Over a thousand students in the whole grade, yet he’d been holding onto that number one spot for two years straight. How mind-bogglingly hard that was, Zhuang Wenzhao probably couldn't even fathom. His own youngest, Zhuang Yuhang, was just in elementary school, in a class of maybe forty kids. One glance at Yuhang’s report card ranking and you pretty much knew how many were in his class.

“Mr. Zhuang, you've never once shown up for parent-teacher meetings, but you know, a lot of parents in our class actually want to meet you,” Zhang Zhiyuan said, his voice low.

“Meet me?” Zhuang Wenzhao blinked, taken aback. “What for?”

“They want to pick your brain, figure out how you raise such an exceptional kid.” Zhang Zhiyuan managed a wry smile. The irony stung.

Zhuang Wenzhao’s face went through a whole spectrum of awkward colors. He was suddenly tongue-tied, no comeback ready. Truth was, when it came to Zhuang Zi’ang’s upbringing, his approach had always been hands-off, bordering on neglect. He just knew Zi’ang always aced his grades, breezing into the top schools city-wide without needing a nudge from him.

“Mr. Zhuang, if that’s not enough to convince you, I can show you some photos.” Zhang Zhiyuan pulled out his phone, flipped to a special album, and handed it over.

It was a collection of award-winning snapshots of Zhuang Zi’ang from countless competitions over the last couple of years. He’d brought glory not just to himself, but to the class, the school. Yet, at every awards ceremony, not a single family member was there to cheer him on.

“Other kids, they get a third-place ribbon and their parents are all over them with hugs and ‘attaboys’,” Zhang Zhiyuan recounted. “But Zi’ang? Every time he snagged first place, he’d just stand there alone on that stage, eyes glued to everyone else getting cheered on, green with envy.”

“Pretty much the only constant by his side has been yours truly, his homeroom teacher.”

Zhang Zhiyuan’s heartfelt words hit Zhuang Wenzhao like a punch to the gut. He was speechless, forced to admit, at least to himself, that he’d seriously dropped the ball with Zhuang Zi’ang, failing spectacularly as a father.

Zhuang Zi’ang was doing his damnedest to keep it together, but his eyes were rimming red. Wasn't family love supposed to be a given? Why was it that the things others got without even trying, he had to bleed for, and still came up empty?

No matter how brilliant Zhuang Zi’ang was, deep down, he was just like any other kid, craving that parental love. He yearned to be praised, hugged tight, enveloped in endless affection. But Zhuang Wenzhao and Xu Hui, they’d let him down, over and over.

Until finally, he’d had to face the brutal truth: he was never going to be their pride and joy.

A heavy silence hung in the office.

Finally, Zhuang Wenzhao cleared his throat, embarrassment still thick in his voice. “Look, Teacher, even if Zi’ang gets good grades, that’s still no excuse for talking back to his parents.”

“Zhuang Zi’ang is usually as meek as a lamb. There has to be a reason he blew up like this today. Don’t you even know?” Zhang Zhiyuan blurted out, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Mr. Zhang!” Zhuang Zi’ang cut him off sharply, a pleading look in his eyes as he shook his head, begging him to stop. His eyes were welling up, and he’d bitten his lower lip so hard it was bleeding.

“Zi’ang…” Zhang Zhiyuan’s own eyes stung, his voice catching in his throat.

Zi’ang was desperate to keep his secret under wraps. If Zhuang Wenzhao ever found out the truth, he’d be drowning in guilt and regret in a heartbeat, tripping over himself to shower Zi’ang with love and attention, trying to patch up a decade-plus of fatherly absence.

But that wouldn't be love, just guilt in disguise. He refused to gamble with his life, his dignity, just to score some cheap imitation of love.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Zhang Zhiyuan, seeing the raw plea in Zi’ang’s eyes, had no choice but to back down, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.

Qin Shulan glanced at her phone, then leaned in to whisper to Zhuang Wenzhao, “Yuhang’s about to get out of school. We need to go pick him up.”

Zhuang Wenzhao’s eyes were still locked on Zhuang Zi’ang. “I’m asking you one last time, are you coming home or not?”

“No, I’m good at Mom’s place.” Zi’ang’s voice was firm, no give in it.

“Fine! If you’re not coming back today, then don’t you dare come back. Ever!” Zhuang Wenzhao spat out, slamming his chair back and storming out of the office.

Qin Shulan scurried after him, worried sick about keeping Zhuang Yuhang waiting.

Backlit by the doorway, Zhuang Zi’ang watched his father’s retreating back, then called out, his voice cracking, “Dad… having me as your son, have you really never felt a single moment of pride?”

Zhuang Wenzhao froze, but didn’t turn, didn’t answer. In his stubborn mind, fathers just didn’t apologize to their sons, period.

“Never mind, just leave!” The last flicker of hope died in Zhuang Zi’ang’s eyes. “If you never loved me, why even bother bringing me into this world?”

Zhuang Wenzhao hesitated for a beat, then resolutely marched on. Zi’ang was eighteen, after all, old enough to fend for himself. He’d sulk for a bit, then come crawling back, tail between his legs. That’s how it always went.

In the office, only Zhang Zhiyuan and Zhuang Zi’ang remained. The tension in the air seemed to just… vanish.

“Zi’ang, don’t let it get to you. There are tons of people out there who care, you know? Like me, like Li Huangxuan and Lin Mushi. Focus on us, okay?” Zhang Zhiyuan said softly, trying to comfort him.

“Mr. Zhang, thank you.” Zi’ang bit down hard on his lip, jaw trembling, fighting back the tears threatening to spill. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together. But behind the tough act he put on for his dad, he was still just a kid, raw and fragile inside.

Zhang Zhiyuan asked gently, “Are you really not going to tell your dad about… this whole thing?”

Zi’ang choked back a sob. “I just… I just want to keep a little bit of dignity.”

Zhang Zhiyuan nodded sympathetically, understanding dawning in his eyes. But teacher instincts kicked in. For now, Zi’ang seemed… okay-ish. He could keep up with the treatment, like the doctor said. But if things took a turn for the worse, he’d have to loop in the parents, no question.

“Mr. Zhang, could I skip classes this afternoon? Brain’s fried anyway, not like I could focus on anything right now.”

“Yeah, man, here’s a pass. Go chill, clear your head.”

Leaving the office, Zhuang Zi’ang was adrift, walking without a destination, feeling utterly lost. He wandered past a classroom, music drifting out – some ancient oldie the class was belting out.

Little, little child, did you cry today?

Have all your friends gone away, leaving you with lingering loneliness?

Beautiful child, did you cry today?

Did you get your beautiful clothes dirty, but have no one to confide in?

Ping! His phone buzzed with a message from his pocket.

Butterfly: Zhuang Zi’ang, feeling down again?

Zi’ang fired back a text in a heartbeat: How’d you guess? Skipping afternoon classes.

Butterfly: Meet me outside the ginkgo tree. Hopping the wall to come hang.

Zi’ang glanced towards the northwest corner of the basketball court – deserted. The towering ginkgo swayed gently in the breeze.

Clutching the leave pass from Zhang Zhiyuan, he walked out the school gates, then went the long way around, circling back to the outside of the wall. He spotted her in the distance – Su Yudiel perched on the wall, little white sneakers dangling playfully.

“That wall’s huge! How’d you get up there?” Zi’ang asked, genuinely curious.

“‘Borrowed’ a ladder from the equipment room,” Su Yudiel chirped with a grin.

Zi’ang was completely baffled. A girl, a total school beauty, lugging a ladder across the field in broad daylight? Wouldn't security have a field day with that?

“Hey, daydreamer! Ready to catch me?” Su Yudiel called out, jolting him back to reality.

“Oh! Right!” Zi’ang quickly held out his arms, motioning for her to jump.

Su Yudiel launched herself off the wall, landing perfectly in Zhuang Zi’ang’s arms. Light as a feather, holding her was effortless. Gazing down at that flawless face, impossibly delicate, Zi’ang’s breath hitched, heart hammering in his chest.

“Just gonna keep holding me there, huh?” Su Yudiel’s cheeks were rosy, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Zi’ang snapped to attention, hastily setting her down, face flushing crimson. The spring breeze danced around them, ruffling her hair, and stirring something new, something fluttery, in the young man’s heart.