Many years later, when many college students who had just stepped into society stood in the Gymnasium as adults, some as husbands, some as wives, some carrying the burden of life for the first time, they would still think back to this scene. A quiet, humble man who lived beside the foul-smelling drainage ditch of the slums had coldly turned down an opportunity that could have changed everything.
That year, his daughter was only four years old. And for the first time in her life, she hated her father because of it. But the man never regretted it.
Cheng left in disappointment. Holding the contract in his hands, he had encountered this kind of person for the first time in his life. "How dare you say that? How dare you claim you can raise your daughter and let her rise above this harsh environment? I don't believe it. I didn't believe it now, and I won't believe it in the future."
At nineteen years old, Cheng was young and hot-headed. Born into a comfortable family, he looked at the broken surroundings with cold certainty. He believed he was right. Because before leaving the slums, he had watched several four- and five-year-old children trying to smash windows with rocks. It felt as though only ugliness could grow here.
People only worried about food, survival, petty interests, and shallow desires. Dreams? Hope? Those things felt impossible.
And now, time peeled away the years. The old footage played once again, and the image froze; only Yu Ye remained. He walked back alone. Several middle-aged businessmen nearby couldn't help speaking excitedly. They had seen the viral video of "Insect Flying."
"Little Yu, your family's finally moving up in life?"
"Good thing too. If it were my daughter, I'd tell her to leave home and start making money." A middle-aged man with a beard laughed loudly.
The bald man beside him grinned. "Exactly. Raising a child star, that's the dream."
Several others joined the discussion, and their voices carried excitement but not warmth or care. Only interest, greed, and short-sighted calculations are hidden beneath smiles.
Inside the show, many guests unconsciously immersed themselves in the moment. Listening to those discussions from the slums, several professors from privileged backgrounds couldn't help sneering.
"Short-sighted."
"Everything revolves around money."
"No wonder Yu Shuying hated her father."
"If she had grown up trapped in that environment, she would've been ruined long ago."
"It's tragic."
"Will the Father become like them, too?"
Guest No. 01, Su Wen from Jinling, sat quietly. His entire family, generation after generation, is devoted to education. A true scholarly family.
Yu Shuying remained silent but she could already guess what happened next. Faced with voices from the bottom of society, her father would agree. Wouldn't he? He must have wanted the money. Maybe he only rejected it because he feared losing control. Maybe he feared the contract. Maybe he feared not getting what belonged to him. So afterward, he beat up the scout. Rejected by the entertainment company. Then still acted like a good father. Everything fit and everything connected. A controlling father, pedantic, stubborn, narrow-minded, and hypocritical.
That image had followed Yu Shuying from childhood to adulthood like a shadow attached to bone. A wound that never healed. She continued watching. The warmth in her eyes faded and became colder and colder.
Under the aging apartment building, beside the pork stall, Ye stood differently from everyone else. The crooked old men leaned carelessly nearby, but he stood straight.
Watching them speak greedily, he then asked, "What if my child only knows this one song? What if she never becomes successful again? Under a bundled contract, how will the company treat her? How will they squeeze her? How will they exploit her? She's only four. You want her entire life controlled by a song? You want her to live like a puppet?"
The old men froze. For the first time, they had no answer, because they never thought that far. They only saw money. Fast and easy money. They want to enjoy life now. As for the child, wasn't she supposed to obey? Wasn't that normal?
The bald man frowned. "You're her father. What you say goes. She just listens."
Yu Ye said nothing. He turned and walked away. The remaining men lowered their voices. Truthfully, they feared him. This strange newcomer. Every time he went out, he carried a knife, even when taking his daughter outside.
Anyone who stared too long, any thug who lingered nearby, would meet his cold eyes. Dangerous. Animal-like. Threatening.
There had once been a thug named Da Qing. Drunk one night, bragging recklessly. He joked about kidnapping Little Shuying, the doll-like little girl everyone noticed.
The next morning, Da Qing woke screaming. His hostile dog had been skinned, and its body lay beside his pillow. Beside it, a message. 'Touch my child, and the next time, it'll be your skin.'
After that, Ye's cold, ruthless reputation spread through the neighborhood. No one dared target his daughter openly nut people still talked.
"Stupid."
"He's sick and still raising her."
"Should've given her away."
"Exactly."
"Let the little girl become a child star."
"Make money while she's valuable."
"When she stops being popular, at least you'll have cash."
"If not, have more children."
Those were their voices. People born in hardship, raised in hardship, and educated by hardship, they had long grown used to thinking this way.
Was it right? Was it normal? Was life supposed to be like this? Those questions echoed not only in the story but in the hearts of countless viewers.
And now, inside the building, Ye returned home and looked at his daughter. There was frustration in her eyes. Pain and helplessness, but also resolve.
"I drove the scout away. It's for your future."
Little Shuying didn't understand; she only felt hurt. Wronged and angry, but she said nothing.
"I'm cooking," Ye spoke calmly, then walked toward the kitchen.
The moment he stepped outside the bedroom, his hand slammed against the wall as pain exploded inside his forehead again. He clenched his head, teeth grinding, and breathing heavily. He washed his face with cold water and swallowed medicine. A lot of medicine.
Then, he cooked. Little Shuying's meal remained the same. Nutritious and carefully prepared. While Ye still ate only plain rice porridge.
But tonight, they sat separately. One table. One person. Silence.
Later, Little Shuying walked onto the balcony. Alone. Completely alone. With tears gathered quietly in her eyes. Under the darkening sky, she softly hummed.
"Insect Flying..."
"Insect Flying..."
The night lowered over the city.
And inside the bedroom, something happened. Something no one watching had expected.