07

The tulips she received on Mother’s Day sat in a vase with fresh water changed daily. It took quite a few days before they finally began to wilt.

Though receiving flowers on Mother’s Day was a path Zhang Qinghe had never imagined, it was, in fact, the first time in her life she had ever received flowers as a gift.

Every night when she came home, her eyes would inevitably drift toward those soft pink tulips.

They were her favorite flower—because back when her parents were still alive, there had been a patch of tulips in the yard. Every spring, her mother would move a chair outside to admire them.

She would sit at her mother’s feet, tugging at the hem of her skirt, pressing her face close to the swaying pink blossoms, letting their delicate petals brush against her cheeks, carefree and content.

A tug at her pants brought her back to the present.

“Mommy, look at the flower I drew! Isn’t it pretty?” Qian beamed up at her, holding a sketchbook up to her knees.

Zhang Qinghe took the book and studied it seriously for a moment before commenting, “It’s really well done.”

She had drawn pink tulips. The colors were lovely, instantly pulling Zhang Qinghe back to fragments of her childhood.

“Do you like it, Mommy? It’s for you!”

There was a pure, affectionate light in the child’s eyes—so sincere that even someone like Zhang Qinghe found it hard to resist.

Every day, she found herself accepting Qian a little more in her heart.

Qian strolled into Zai Ye’s classroom again, swinging a bag full of snacks.

Their class was never exactly quiet during lessons, and it got even noisier between periods. When Zai Ye saw Qian return with snacks, he immediately tossed aside his phone.

“Bribing your mom again? Went to scam snacks off her?”

He pulled her over and poked her belly, trying to estimate how much she’d eaten this time.

This little rascal of a daughter had magic that worked only half the time, yet she insisted that her magic made her immune to stomachaches no matter how much she ate.

Zai Ye didn’t buy it. He constantly reminded her not to eat anything unless it came from Mom or Dad, and never to pick up random stuff outside and eat it.

“So, how’d you trick your mom today?”

“I drew her a picture.”

“Again with that trick?” Zai Ye scoffed.

Old trick or not, if it worked, it worked.

Not to mention Vice President Zhang—even Zai Ye himself had a thick folder full of drawings the kid had given him.

The only reason he was acting so salty was pure jealousy.

He’d once tried drawing something for Vice President Zhang too, just like Qian. But she hadn’t been touched in the slightest. Instead, she asked if it was something he made back in kindergarten.

The most painful part? She genuinely thought so.

While the mother-daughter bond was growing stronger by the day, Zai Ye felt like his relationship with Vice President Zhang was being put to the test.

Every time he saw Zhang Qinghe, he felt like he was just the bonus gift that came with their daughter.

Still, he prided himself on being the only mature adult in this little family of three. Whether it was his daughter or his wife, he had to be the one to accommodate them.

So whether Zhang Qinghe refused to have lunch with him or turned down a movie date, Zai Ye acted like he didn’t care in the slightest.

At least when he sent her red envelopes, she didn’t refuse.

His phone pinged with a new message.

It was from Zhang Qinghe—a detailed list of the snacks Qian had gotten this time, along with the remaining balance from the last red envelope.

Zai Ye sent another red envelope back without hesitation, then grabbed his daughter, who was sucking on a lollipop, and gave her a good squish.

“This is so unfair. I send her red envelopes, and she goes and buys stuff for you. Why doesn’t she ever buy anything for me?”

As he grumbled, he fished a lollipop out of Qian’s pocket and popped it into his mouth.

Fine. He’d count that as her buying something for him too.

Their school held monthly exams, and after each one, they’d post red and black lists—nicknamed the “Execution Board” by the students.

The red list featured the top 100 students in the grade. The black list? The bottom 100.

As expected, Zhang Qinghe’s name was right at the top of the red list for the second-year students.

Her gaze drifted from her own name to the black list for the third-years—and there was Zai Ye’s name, clear as day.

Back in high school, Zai Ye had never been one for studying. Due to family issues, he’d gone full rebellious teen, wallowing in angst and melodrama.

Now, after more than a decade as a company boss, he’d long forgotten everything from high school. Scoring badly was only natural.

Her deskmate Jiemei looked at the list with her, shaking her head in mock admiration. “Zai Ye might be a terrible student, but damn, he’s good-looking!”

Zai Ye was leaning against the window, playing games on his phone—doing “market research” on the current gaming scene—when a new message popped up.

It was from Vice President Zhang: another cold, matter-of-fact expense notification, listing what she’d bought with the red envelope he’d sent.

Just then, Qian came bouncing back. Zai Ye took the chance to ask her quietly, “What did you get your mom to buy this time?”

Qian shook her head. “Mommy didn’t buy me anything.”

The next day, Zai Ye found out what the deduction had been for—because Qian brought him a plastic bag from Zhang Qinghe.

“Mommy bought you a present.”

Zai Ye was surprised, but his hands moved on their own, taking the bag and pulling out the contents.

Good news: Vice President Zhang had finally bought him something.

Bad news: It was a study guide.

A high school freshman’s study guide, no less.

After a long silence, Zai Ye said, “Not bad. At least she’s thoughtful enough to know I’ve forgotten all the senior-year stuff and went straight for the freshman level.”

On Sunday morning, the door to Zhang Qinghe’s home was knocked on once again.

Sure enough, it was Zai Ye and Qian, father and daughter.

When she opened the door, Zai Ye was holding another bouquet of pink tulips.

Zhang Qinghe: “…Is it Mother’s Day again?”

Zai Ye: “This time it’s from me. You like them, don’t you?”

Because she liked them, their wedding had been decorated entirely with pink tulips.

Having figured out her preference through careful observation, Boss Zai was quite proud of himself. Over the years, whenever there was a holiday or something worth celebrating, he’d always bring her pink tulips.

By the end, Vice President Zhang was practically at a loss for words.

As soon as the door opened, Qian slipped inside like a cat, and Zhang Qinghe couldn’t exactly leave Zai Ye standing outside alone.

She sighed and stepped aside. “I didn’t make Zhajiangmian today. Just dumplings.”

“Yes! I want dumplings too!” Qian bounced on the couch.

Zai Ye stepped inside, carrying a backpack this time. He pulled out a brand-new study guide and held it up in front of Zhang Qinghe.

“Look, the study guide you bought me. See?”

Zhang Qinghe: “I see it.”

Was he here to accuse her of mocking him?

Zai Ye said, “I don’t know how to do any of it. You tutor me—I’ll pay you. Top market rate. Deal?”

He hadn’t done a single assignment from any of the teachers, but since Vice President Zhang had gone out of her way to buy him something, he figured he should at least make an effort.

Zhang Qinghe didn’t refuse. “Sure. The price doesn’t have to be the highest—just the same as what I charge my other student.”

As she said this, she noticed Senior Zai Ye slap his workbook shut on the sofa, a smug little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Smug about what? Why did he have that “I knew you’d give in” look on his face?

Zhang Qinghe turned her head away, at a loss for words.

It wasn’t until the tutoring session actually began that Zhang Qinghe realized—this guy had only brought a workbook. No textbook, no scratch paper, not even a pen.

Unbelievable.

“So if you didn’t pack any books in your bag, what *did* you bring?” Zhang Qinghe asked.

Zai Ye pulled out two packs of yogurt, Qian’s sketchbook and colored pens, a bunch of snacks, her little towel, and her water bottle.

Zhang Qinghe: “…”

She went to her room to grab pens and the necessary textbooks herself before the lesson could officially start.

First up: an assessment.

An hour later, Zhang Qinghe looked at Zai Ye, who didn’t seem to know the answer to *anything*, and let out two words.

“Pay more.”

Zai Ye tried to salvage his dignity. “It’s not like I forgot *everything*. Some of it looks familiar.”

Zhang Qinghe cast a worried glance at Qian, who was humming a tune nearby. “How are her grades?”

Zai Ye replied, “Qian? Grades aren’t really the issue. The real issue is that our homeroom teacher keeps calling us in for ‘chats’ at school.”

His daughter had been misusing magic—and cultivating right in the middle of school—which had caused no end of trouble for the science-believing faculty.

To those who didn’t know the full story, she was just a weird, problematic kid.

Zhang Qinghe pressed a hand to her forehead.

With a heavy heart full of concern for the child’s future, even the dumplings she cooked at noon didn’t taste as good anymore.

Across from her, the father and daughter duo were eating like it was a competition, savoring every bite. Zai Ye popped one dumpling after another into his mouth, and Qian wasn’t far behind.

By the time their bowls were nearly empty, Zhang Qinghe still had over half her dumplings left.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Zhang Qinghe asked as she walked over.

“Hehe, it’s me. I forgot my keys. Open up.”

It was her brother, who was supposed to be on a business trip overseas.

Zhang Qinghe’s hand was already on the doorknob when she heard his voice—and froze.

“Quick, to my room!” She spun around, grabbed Zai Ye and Qian, and shoved them into her bedroom.

Zai Ye was still holding his bowl when she snatched it away, tossed it into the sink along with Qian’s little bowl.

“Coming, just a sec!” she shouted, dashing back to the living room. She spotted Zai Ye’s backpack on the sofa, grabbed it, and flung it into the room as well.

Only after a quick scan confirmed there was nothing suspicious left out did she finally rush to open the door.

Outside stood Zhang Xihuan, dragging a suitcase and carrying a laptop bag. He looked a bit tired, but smiled at her and said, “What were you doing? Took you long enough to open the door.”