Chapter 7

Take seven bites.
“Why should I take Tao-tao with me?” Wen Yalan’s attitude was forceful, her gaze cold. “Tao-tao is your daughter too. You have the responsibility and the obligation to take care of her. If I take anyone, it’ll only be Baiqing.”
Wen Yalan and Ying Zhaohui fought without end. Ying Tao sat on the sofa and watched with her own eyes as the two of them exploded into a screaming match and parted on bad terms.
In the end, Wen Yalan packed up, dragged her suitcase out, and left.
Ying Tao ran after her, crying, clutching Wen Yalan’s hand with both of hers.
“Mom, don’t go. Tao-tao will be good. I’ll listen. Please don’t leave…”
Wen Yalan never turned back. She kept her back to her daughter.
“Don’t blame me for being cruel,” she said flatly. “I’ve already given you too much, sacrificed too much. Staying with your father is the best choice for you. From now on, just pretend you never had a mother like me.”
At the end of it, Wen Yalan wrenched her hand free with cold determination and walked away.
When Ying Tao chased outside, Wen Yalan was already in the car.
Ying Tao ran after the vehicle for a long, long way—running all the way to the mouth of the alley. She tripped and fell, splitting her head open, blood pouring down her face.
The car never stopped. It drove on and on until it vanished from her sight.
“Don’t go…”
Ying Tao slept restlessly, her brows knotted tight, murmuring nonsense through clenched lips.
“I’ll be good. I’ll work hard. Don’t go. Please… don’t go…”
She jolted awake.
Staring at the familiar bedroom, her mind went blank. Even after a long time, that deep, helpless feeling still clung to her like a shadow—thread by thread wrapping her up, like a cocoon pulled tight.
“I don’t care. Why does Ying Tao get to buy the newest bags, but I can’t? Mom, I’m an Ying family daughter too. If Uncle Ying said he treats us equally, then why is it that she has things I don’t? I want the new Hermès bag.”
You didn’t even have to leave the room to tell Tang Mingfei was throwing a tantrum again. The noise made Ying Tao’s head pound.
She threw back the blanket and walked out. Sure enough, in the living room, Tang Mingfei was clinging to Tang Huiru, acting cute.
Hearing footsteps, Tang Huiru greeted her proactively. “Tao-tao, you’re up.”
Ying Tao nodded. “Aunt Tang, where’s my dad?”
She looked around and didn’t see Ying Zhaohui.
“He went out for morning exercise,” Tang Huiru said with a smile. “He’ll be back later.”
Then she added gently, “Breakfast is ready. Since you’re awake, go wash up and come eat.”
“Mom.” Tang Mingfei pouted. “Why are you even bothering with her? I’m your daughter.”
Tang Huiru snapped at her, “Shut up.”
Tang Mingfei grew even more dissatisfied. She folded her arms and sat to the side, glaring at Ying Tao, and couldn’t help opening her mouth again.
“Where did you get the money to buy that bag? Did Uncle Ying give it to you? Or did your mom—”
Tang Mingfei’s lips curled into a malicious, sing-song smile.
“Ohhh. I forgot. Your mom doesn’t even want you anymore. Why would she give you money to spend?”
“Tang Mingfei!” Tang Huiru barked, furious.
Tang Mingfei only curled her lip, unconcerned. “I’m not wrong. Her mom doesn’t want her. Thinks she’s embarrassing. Thinks she’s useless. Her mom would rather take someone else’s kid than take care of her.”
Ying Tao was used to Tang Mingfei picking fights for no reason.
Most of the time, Ying Tao simply avoided it. She couldn’t be bothered to argue. Arguing was pointless.
She was about to leave—then Tang Mingfei’s words hit a nerve. Ying Tao’s steps halted.
The ever-smiling apricot eyes cooled, turning sharp enough to be frightening.
Only a moment later, she returned to normal. She curved her eyes and smiled sweetly.
“You want to know where my bag came from, don’t you?”
Tang Mingfei lifted her chin, stubborn, refusing to answer outright.
When she came back this morning, she recognized at a glance the pink, heart-shaped bag tossed casually onto the sofa.
It was the Hermès Pop My Heart limited Qixi edition.
The price wasn’t outrageous, but the cost-performance was laughable. It could fit a tiny lipstick and maybe some tissues—nothing else. Not even a phone. People called it a “useless bag,” a pure cute accessory.
Normally, Ying Zhaohui didn’t give them little spending money. But it wasn’t generous either.
In their department, rich boys and girls with backgrounds were everywhere. No one was shocked by luxury.
Tang Mingfei was simply furious.
They were both “daughters.” So why was Ying Zhaohui willing to let Ying Tao waste money on bags, while refusing to “invest” a single cent into her?
He talked a good game—equal treatment. In the end, wasn’t it still different?
Tang Mingfei sat arrogantly on the sofa, clearly waiting for an answer.
Ying Tao’s eyes curved. Her smile turned even sweeter.
“Why should I tell you?” she said softly. “Who do you think you are? You little trash.”
Tang Mingfei shot to her feet. “What did you say?”
Tang Huiru frowned and reached out to stop her. “Mingfei, don’t make trouble.”
But Tang Mingfei refused to let it go.
“What did you call me? Who’s trash? You’re trash! You couldn’t get over it mentally, got cut from the gymnastics team, and had to quit in shame. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Ying Tao snorted. “What’s there to be embarrassed about? Athletes retire all the time. At least I’ve won a championship. Unlike you—no skills, no brains. All you do is come back to Aunt Tang for money. If we’re being polite, you’re ‘mooching.’ If we’re telling the truth, you’re a useless parasite with rotten character.”
“Calling you trash is already being generous,” Ying Tao said, smiling. “You’re worse than trash.”
Tang Mingfei’s face flushed red. “You—You!!”
“Me what?” Ying Tao’s smile turned cold. “Idiot.”
“Heh.”
A faint scoff came from the living room.
A man stood by the entryway, tall and lean, dressed in black athletic wear. His sleeves were pushed up loosely, revealing a tight, sinewy forearm—ruined only by the white bandages wrapped around it.
His short black hair was damp. His features were sharp, the contours deep. Brows, lashes, irises—everything was a dense, brutal black. When his long phoenix eyes looked over, the gaze was aggressively invasive.
Right now he stood there lazily, as if he never woke up fully. Even with a straight spine, he still carried that air of not giving a damn.
Tang Mingfei startled, but then her expression flipped to undisguised excitement.
She immediately changed her tone, sweet and soft.
“Mingye gege.”
He Mingye acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He only glanced at Ying Tao and spoke, voice a little hoarse.
“Shrimp. Come here.”
Ying Tao was thoroughly annoyed.
Come here, come there—like he was calling a dog. Did she have no dignity at all? Ridiculous.
She frowned, clearly unhappy, but her body was honest. She still walked over and asked irritably, “What?”
He Mingye looked at her, voice thick, tone ambiguously intimate.
“You forgot what you promised me last night?”
Last night?
Did she promise him something?
After Zhou Chaoli sent them back, she didn’t remember anything. Wait—how did she even get home?
Ying Tao immediately went on alert. She stared at him. “Did you do something bad to me? How did I get back?”
He Mingye’s smile wasn’t quite a smile. “What do you think?”
She only remembered being exhausted and falling asleep in the car. After that, there was nothing.
“Mingye, why are you standing there? Why aren’t you coming in?”
Ying Zhaohui had just come back from his morning run. Seeing He Mingye by the door, he asked in confusion.
As he changed his shoes, he noticed Ying Tao standing there too, and understood at once.
“You kid,” Ying Zhaohui scolded. “Why aren’t you letting your Mingye gege come in and sit? What are you blocking the doorway for?”
“It’s fine, Uncle Ying.” He Mingye tugged his lips into a light smile. “I’m guessing Tao-tao is still angry—angry that I didn’t keep the appointment back then.”
On Ying Tao’s eighteenth birthday, He Mingye hadn’t returned from overseas. He only mailed her a gift. In the past few years, he rarely came back. But even when he wasn’t there in person, his gifts never missed a holiday.
A few days ago—some “National Dental Care Day” or whatever—he’d even sent a Hermès bag as a present.
Then, not long after, her tooth started hurting.
She’d actually started suspecting he’d put a curse on the bag. Otherwise, how could it be that accurate?
Ying Zhaohui frowned. “Enough. There’s a limit even to fooling around. When you were little, which time wasn’t your Mingye gege protecting you? It’s just a coming-of-age birthday. What tantrum are you throwing?”
Then he continued, voice harsh, “And you’re grown now, but you’ve got zero sense of safety. A girl wandering around outside in the middle of the night—what are you thinking? If your Mingye gege hadn’t brought you back last night, were you planning to sleep outside?”
Ying Tao couldn’t believe it.
She glared at He Mingye.
This bastard really had the nerve—flipping it around and dumping the blame on her. Since when had she thrown a tantrum?
“I didn’t—” she started, then her momentum weakened by half.
If Ying Zhaohui found out about last night’s car crash, she’d be dead. She pressed her lips together, and in the end, she swallowed it.
“Alright.” Tang Huiru stepped forward and took Ying Zhaohui’s jacket. “It’s early. Why are you lecturing the kid first thing in the morning? Tao-tao finally came back for once. Isn’t it better for the family to sit down and eat together?”
Ying Zhaohui’s temper eased somewhat, but his tone stayed firm. “Go wash up and change. Walking around the living room in pajamas—what does it look like?”
Ying Tao was boiling inside, and yet she had to swallow this silent loss.
After holding it in, all she managed was a muffled, “I know.”
She went back to her room, unwilling, to change.
Before she closed the door, she shot He Mingye a secret look, rolled her eyes at him, and made a face.
He Mingye’s lips hooked slightly. Deep in his eyes, something like amusement flickered.
Ying Zhaohui shook his head and sighed. “This girl is impossible.”
Then he turned. “By the way, Mingye, you haven’t had breakfast, have you? Want to eat a bit? Your Aunt Tang’s beef pies are unbeatable.”
“No need, Uncle Ying.” He Mingye’s voice was flat. “I have things to do. I’ll leave in a bit.”
“Alright.” Ying Zhaohui didn’t insist. Before he left, he patted He Mingye’s shoulder with a serious look.
“Mingye—Tao-tao is headstrong and reckless. If you can, I’ll have to trouble you to watch her a little more for me.”
He Mingye agreed calmly. “I will.”
After Ying Zhaohui and Tang Huiru left, only Tang Mingfei and He Mingye remained in the living room.
From a distance, Tang Mingfei hadn’t heard what they’d said. She only kept stealing glances at He Mingye.
The first day she came to live in the Ying house with Tang Huiru, she’d seen him once—but only from far away. Over the years, no matter how she tried to ingratiate herself, He Mingye stayed lukewarm and distant, nothing like how natural and close he was with Ying Tao.
Tang Mingfei bit her lip. A trace of unwillingness flashed in her eyes. She stepped forward, soft and tentative.
“Mingye gege, just now I—”
He Mingye glanced at her, cold and tired.
“Miss Tang,” he said. “I don’t have a habit of recognizing sisters at random.”