Chapter 50: So Hard to Please

Tang Yu sniffed, biting her lip, afraid to cry any longer. Tears hung precariously at the corners of her eyes, and she struggled to keep them from falling. Bian Yang watched her, both amused and exasperated, pulling out a few tissues, cradling her small face with one hand while gently wiping away her tears with the other.

“You never used to cry so much. Why are you so fond of crying lately? Are you made of water, Little Tang Yu? Such a delicate child.”

Though his words sounded dismissive, his actions were as gentle as could be.

Tang Yu herself didn’t understand why. When Meng Shirui and the others bullied her, she gritted her teeth, forced herself into numbness, refused to shed a single tear—never wanting to show weakness before them, wishing her shell could be harder. All those tears she kept hidden, only letting them flow in secret beneath her quilt, where no one could hear.

Yet in front of Bian Yang, whenever she was bullied or things didn’t go her way, her tears would spill uncontrollably, as if her grievances were multiplied tenfold compared to when others mistreated her.

Because, in her eyes, Bian Yang was different from everyone else.

He was always the one protecting her. If he turned around and bullied her, the sadness and sense of injustice stacked up, hundreds of times over. When others hurt her, she could endure, quietly digest her pain. But if Bian Yang did, she simply couldn’t.

Tang Yu covered her eyes with her hands, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed softly. After he said those words, she only cried harder.

Bian Yang panicked, fumbling to wipe her tears. But she blocked him, refusing to let him touch her.

“I was wrong, I was wrong…”

“Please, ancestor, stop crying, okay? I’m sorry!”

“How about you bully me back, would that be alright?”

He was so sincere in his apology, so humble.

He tried everything to comfort her, but nothing worked.

The girl stood there, crying like a flower battered by rain, like a faucet with a broken switch, letting herself cry freely.

In the silent living room, her aggrieved sobs echoed, and a wave of discomfort rose in Bian Yang’s chest, twisting his heart.

He regretted it, wishing he could slap himself for his reckless words!

He didn’t know how many times he’d said “sorry”—in all his eighteen years in the capital, he had never said it so often as he had in these five minutes.

Bian Yang raked his fingers through his messy hair. Out of options, he dialed a number. “What do I do when someone cries?”

“Huh?” Qin Mingyu, who was playing games in a hotel, was baffled.

Bian Yang pressed his lips together, glanced at the miserable girl, covered the phone, and seemed to grind his teeth, lowering his voice, “I made someone cry, how do I comfort her?”

“Pfft—” Qin Mingyu burst out laughing on the other end.

The laughter was pure, nothing but ridicule.

Bian Yang’s face darkened, and he hung up straight away. He knew this guy was useless.

But soon enough, Qin Mingyu called back, suppressing his laughter, “It’s Tang Yu, isn’t it? You made her cry?”

Bian Yang stayed silent, but Qin Mingyu guessed right, “That girl is so well-behaved, like a marshmallow. How could you make her cry? You’re really something.”

Bian Yang scratched at his brow, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Do you actually have any advice?”

Qin Mingyu didn’t know the reason for their quarrel, but he was genuinely surprised. After all, Bian Yang’s character meant no one had ever really defied him. As brothers for so many years, even when they had disagreements, Qin Mingyu would always concede first, then Bian Yang would accept graciously, giving him face, and they’d make up. In all that time, he’d never heard Bian Yang say the words “I’m sorry.”

Who would have thought he’d be in this situation now?

Qin Mingyu grinned mischievously, offering a suggestion, “Yang, girls need to be coaxed. No matter what, you have to apologize sincerely, tell her you’re sorry.”

Bian Yang pursed his lips, keeping an eye on the girl behind him. “I’ve already said it.”

He’d said it countless times, to no avail.

“Then it must not be sincere enough or heartfelt enough. Here, try saying it louder.”

Mostly, he just wanted to listen.

Then the phone emitted a merciless beep as Bian Yang hung up.

Qin Mingyu glanced at his screen, twitching his lips. Well, he’s just been discarded.

Bian Yang stood before the girl, bending down, “Little Tang Yu?”

She covered her eyes, tears sparkling between her fingers, ignoring him.

His throat bobbed, his voice husky and low, “I’m sorry.” Three careful words. “I shouldn’t have joked like that. Please, don’t cry anymore, alright?”

He coaxed her gently, for the first time meeting coldness with warmth, and so thoroughly.

At last, the girl stopped crying, though her hand still shielded her face, refusing to let him see.

He didn’t even need to guess how red her eyes must be after crying for so long.

He tried to touch her hand, wanting to gently pull it away.

Tang Yu stubbornly resisted, refusing to let go.

Bian Yang was out of options, watching her for a moment.

Then, in the next second, his arms swept around her knees, lifting her up without warning.

The sudden movement startled Tang Yu, her hand falling away from her face, instead clutching his shirt tightly.

“Bian Yang, what are you doing? Put me down!”

Her pale legs swung nervously in the air.

Bian Yang carefully settled her onto the sofa, bent to pull a few tissues from the low table, then knelt before her, firmly holding her hands against his knee so she couldn’t move, while with the other hand he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Tang Yu’s lashes were long and thick, drooping slightly and still damp.

She was stunned by his actions.

She’d never seen an apology like this.

“Little Tang Yu,” he said in a low, earnest voice, calling her name.

In such a posture, kneeling before her, he placed himself lower.

“If next time, someone says something that makes you uncomfortable or upset, you must speak up immediately. Let them know clearly that you don’t like hearing such words, that they’ve hurt you—even if the person is me, do you understand?”

Tang Yu’s eyelids drooped, staring at him in a daze, her face now wiped dry.

Bian Yang looked serious, a gravity she’d never seen from him. He continued, “Sometimes, endurance is a method, but more often it’s a kind of weakness—especially when your rights are violated. If you don’t actively push back, the other party will only take advantage. It’s like human nature; from afar, everyone seems kind, but it’s always crooked timber, never blank paper. Only punishment brings change—like Liu Yaojie and Fan Yuebin, and just now, me.

“Being kind, considerate, and humble is good—but if those traits don’t bring you the rewards you deserve, and only lead you to sacrifice, endure, and retreat, then it’s perfectly fine not to be kind, not to be considerate, not to be humble.”

Tang Yu stared at him, her fingers unconsciously curling together.

No one had ever said these things to her.

Her homeroom teacher told her to be magnanimous when facing bullying.

Her classmates told her to endure humiliation.

Her parents told her to be understanding when abandoned.

Even her grandparents always urged harmony with her peers…

Only Bian Yang told her: you don’t have to endure, you don’t have to be sensible, you don’t even have to be the obedient, well-behaved child.