The more angry Song Mian was with Tang Lingmei, the guiltier she felt toward Chu Tao.

Lately, her anxiety and irritability, stirred up by Tang Lingmei, had somewhat spilled over onto Chu Tao. But the reality was, Chu Tao’s grades hadn’t fallen—they had actually improved.

Perhaps it was really due to the previous tutor not being very good, teaching him in a way that led him astray.

Trying to make amends, Song Mian brought a plate of fruit to his room that evening. She knocked gently and said in a soft voice, “Tao Tao, have some fruit. I’ll change your bedsheet for you.”

As a parent, it wasn’t easy for her to make concessions; apologizing outright was even harder. Offering some food, having a little chat—that was her way of saying sorry.

This was how she’d always done things, and she believed Chu Tao understood.

However, Chu Tao suddenly stood up from his chair, his reaction somewhat intense. “No need!”

Song Mian was momentarily stunned. It was the first time her child didn’t take the chance to smooth things over, making the situation a bit awkward.

Chu Tao’s gaze wavered, and he stammered, “I mean, no need to change the sheet—it’s only been a week.”

Song Mian had hoped to use the excuse of changing his bedding to spend a bit more time with him, maybe even resolve some of the tension between them if possible. But Chu Tao’s obvious rejection meant he wasn’t giving her the chance.

Song Mian’s lips tightened, and she stood frozen in place. “You…”

Feeling a bit awkward, Chu Tao scratched his head. He understood his mom’s intentions. Normally, he would just go along with it, but right now, that box of chocolates was still hidden under his pillow. Changing the sheets would mean she’d find it for sure.

“I’ll have some fruit, thanks, Mom,” he said, taking the plate of apples, picking up a piece with a toothpick, and popping it into his mouth.

Song Mian’s expression softened slightly. “Well, since it’s the weekend, why don’t you tidy up your school bag? I’ll clean it for you. And your uniform—throw it in the washing machine when you’re done.”

Chu Tao felt a slight relief. He quickly emptied his backpack, handed it to her, and placed the fruit plate on his desk.

Song Mian hadn’t expected him to be so fast, barely giving her a chance to say another word before he was done.

Did he really not want to spend any time with her?

Taking the bag from him, Song Mian hesitated, unable to come up with another excuse to stay a little longer.

Then Chu Tao said, “Mom, I need to go out tomorrow.”

“To do what?” Song Mian asked instinctively.

Chu Tao paused in silence, and a trace of disappointment appeared in her eyes.

So, it was yet another secret. Chu Tao seemed to have so many secrets lately; he didn’t want to say anything or share anything with his family.

But by the time Song Mian realized this, it was already too late.

“I’m going to meet a classmate,” Chu Tao finally said.

Which, essentially, didn’t explain much.

Song Mian, unwilling to let it go, asked, “Is it Tao Song?”

Chu Tao shook his head.

If he’d said yes and asked Tao Song to help cover for him, this matter would have been easily settled, but he didn’t want to lie.

“Oh,” Song Mian replied softly.

Inevitably, Chu Tao was making new friends in his new class, and his meetings with his childhood friend Tao Song had become infrequent.

“Thanks, Mom.” Luckily, she didn’t press him further.

“Thank me for what?”

“For the fruit.”

On Saturday morning, Chu Tao, worried that his mother might come in to change his sheets after he left, took two pieces of chocolate and stuffed them in his pocket. Then he hid the box deep in his bookshelf.

Song Mian never wanted to sell any of the study guides Chu Tao had used over the years. They’d piled up in the bookshelf, filling it completely.