At the dinner table, Shen Muran consciously took a seat at the far end.
Bo Zhenhuai sat next to Elder Bo and used the serving chopsticks to pick up a piece of fish. “Dad, this is fresh sea fish that Xiao Zhou caught while out at sea. It’s very nutritious—have some more.”
Elder Bo waved his hand dismissively. “I can serve myself. I don’t want yours.”
At ninety years old, Elder Bo had become increasingly childlike and senile. With a swipe of his hand, the piece of fish was knocked off the table.
Bo Zhenhuai, having his gesture rejected, immediately lost face. Just as his hypocritical mask was about to crack, Shen Muran spoke up proactively, “Uncle, can the management fee be extended for another week?”
The anger simmering inside Bo Zhenhuai instantly shifted toward Shen Muran.
He slammed his chopsticks on the table, his expression darkening as he scolded, “Look at you! You can’t even afford a monthly management fee of sixteen hundred—what are you doing living in a villa?”
“If you had just taken the compensation money earlier, wouldn’t that have settled it? Now you can’t pay, and I have to cover it for you?”
After Shen Muran was brought back to the Bo family at the age of twelve, it wasn’t long before his grandfather suffered a stroke, became paralyzed, and developed dementia.
His uncle had never liked having an outsider with a different surname living there in the first place. Without his grandfather’s protection, Bo Zhenhuai found a random excuse to make him move out.
Back in the day, Elder Bo had bought a villa for Shen Muran’s mother, originally intended as a marital home for an arranged marriage. But fate played a cruel trick—his only daughter eloped with someone, and within a few years, she died of cancer.
Bo Zhenhuai drove him to the villa that had belonged to his deceased sister.
Until Shen Muran came of age, the management fees had always been paid by Bo Zhenhuai.
Though it sounded nice to call it a villa, it was old, and many residents had long since moved away. Some areas had even been designated for local land acquisition, leaving the neighborhood torn apart and in ruins.
Bo Zhenhuai had repeatedly tried to persuade Shen Muran to sell the property so he could take a cut, but his nephew was as stubborn as an ox.
To Bo Zhenhuai, Shen Muran simply lacked common sense.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as my salary comes in,” Shen Muran replied with lowered eyes, indifferent to Bo Zhenhuai’s insults.
After the college entrance exam, Shen Muran had taken on various part-time jobs everywhere—washing dishes in the hottest, most exhausting shifts at a barbecue restaurant, working as a sparring partner at a sports center, hauling goods as manual labor at a convenience store…
Aside from repaying the debts left behind by his parents, he also had to earn money for the management fees and living expenses. He pinched every penny, even timing his electricity usage down to the second.
The house was large but remained in a semi-rough state.
Shen Muran had applied white putty to the walls, which made it look much better than before.
It might seem shabby, but at least it was quiet—a place where he could relax both physically and mentally was enough.
Besides, it was something that had belonged to his mother.
Zhou Wanyue didn’t say anything on the surface, but seeing Shen Muran being scolded by her husband, she also felt the urge to kick him while he was down.
She considerately leaned closer to Bo Zhenhuai, gently patting his back to soothe him. “Why get so angry? Dad is still here.”
A smile hung on the woman’s lips, and even the fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes appeared exceptionally kind.
“But, Ranran, you’ve been learning tennis for so many years. If you’re really that tight on money, you could ask Xiao Zhou to recommend a few competitions for you. Put in some effort and play a few matches—the prize money is quite substantial.”
Shen Muran didn’t look up, merely responding with a faint “Mm.”
The dining table fell silent, with only the sounds of eating remaining.
Zhou Wanyue continued speaking a few more sentences to herself, but with no one responding, she gradually lost interest.
After the meal, Zhou Wanyue went out shopping with her friends, while Bo Zhenhuai wheeled Elder Bo back to his room to rest.
The spacious living room was left with only Bo Lingzhou and Shen Muran.
“Where have you been working part-time lately, still at the barbecue place and the gym?”
Bo Lingzhou stroked his chin, casually tossing out a line of concern, but his eyes were filled with amusement. “The Jincheng Championship in a couple of months is a great opportunity to make money. Are you going to apply?”
Shen Muran pursed his lips and sat on the other side of the sofa. “If there’s a chance, I’ll apply.”
He didn’t expose the blatant malice.
In truth, everyone knew that since last year, Shen Muran had hardly been able to apply for any competitions.
Wasn’t that exactly why Bo Lingzhou had caused a scene at Jincheng University?
To expose his identity in front of everyone.
Shen Muran just felt regretful.
Three years of peaceful university life had been shattered in his final year, and he now faced the hostility of the entire school.
Jincheng University would never allow a student with a tainted identity to represent them in external competitions.
Bo Lingzhou stood up and walked over to Shen Muran, looking down at him. “Hah, you sure have a good attitude. How does it feel to have the skill but not be able to compete?”
Whether Shen Muran was angry or not, Bo Lingzhou didn’t know, but he certainly felt great.
He was the one who had learned tennis first; Shen Muran only deserved to be his ball boy.
Those private lessons several times a week were like burning money, yet Shen Muran had the audacity to steal his techniques!
When Bo Lingzhou found out that Shen Muran could attend Jincheng University tuition-free, he felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal.
How could the son of a murderer get into a prestigious school like this!
After holding back for three years, watching Shen Muran’s ranking climb higher and higher, Bo Lingzhou personally shattered his dream.
Having smoothly mocked him, Bo Lingzhou felt much better. Just as he was about to head upstairs, he noticed the box in Shen Muran’s backpack.
“Oh, you’re delaying the management fee, yet you can just buy over four hundred yuan worth of pink blueberries?”
The man eyed the contents inside and reached out to rummage through the backpack.
Shen Muran rarely bought fruit because it wasn’t filling and was a waste of money. If Bo Lingzhou wanted it, he wouldn’t mind letting him take it.
But for the first time, he snatched the backpack back.
“Don’t go through my things.”
Bo Lingzhou was stunned. This fool who usually took whatever was thrown at him actually had emotions now?
How interesting.
“Did you buy these for yourself?”
A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of anger appeared in Shen Muran’s empty eyes. “Yes.”
He lied.
Bo Lingzhou smirked, surprisingly not trying to take them. “Alright, the poor kid finally knows how to enjoy himself. Just make sure you pay the management fee on time.”
With that, he turned and went back to his room.
The breath Shen Muran had been holding in his chest finally eased the moment Bo Lingzhou walked away.
After returning home, Shen Muran stared at the box of pink blueberries for a long time.
He had never seen this variety before.
So…
A small box like this cost over four hundred yuan?
The blueberries were plump and translucent, glowing pink. For some reason, Shen Muran thought of a girl’s face.
The September heat was intense, and fruit spoiled quickly at room temperature. He quickly got up and put them in the refrigerator.
He only sneaked one to taste.
“Just one? That’s barely enough to fill the gaps between my teeth! Give me a few more!”
Song Ying’er had been chasing Jiang Li for five minutes, trying to get more mandarin oranges, but ultimately failed due to their height difference.
“Who told you to have such a weak stomach!” Jiang Li covered her mouth and laughed. “Last time you ate just three mandarin oranges and ended up running to the bathroom five or six times that day. I almost thought you were going to get dehydrated from diarrhea.”
“Fine.”
Defeated, Song Ying’er sprawled on the sofa like a starfish, idly twirling a strand of Jiang Li’s hair as she started gossiping.
“Seriously, are you possessed or something? Why are you suddenly being so nice to Shen Muran?”
Jiang Li paused the hand holding the remote. “Consider it my atonement.”
“Huh? But you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?” Song Ying’er thought carefully. “You just said a few harsh words to him. A grown man wouldn’t hold a grudge over that, would he?”
Jiang Li recalled the man holding her and crying while pouring out his grievances, and smiled helplessly. “He would remember.”