The following morning, bright and early, Lu Yicheng gathered his prepared documents, took Lu Siyan, and headed out to the household registration office at the local police station.

He had called ahead to ask about the registration process beforehand.

On a weekday morning, the office wasn’t particularly crowded. He took a number and waited. When his number was called, he explained his situation as calmly as he could manage. Out-of-wedlock children being registered was hardly unusual these days — it happened every day — but Lu Yicheng’s case was rather special. Still, the staff at the registration office had seen all kinds of situations, and after a brief glance at both Lu Yicheng and Lu Siyan, they proceeded to handle things according to procedure, unfazed.

All documents and paperwork were complete and in order.

After the stamps were applied, Lu Yicheng received the new household registration booklet.

In the booklet, he was no longer listed alone.

In this world, he had family again. In the booklet, Lu Siyan and the head of household, Lu Yicheng, were listed as father and son.

It was strange — he had long since confirmed that Lu Siyan was his son. But only at this moment did it finally feel real.

Lu Siyan was still called Lu Siyan.

With the registration complete, Lu Siyan now had his own place in this world. He could go to school, just like any other child.

Lu Yicheng reported this news to Jiang Ruoqiao as soon as it was done.

Jiang Ruoqiao received his text message while she was out in a garden doing a photoshoot for autumn hanfu. Being a model seemed like easy money, but it was genuinely grueling work — there was no such thing in this world as a job that was both effortless and well-paying. Take right now: the temperature outside was close to thirty-eight or thirty-nine degrees, standing out here was like sitting in a sauna, and yet she had to wear autumn clothing, and once they started shooting, three hours was the baseline. By the time a shoot wrapped, she was half-dead.

During a break, Jiang Ruoqiao held a small handheld fan in each hand, desperately trying to stay alive.

Her makeup had smeared; a makeup artist was touching it up.

When that was done, she had zero appetite, sitting on a folding stool and sipping an iced drink while calculating her savings.

She had always been generous with herself — she earned a fair amount and spent accordingly. Over the years, she had just crossed six figures in savings, which was quite a lot compared to most of her peers. If nothing unexpected had happened, she could have lived comfortably without much worry. But now? That modest sum had to support both her and one gold-devouring beast of a child — at this rate, it would be gone in less than a year. And she was still a student for that year! No wonder people who were married with children were always so anxious. You simply couldn’t afford not to be. Raising children was unbelievably, devastatingly expensive!

Her contract with the shop owner would end at the close of the year.

She genuinely didn’t want to continue in this line of work, and she’d made that clear to the owner — parting on good terms. Renewing the contract would mean committing to another two or three years at minimum.

Her original plan had been to take the coming year to properly recharge and reset.

But now — she had no choice but to keep earning.

Jiang Ruoqiao frowned.

The shop owner was someone who paid close attention to every new launch, and since she happened to have a free day, she had come to watch the shoot. As she arrived, she spotted Jiang Ruoqiao sitting on her folding stool with one hand propping up her chin, expression deeply pensive — as though she were contemplating some great cosmic question.

She walked over and sat down beside her. “What’s the matter? Are you feeling unwell?”

In this weather, wearing heavy autumn clothing and shooting under the blazing sun was genuinely exhausting.

That was just how this industry worked — the money was real, but so was the effort.

Jiang Ruoqiao shook her head with a blank, faraway look. “No.”

Just the thought of having to raise a child, with the pressure so crushing she felt like she could barely breathe.

“What is it, then?” The shop owner asked, concern evident in her voice.

Jiang Ruoqiao had known the owner long enough for them to understand each other’s characters, and there was no need to hide things. She said: “Something’s come up. I was hoping to take my third year to properly adjust and recharge, but now there’s too much going on — I’m thinking about finding a part-time job. But every time I think about it, my head starts throbbing.”

Both of them had straightforward, open personalities.

The shop owner didn’t bring up contract renewal.

She knew perfectly well that if Jiang Ruoqiao had any intention of renewing, she would have brought it up herself. The fact that Jiang Ruoqiao hadn’t mentioned it even in a moment of distress meant she truly had no interest in continuing.

“A part-time job.” The shop owner thought for a moment. “Didn’t you say you’re studying English?”

“Mm.” Jiang Ruoqiao nodded, then thought it over and explained: “Ma’am, I’m different from you — you genuinely love hanfu. I’ve been around you and your team long enough, and I still haven’t become a convert. I think it’s just not really my thing. Going forward, I’d rather do something more connected to my major……”

The shop owner laughed. “I understand completely. Your major — isn’t that something people usually go into teaching after graduation?”

“Not necessarily.” Jiang Ruoqiao said with self-deprecation. “I’ve tutored before, and I know for certain I’m not cut out for teaching.”

The shop owner suddenly seemed to remember something. “So that means you could do translation work?”

“Yes, I think so.” Jiang Ruoqiao said.

She had already passed the College English Test Band Four and Band Six.

The Band Eight Professional Test would have to wait until her fourth year.

The shop owner smiled. “Looks like I was right to say you’re my good luck charm. Ruoqiao, as it happens — I have a friend who runs a translation company, with branches in both Yangcheng and Shencheng. Let me introduce you and see if it’s a good fit. If it works out, you can give it a try. My friend is a decent, honest person — won’t take advantage of you. What do you think?”

Since the owner herself had vouched for the friend’s character, Jiang Ruoqiao felt reassured.

Students looking for part-time work genuinely didn’t have many options.

And without being careful, it was easy to be cheated or taken advantage of.

Jiang Ruoqiao nodded. “Thank you so much!”

The shop owner waved it off without concern. “Don’t mention it. A’Da students are fought over out there — it’s only because you haven’t graduated yet. If you had a degree in hand, you’d probably be too good for my friend’s company.”

Jiang Ruoqiao could perfectly envision her future self, laboring away like an old ox.

While others got to enjoy the romantic, carefree aspects of life, she — at just twenty years old — had to shoulder the responsibility of raising a child. There were too many tears in that thought to even count.

Lu Yicheng faced the same worries.

On the way home with Lu Siyan, they happened to pass by a pedestrian shopping street lined with all kinds of stores — including a dedicated LEGO toy shop.

Lu Siyan’s feet immediately stopped working.

This had been outside of Lu Yicheng’s frame of reference. He hadn’t had these kinds of toys growing up, and even if they’d existed, his family couldn’t have afforded them. He’d heard of LEGO before but hadn’t really known what it was — until Lu Siyan arrived, and he gained a basic understanding of it. By “basic understanding,” he meant: the prices.

From his perspective — very expensive. Completely out of reach.

But Lu Siyan absolutely adored them.

Once before, Lu Yicheng had, to coax him, ordered a set online for just under two hundred yuan — a very small box.

Before the delivery was even opened, Lu Siyan had been absolutely thrilled with excitement. Once it was unwrapped, however, his whole demeanor deflated like a wilted vegetable.

Lu Yicheng: “……”

He would have liked to point out that this toy Lu Siyan looked so unimpressed with was the most expensive gift he had ever bought for anyone.

But the child didn’t like it.

Lu Siyan played with it halfheartedly, assembled the little dinosaur, and then lost interest entirely.

Fortunately, Lu Siyan was a sensible child — disappointed, but without whining or fussing.

In the past, seeing Lu Siyan’s expectant eyes like that, Lu Yicheng might have gritted his teeth and taken him inside to buy something. But now — he couldn’t. Just thinking about their future expenses, Lu Yicheng felt like skipping meals altogether. A toy at that price point was simply not going to appear on his purchase list, at least not now.

Lu Yicheng said gently: “Let’s go home. I’ll make you something good to eat.”

Lu Siyan said: “Oh.”

He followed Lu Yicheng forward with reluctant steps, but couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder again and again, his longing eyes absolutely heartbreaking.

But as pitiful as he looked — his father looked even more so.

When they got home, Lu Yicheng saw it was still early. He steamed some rice, then rummaged around the apartment and found some old delivery boxes. Under Lu Siyan’s wide-eyed “wow,” he set to work and made a tiger head — impressively fierce and bold. As he worked, Lu Yicheng thought of his grandmother. She used to make toys for him the same way.

In that future, Lu Siyan had been raised very well — anyone with eyes could see that material-wise, he had never been deprived of anything.

He had many, many toys.

But this was the first time he had ever received a toy made by his father’s own hands — and such a cool one at that!

Lu Siyan was absolutely ecstatic. He put on the tiger head and charged back and forth across the living room, his hair drenched in sweat from the heat and still showing no signs of stopping.

He was so, so happy.

Seeing him like this, the faint shadow of guilt that had been weighing on Lu Yicheng’s heart lifted considerably.

He could only do his best to give the child what he was able to give.

What lay beyond his means — there was nothing to be done about that.

Lu Yicheng also checked his bank balance. He had always been frugal — not a single unnecessary yuan spent. Before Lu Siyan had arrived, his daily expenses had been minimal: phone bill kept under fifty yuan a month, daily food budget never exceeding thirty yuan, no cigarettes, no alcohol, barely any gaming and certainly no in-app purchases. For travel, he biked everywhere, or at most took the bus or metro — the indulgence of a taxi simply did not belong in his world.

He gave private lessons to two students, which provided steady monthly income.

But going forward, his monthly expenditures would exceed his income.

Lu Yicheng’s mood grew heavier.

An occasional glance at the carefree Lu Siyan only made the weight sink deeper.

After turning things over and over in his mind, he decided something had to change. Even if he couldn’t maintain the same level of monthly savings as before, he at least needed to break even.

That evening, sleep eluded him. After tossing and turning for a long time, he finally made up his mind and sent a WeChat message to his senior: 【Senior Li, is there still room at your company?】

“Senior Li” was a student from the same department who had already graduated.

Senior Li had been an outstanding student who, before even graduating, had teamed up with several like-minded classmates to start a company. Starting a business in this era was difficult, and even a group of once-brilliant students had struggled to stand out in the market. Senior Li’s team was shorthanded, and he had spoken to Lu Yicheng about it several times, hoping to bring him on board. Lu Yicheng was widely regarded as the most outstanding student of his cohort — it was easy to foresee that upon graduation, he could secure an offer from a major tech company, and given time would certainly become a top talent in the industry.

Lu Yicheng had turned down Senior Li’s invitations every time.

He had his own plan, and he’d been following it step by step.

But now, life had thrown things off course……

To raise what was apparently a money-shredding, gold-devouring beast of a child, his wallet simply wasn’t up to the task.

The person who couldn’t sleep wasn’t only Lu Yicheng.

Jiang Ruoqiao couldn’t sleep either. The thought of monthly expenses looming in the future — how could anyone sleep through that??

She was sitting with paper and pen, working out a budget.

Skincare — non-negotiable.

That was her last stand. Her absolute bottom line.

She had always been accustomed to ordering light-meal takeout, and a single order casually ran over thirty yuan. Was that too extravagant?

Then there was the coffee — she drank at least three or four cups a week, each one costing twenty or thirty yuan……

The more she calculated, the more aggrieved she felt on her own behalf.

What had she ever done to anyone, what sin had she committed, to deserve shouldering something so heavy?!

In this moment, the only person who could possibly understand how she felt was Lu Yicheng.

No.

Jiang Ruoqiao shook her head, tore that page from the notebook, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash.

She could not allow herself to fall into degeneracy!

She wasn’t even a married woman yet!!

*Jiang Ruoqiao, pull yourself together. If you compromise, if you give in, you will lose your very soul — you will no longer be just yourself. And if that happens, it’s all over.* She absolutely refused to allow that.

The next morning, Jiang Ruoqiao had arranged to meet Lu Yicheng to go tour kindergartens.

She hadn’t eaten breakfast. In front of Lu Yicheng, she walked into a coffee shop and — probably thanks to last night’s self-imposed pep talk — she ordered her usual: a coffee and a croissant, just as she normally would. This kind of breakfast combination was perfectly ordinary among working adults, but even something this ordinary added up to twenty or thirty yuan, which was equivalent to Lu Yicheng’s food budget for an entire day.

Neither Lu Yicheng nor Lu Siyan reacted to this.

Lu Siyan had been raised from infancy in this environment and had absorbed the lesson completely: Mommy deserved only the best.

As for Lu Yicheng — frugal as he was, he would never impose his own standard of living on anyone else. Even at dormitory dinners where they chose pricier restaurants, he never said a word and was always the most agreeable one in the group. He was well aware that Jiang Ruoqiao had refined tastes — her clothing, her spending habits, the clothes she’d bought for Lu Siyan all made that clear. But they were both students; how much money could she really have? Lu Yicheng simply thought: in the future, he probably shouldn’t split things evenly with her. Her expenses were higher, and on top of that she was raising a child — it was already harder for her. He’d pay the bigger share. Sixty-forty, or even seventy-thirty was fine.

Jiang Ruoqiao had no idea that the simple act of buying breakfast would shift Lu Yicheng from planning a fifty-fifty split with her to deciding on sixty-forty — or seventy-thirty even.

Lu Yicheng had received a reply from Senior Li.

He’d go by the company when he had time — in their line of work, all you really needed was a computer, and you could work from anywhere.

He was bound to be much busier this semester than the last. But that came with a corresponding increase in income.

He could handle being a bit more tired. That was fine.

Both father and son were as quiet as could be, which was strange — but what was stranger still was that Lu Yicheng, who barely knew Jiang Ruoqiao, hadn’t noticed that somewhere deep inside himself he felt exactly the same way: *Jiang Ruoqiao spending this much was entirely fine.*

She was meant to live this way.

Near A’Da, there were several kindergartens. Public ones were out of the question — since they weren’t enrolling from the younger class, Lu Siyan would be going straight into the pre-primary year, and for a case like this, private kindergartens were more accommodating. They also didn’t have much time left — the new term was not far off, and private institutions were the only realistic option for a last-minute enrollment.

Private kindergartens varied widely in cost.

The cheapest of the options they were considering was still over three thousand yuan a month.

The three of them, all strikingly good-looking, naturally drew second glances wherever they walked together.

Both Jiang Ruoqiao and Lu Yicheng were thorough and detail-oriented people. After looking over the least expensive kindergarten on their list, they exchanged a glance — and in each other’s eyes, they both saw the same thing: dissatisfaction.

They visited three kindergartens that morning.

By the time lunch rolled around, Lu Yicheng took the initiative to suggest eating out. Considering Jiang Ruoqiao’s tastes, he bypassed the cheap fast-food stalls and chose a proper restaurant instead.

All three of them were exhausted. Lu Siyan was slumped flat over the table.

“Did anything catch your eye?” Lu Yicheng asked Jiang Ruoqiao.

Jiang Ruoqiao was pulling a packet of disinfecting wipes from her bag and methodically wiping down the table surface. She looked up at him. “No. Did anything catch yours?”

Lu Yicheng shook his head as well.

Both of them had arrived at the same conclusion.

Before visiting any kindergarten, they had both told themselves: just pick the cheapest one — it’s just kindergarten. As long as the kids have fun, that’s enough!

But once they did the actual site visits, their critical eyes kicked in, and everything fell short. This wasn’t good enough, that wasn’t satisfactory.

When it came down to it, the problem was simply that they were both too poor.

“This won’t do.” Jiang Ruoqiao said. “The term starts in a few days — we have to decide today.”

Lu Yicheng felt the same way.

He steeled himself. “Then let’s go with the Pinwheel Kindergarten.”

Jiang Ruoqiao blinked. “That’s over five thousand a month.”

She hadn’t realized until they’d done this research just how expensive kindergarten fees had become.

Lu Yicheng walked her through his reasoning: “I looked at their meal plan — the nutrition is well-balanced, the morning and afternoon snacks are decent, and the lunch guarantees two meat dishes, one vegetable, and a soup. The facilities are good, the play equipment is new, and the teaching staff has solid credentials. There’s also a school bus for pick-up and drop-off.” He paused. “Most importantly — parents can access the security footage in real time.”

That last point mattered a great deal.

He had been reading the news. Too many incidents happened in kindergartens. Though camera blind spots still existed, being able to see inside the classroom was already a significant reassurance.

Jiang Ruoqiao liked this kindergarten too.

It just somewhat exceeded their budget.

Lu Yicheng seemed to sense what was giving her pause. Steeling himself with all the mental fortitude he could muster, he said: “You don’t need to worry too much about the fees. I’ll handle it. You just put in two thousand. How does that sound?”

Jiang Ruoqiao looked at him.

Was Lu Yicheng actually a bodhisattva reincarnated??

Wait — where was he getting all this money? He was supposed to be broke, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he the guy who never ordered takeout?

Wasn’t he practically the only person who hand-washed his clothes to save on laundry machine costs??

Just as Jiang Ruoqiao was about to ask where the money was coming from, her phone rang.

It was Jiang Yan calling.

She hesitated for a moment, then declined the call and switched it to silent.

She glanced at Lu Yicheng.

Lu Yicheng seemed to guess what had happened. He shifted his gaze away and peeled open the plastic wrap on the utensils caddy.

Then his own phone rang.

He looked down — it was Jiang Yan.

Lu Yicheng: “……”

So he, too, chose not to answer, pressing it to silent.

……

Jiang Yan, who had rebooked his ticket and come back early, sat in the car with a puzzled look: *What’s going on — neither of them picking up? What are they both busy with?*

—