"Scar, you sure we’re kidnapping them?"

"Bullshit question," the scar-faced man snapped. "We’ve got blood on our hands. If caught, we’re looking at life behind bars. Cops have locked down the whole city. Without hostages, we’re not getting out."

"Dunno how that guy tracked us. Worst damn luck in fifteen years on the job."

"Enough whining, Baldy. After this job, that guy pays us another ten grand. Plus the jewels we lifted? We’ll live it up for years. By the time the money’s gone, the heat’ll have died down."

"Heh-heh—just two broads? Piece of cake." Baldy licked his pistol, grinning. "Shame we can’t touch that one woman. Photos showed real lookers. Never had a taste of that kind."

"Baldy, with cash, pretty women won’t be scarce. Just worry your body’ll give out before you do."

Baldy let out a guttural chuckle, already picturing bikini-clad girls on sunlit beaches. The future looked bright.

Qin An’s lunch—milk and bread—was mediocre at best. Whether cursed by Miss Huang or sabotaged by shady vendors fiddling with expiry dates, his stomach revolted. After crouching in bushes for half an hour—whether by coincidence or karmic affinity—he’d unwillingly witnessed quite a show.

The male lead: Director Yin. The female lead: Lin Chunlan, sixth-grade Chinese teacher. Yin, transformed into a "tank driver," handled his ride with shocking expertise. Lin, the "tank," had ample curves but a face like a lopsided gourd—truly hard to behold. Qin An could only sigh inwardly: *"Truly lacking in looks."*

"Boring. No skill, no looks."

Qin An seemed to forget he wasn’t even old enough for such things. He finally squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

"Qin An, what’s wrong?" Huang Jiajun asked, noticing his pale face as he washed his hands by the stream.

"Just... bad stomach."

Her dark, bright eyes widened in disbelief. "Bad stomach?"

"Problem?"

"No, no... heh—"

Huang Jiajun clutched her belly, laughing until she nearly choked.

"Crazy woman," Qin An muttered, turning to resume his daydreams.

He turned—and plunged into darkness. Softness surrounded him, carrying a faint, sweet fragrance. He stumbled back, meeting a face more angelic than any he’d seen: Tong Tong.

His cheeks flushed. Her 34D chest towered before him like twin peaks, and that vanilla-sweet scent stabbed his nostrils.

"Young Pioneer, we meet again."

"Auntie, have we met?" Qin An instinctively dodged connection.

"Brat! Saving me once doesn’t make me your aunt. I’m twenty-six!"

Tong Tong dug her fingers into his temples. "Heroic Young Pioneer, still don’t remember your sister?"

"Fine, I remember." Qin An couldn’t fathom why she clung to this—wasn’t one rescue enough?

"Tong Auntie, you know Qin An?"

"Jiajun! Come here, let Auntie see you." Tong Tong stroked Huang Jiajun’s hair. Jiajun beamed, dimples flashing. "Hmph. Still ‘Auntie,’ huh?"

"Tong Tong! You visit without telling me?" A middle-aged man approached—Huang Juantian, Huang Jiajun’s father. A top Nan’an businessman now eyeing politics, his wealth greased his path through bureaucracy.

At his arrival, Qin An slipped away like a shadow.

"Brother Tian, I just brought Pupils out for fresh air. Didn’t want to trouble you."

"Hah! ‘Trouble’? I’m old news now? Fresh air’s good. That chapter’s closed. You still have Pupils. Old Man Tong warned he was no good!" Huang Juantian nodded toward a corner where city officials mingled. "Join them for a chat?"

"No. Kids’ company suits Pupils better."

"Right. Jiajun, show your aunt around."

"Yes, Daddy."

Qin An’s stomach growled—lunch had exited swiftly. Thankfully, the tour group provided free instant noodles for non-campers. He grabbed two cups and settled on a lakeside rock.

Halfway through, he felt eyes on him. A girl of eight or nine stood nearby, staring. Milky-white complexion, huge round eyes, draped in a fine cashmere dress—like a porcelain doll. Unafraid, she crept closer.

Amused, Qin An pointed to the unopened noodles. *Hungry?*

She shook her head. When she reached him, her voice came stiff, rusty from disuse:

"Who... are you?"

"Didn’t your parents teach you? Share your name before asking for mine." He smiled.

She shook her head again. "I... don’t know. Mom and Dad only fight. No time for me. And... Dad’s gone now." Her tone was solemn.

"Sorry." Qin An gently stroked her hair.

She leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut like a contented kitten.

"I’m Qin An. Qin like the ancient state. An for peace."

"Qin... An." She repeated it softly, then stared at him, unblinking.

"I shared my name. Yours now?" He chuckled as she practically draped herself over his lap—this kid feared nothing.

"Pupils... Everyone calls me Pupils."

"Pupils, where’s your mom?"

No answer. Just confused eyes.

"Hungry for this?" He pointed to the noodles instead.

"...Yes." This time, she accepted.

Qin An sipped green tea, watching her eat with clumsy, endearing focus.

"Pupils! What are you doing here? You—Young Pioneer!" A woman’s sharp voice cut through the air.

Qin An turned. A stunning beauty glared at him, fury blazing in her eyes.

"You again."

The identical pronunciation of *Tong Tong* and *Pupils* suddenly made perfect sense.

"What do you want?" Tong Tong yanked Pupils close, shielding her. All memory of Qin An saving her vanished. Pupils was her only reason to live—without her, suicide would’ve claimed her long ago. She’d ruined everything for that bastard: severed ties with family and childhood friends, borne his child, only to learn he’d used her. When the Tong family’s influence proved useless, he’d sought richer prey—and forced her to serve him. Worst of all, he’d threatened Pupils. Unforgivable.

"As you see. Just sharing noodles with this kid."

Qin An hated dealing with hysterical women. If she cared so much, why let Pupils wander?

"Pupils, are you hurt? Did he do anything strange?" Ignoring him, Tong Tong knelt, frantically checking the girl.

Qin An forced a bitter smile. *Pervert?* After saving her? Ungrateful. He stood to leave.

Two steps in, weight clamped his leg.

Pupils clung to him like a koala, refusing to let go.

"An... don’t go. Don’t go..." Her eyes pleaded.

"Pupils, let go!" Tong Tong’s voice cracked with panic and rage.

Pupils ignored her, arms locked tight around Qin An’s thigh.

Qin An’s stern gaze softened. He crouched, ruffling her hair. "Hey, kid. That’s not obedient."

"An... don’t go." Her voice trembled.

Tong Tong froze. Pupils suffered severe autism after her parents’ toxic fallout. She shunned everyone—even her father. Only Tong Tong and her grandparents got rare words from her. Top psychologists had failed; the childhood trauma ran too deep. Tong Tong’s regret was a constant ache.

Yet here Pupils clung to a stranger. Tong Tong studied Qin An anew—the boy from last night, the flustered teen from earlier merging into one.

She took a deep breath.

"I’m sorry."