Chapter 73: The Self-Cultivation of a Canary (Extra)

From as far back as Shen Handeng could remember, he had never seen his mother. Perhaps because he had no memories of being with her, she felt like a stranger, and the idea of “mother” stirred nothing special in him.

In his memories, there was only his father.

His father treated him well. Even with a demanding job, he always made time to play games with him and teach him to read. Yet, compared to a normal family, those moments were still far too few. Most of the time, he was left with the servants.

Even as a child, he was quiet, sometimes going an entire day without speaking. He didn’t like to go out to play, and he had no friends. Shen Run’an once feared something was wrong with him and took him to several doctors. But every examination declared him perfectly healthy; he simply had nothing to say.

Shen Run’an asked him why he didn’t want to talk. The young Handeng replied, “There’s nothing to say. I want to talk to you, but you’re not here.”

Perhaps it was then that Shen Run’an realized how lonely his son was. Soon after, a woman appeared in their home.

Her name was Zhou Jing.

Zhou Jing was young and beautiful, with a lively way of speaking, far more interesting than the servants who treated him with cautious respect and dared not speak freely. Though still not very talkative, little Handeng clearly preferred her company.

At first, he thought she was just a new servant and didn’t give it much thought. Only later, when he saw Shen Run’an and Zhou Jing acting intimately, did he sense something different. He didn’t understand what it meant, but he knew his father would not treat another servant that way. It was then he realized that this woman was not like the others.

But Zhou Jing was truly kind to him. Unlike the servants who feared taking him out, lest something happen and they be blamed, Zhou Jing would take him on outings and even wait with him outside the company for Shen Run’an to finish work. The few happy memories of his childhood all seemed to come from Zhou Jing.

So when Shen Run’an asked if he would like Zhou Jing to take care of him and live with them, he nodded.

After Zhou Jing married Shen Run’an, things stayed the same for over a year, then slowly began to change. She spent more time shopping and tending to her own needs, less time paying attention to him. Yet in front of Shen Run’an, she would always revert to her former self.

Back then, Handeng was just a child and didn’t understand why Zhou Jing behaved this way. Her attitude put him ill at ease, and he no longer wanted to be around her.

With Shen Run’an often away, Zhou Jing took charge of the household. Gradually, the servants fell under her sway; whatever she said became law, and they told Shen Run’an nothing.

Zhou Jing never went so far as to mistreat him and was always very kind in public. Anyone who met her praised her as a good stepmother. Yet Handeng felt perpetually uneasy, as if he were being watched every moment. During that period, Shen Run’an was busy with work, and Handeng had no chance to speak to him. Each time his father returned, Zhou Jing put on such a flawless act that Shen Run’an never suspected anything.

Whenever he tried to speak, Zhou Jing would always interrupt, never giving him a chance. It was only after great effort that he managed to share his feelings with his father. Shen Run’an confronted Zhou Jing, who immediately apologized, saying she might have been in a bad mood or distracted for some other reason and had neglected him. She had never done anything truly wrong; her explanations always made sense. Little Handeng was no match for her.

Then one day, Shen Run’an collapsed from overwork and died suddenly.

The house plunged into chaos. Relatives he had met and some he’d never seen suddenly appeared, all vying for custody of him. In the end, he continued to live with Zhou Jing.

It was only then that he truly glimpsed how cruel Zhou Jing could be.

She controlled everything about him—what he ate, wore, used—he wasn’t even allowed his own preferences. Yet Zhou Jing always wore the mask of “doing it for his own good.” Outsiders believed she treated him as her own son, but only he knew what his life was really like.

Unfortunately, he was too young to resist her. As he grew older, Zhou Jing’s control only tightened. She would subtly spread rumors that he was emotionally unstable and prone to outbursts. Over time, these whispers became accepted as truth.

Zhou Jing would provoke him in public, and, as a proud and spirited youth, he fell into her traps. Thus, rumors of his “bad temper” spread in their circles, supposedly witnessed firsthand.

As he matured, Handeng learned to suppress his emotions, but by then Zhou Jing’s portrayal of him as “unstable” was nearly complete. So when he was sequestered in the villa “for his health,” no one thought it strange.

The curtains in the villa were kept tightly closed year-round. If he tried to open them, he would go days without food. There was no television, no internet, no sounds—nothing.

When your world is reduced to darkness and silence, can you remain sane?

At times, Handeng wondered if he truly would go mad in that place.

But then, something new entered his world.

He had been given many files to look through, each one featuring a beautiful face. He hadn’t looked closely, simply picked one at random.

The first time he saw a stranger in the villa, he was stunned. Besides Aunt Mei, there were never any living souls here.

Her voice was nothing like Aunt Mei’s lifeless tone; it was soft and gentle, yet not cloying, full of the youthful vitality unique to young girls. When she spoke, it seemed as if the darkness all around receded.

Perhaps he had simply been alone in the dark too long.

At first, he found her presence irritating. She was too noisy. His ears would buzz, making him uncomfortable. But gradually, he grew used to her. When she was silent, the quiet became unsettling.

She would come to him, boldly demanding her “redemption money,” speaking with such confidence and logic that he was left speechless. He couldn’t understand why someone who had been sold would be so cheerful.

Later, he began to understand. To her, he was a walking cash machine—how could she not be happy?

Since her arrival, everything seemed to change.

First, Aunt Mei was replaced with someone he trusted. Then, many of his restrictions were relaxed. He was free to come and go from the villa, even to attend school and interact with people at the company.

All of this happened after she arrived.

She once told him she would bring him luck.

He hadn’t believed her.

But the things that followed forced him to believe.

She truly did bring him good fortune.

He had never thought about loving anyone. By the time he realized he loved her, it was already too late. So all he could do was go on loving her, quietly, always.
—Shen Handeng