Henry Brooks's eyes darted around. The corner of a math book at the bottom was curled up, covered in dust and dirt. He picked up the book, walked over to the first desk by the window, and tossed it onto Charles Page's desk.

A faint cloud of dust rose from the textbook, and the curled corner was especially noticeable.

Charles Page showed no expression as he picked up the dirtiest textbook to write his name. He held the pencil with perfect posture and wrote on the first page: "Preschool Class One Charles Page." Charles Page turned his head, and the little girl was staring at him.

Her hair bun was half undone, making her look a bit silly and cute, though she didn't realize it herself. The ribbon hung down, and she sat so close, carrying a faint, incredible scent of milk. She was so small, her eyes clear and pure.

When she saw him looking at her, she gave him a bright, delightful smile.

Henry Brooks made another trip delivering textbooks. He rolled his eyes dramatically and handed Emma Bennett a brand new, clean textbook. Emma Bennett said, "Thank you, Henry Brooks."

Henry Brooks snorted and moved on to the next person.

Although Henry Brooks disliked Charles Page, he didn't take it out on Emma Bennett. But if Emma Bennett kept playing with the little mute boy, who knew what might happen!

Emma Bennett opened her new book, first curiously flipping through the contents and the pretty pictures, then carefully wrote her name.

Charles Page kept his eyes straight ahead, not caring whether the little girl could write her name or what she wrote at all.

Ever since the books were handed out, the class had been in chaos, the children chattering away. Chloe Evans wasn't in a hurry; with years of teaching experience, she knew how to manage this group of kids. She first gave them time to get to know the students in front and behind them, and the classroom instantly became lively.

Emma Bennett's clothes were poked with a pencil tip. She turned around to see a very skinny little girl grinning widely: "My name is Helen Neal, what's yours?"

"My name is Emma Bennett."

Helen Neal sneaked a glance at Charles Page in the front row but didn't dare say anything.

Helen Neal's deskmate also leaned over to talk. He was a little boy with somewhat long hair and a few freckles on his face: "My name is George Goodwin, I'm five years old."

No one called out to Charles Page, but he didn't mind. He kept his eyes down, quietly flipping through his book.

After making new friends, Emma Bennett looked back at him again. For some reason, Charles Page no longer felt as calm as before; he even had a sudden urge to mess up her little hair bun and was annoyed that she kept looking at him.

Charles Page took a deep breath and turned the pages of his book with a blank face.

Preschool was different from kindergarten; school didn't end until eleven o'clock. A group of kids who had just come from kindergarten were already craning their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of their parents.

Chloe Evans smiled and said, "Your parents won't come to the classroom door to pick you up. The teacher will take you to the school gate to line up. Starting with the first big group, stand in line nicely, and then you can go see your parents and grandparents!"

All the other kids left this way, except for Charles Page—because of his special condition, Brian Page rode his motorcycle into the school.

Brian Page picked up his son, and as they passed the vehicle lane at the school gate, he spotted little Emma Bennett obediently standing at the front of the line.

Because she was so young, she was a short little dumpling.

Her round little face and messy hair bun stood out.

Brian Page couldn't help but smile. "Yaoyao is in preschool now too, and in your class, Xiao Chuan. Let's give her a ride home since it's on our way." Emma Bennett's family didn't have a car, and the road was a bit far. Seeing such a little one walk home alone, even Brian Page felt a bit sorry for her.

Charles Page still felt a lingering, nameless anger from the classroom.

He said calmly, "Dad, let's go. What if her mom is already here to pick her up and can't find her? She'll be worried."

Brian Page thought about it and agreed with his son. So he rode the motorcycle forward.

Charles Page's little face was calm as he glanced diagonally behind him.

At the very front of the crowd, the little girl with big, clear eyes looked at the father and son riding by on the motorcycle in surprise. She recognized Uncle Pei's bike. Emma Bennett curved her big eyes and waved her hand joyfully and energetically—Charles Page, goodbye!

Charles Page withdrew his gaze and pressed his lips together.

～

Ever since Susan Clark found out that Emma Bennett had gone to preschool, she hadn't been feeling well.

In front of the sewing machine at the garment factory, the machine clattered rhythmically. Susan Clark chatted idly with Lillian Clark: "Your Yaoyao is only four years old. Sending her to preschool so young—what if she can't keep up?"

Lillian Clark was bubbling with pride inside, but after so many years with Susan Clark, she knew she had to keep up appearances. Her hands kept working the sewing machine as she replied, "Yaoyao has a bit of a knack for studying. She can already do arithmetic problems. She asked to go to preschool herself."

The sewing machine next to her paused, and Susan Clark almost pricked her hand with the needle.

Susan Clark gritted her teeth, feeling upset. Grace Ford was more than half a month older than Emma Bennett, and she was still playing games in kindergarten, while Emma Bennett was already in preschool. Wouldn't that mean her daughter would always be a grade behind Lillian Clark's daughter?

That wouldn't do!

As soon as she got home, Susan Clark discussed it with her husband: "Why don't we send Grace to preschool too? The elementary school is close by. We can talk to the teacher and ask for a favor."

Susan Clark's husband, Edward Ford, disagreed. "Grace is only four."

"So what if she's four! That silly girl Emma Bennett is already in preschool!"

"Don't call other people's kids silly."