But all he received in return was his mother’s indifferent remark: "I sent you there to learn dance, not to be a practice partner for those little girls."
A handso, clean, and exceptionally diligent young boy, he was like an idol in the dance class.
Yet his mother never noticed his hard work and struggles; she only saw him as soone who "attracted too much attention."
It seed that no matter what he did, it was always wrong. He could never earn his mother’s approval.
Vocal training, street dance, musical instrunts—his childhood was spent endlessly rotating through these art classes. He could only rush through bites of food or sips of water on the bus.
He didn’t dare complain, didn’t dare lant. All he could do was keep working hard day after day, hoping that one day his mother would recognize his progress.
That day, he won first place in a dance competition. Holding the certificate joyfully, he returned ho hoping to surprise his mother.
"I went to the hospital today. The doctor said our little treasure is very healthy. Just a few more months and we’ll et him."
"Xiangxiang, you’re pregnant—don’t overwork yourself. Starting today, I’ll pick up a few extra jobs. I’ll make sure to take care of you and the baby."
"Why rush? The eldest will soon be signed to a company and start earning money. By then, the three of us can rely on him, and my investnt in him over the years won’t have been in vain."
"Are you talking about Ningning? He’s still just a kid. How could he earn money? Aren’t you being unrealistic?"
"You don’t understand. Right now, teen idols are a booming industry. Those big entertainnt companies specialize in scouting talented and handso boys like Ningning—entering talent competitions and debuting as stars. Do you have any idea how much celebrities can earn? Two million a day! Eventually, in Jingzhou, we’ll be able to pick out the most expensive properties with our eyes closed, and little treasure can depend on his older brother to provide."
The woman beca increasingly animated as she spoke, her exaggerated excitent practically visible on her makeup-covered face.
The man asked, still in disbelief: "Really?"
"Of course! I’ve already done my research and sent Ningning’s resu to several entertainnt companies that specialize in this industry. Don’t worry—I’ve painstakingly nurtured him since he was little, waiting for this very day."
"Honey, you truly have foresight. Soon, we three can just lie back and count money together, haha..."
"Look at you—didn’t you used to criticize for wasting money on those art classes for Ningning? Now you see how clever I am, don’t you?"
"Yes, yes, you’re the cleverest, dear. Mwah~ But, you know, that boy has always been stubborn. What if he refuses to cooperate...?"
"Does he even have a say in this household? I give him food to eat and cultivate him into soone worthwhile, so he should be eternally grateful to . Otherwise, just watch how I deal with him."
"You’re incredible, dear. But honestly, if he were nurtured in a field like scientific research, there might be potential. Turning him into an entertainnt star, though... isn’t that a bit risky?"
"Haha, what do you know? Rember the ti when Ningning was sick, and my mom took him to Lingruo Temple to burn incense and pray? There, she encountered a master who saw Ningning’s face and said the child had..."
The woman faltered mid-sentence. "The old monk had such a poetic way of speaking—I didn’t really understand most of it. I only rembered one line: sothing about an extraordinary face, that if nurtured well, would surely achieve great success and fa one day."
"And isn’t becoming a celebrity the only way to achieve fa and success? So I bet everything on him when he was little. Now it looks like I was right—we three won’t need to worry about food or drink for the rest of our lives."
...
One door’s distance apart.
It was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head, freezing him from body to soul.
The youth stood pale and crestfallen, clutching the certificate he had wrinkled in his grip.
From heaven to hell—so it turned out, it only took an instant.
Three of them, a family of three... How ironic. Then what about him?
It turned out his parents didn’t love him. He was nothing more than a tool for their profit.
He quickly, calmly accepted this revelation.
Strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as he had imagined.
Perhaps the words and actions of those two people had, over the years, imperceptibly given him the answer. Now, hearing it directly, it was as though all the grievances and pain the little boy had endured finally found an outlet to discharge.
He accepted everything, as if it were simply natural.
What other choice did he have?
Crying and throwing tantrums would change nothing in the end.
Love, or the lack of it—it was what it was.
He tore the certificate into pieces, watching as the fragnts were flushed away by the water in the toilet—just like the little boy who once longed for his parents’ care and love. At that mont, he disappeared forever along with the current.
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