The orphanage facilities were old, many items salvaged by the two elderly keepers from waste disposal sites.

Raising a group of children was no easy task, let alone when they themselves needed care in their old age.

Hu Ming deeply respected the elderly couple.

But he had no money on him now. His position was awkward—taking funds from the Khan Family would give Han Shuyi an opening to exploit.

He also needed time to transition.

Hu Ming stretched lazily and started walking toward the exit.

The children trailed behind him, clearly reluctant to see him leave.

The old director walked beside Hu Ming, his stooped figure a testament to time’s swift passage.

"Ah Ming, I know you’re no bad kid, but you must keep up with your studies. Not everyone will understand your nature. Prove yourself through capability—show them who you truly are."

Having nurtured countless children, the director recognized Hu Ming’s type—the kind rarely welcomed in school.

He’d hoped to steer Hu Ming onto the right path.

Tragically, the original Hu Ming had chosen a road to ruin.

Hu Ming felt pity for his predecessor. So many had wanted to help him, but clouded by emotion, he’d never seen it. Had he stayed calm and thought clearly, he might have understood.

At the gate, the children halted and waved goodbye.

Hu Ming promised to return soon.

Only then did they reluctantly turn back inside.

The setting sun signaled night’s approach.

The director’s wife handed Kangxin a bag of packed jiaozi, urging them to drive carefully.

Then—motorcycle engines roared in the distance.

Her body trembled slightly, fear flickering across her face.

She hurried to Kangxin, whispering urgently.

Kangxin’s eyes narrowed. She turned to Hu Ming.

"Young Master, it’s late. Time to head home."

"Oh. Right."

Hu Ming glanced at the sunset. Kangxin’s warning made sense.

Han Litian had also told him to return early for dinner—a family meeting to clear misunderstandings.

Hu Ming had anticipated this after Han Litian’s actions today. He hadn’t refused only because Han Shuyi was present.

But if acceptance were so simple, the original Hu Ming wouldn’t have died by Han Shuyi’s hand.

A faint, sardonic smile curled Hu Ming’s lips.

Meanwhile, the motorcycle roar grew louder. At least seven bikes approached the gate.

Kangxin reached to push Hu Ming into the car, but he stood firm.

He met her gaze. Though her face was calm, he caught the urgency in her eyes.

*Why rush me away?*

Hu Ming followed the sound. The motorcycles skidded to a halt at the entrance.

Riders yanked off helmets and swaggered forward.

One thug eyed Hu Ming’s luxury sedan, spitting curses.

"Holy shit, boss! This ride’s worth a fortune. Those old ghosts rolling in cash?"

The leader scanned the car, then Hu Ming and Kangxin, finally settling on the elderly couple.

He strode up to them, voice icy.

"Where’s the money? I said today."

"That bastard’s debts aren’t ours! Leave now, or I’ll call the police!" The director’s voice shook with fury. His wife clutched his arm, steadying him.

"Aren’t you his parents? If he can’t pay, you will."

The man’s tone was slow, but his eyes darted toward the orphanage.

Inside, lights glowed. Children’s laughter drifted out.

"AHHH!"

A scream cut through the air. The leader whirled around.

One thug knelt before Hu Ming, clutching a broken arm, howling in pain.

Hu Ming stood motionless in the sunset’s shadow, his face half-hidden.

He turned, peeled off his jacket to reveal glaring tattoos, and advanced toward the leader.

"Kid. What the hell are you doing?" The man’s voice was rough, his expression vicious.

Any ordinary student would’ve wet themselves.

Hu Ming held his ground, locking eyes.

"He tried to touch my person."

He pulled Kangxin behind him. The thug had clearly made a move on her.

Kangxin had wanted to stop him, to urge him to leave.

She knew Hu Ming would charge in blindly if he learned of this.

That’s why she’d hidden it.

Too late now. He’d never listen.

And she was right—he wouldn’t.

Had she concealed this and consequences followed, his anger would’ve been terrifying.

The leader stared at Hu Ming, silent for a beat.

"This doesn’t concern you. Walk away."

"That man owes you. Why hunt two unarmed elders? Do you really think they have spare cash?"

"I don’t care if they have extra cash. Their son said they’re rich. So I collect from them."

The man stepped toward the orphanage gate.

The elderly couple blocked his path.

"You can’t enter!"

"Get lost!"

A thug shoved the director aside. The force sent both elders crashing to the ground.

Whistles and jeers erupted. The thugs swaggered like robbers invading a home.

The scene burned under the dying sun.

The director watched helplessly, shouting weakly to stop them.

His cries were futile.

The leader reached the wooden door, hand on the knob—

A sharp *crunch* shattered the noise.

Every head turned.

Hu Ming stood atop a motorcycle, one foot planted firmly on its seat.

Hands in pockets. Eyes glacial.

"Now," he said, voice cutting the dusk, "does this concern me?"