Bo Jiangxin didn’t hide it and said straightforwardly, “It was about the Parent-Teacher Meeting.”
Bo Guang’s voice dropped. “So you’ve already decided to have him attend the Parent-Teacher Meeting for you?”
“It doesn’t matter who goes.” Pausing, Bo Jiangxin added, “I’m not specifying the person, but the car.”
Bo Guang frowned, not understanding.
Bo Jiangxin explained plainly, “Isn’t there a Rolls-Royce or two in your garage? You just have someone drive whichever one to our School.”
Bo Guang frowned even harder. “What?”
He didn’t care who drove to the Parent-Teacher Meeting but cared about which car carried that person?
Unheard of.
He even began to doubt if the person in front of him was really his son.
Bo Jiangxin repeated what he just said.
Bo Guang was now certain.
His son really had this request.
He thought over the significance of this demand but still couldn’t grasp it.
He snorted lowly—not because he thought the request to specify a car for the Parent-Teacher Meeting was unreasonable, but because the son specified which car but not who was driving it, as if the car was more important than the person attending for him.
“You’re usually so stubborn that you’d rather ride that broken Electric Scooter around than ride in any of my cars. Since when did you become interested in my cars?” Bo Guang raised an eyebrow and asked directly, “Tell me, did something happen at School?”
Now Bo Jiangxin frowned. “No.”
“Then tell me why you absolutely have to ride that car to your Parent-Teacher Meeting.”
Bo Jiangxin was at odds with his father every step of the way.
There was no warmth between them, no real father-son concern.
He thought that since it was just about specifying a car to go to school, his father wouldn’t ask too many questions.
Bo Guang, seeing his son silent, could only guess.
What purpose could driving a luxury car to school have, if not that?
Bo Guang’s cold tone held a tinge of merciless sarcasm: “When I sent you to the International School, you said you found all those fake competitions among the kids meaningless, and that what your grandfather said—‘The Greatest of the Proletariat’—was the truth. That I, a copper-scented Capitalist, had only accumulated wealth through exploiting the people… So now the young master who treats money like dung has finally come to terms with it?”
Bo Jiangxin was stubborn as ever—hard to deal with like the Titanic hitting an iceberg.
Even Bo Guang, his father, didn’t know how many times he had been shut out by him.
Now that he finally had a chance to mock, he treated his son like a business rival.
Mockery.
Bo Jiangxin:
…
For the first time, Bo Jiangxin lowered his head with some embarrassment in front of his father.
He clicked his tongue softly and gave his reason:
“…I have a classmate who likes this brand, so I wanted to try it out.”
Clearly, the groundhog was greedy and loved luxury cars; why did he have to give such a mundane excuse?
Sure enough, the excuse was so banal that even the usually serious Bo Guang shook his head and laughed several times.
Amused, he asked his son, “Which classmate is this? So capable you even begged you?”
Bo Jiangxin lost patience. “Just say yes or no. If no, then forget it.”
Bo Guang nodded. “Fine, it’s just a car. Doesn’t matter which one you drive.
But have you thought about who you want to send to the Parent-Teacher Meeting?”
Bo Jiangxin exhaled slightly and repeated, “Anyone is fine. You can send whoever you want.”
Bo Guang nodded.
“If anyone’s fine, then I’ll go.”
Before Bo Jiangxin could ask why his father suddenly had time, Bo Guang received a call from a subordinate.
After saying a few words, he hurriedly left Home.
But Bo Jiangxin quickly understood.
Even if he said he would go now, if his father had work that day, he probably wouldn’t go and would end up sending someone else instead.
When he was young, there were a lot of Parent-Teacher Meetings, especially at his old School.
They were less about the kids and more of a networking event for rich and powerful parents under the guise of a meeting.
At first, his father would explain why he couldn’t attend, expressing regret.
Later, as it happened more often, it became routine, and his father stopped explaining. Bo Jiangxin stopped asking.
Even when his father did attend, with teachers showing parents how to write the character “家” (home) by hand, Bo Jiangxin was engulfed in his father’s aura, writing “家” with distracted ears full of his father’s worries about work, social obligations, and complaints about his mother.
Bo Jiangxin grew up hearing his parents’ unspoken thoughts, so he saw more clearly than anyone the truth behind their broken marriage.
They all put on a show in front of him, thinking their acting was good.
They said divorce wasn’t what they wanted but was unavoidable, and that after divorce, they would continue to love and care for him.
But they didn’t know Bo Jiangxin heard everything.
He heard their hearts secretly rejoicing and counting down to the divorce day.
If they couldn’t live together, divorce was the right choice. Bo Jiangxin couldn’t blame anyone, just felt powerless.
From the mutual admiration and affection at the start, to later deceit and scheming, it was impossible to say who was more at fault.
One day, the two stopped loving each other, and with them, his love disappeared too.
So whether Bo Guang truly wanted to attend the Parent-Teacher Meeting now no longer mattered to Bo Jiangxin.
Lunch was ready. Bo Jiangxin sat alone at the Dining Room table.
The Auntie had prepared a separate meal for herself and sat in the Kitchen.
This was a rule many domestic helpers followed: not to eat at the same table with employers.
Bo Jiangxin was more difficult to serve than any employer and would never agree to eat at the same table as the Auntie.
It had always been like this.
He took up a large table alone at meals, but that morning, at the bakery with Xiang Di, squeezing into a small table to share dessert hadn’t been so uncomfortable.
Seeing the half-eaten Cheese Puff Xiang Di left behind, he didn’t feel disgusted.
In fact, he even thought that if he ate that other half, sharing saliva, establishing a new biological connection with her, he might be able to hear her heart again.
Though he still wasn’t clear what kind of “medicine” Xiang Di had given him, he had grown accustomed to her being nearby, whether he could hear her thoughts or not.
But deep down, his subconscious still resisted and avoided forming this link.
He was born in a time of peace, not as unlucky as his grandfather, forced to use this body’s special trait to survive in wartime, nor as fortunate as his grandfather, who found someone worthy of opening their heart to him forever.
There was no permanent way to hear someone’s thoughts, and he couldn’t do that.
If he ate that half Cheese Puff this time, what if the effect wore off again next time?
Would he steal another bite? Or forcibly open her mouth and extend his tongue to draw out what he wanted?
Bo Jiangxin couldn’t do that.
Moreover, he shouldn’t endlessly spy on Xiang Di’s inner world. It wouldn’t be fair to her.
Her feelings belonged to her. She was free to like whoever she wanted. Since she didn’t want him to know, he shouldn’t know.
Her current feelings for him were real, lowbrow but sincere, greedy but cute.
From initial resistance, he had now reached a point where not hearing her thoughts gave him withdrawal symptoms.
Bo Jiangxin never thought being addicted to an object or a person was good.
Once dependent, he faced the risk of losing control and eventually losing it—whether thing or person.
Even the strongest love might one day disappear.
What would he do then, still able to hear her thoughts when she could no longer even pretend, because she couldn’t hide anything from him?
If one day she stopped liking him, would he beg her to like him again, or tie her up, forcing her to only face him every day and keep liking him?
Everyone had their dark side. Bo Jiangxin was no exception.
Xiang Di’s dark side was her wild fantasies about him, but his dark side was far scarier.
When it came to rationality and boundaries in love, he was far less controlled than Xiang Di.
Her thoughts about him, no matter how excessive, remained fantasies and daydreams.
She could restrain herself because she understood the consequences of crossing the line.
He wouldn’t care about those.
He would really do it. Even worse.
Then he would no longer be the lofty, shining Bo Jiangxin she admired.
She’d probably cry and beg to run away from him.
Putting down his chopsticks, Bo Jiangxin stood and took out the desserts Xiang Di had bought from the fridge.
These sweets were indeed beautifully made and delicious, so once you started liking them, it was hard to quit.
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