The father and son quickly and tacitly retreated from the living room. Alan Carter, expressionless, slipped into his own room before the housekeeper appeared, leaned against the white wooden door, and slowly slid down to sit.

A father's love is conditional, too.

This beautiful house, that successful father, the identity of the young master of The Carter Family—from the very beginning, Alan Carter never had a chance to naturally get close to or fall in love with any of it. And now, he finally understood that, in fact, they didn’t love him either.

If not for this face marked by the word “bloodline.”

On that Saturday, the driver dropped Alan Carter off at the entrance of the Children’s Palace. Before getting out, Alan Carter smiled and said to Uncle Lewis, “We have a long rehearsal this afternoon, not like the usual forty minutes. Uncle Lewis, you can go home first. When we’re done, I’ll call you, and you can come pick me up, okay?”

Hiding behind the gate, watching the car disappear around the corner, Alan Carter put on his hat, pushed open the heavy iron door of the Children’s Palace, and stepped back into the snow.

He waved down a taxi, got in, and with a voice hoarse from puberty said, “Uncle, please go to Nongcheng Road, the side near the Railway Bureau Cultural Palace.”

His grandparents lived in an old apartment, with a shared kitchen on the first floor. The toilet was also a shared outhouse outside the building—reeking in summer, especially inconvenient in winter. It was common to hear about some kid almost falling in after slipping on the frozen steps.

Every time Alan Carter visited his grandparents, he would hold it in as much as he could, never daring to use the toilet. He’d lost count of how many times he wanted to sleep over, only to give up at the thought of that rickety public toilet—of course, even if he wanted to stay, his father and grandmother would never agree.

Uncle Lewis, waiting in the car outside the courtyard, didn’t even need to turn off the engine. Alan Carter could only stay a short while each time, so whenever he visited, he made sure to keep his spirits high, telling stories about all the good things that happened to him that week—always good things, things that would make them especially proud and happy. When saying goodbye, he would always use the liveliest tone to say, “I’ll come again next week, I have to go home and practice piano, and I have class this afternoon. Don’t see me off, be careful, I’ll be back soon!”

Alan Carter had always been mature for his age, but that bright smile and sweet voice made him shiver the moment the wooden door closed, and then feel a little sad.

This way, none of them had to face the awkwardness of these prison-like visits, and he didn’t have to worry about whether, by the next week, the two old people would look even older.

He was growing taller, his child’s voice fading, his father’s features gradually emerging.

And they, little by little, were dying.

Carrying his violin, Alan Carter looked up at the quiet red-brick house in the snow. On the third-floor balcony, his grandparents still hung a bag of frozen tofu and persimmons. Every time he visited, his grandmother would bring a persimmon inside to thaw in advance, so that when he arrived, he could scoop it out with a little spoon—sweet and astringent, a taste he could never find in his father’s big house, not even in Alan Carter番外.

He looked up at the leaden sky. The snowflakes came from nowhere, growing huge in the blink of an eye, swirling gently down, slowly covering Alan Carter’s handsome brows and eyes.

As soon as he stepped onto the first floor, he heard the third-floor wooden door creak open—he knew his grandparents must have been waiting a long, long time. How focused must two hard-of-hearing old people be to catch the very first sound of his footsteps in the stairwell?

“Is that An’an?”

The aged voice sounded overhead. Alan Carter summoned all the childlike energy in his body and put on a lively, happy smile. “Yes, I’m here!”

But Alan Carter really wasn’t good at lying to his grandfather. When reporting on his week, he accidentally let slip about extra violin lessons. His grandmother, who was cutting up a persimmon for him, quickly stood up when she heard, “That won’t do, learning violin is important. You’ll have plenty of time to see us later, come back after the competition!”

Grandfather became stern, insisting on taking him to the Children’s Palace for his lesson. Alan Carter reluctantly put on his coat, and when he looked down for his violin, he found it already slung over his grandfather’s back.

“I can do it myself.”

“The road is slippery outside. What if you fall? Let Grandpa carry it.”

Alan Carter stared at his grandfather, hunched over putting on his shoes, wanting to say something, but suddenly felt choked up.

No one gave up their seat on the bus. Alan Carter was squeezed between two tall men, nearly suffocating, but still had to stand on tiptoe to keep an eye on his grandfather. Grandfather cradled the violin like a treasure, his other hand barely gripping the cold handrail, swaying with every start and stop.

“You know, it’d be so much better to just take your own car to class, all warm and comfortable. But you insist on going through all this trouble, suffering with me,”

After getting off, grandfather held his hand tightly. “Watch your step, the snow hasn’t been cleared, and with all the cars driving over it, it’s turned to ice. It’s slippery, don’t fall.”

But as they stepped off the curb, Alan Carter was bumped by a man rushing past and fell backward. In a panic, grandfather grabbed the side mirror of a nearby taxi, and only with difficulty did they both regain their balance.

“Hey, hey, are you blind? Where do you think you’re putting your hand? Is that something you can just touch?”

The taxi driver had already rolled down his window, shouting with a pale face. He fussed over his side mirror, opening and closing it a few times, then glared again. “You bent the joint! What are you going to do about it? You used so much force—this thing is expensive, you think it can take that?”

Grandfather was flustered. He instinctively reached out to check the mirror, but his hand was slapped away.

“What are you doing? I said you broke it, and you’re still touching it? Enough already! Just pay up, stop talking.”

Alan Carter’s face turned red. “What nonsense! That side mirror is supposed to fold in, what’s broken about it? You’re just trying to scam us, that’s too much!”

The driver’s face twitched with anger. He got out, pointed at Alan Carter’s nose, and yelled, “You little brat, say one more word and I’ll fold you up! See if I dare!”

Grandfather quickly shielded Alan Carter behind him, breathing hard, maybe from anger. “Don’t make things hard for the child. How much do you want? I’ll pay you.”

The driver looked impatient. “I’m not trying to make trouble. Just give me yuan. I’ll take the loss and pay the rest to fix it myself.”

Alan Carter was furious. That beat-up old Xiali, and he wanted to scam them for yuan over a side mirror. All the blood rushed to his face, and he almost blurted out, “You son of a bitch!” He’d often heard classmates say it, but never had he felt so tempted.

Unexpectedly, grandfather gently pulled open his collar, revealing a worn, reddish-brown sweater, and said calmly, “Sir, I don’t look like a rich man, do I? I don’t have that much for you to scam. If I weren’t in a hurry to take my grandson to class, I’d go with you to the police station and let them see if this mirror is really broken and if it’s worth yuan, hmm?”

Both the driver and Alan Carter were stunned.

Alan Carter番外 Alan Carter lowered his head, snowflakes falling one by one onto his suede shoes, quickly covering them as if silently burying him.

In the end, grandfather took out 50 yuan. The driver cursed as he got back in his seat. Alan Carter was led across the street by his grandfather. Looking up, the white dome of the Children’s Palace was right in front of him.

Grandfather took the violin from his shoulder, hung it on Alan Carter’s, and brushed the snow off his shoulder and hat.

“I know you think Grandpa is weak. I’m just afraid you’ll get hurt, and it’s not worth it to argue with people like that. I’ve always said, if you just sat in your own car, you wouldn’t have to go through all this. To live with backbone, you need to have a foundation. Your grandma and I, we don’t have that. We raised a daughter who doesn’t listen to us, and now things are like this, we’ve accepted it.

An’an, no more lying from now on. Study your violin, study hard, don’t end up like me, and don’t be like your mom, so...

So willful, okay?”

Alan Carter said nothing. He felt tears welling up, so he blinked hard, scattering them so they wouldn’t fall.

“Grandpa thinks you’re already a big kid, that’s why I’m telling you this. If I don’t say it now, I’m afraid I won’t get another chance.”