"I take back what I said," Zhuang Mingqi's expression changed instantly, grimly issuing an ultimatum to the audacious fool who dared question his mental capacity. "I'm moving out with Silver—I'll move the moment I get back, run far away, and you'll never see a single hair of his in your life."

The moment the words left his mouth, Shen Zhengning realized he had stepped on the cat's tail. As expected, Zhuang Mingqi flew into a small rage. He immediately groveled, "I apologize, I was wrong, I'll reflect on my mistake." And added humbly, "The kid is still young, he can't handle the tiring journey. When you're not home, I'll definitely take good care of him and make sure he doesn't suffer the slightest grievance."

Zhuang Mingqi didn't respond. His pair of translucent, amber-like eyes rested on Shen Zhengning's face for a moment before he coldly looked away. The meaning was clear: 'Fine, you only have eyes for the dog. Then go spend the rest of your life with the dog.'

The fingers in Shen Zhengning's pocket moved slightly, touching the cool screen of his phone. He had the urge to open Baidu and urgently search for "how to coax an angry cat."

He had no experience coaxing cats, but he knew how to deal with angry people: just stay quiet, ignore them, and leave them alone, euphemistically called "letting them cool down." Someone with a weaker mentality would soon start to reflect on whether they had gone too far—but this was Zhuang Mingqi. Forget knowing what "going too far" was; Shen Zhengning suspected he didn't even have the "self-reflection" function installed.

In the mere two seconds that his brain was rapidly working on a solution, the temperature around Zhuang Mingqi dropped another degree out of thin air, making an insignificant contribution against global warming.

"Pineapple pie."

The tips of Zhuang Mingqi's ears twitched imperceptibly, and he sent a questioning look over.

"Want some?" Shen Zhengning lifted his chin towards the McDonald's on the side of the road. Peeking at his expression, he added, "It's a treat just for you, none for Silver. How about that?"

So childish.

'And you had the nerve to ask my age,' Zhuang Mingqi thought. 'Has your mental capacity even surpassed kindergarten level?' While casting a critical glance at the breakfast advertisement board, he said reservedly, "Oh."

Shen Zhengning was inside for five minutes before coming out with a paper bag. He handed Zhuang Mingqi the cardboard-packaged pineapple pie, holding it with a napkin. Zhuang Mingqi tore open the seal, noticed a wrapped McMuffin also in the bag, and bit off a corner of the crispy crust. "Aren't you eating?"

The crisp chill of late autumn was the best partner for a piping hot, sweet pineapple pie. The cool breeze turned the slightly scalding heat into a feeling of psychological warmth. Shen Zhengning held Silver's leash for him, and in his peripheral vision, he saw Zhuang Mingqi's beautifully shaped eyes narrow slightly. 'The almighty snack method truly works wonders,' he thought. He answered casually, "It's been a rule in my family since I was young not to eat while walking outside. I'm used to it."

"Does your family have a throne to inherit?"

"No," Shen Zhengning said. "In the last three generations, my dad was the only civil servant, and it's not a hereditary system."

"Then why didn't you try to become a police officer?" Zhuang Mingqi asked, uncharacteristically curious. "With your talent, you would be very suitable for that path, though the income might not be as high as what you earn now."

"Hmm... haven't I told you?" Shen Zhengning said. "My father was a police officer who died in the line of duty. Plus, due to the policies of that era, I'm an only child, so my family absolutely wouldn't agree to let me follow that same path, afraid something else might happen."

No matter how detached from worldly affairs Zhuang Mingqi was, he could sketch out Shen Zhengning's upbringing from these few sentences. Perhaps he had experienced difficult times, and perhaps not everything went his way, but on the whole, he had been well-protected by his family. Those past experiences had shaped the Shen Zhengning of today—intelligent and outstanding, considerate and gentle, steadily walking a smooth path according to his family's expectations, his life and career destined for predictable success.

If not for what happened to Ye Tongsheng, their destinies would have been miles apart, never meant to intersect.

"That's true," Zhuang Mingqi said. "You're their only hope. It's better to be safe and stable."

"But thinking back on it now, actually..."

"Actually what?"

"Nothing." His faint smile was like writing on water, vanishing before it could be clearly seen. "When are you leaving? Do you need, uh, to book a pumpkin carriage pickup service?"

"..." Zhuang Mingqi looked at him, bored, his tone cold. "That joke isn't funny anymore."

"So hard to please." Shen Zhengning clicked his tongue, feeling the subtle annoyance of a primate who had set aside his dignity to play with a cat, only to be looked down upon. "Seriously, though, do you need a ride? Are you taking a plane or the high-speed train?"

He was thinking that Zhuang Mingqi didn't have a car, was finicky, and was a precious vase that couldn't withstand the slightest bump, so he needed to be settled in personally to ease his mind. He subconsciously overlooked the fact that Zhuang Mingqi was an adult in his twenties with normal intelligence and the ability to take care of himself. Even if he had been unfamiliar with his surroundings upon returning to the country, after a month, he should have learned how to use payment and ride-hailing apps.

"Haven't bought a ticket yet," Zhuang Mingqi replied lazily, tossing the wrapper into a roadside trash can. Then, with a magnanimous attitude that seemed to say, 'Since you've asked so sincerely, I'll graciously agree,' he said, "I have to walk the dog tomorrow morning, so time is a bit tight. In order not to make you late for work, I'll book a flight for noon."

Shen Zhengning was amazed by his last-minute decision-making, concluding that he simply had too much money to burn.

He couldn't help but ask, "Are you procrastinating, or do you just not want to leave at all?"

Zhuang Mingqi glanced at him before looking away, his eyelids lowered. In a faint voice that was part complaint and part sulk, he said, "You're asking when you already know the answer."

Hidden in those words was a trust he himself hadn't realized he possessed—'Nothing in the world can be taken for granted, but if it's you, you can surely guess what's on my mind.'

In truth, it wasn't hard to guess.

Ye Tongsheng grew up in Xingcheng, aside from running away to Xing City for the last few months of high school. Zhuang Mingqi claimed to be Ye Tongsheng's friend from that time and knew about his family situation and certain experiences. This meant it was highly probable that Xingcheng was also Zhuang Mingqi's hometown.

When referring to his destination, Zhuang Mingqi had used "Xingcheng" rather than "my hometown." He had lived abroad for years, yet chose to settle in Sheng'an City upon his return, and only now, after more than a month, was he planning to go to Xingcheng. This, combined with his reluctance, made it clear that he was not looking forward to the trip and was even being forced into it. In nine cases out of ten, it was because of family conflict.

"Xingcheng is your hometown, isn't it?" Shen Zhengning asked gently. "So, did something happen that's forcing you to go back for a visit?"

"My younger brother"—the title made an expression flash across his face, as if he had just stepped in something foul—"called me last night." He said my dad wasn't feeling well a few days ago, that the hospital check-up results were very bad, and he's already been hospitalized. He told me to go back and see him, if I had any humanity left."

Shen Zhengning asked cautiously, "What's the illness?"

Zhuang Mingqi didn't try to hide it, saying bluntly, "Coronary heart disease, atherosclerosis. The tests showed his arteries are eighty percent blocked. If it progresses, he could easily have a heart attack. The doctor is recommending surgery to place a stent."

"Do you need help finding a doctor?"

"Money and doctors aren't the problem." There was a deliberately strained quality in Zhuang Mingqi's flat tone, like someone secretly pinching shut a tear in a plastic bag to stop certain emotions from spilling out. "But he's getting old, and surgery has its risks, however small. He's afraid that in the off chance he doesn't make it off the operating table, so he's probably made some arrangements for what comes after."

"If I may be so bold as to ask," Shen Zhengning said, "your family doesn't really have a throne to inherit, does it?"

Zhuang Mingqi let out a derisive, cold laugh. "Some money. I suppose in a certain someone's eyes, it might as well be."

Based on Shen Zhengning's observations of his daily spending habits, the fact that Zhuang Mingqi used "some" money instead of "a little" was a rare display of objectivity from him, which probably meant it was "a lot of money."

Shen Zhengning commented meaningfully, "To send a message to the long-lost prince at such a critical juncture, lest you miss out on your rightful inheritance... your brother is surprisingly nice."

"Indeed," Zhuang Mingqi agreed softly. "With an unfilial son like me as a foil, he looks like an even more perfect heir."

"So what do you plan to do?" he joked nonchalantly. "Go back, flip the chessboard, and reclaim everything that's yours?"

"Three days."

"Hm?"

Zhuang Mingqi said crisply, "I'll only be in Xingcheng for three days. I'll come back as soon as the surgery is over."

The words had a sharp beauty, like a knife slicing through glass and sending shards flying, a reckless disregard for everything. If he hadn't already had his suspicions, hearing such a statement so suddenly would probably have led him to believe that Zhuang Mingqi was a cold, unfeeling person with weak family ties.

However, the fact that he dared to blurt it out so frankly subtly altered Shen Zhengning's long-held stereotype of him—he had assumed Zhuang Mingqi's prickliness stemmed from wariness, not that he would proactively stick his quills into others.

Zhuang Mingqi's perception of others' attitudes was as precise as radar. His eyes swept over Shen Zhengning's face, taking in every hint of scrutiny and speculation. He suddenly let out a soft sneer, his tone as chilly as an early winter river filled with floating ice shards. "Don't waste your energy trying to convince yourself otherwise. I'm exactly the kind of person you think I am."

Shen Zhengning asked back, "What kind of person?"

Zhuang Mingqi shot him a glance with a disdainful smile, his casual attitude seeming to say, 'Don't kid yourself.'

The atmosphere was decidedly not harmonious, but Shen Zhengning, as if oblivious to the subtle tension in the air, asked, "Do you want anything else to eat?"

Zhuang Mingqi: ?

"There's a 7-Eleven downstairs from my office. Do you like rice balls or sandwiches? A single pineapple pie probably isn't enough for breakfast. I think their new scrambled egg toast tastes pretty good."

"No—"

"It's okay."

With an inspired move, after thoroughly confusing Zhuang Mingqi, Shen Zhengning suddenly switched back to a serious mode and said steadily, "I originally thought you were a handful—self-centered, willful, arrogant, indifferent, habitually ignoring others' opinions, and quick to anger. Others are sea-returnees, you're a sea urchin. When you go to a restaurant, you have to be careful not to get grabbed by the kitchen to be made into steamed eggs..."

Zhuang Mingqi: "Hey!"

"Now you've proven that you are indeed as I thought. So what? Weren't you someone who never cared about others' opinions from the start?"

Shen Zhengning had already figured out Zhuang Mingqi's standard playbook for acting up: first, a cautious approach; then, a hot-and-cold probing; and finally, based on the reaction, a decision to either yield or flee. In short, he just needed to be coaxed.

Usually, offering snacks could solve seventy percent of the problems. Twenty percent required the art of persuasion. The most difficult ten percent were likely life-or-death questions, and Shen Zhengning had yet to encounter such a treacherous situation.

He was past the point of asking "on what grounds." Fate couldn't be controlled by people, and neither could cats. Both were uncontrollable, capricious things that approached without reason and left without a sound.

He didn't want him to leave yet.

"Although I can't guess what happened with your family in the past, and you're a tightly sealed clam who refuses to say anything—"

"But people live for nothing more than 'love' and 'hate.' Be it passionate love or bone-deep hatred, the things you've been through and the way you've responded to them—that is your life experience. Others have no place to comment."

His gaze was tolerant and serene as it fell on Zhuang Mingqi's cool cheeks. Though there was no physical contact, for a moment, it gave Zhuang Mingqi the illusion of being gently caressed.

For so many years, he had done his utmost to avoid being touched, let alone initiating contact with anyone. Perhaps because he had a deficit in his perceptive abilities, his emotions were more muted than most. To him, intimacy was like the moon's reflection in water or flowers in a mirror—something to be observed from a distance but never touched. Kinship, on the other hand, was a thorn growing out of his very flesh and blood; to pull it out completely, he would first have to be reduced to ashes.

He had thought this was all his life would amount to. Unable to obtain love or resolve his hatred, he could only shut himself in a freezer and become a piece of frozen meat, devoid of moisture and texture, but at least with a long shelf life.

After all, he could still run and jump; he had healthy limbs and sharp senses. An emotional deficiency wasn't a terminal illness. The lack of anyone's understanding wouldn't prevent him from going on living.

Shen Zhengning wasn't trying to understand him, either. He just said calmly, "You should cherish your own feelings."