Azure Excellence’s funeral was set for three days later—Sunday, February 28th.

Tan Lijiang and I attended as friends.

Not a single tear fell from my eyes throughout the ceremony.

Two days prior, Lan Zhuo’s mother had handed me a letter. On ghastly white paper, his handwriting spelled just seven words: *I’m gone. Don’t cry. Thank you.*

Tan Lijiang, however, wept uncontrollably beside me.

Though he and Lan Zhuo hadn’t been particularly close, they’d often shot hoops together after school or PE class, trading jokes and banter. At only fifteen, witnessing a peer’s death shook him to his core.

Petals fall where the wind takes them. As sunset painted the neighborhood gold, I returned home.

Father sat slumped on the sofa, face shadowed with worry, cigarette smoke curling around him. He stubbed it out the moment I entered.

He rarely smoked in front of me—past life or present. Mother had insisted before her hospitalization: *Never burden a child with your vices.* On this, he’d always compromised.

“Yi Yao…”

He called my name as I passed the sofa.

“What is it?”

I set my hat down and sat beside him.

That expression—I knew it well. Whenever something heavy weighed on him, his emotions bled through: unease, confusion, hesitation. He never hid them.

“You know about your mother’s illness. What are your plans for the future?”

He picked up an orange from the coffee table, avoiding my gaze, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“Future plans?”

A phrase I knew too well—every job interview demanded it. Top companies used it to dissect your character. Most just parroted the trend, but you still needed a polished answer.

“I want to finish high school. Then get into a good university.”

The expected reply for someone my age, I supposed.

“A university?”

His hand trembled, the orange nearly slipping. “What kind… do you want to attend?”

“Whichever one you choose for me.”

I knew it sounded like a fantasy for the “me” of this life. But I had the confidence to make it real.

“Yi Yao…” He sighed deeply. “Shouldn’t we be practical? Frankly, studying won’t give girls much future. If you spend a year or two at a vocational school now, they’ll assign you a job. You’d gain experience… help ease the family’s burden.”

His words chilled me.

*Here it comes… the diverging path.*

On February 28th in my memories, he’d never said this. That day, I’d stayed home doing homework until he dragged me to the shopping district. We’d even bought two new shirts.

“What do you mean?”

“The truth is,” he turned slowly under the dim lamp, eyes locking onto mine, “I’ve never believed university is right for girls. You’ll marry someday. And we’re nearly out of money… You understand, don’t you?”

*No money?*

When I was a boy in my past life, they’d funded me through graduation. Was money just an excuse? Was this really about my gender?

“I’ll cover my own tuition.”

I met his gaze firmly. “And I told you half a month ago: if I don’t rank first in the monthly exam, I’ll leave this house myself.”

“You… you’re serious?” The half-peeled orange tumbled from his shaking fingers.

“That was just my anger talking—”

“But I meant it.”

I nodded. “If it’s money you worry about, I’ll handle it. If it’s grades, the exam’s next Wednesday. I’ll prove it.”

“Sigh… We’ll see after the results.”

He waved me off dismissively. “Go eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

His mood was darker than usual.

Mother’s condition must have worsened.

Normally, he’d greet me with sarcasm. Only when helpless did he bare his vulnerability like this.

I stood to leave. He reached for a beer bottle.

“That’s bad for your liver,” I said.

“I know. Just tonight.”

His reply was automatic, the bottle cap already twisting open.

“Dad… tomorrow at the hospital, get your liver checked too? Please?”

I softened my voice—the girlish wheedle Yi Yao never used.

“Okay~?”

“Fine.”

He agreed surprisingly fast. “I’ll get checked tomorrow. To put your mind at ease.” He shot me a puzzled look. “Now eat. Go on.”

“Okay~”

*Was this a girl’s privilege?*

In my past life, he’d never listened. Stubborn as stone. I’d expected a fight to get him to see a doctor.

After dinner, I changed and headed to the dojo as usual.

Huang Yingdie and early arrivals were already training.

“Instructor!”

Huang Yingdie called out mid-kick—a first. She paused by the sandbag.

“How’s your injury?” I asked.

A new detail caught my eye: an *Island Wind* anime hairpin clipped in her hair.

“Fully healed.” She slammed the sandbag with a *thud*, wiping sweat from her brow. She turned her back. “Yi Yao.”

“Yeah?”

“Who told you… about Huang Qinghao inviting me to KTV?”

I shrugged. “I have friends in the Jiangnan Gang. They mentioned it. Why?”

Bright dojo lights stretched her shadow long across the floor.

She faced me. “After training… I need to talk.”

After weeks together, I understood Xiaodie.

Spoiled yet resilient. Like most girls her age, she dreamed of love and adventure—but her strict home life pushed her toward rebellious thrills. Easy prey for smooth talkers.

Yet she had grit. During grueling flexibility drills, while others wailed in pain, she’d bite her lip and endure.

*What is she fighting to protect?*

“Coach Zhai’s absent today. I’ll lead his class. You know my name?”

I signaled the rowdy kids to line up.

“Sure! Coach ‘Medicine’—Shangjing’s only female black-belt second dan!”

A boy shouted eagerly.

“No introductions needed. Attention!”

“Bow!”

“Courtesy! Integrity! Perseverance! Self-control!”

“Return! Warm-ups—begin!”

Leading a class alone was routine for Yi Yao.

Coach Zhai Fangning wasn’t just surnamed “Zhai”—he was a true *otaku*. Anime, games, figures—he devoured it all. His rumored online side hustle covered his hobbies.

Which meant he often dumped classes on me: *“Yi Yao, you can handle a dozen kids blindfolded. Way stronger than me. Be a pal? I’ll buy you bubble tea tomorrow.”*

…

9:30 PM. Training ended smoothly. My corporate management experience kept the kids in line. The dismissal whistle blew—and they collapsed like marathon runners.

“Alright. Say what you need to.”

I changed and approached Huang Yingdie, both of us damp with sweat.

She hesitated. “Huang Qinghao… wants a private KTV session this Friday afternoon.”

“Then go.” I kept my tone casual. “You said he’s not that kind of guy. What’s wrong with singing with your boyfriend?”

“I…” She stared at the floor. “Could you… tell my dad I’ll be home late Friday?”

“Sorry. Exams finish early that day. I’ll pick you up on time.” I turned away. “Talk to your father. Not me.”