomfortable, as if a thousand ants were crawling over his skin.

Yang Xiufen cared only about work. She was willing to work hard, but even so, the weight of life pressed her down.

She was an ordinary woman, and when life overwhelmed her, her interactions with her son were always shaped by hardship—reminding him of how difficult things were, how he had to be understanding.

Of course she loved her child, but her love was heavy.

Not that Yang Xiufen was unique; most parents in the country were like this, never expressing love openly.

A mother, at least, spent the most time with her child, caring for every detail, so children could often feel their mother’s affection.

But fathers? That was another story.

So when faced with Qin Ye’s open display of fatherly love, Qin Zhan felt restless and ill at ease.

The walk from the school gate to the parked car seemed to stretch endlessly, and Qin Zhan couldn’t help but wonder why the road felt so long.

“Wait up! Wait for me!”

Ruan Jiaojiao came running after them.

She had both a dorm room and permission to commute—her parents had arranged for her to have a place to rest at school if she was tired, but she usually went home after class.

Her parents wanted her to have the best of both worlds: a place to rest and the comfort of coming home, not wanting to spend an entire week apart from their daughter.

By the time she reached her final year, even weekends might be lost to study, a thought her loving parents couldn’t bear.

The school could only acquiesce, having them sign an extra waiver taking responsibility for her safety whenever she left campus.

Hearing her behind them, the father and son stopped in unison.

Moments before, Ruan Jiaojiao had been stunned by the striking presence of the handsome man, but now, as both turned to look at her, one tall and one young, she was doubly dazzled—the man by his bearing, the boy by his features. She stood there, dazed, looking not particularly bright.

“Your classmate?” Qin Ye’s expression carried a hint of doubt, as if he questioned her intelligence.

Qin Zhan noticed, his heart sinking.

To have so few friends, and for his only friend to seem so guileless—what would his “discount father” think? Would he lecture him about “flies never landing on a flawless egg” and tell him to reflect on his own shortcomings?

The thought made Qin Zhan’s expression grow impatient. But it wasn’t because of Ruan Jiaojiao; it was because of Qin Ye. He suppressed it and instead turned to Ruan Jiaojiao, asking, “What is it?”

“I saw your uncle drove here, and my parents aren’t home today. They want me to eat at my uncle’s place. Could I get a ride?” Ruan Jiaojiao lied smoothly.

Her parents were, in fact, at home, running a modest but successful restaurant. Even during holidays, they never closed, always striving to earn more for their daughter’s future. There was no way they would not be home.

Although she and Qin Zhan were friends, her parents didn’t much approve of him, fearing their daughter would grow too close to this poor boy and develop feelings for him, so their attitude toward him was always cold.

Qin Zhan knew this and never appeared before her parents.

Now, hearing her request, he immediately looked to Qin Ye.

Ruan Jiaojiao’s uncle lived in the same neighborhood as Qin Zhan, a family that had done quite well for itself. Only Ruan Jiaojiao’s family had moved out, but even so, her uncle’s family was still far better off than the Qins.

Qin Zhan’s meaning was clear—he intended to give Ruan Jiaojiao a ride.

Naturally, Qin Ye wouldn’t refuse his eldest son’s implicit request. He smiled and said, “You’re Xiaozhan’s classmate, and since it’s on our way, of course you can come along.”