After Jiang Ruoqiao hung up the phone, she saved the nearly hour-long recorded call.

No one could live without some means of protecting themselves.

Although she felt that any person in their right mind would never agree to let Jiang Yan be with their own daughter — letting the man’s family scheme and leech off them — what if the story’s pull was too powerful? What if one day Jiang Yan really did end up with Lin Kexing again, and she herself became a thorn in the Lin family’s side?

If that day came, Mrs. Lin would no longer feel any gratitude toward her for what happened today — only wariness.

So she had to keep a card up her sleeve. A way to ensure the Lin family would never act rashly against her.

That card was this phone call.

She was confident that Mrs. Lin would absolutely not ignore it. On the contrary, she would use her own means to deal with Jiang Yan’s mother. In the future, if Jiang Yan and Lin Kexing ended up together, for the sake of her daughter’s marital happiness, Mrs. Lin would absolutely never let Jiang Yan find out about what had transpired between herself and his mother. As for this recorded call — she hoped it would never have to be used for as long as she lived. She believed that Mrs. Lin, as the mistress of a powerful family, would always make the most correct choice.

If Jiang Yan and Lin Kexing could not end up together as they had in the original novel, Mrs. Lin would never come looking for trouble with her.

If Jiang Yan and Lin Kexing did end up together, then this phone call would be her most powerful weapon.

Having thought through all of this, and with her backup plan in place, Jiang Ruoqiao finally felt bold enough to dial Mrs. Lin’s number.

Even after saving the recording, Jiang Ruoqiao felt it still wasn’t safe enough. She needed to back it up — she needed to leave a copy with someone she trusted completely.

At that moment, a face surfaced in her mind: always gentle, always calm and refined, no matter the circumstances.

If there was such a thing as having someone to watch your back, then at this moment, in this year and this month, in Jiang Ruoqiao’s heart, Lu Yicheng was exactly that person — the one she could rely on without question.

After returning to the dormitory, Jiang Ruoqiao made several copies of the recording and sent Lu Yicheng a message: 【Send me your email address.】

Lu Yicheng didn’t ask why. He simply sent over his email address.

Jiang Ruoqiao: 【Ok, Lu Yicheng, I’ve sent an important file to your email. Please keep it safe for me. Thank you.】

Lu Yicheng: 【Alright.】

He didn’t ask what the important file was either.

He took out his laptop from his bag, logged into his email, and sure enough, there was a new message waiting. The email had an attachment — it appeared to be an audio file.

Lu Yicheng was naturally curious, but he left it at that. He didn’t open it. Instead, he saved the audio file to his computer and, feeling not quite at ease, backed it up to his cloud drive as well.

Jiang Ruoqiao knew that with Lu Yicheng’s character, if she didn’t say he could, he wouldn’t open it.

That was why she trusted him.

He wouldn’t ask what the file was, and he wouldn’t ask if he was allowed to listen to it — but whatever she asked him to do, he would do it to the best of his ability. That was who Lu Yicheng was.

The next day, Jiang Ruoqiao learned from her teacher why she had been asked to fill out the form.

It turned out that A’Da was running a promotional campaign for an upcoming anniversary celebration. They happened to have arrived at just the right time. The school’s leadership had convened a meeting and decided to have teachers recommend suitable outstanding students, who would then go through multiple rounds of review and selection. A chosen group of students would be officially honored — the school would present them with medals. On top of that, there would be a commemorative group photo, which would later be posted on the school’s official website.

For someone already out in the working world, perhaps this wouldn’t be anything particularly exciting.

But Jiang Ruoqiao was so thrilled she nearly suggested treating the whole class to a meal in the group chat.

Fortunately, she had enough composure — after all, she hadn’t been selected yet. She absolutely couldn’t go announcing it to the whole world beforehand. If she didn’t make the cut in the end, the embarrassment would be unbearable. For Jiang Ruoqiao, this was absolutely extraordinary news. Why? A’Da students were already remarkable in their own right, and an outstanding student medal would certainly be a credential worth listing on a résumé. More importantly, A’Da had always been committed to continuously sending talent across all fields out into society. The school’s official website even maintained a page called “Talents of Our School,” featuring distinguished alumni from past years — industry leaders who had gone on to achieve great things and give back to their alma mater.

Without a doubt, if selected this time, their cohort’s group photo would appear on that very page.

Jiang Ruoqiao’s heart stirred with inexplicable excitement.

Nobody wanted to fade into obscurity after graduation.

If she appeared on the school’s website — even tucked in the farthest corner — it might stay there for a decade or more.

A testament to her brightest, most brilliant days in university. Even ten-some years later, when life and work had worn her down, opening that page again would still bring a special kind of warmth, she thought.

She only learned after asking her teacher that it was a school leader who had casually mentioned her name while chatting with the Head of the Foreign Languages Department, which was what had first brought her to the department head’s attention. The teacher also made clear, of course, that even without the school leader’s mention, she would have put Jiang Ruoqiao’s name forward to the department head herself.

Jiang Ruoqiao opened the “Talents of Our School” page on the official website and sat gazing at it, chin resting in her hand.

Suddenly, she felt as though a much more distant horizon had come into view.

Was this what it meant to stand in a higher place, in a moment like this? What she could see now was no longer the same landscape as before.

Her thoughts drifted freely in all directions, until she stood on tiptoe and caught hold of one: ten-some years from now, perhaps Lu Siyan would be admitted to this school. When he opened this very website, he would see her photo — what kind of feeling would that be for him?

Just imagining it made Jiang Ruoqiao burst out laughing, her expression openly delighted.

But wait —

Wait!

“No, that’s not right.” Jiang Ruoqiao patted her forehead. “If I think this way, doesn’t that mean I’d be putting enormous pressure on him — expecting him to get into this school too?”

Countless small moments in life had already given Jiang Ruoqiao an early taste of it: adults really could, with just the slightest lapse in awareness, slip so easily into becoming the kind of parent everyone dreaded.

Jiang Ruoqiao decisively logged into her secondary WeChat account.

She posted a message to her Moments:

【Daily reminder, my personal mantra: I want to be the most open-minded parent, love and peace~】

In truth, this secondary account had very few contacts.

There were Lu Siyan’s three teachers, a fellow parent she’d added while waiting in line to pick up Lu Siyan… and then there was Lu Yicheng.

Lu Siyan’s classmate’s mother was wonderfully enthusiastic — she liked the post almost immediately and left a comment: 【That’s exactly right, I tell myself the same thing every single day, and then every single day my child drives me to my actual death and turns me into the neighborhood’s most terrifying woman! We’re in this together!!】

Lu Siyan’s homeroom teacher, Teacher Xiong, also liked the post.

Lu Yicheng’s like and comment, however, arrived fashionably late.

Lu Yicheng: 【We’re in this together.】

He wanted to be the most open-minded father, too.

No sooner had Lu Yicheng posted his comment than he turned around to find Lu Siyan crouching by the wall, pencil in hand, secretly drawing a little turtle on it.

Lu Yicheng felt deeply, profoundly helpless. Why? He knew Lu Siyan loved drawing — especially turtles in particular — so both he and Jiang Ruoqiao had tried their best to indulge that. There were already two or three drawing boards at home, not to mention sketchbooks of all kinds. And yet Lu Siyan still insisted on scribbling on the walls.

Why?

Why on earth? Lu Yicheng wouldn’t claim to have read everything under the sun, but he could follow the logic of most things clearly enough. This, however, was something he simply could not figure out, no matter how hard he tried.

Lu Siyan knew he’d done something wrong, and immediately put on his most innocent expression and apologized: “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Lu Yicheng: “……”

What baffled him even more was that Lu Siyan clearly knew this was wrong — and yet he did it anyway. And after doing it, he apologized faster than anyone, only to do it all over again the next time.

Incomprehensible.

He truly could not comprehend it.

So he decided to consult the child’s mother. She was smarter than him about these things.

Lu Yicheng found the right angle and took a photo of the little turtle scrawl on the wall, then sent it to Jiang Ruoqiao: 【[Image]】

Jiang Ruoqiao: 【??】

Lu Yicheng: 【He drew on the wall again. I can’t figure it out. Why won’t he draw on the drawing board? Why won’t he draw in a sketchbook? Why does it have to be the wall?】

How? Why?

Jiang Ruoqiao, back in the dormitory, saw his message and genuinely thought about the question.

She ventured a reply: 【Maybe… what you can’t have is what you want the most?】

You can’t have what you want most, and what comes too easily, you ignore.

Who didn’t love a little thrill? The more you forbade small children from doing something, the more they wanted to inch a tiny foot forward and test the boundary.

Lu Yicheng humbly accepted this: 【Perhaps.】

Being an open-minded parent was truly, truly difficult.

Even someone with as mild a temperament as Lu Yicheng could be driven to a spike in blood pressure by Lu Siyan. Looking at the little turtle scrawl in the corner of the wall, he could only sigh. This was a rented apartment — what a headache. He would just have to figure out how to patch it back to how it was before.

The kindergarten teacher posted a message in the parent group: 【@Everyone: As part of arrangements from the higher administration, and to assist the school in carrying out educational initiatives effectively, all parents are kindly requested to log in to the live stream at 7:00 PM this evening to check in and learn how to be a new-era, smart parent. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. Please reply to confirm you’ve received this message.】

Jiang Ruoqiao felt her soul leave her body.

She felt that kindergartens today were absolutely nothing like the ones from her own childhood.

Back then, her family would drop her off at the kindergarten and go about their own business. Teachers never assigned any tasks whatsoever.

But now…

Jiang Ruoqiao still rallied herself, responding to the teacher in the group with the enthusiasm of someone who had just been injected with pure motivation: 【Received, thank you, Teacher Xiong! /Rose/ /Rose/】

Lu Yicheng wasn’t able to watch the live stream himself.

He had to go to the company to resolve a system issue. So as not to disrupt Jiang Ruoqiao’s journey down the path of enlightened parenthood, Lu Yicheng, with characteristic thoughtfulness, didn’t ask her to take Lu Siyan. Instead, he took the boy with him to the office.

Jiang Ruoqiao had no desire for her dormitory roommates to see her watching this kind of live stream.

The odds were high they’d think she’d lost her mind.

So she climbed up to her bunk, put on her Bluetooth earphones, and solemnly checked into the live stream.

In the stream was a woman who appeared to be in her forties or fifties. She was very professional.

Jiang Ruoqiao listened attentively — after all, the teacher had said in the group that it would be best to write down some reflections afterward…

She kept listening…

Yun Jia came out of the shower and noticed Jiang Ruoqiao sneaking into bed suspiciously early. Curious, she grabbed the railing, stretched up on her toes to peek, and said, “What are you watching, beautiful?”

Before she even finished the sentence, Jiang Ruoqiao whipped her phone under the pillow in one swift motion and said with a completely straight face: “Nothing.”

Seeing that guilty look, Yun Jia rubbed her chin and smiled slyly. “Send it to me. May fortune smile upon you.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “?”

Yun Jia lowered her voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Jiang Ruoqiao: “??”

—