[“It... doesn’t have to be that far.”]

Therefore, during one of their visits to the convenience store, Yan Lin proactively said to Mi Lan, “I’ll queue up. You wait over there.”

Mi Lan was completely taken aback at that moment, utterly surprised. Her petite frame of just under 160 cm even bounced up as she reached out to check if he had a fever.

He let her try it with resignation, and she mumbled to herself, “No fever... then which nerve snapped? Scared me half to death.”

Yan Lin shoved his hands into his pockets and irritably said, “If you don’t like it, let’s go back to the classroom.”

With that, he turned to leave.

Mi Lan quickly pulled him back, happily clinging to his arm, almost hanging off him, saying, “Like, like, like—I especially love it when you act strange—please don’t snap out of it!”

Yan Lin rolled his eyes and went to buy her chocolate ice cream.

A cup of chocolate ice cream cost 18 yuan, which for most students was an acceptable expense—a bit pricey but manageable.

However, for Yan Lin, it was a different story altogether. His monthly allowance was only 100 yuan, and the total amount of New Year’s money from relatives each year was around four to five hundred—so he couldn’t actually afford such luxuries.

Yet, he still bought it for her without saying an extra word.

Mi Lan gleefully started enjoying the dessert her quasi-boyfriend had bought for her. Even winter’s thick clothes couldn’t stop her from bouncing around.

She took a big sip, wincing from the cold but seeming very happy nonetheless, exclaiming, “Delicious! This is the best chocolate ice cream I’ve ever had, whee!”

Her smile was sweet and inexplicably vibrant, making anyone watching feel better.

Yan Lin was no exception; he faintly smiled too, but his words were still harsh and unpleasant, saying, “Drink yours quietly, so much chatter.”

Mi Lan wasn’t offended, continuing to drink happily while walking side by side back to the classroom. Then she curiously asked, “Why didn’t you buy yourself a cup?”

Yan Lin paused for a moment, then naturally replied, “I don’t like sweet things.”

In truth, he couldn’t afford two cups.

Mi Lan wrinkled her nose, quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Suddenly, a sly smile appeared on her face as she leaned closer to Yan Lin and whispered, “Hey, be honest. Actually... did you want to share one with me?”

Yan Lin: “...”

Mi Lan giggled, leaning even closer, teasing him, “If that’s the case, you can just say so... I wouldn’t mind.”

Yan Lin: “……”

When she leaned close, he could easily catch the scent of her hair—it was the fragrance of expensive shampoo, hinting at some kind of hidden opulence.

Yan Lin suddenly felt a bit flustered. His usual way of handling such emotions was rigid—he pushed Mi Lan away firmly and scowled, saying, “How many times have I told you not to get so close at school? Can’t you keep our agreement in mind?”

Though Mi Lan was typically carefree, being suddenly scolded made her a little scared. She froze for a moment, then obediently nodded and immediately moved three steps away, asking as she distanced herself, “Is this far enough?”

Yan Lin didn’t mean to be harsh—it was just an instinctive reaction. When he saw the obvious hurt in her eyes, he immediately regretted it and began trying to make amends.

He voluntarily took a step closer, reducing the distance to within a meter, and said, “It... doesn’t have to be that far.”

Interpersonal relationships seemed to always involve a delicate balance, and Mi Lan’s clever personality allowed her to skillfully exploit these subtle gaps. When Yan Lin aggressively lost his temper, she smartly retreated immediately; but when she sensed his softening mood, she would cling again, striving to reclaim every small right she had temporarily lost.

Retreat when the enemy advances, harass when they settle, attack when they tire, pursue when they retreat.

She began leveraging his guilt. From the first floor to the fifth, she remained silent the entire way. Yan Lin naturally assumed silence wasn’t Mi Lan’s style and attributed her current quietness to feeling hurt.

He grew even more uneasy. Between the fourth and fifth floors, at the staircase landing, he stopped her and said, “Why aren’t you talking? I didn’t say anything to you.”

Mi Lan was secretly laughing inside, but her expression appeared genuinely sorrowful, making Yan Lin momentarily feel like a heartless cad.

Then he heard her say sadly, “What do you mean you didn’t say anything? You clearly said it—you told me to stay away from you... Do you not like me at all?”

Yan Lin really didn’t know how to handle this situation. He was a bit anxious, furrowing his brows and saying, “No, I... I didn’t tell you to stay away. I just said we need to keep some distance at school.”

Mi Lan pretended to be angry, stomping her foot and saying, “But apart from school, we barely see each other anyway! You never attend cram school, and you never go out to play. I have no other chance to be with you!”

At this point, she started pretending to cry, lowering her head dramatically—and quite convincingly, even managing to squeeze out a few tears.

Yan Lin: ...?

He truly hadn’t expected things to escalate so seriously. In his memory, Mi Lan wasn’t the type to cry at the drop of a hat. Now... could it be that girls undergo drastic personality changes when dating?

For a moment, he couldn’t judge. He could only think of ways to stabilize the situation, paying attention to the gazes of passing classmates while lowering his voice to ask, “Then what do you want? Can you stop crying and let’s talk calmly, okay?”

Mi Lan felt victory was within reach.

She covered her face and snickered secretly, though to Yan Lin, it looked like she was crying. He heard her sniffle and say, “Then... then come to my house this weekend to play.”

Yan Lin immediately shook his head, “No.”

Mi Lan hadn’t expected such a straightforward rejection. She froze and asked, “Why?”

What else could it be?

Yan Lin knew Mi Lan well—she was a girl who always pushed for more. If he agreed to visit her house this weekend, next week she’d demand reciprocity and insist on visiting his home.

And his home...

...he didn’t want anyone to see it.

These considerations couldn’t be directly explained to Mi Lan, nor could he confess his inner sense of inferiority about his family. Therefore, he could only make other concessions to sidestep this awkward dilemma that was hard to explain.

He said, “This Sunday... if I finish studying early, we can go out for a meal together.”

This was his limit. Just for this meal, he needed to figure out a way to earn some money himself.

Mi Lan had no idea what this concession meant to Yan Lin. She felt a bit dissatisfied, but at the same time, she was excited and looking forward to meeting Yan Lin outside of school. In the end, she compromised slightly, wiping away her tears in the last second before the bell rang and saying:

“Well... okay.”

That evening, Yan Lin appeared normal upon returning home. However, before starting his homework, he was still somewhat unsettled. Eventually, unable to resist, he took out his phone and began searching online: how to quickly earn some money.

The answers he found... weren’t very reliable.

He didn’t actually need much—around 500 yuan would suffice. That way, he could pay for the meal with Mi Lan on Sunday and also cover all her chocolate ice creams for the semester.

Where should he get this 500 yuan? Perhaps... he should sell his gaming account?

He thought that if push came to shove, this wasn’t a bad idea.

However, in reality, Yan Lin was overthinking. His parents noticed his anxiety and easily resolved the issue. Yan Hai casually handed him 1,000 yuan during dinner.

This made Yan Lin frown immediately.

He knew his parents’ financial situation too well. Yan Hai earned little and loved playing mahjong, rarely having much leftover cash. Their daily life was already tight.

“Dad,” Yan Lin couldn’t help but ask, “Where did this money come from?”

Yan Hai was drinking erguotou with peanuts, usually sipping sparingly. Today, however, he drank glass after glass, full of emotion, saying, “Dad has money now. Just take it. Why ask so many questions?”

As he spoke, he asked Zhang Chunyan to pour him more wine.

Yan Lin fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Did the demolition deal finally go through? Are we preparing to move out?”

He actually hoped they could move out of this dilapidated house soon. Not only would it ensure basic living standards for the family, but if Mi Lan mentioned coming over again, he wouldn’t be at a loss for words.

“Move? Why move?” Yan Hai slammed the table, his eyes wide and his dark face flushed red from the alcohol. “We’re not moving! The longer we drag it out, the more money that developer, Haoting, will give us! Those capitalists, why should we let them off easy!”

Drunk, he laughed loudly, giving Yan Lin a somewhat eerie smile. He rubbed his fingers together and said, “And someone hopes we won’t move. As long as we stay... we can make money from both sides...”

He burst into laughter again. Zhang Chunyan knew he was drunk and began fussing over him from the side.

Yan Lin no longer wanted to listen to these trivialities and simply got up to leave the dining table.

His father hadn’t been clear earlier, speaking vaguely, making it hard to understand. But with Yan Lin’s intelligence and sharpness, he could still glean some information from those ambiguous, fragmented words.

Someone was bribing these holdout households to prevent them from reaching a demolition agreement with the developer, Haoting, who had purchased the land.

Why? Who wouldn’t want these holdouts to move? What was their goal? Was it to compete commercially with Haoting? To delay Haoting’s development process and cripple their funding chain?

Yan Lin didn’t know.

Such obscure and dark issues were too difficult for a high school student facing college entrance exam pressure. He lacked the social resources to explore answers to these questions, and frankly, he wasn’t interested in the power struggles among the wealthy.

Haoting, commercial competition, demolition agreements... he didn’t care about any of it.

As long as his family slowly improved, that was enough.