Chang’an felt a bit awkward and innocent. Behind him, Xiaoxian stood with arms crossed, cheeks puffed in a pout—though worry outweighed resentment.
“Stupid Brother… You promised you wouldn’t leave me. Do you know how I felt waking up to find you gone…”
Xiaoxian didn’t finish. She was strong-willed, yet lately kept showing vulnerability before her brother.
Chang’an lowered his head, voice soft with concern.
“Sorry. I just needed a walk…”
He was emotionally perceptive too—aware he’d acted thoughtlessly, overlooking Xiaoxian’s emotional whiplash: from the joy of regaining him to the dread of losing him again.
*If Xiaoxian vanished for five years…*
*If she returned after half a decade…*
He’d cling to her without pause. Not out of “sister complex,” but pure fear of losing a beloved family member again.
Xiaoxian sniffled slightly. Her emotional control was excellent—she refused to burden him with guilt.
She stepped forward, tugged Chang’an’s sleeve, and led him toward Chang’an Noble Girls’ Academy’s gate.
“Come on. I’m not mad. I’ll show you around.”
The guard bowed deeply, stepping aside without a word.
*He wasn’t stupid.*
Who was Ye Xiaoxian? School chairperson. She decided the principal’s appointment. His boss’s boss’s boss…
Truth was, she’d bought this private school four years ago and renamed it.
From Xiaoxian’s dialogue with the fair-skinned youth, his status was clearly extraordinary—possibly Ye Clan.
After all, she called him “Brother.”
Speculation arose: could he be *that* Young Master Chang’an—the school’s namesake, Ye Xiaoxian’s brother, Ye Chang’an, the Ye Clan patriarch who vanished five years ago? Even the Chang’an Foundation bore his name.
But the guard dismissed it. Most believed Ye Chang’an had “disappeared” long ago—suicide the leading theory, murder a fringe rumor. No known enemies. A living Ye Chang’an was worth far more; ransom demands would start with ten zeros.
*Probably just a cousin—maternal, paternal…* Large clans were tangled webs. He dared not linger or block them.
Class was in session. Few girls roamed outside, though the sports field might hold energetic teens in “school swimsuits” for PE.
Xiaoxian pinched Ye Chang’an’s palm—*again* lost in daydreams, gaze drifting far from her.
Chang’an winced, then tightened his grip around her small hand.
“…” Xiaoxian’s face flushed crimson instantly.
Chang’an saw nothing odd. Siblings holding hands? Natural. She was so petite—he’d fear losing her while walking.
Perhaps only Chang’an still saw Ye Xiaoxian as a child. Outside, her reputation roared.
As *Toradora!* might say, in family affairs, boardrooms, and deals, she earned the title “palm-sized tiger.” Underestimate her? Costly mistake.
Here, she held absolute authority—over 50% shares meant total control.
A suited, receding-hairline man spotted Xiaoxian and hurried over with an ingratiating smile.
Then he froze: the chairperson’s hand held by a young man. He studied Ye Chang’an—*familiar face?*
He shook his head. *Impossible.*
Xiaoxian frowned slightly. A glance. The man instantly “forgot” her, stepping aside flawlessly. *Perfect comprehension.* She wanted no interruptions.
“Who is he?” Chang’an asked.
“The vice principal,” Xiaoxian said lightly. *Maybe principal someday? So considerate.*
After all, it rested on her whim.
“Wow… so impressive…” Chang’an murmured.
“…” Xiaoxian gave a wry smile. *His naive awe was oddly endearing.*
No wonder the family called him: *the patriarch least skilled with wealth and power… yet the most deeply missed.*
