Samuel Turner couldn't even be bothered to respond to her. He ignored her completely as he slowly poured out the freshly blended watermelon juice and said, "If you’re bored with nothing to do, find a few friends and go on a trip. Go as far as Xinjiang, Kashgar, or Mohe—anywhere. The world is so big, don’t spend every day making things hard for your dad."

After Ethan Turner's mother passed away, Samuel Turner's life and career both went downhill. For a while, he almost lost his job, but he still liked to put on a brave face and told Ethan Turner, "I’m rich, you can travel the world." Ethan Turner couldn’t be bothered to expose his bluff.

After lunch, Samuel Turner reminded Ethan Turner not to forget to help grandma take a bath today, then hurried off to work, leaving Ethan Turner and the old lady staring at each other across the dining table.

"I'm not bathing."

As she cleared the dishes, Ethan Turner said firmly, "That’s not up to you."

Grandma had always had a bad temper, and when it came to bathing, she was like a stick of dynamite—one spark and she’d explode. "I said I’m not bathing! If you dare try to bathe me, I’ll call the police and say you’re trying to drown me."

Without even turning her head, Ethan Turner replied, "If you have the energy for that, you might as well go take your clothes off now."

In the end, the old lady didn’t call the police. She turned the bathroom heater up to the max, making the bathroom feel like a sauna, and spent the whole afternoon cursing at Ethan Turner—

"This whole family is cursed, cursed!"

"Your dad’s useless! You’re useless too! You’re nothing like your mom!"

Ever since Ms. Lin Qiudie passed away, the old lady couldn’t even be bothered to keep up the most basic decency. If she was angry, she’d curse; if she was unhappy, she’d hit. Even so, Samuel Turner couldn’t bear to leave her alone in their hometown and decided to bring her to live with them.

Ethan Turner was used to it. She calmly tested the water temperature while warning the old lady with a flat expression, "You can curse at me, but don’t curse at my dad."

Grandma: "Your dad, your dad—heartless little brat, you don’t even know, when your mom was pregnant with you, your dad didn’t even want you—"

Bang! Ethan Turner slammed the door shut without a word, her chest heaving violently. She tried to steady her breathing, as if the river was flooding, the rainwater in her chest about to drown her, leaving her only a brief gasp between storms.

--------------------

Author’s note:

Emily Carter: Let me tell you a big secret—the star chart says your future boyfriend is going to be a super hard-to-handle but really awesome guy. So, what do you think? Doesn’t that sound cool? Aren’t you looking forward to the future?

Ethan Turner: Sounds exhausting. Please tell him not to show up, thanks.

————————

Long time no see～

Aloof jerk & cool girl.

Let’s meet every night at seven from now on. To celebrate the new story, I’m giving out two hundred red envelopes. Thank you, everyone.

Chapter 2: Tube Building · Ice Beer

That noon, Samuel Turner was eating in the cafeteria. There weren’t any new dishes, and some were just leftovers. He happened to run into Emily Carter's dad. Old Carter used to be the head of neurosurgery. Though he was also a bit of a loner, his career was going well—he’d just been promoted to vice president. With a spring in his step, he carried his Hello Kitty lunchbox and sat down next to Samuel Turner. "Hey, Old Turner, you didn’t go home either?"

Samuel Turner kept his head down, eating, but noticed a shadow fall over him. Instinctively, he glanced at the chicken leg he’d marinated yesterday and quietly pulled his tray closer.

"Come on, don’t look down on me. Who doesn’t have one of those?" Dean Carter said grandly as he opened his lunchbox.

Samuel Turner glanced over silently. Turns out, he really didn’t have one.

Dean Carter quietly picked up his chopsticks and changed the subject. "I heard from Emily that Ethan Turner did pretty well on her exams this time—over 700 points."

Emily Carter loved to exaggerate even more than the cafeteria cooks. Samuel Turner kept eating. "Not that high."

He knew that Samuel Turner had been keeping a low profile these past few years, almost wishing people would forget he existed. The painful lessons from years ago had made him start to believe the old lady’s superstitious saying: you were too smooth, too high-profile, even the heavens got jealous, and that’s why Qiudie got into trouble.

"I know your old lady is superstitious, but you’re an educated man," Old Carter said, scraping the edge of his lunchbox with his chopsticks. "You should still celebrate."

"I never said I wouldn’t celebrate," Samuel Turner looked up and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Let’s wait until the official results come out. How about your Em?"

"Don’t even mention it," Dean Carter sighed and lowered his head to eat. "Her performance was as steady as my blood pressure—not a single point more. She doesn’t want to repeat a year, so I guess she’ll just go to a vocational college."

Samuel Turner, feeling sorry, picked up his chicken leg and offered it. "Here, have this."

Old Carter pushed it back. Samuel Turner thought he didn’t want it and was about to say, don’t be polite, your Em really isn’t easy to handle.

But then Dean Carter dipped his chopsticks in the sauce on Samuel Turner's plate, took a big bite without hesitation, and said with satisfaction, "Thanks, your sauce is delicious. Next time I’ll have Em come over and scoop some more."

Samuel Turner: "…"

"But there’s something," Old Carter said, gnawing on the chicken leg, suddenly remembering, "I need to remind you—has your Ethan Turner started dating someone?"

Samuel Turner suddenly put down his chopsticks. "Who told you that?"