Early morning, Qi Yan settled his sister before stepping out. He waved to neighbor kids heading to school, then rushed to the repair shop.

After days of living nearby, though no deep chats or home visits happened, Qi Yan had gathered some personal details.

For instance, that elementary kid lost in chuunibyou fantasies was Luo Zailiang. His cousin Luo Yongyue was only a month and a half younger. Both attended third grade at DongSui Town Central Elementary School.

Qi Yan coaxed this from Zailiang. By doodling a fierce Black Flame Dragon in the sand outside, he instantly captured the boy’s chuunibyou spirit. Zailiang now called him "Big Brother" nonstop, following Qi Yan’s lead.

Their parents visited only during Chinese New Year. By the fifth day, they’d rush back to big-city jobs, leaving tuition and living costs. True left-behind children.

Their grandfather handled daily care. While the kids were at school, he’d collect recyclables like plastic bottles and cans, selling them for spare change to stretch their budget.

As for the older sister in Room 103, Qi Yan hadn’t spoken to her yet. No chance, plus she radiated an icy aura—practically wore "keep out" on her face.

The repair shop had no strict hours or clock-ins. Still, Qi Yan rose early to help Uncle Zheng open up.

But today, the air felt tense.

Before Qi Yan reached the door, shouts erupted from Uncle Zheng’s house.

"Dad, school needs review materials. A hundred bucks for Chinese, Math, and English."

"You little brat! Only home when your cash runs out? Think I’m senile? Or too weak to swing a stick? Scamming me? Review materials? Have you even cracked a book?"

"Whatever I do, you distrust me. I doubt I’m your son. Only Mom was my real parent."

"You punk! Stole your mom’s jewelry again to sell? Hand it over!"

"Mind your own business, old man! That was Mom’s gift to me, not yours."

"Stop right there! I’ll beat you senseless today—"

A youth with yellowish-brown hair stormed out of the yard, nearly colliding with Qi Yan. Qi Yan dodged just in time, brushing past him.

The youth shot Qi Yan a vicious glare. Qi Yan fell silent instantly, taking a small step back.

So this was Uncle Zheng’s delinquent son? That fierce look definitely inherited Zheng’s genes.

Uncle Zheng chased out, halting when he saw Qi Yan. Panting, he said, "Huff... ah, Xiao Yan, you’re here... Sorry you saw that. That good-for-nothing kid’s getting worse."

"When his mom lived, he was well-behaved. After she passed, I lost my drive. Fixed cars by day, got drunk by night. Barely raised him. Don’t know when he started hanging with street thugs. He stole, got caught red-handed, dragged to me. In this town, scandals spread fast. Furious, I beat him badly." Uncle Zheng chuckled bitterly.

"Later, he kept causing trouble—brawls, disrespecting teachers. Everything a student shouldn’t do. I scolded and hit him, but he worsened. Realized my parenting was wrong, but too late. As you see, we’re at each other’s throats. Forget that ungrateful son. Let’s open the shop. Life goes on; cars need fixing."

"Mm, ah..."

Every family has its struggles. Behind Uncle Zheng’s cheerful exterior lay hidden hardships.

Qi Yan didn’t pry. Zheng sharing this showed trust. He’d seen too much "family shame stays hidden" at his grandma’s house.

Today’s mood was heavy. Uncle Zheng wasn’t chatty. He buried himself in work, finishing cars meant for tomorrow in one day.

At noon, Qi Yan went home for lunch. Returning, he found Uncle Zheng still under a car—likely skipping his meal.

Qi Yan was grateful for this job. He disliked free kindness. He needed to repay debts to face others squarely.

Bridging that father-son gap wasn’t an outsider’s quick fix. He’d need a long-term plan. Ask Uncle Lin later.

Helping a rebellious teen reform, mending a broken family—Qi Yan suddenly felt like a shonen manga teacher.

But first: buy pudding for his sister. She was a pudding fanatic. Why she loved it, Qi Yan couldn’t recall. Only that before her accident, no pudding meant she’d go crazy.

Now, her craving lessened. She even said she could skip it. But Qi Yan insisted on one daily. If he couldn’t provide her favorite sweet, what kind of brother was he?

Supermarket pudding had flaws: mediocre taste, too many additives. Nothing like Mom’s homemade. But Qi Yan’s cooking skills weren’t pudding-ready yet.

"Uncle Zheng, I’m heading home."

"Mm, take care..."

Uncle Zheng’s voice lacked its usual vigor, hoarse and weary.

Qi Yan had been in DongSui Town over ten days. He knew the streets around his rental well. Getting lost was impossible now.

Still, he owed thanks to that masked girl. Without her, he wouldn’t have met Uncle Lin or gotten this job. Meeting her felt like a life turning point. Yet the name Qin Lin was utterly unfamiliar.

Qi Yan’s shift ended when schools let out. Walking to the supermarket, he saw uniformed students hunting snacks or rushing home before evening study.

Two uniform styles existed. One plain: boys in white shirts, girls in sailor suits—DongSui Public Middle School’s uniform. Founded decades ago, around seventy or eighty years.

The other fancy: blazers, leather shoes, oozing aristocratic vibes—DongSui Private Academy’s uniform. Rumor said the principal was a coal tycoon who made a fortune and now invested in education for prestige.

Lost in thought, Qi Yan reached Yi Maisheng Supermarket. This large store was converted from an old cinema. Plans for a new one seemed stuck as a draft proposal.

"Pudding, pudding..."

Qi Yan grabbed a basket, picking various pudding flavors. His gaze drifted to the women’s underwear section downstairs.

Should he buy a bra for his sister? The thought lingered stubbornly.

After her growth spurt, her cup size was around B. That’s why all her camisoles were too small. Buying by size shouldn’t go wrong.

She only had one bra. Visually awkward and inconvenient for outings.

Qi Yan could never muster courage at specialty stores. But a supermarket... maybe.

He glanced around like a thief, checking salesclerks’ positions. They were scattered, not paying much attention.

"Perfect."

Just as Qi Yan nervously stepped onto the down escalator, a pair of cool, smooth hands suddenly covered his eyes, plunging his vision into darkness.

"Guess who I am? Senpai..."