I was driving past a local high school when I saw a young girl tugging on the faded sleeve of a teenage boy, timidly calling him "Julian." The boy had a clean, handsome face, standing tall and straight like a birch tree. I said, "Bring him over." "Miss?" I lifted my chin, my tone indifferent: "No reason, I just feel like sponsoring someone too." (01) Our butler, Mr. Henderson, was always highly efficient. The "Julian" that Chloe mentioned soon appeared before me. When he was brought in, I was flipping through his file. Julian Vance. Exceptional looks. Even his ID photo captured a clear, ethereal handsome face. Just based on his features, he could easily outshine the posters of the latest teen heartthrobs plastered all over the streets. However, his current condition wasn't great. He looked mentally exhausted, with a faint hint of haggardness. I wasn't surprised; I guessed he had run into some trouble. Julian was an orphan from a poor background. His only family was his grandmother, who had just been diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer and was lying in a hospital bed. He had been an outstanding student since childhood, working part-time to subsidize his family's income, and was admitted to Columbia University as the valedictorian of his high school. Everyone who knew him praised him endlessly; his resume was flawless. Chloe Davis was his neighbor and childhood friend. But a teenage girl's feelings are hard to hide. I could see her admiration. No wonder Arthur was so furious. (02) Arthur was usually a very calm and indifferent person. I had never seen him experience intense emotional fluctuations, but lately, he was frequently distracted, and his eyes were dark and brooding. Yesterday, before I even walked into his office, I heard him on the phone. It was the condescending advice of an elder, half-admonition, half-warning. He said, "Chloe, you have your SATs coming up. You need to focus on your studies. Be careful about how you interact with your classmates; you never truly know someone's heart." His usually cold and composed tone couldn't hide the burning jealousy. My hand, which had been about to knock on the door, paused. I had originally had the housekeeper make soup to bring over, but suddenly, I lost all interest in having dinner with him. Lately, his attitude towards me had been visibly perfunctory. Even his verbal greetings felt like a chore. He didn't care who I was with or what I was doing. But he was like that with everyone. Until the news that he was sponsoring a poor student reached my ears. Arthur wasn't the type to love doing charity. But for her, he planted an entire field of flowers, took her out to sea to watch the sunrise, accompanied her on walks through every corner of the city, and spent a fortune to get her an exchange student spot. He even got jealous like a hot-headed teenager. People laughed at him for keeping a mistress in a golden cage. At first, my reaction was displeasure, and then I wanted to cut off the relationship. After all, he was someone I had held onto for so many years. "Miss," Mr. Henderson frowned, hesitating, "About Mr. Arthur sponsoring that girl..." Mr. Henderson was a butler specifically chosen for me by my family. He was loyal but not rigid, and sometimes his methods weren't exactly above board. His eyes were dark; he probably meant to "handle" Chloe, this "stumbling block," for me. "Let's go," I interrupted him. Let it be. Making a fuss would be meaningless; it would just make me look like a bitter woman. I couldn't be bothered to bring this matter out into the open. If he deliberately hid it from me, what would it matter if I found out the truth? Throw evidence at him and force him to admit it? And then watch him choose? He might choose me; after all, that's what he used to do. The Sterling family was an untouchable giant, but their only daughter, Evelyn Sterling, was an eccentric cripple. I was a piece of fat meat that everyone coveted. Or, to put it another way, I was like a rotting corpse. Even if it stank to high heaven, there would still be a flock of vultures circling me, eager to peck me away. I was a highly sought-after marriage prospect that they all scrambled for. Even if Arthur was completely unwilling, he would maintain this marriage in name only. Just like in the past, when the capricious me suddenly threw a tantrum at him, he would only endure it and look at me calmly. Then, when my anger subsided, he would send me a gift as an apology. The gifts were probably picked out by his assistant. Sometimes it was a designer bag, sometimes jewelry; it didn't show much thought. But I didn't need him to say anything, and my anger would easily dissipate. After all, everyone said I liked him, loved him dearly. I never denied it, because I thought so too. But now, just thinking about that possibility gave me a slight feeling of nausea. It felt disgusting. But I never felt this way before. The glass reflected my face, pale and bloodless. I stared at myself absentmindedly. Seeing that I had no intention of speaking, Mr. Henderson stayed silent and pushed my wheelchair, taking me away. (03) My health was poor, and I had trouble with my legs. It wasn't that I couldn't walk at all, but rather that I was too weak to stand for long periods. But when he saw me sitting in the wheelchair, Julian didn't show the pity and shock that others usually did. He didn't even glance at my legs much, respectfully lowering his eyes, his features gentle and restrained. Mr. Henderson informed him of the details of my sponsorship. The terms were exceptionally generous and lenient. If he met my requirements, he could even receive a large sum of money sufficient to settle his family. Julian's fingers, hanging by his sides, curled slightly. The gifts of fate always come with a price tag. He couldn't possibly fail to guess that there's no such thing as a free lunch. Mr. Henderson, ever thorough, saw his hesitation and explained that this time he was just coincidentally chosen as an investment target for a certain charity project. I didn't say anything, although I felt it was unnecessary. I was certain Julian wouldn't refuse. He must have been crushed under the pressure. Arthur wouldn't actively target Julian, but Arthur only needed to show a hint of displeasure, and there would be people who thought themselves clever doing things to "please" Arthur. For example, easily destroying Julian's part-time job, taking away his grandmother's hospital bed, and then spreading some rumors so he couldn't even stand at school. Someone with nowhere to turn, what room did he have to refuse? Who else could he ask for help, and who could he ask what exactly he had done wrong? But he didn't say "okay" from beginning to end. Until Mr. Henderson left and closed the door. "Miss Sterling," Julian's eyes were clear, and he asked frankly, "What do I need to do for you?" I felt a little uncomfortable and rested my head on the table. After a long while, I murmured an acknowledgment. Julian noticed my discomfort. Seeing that I didn't speak, he hesitated for a moment, then poured me a glass of warm water. His long fingers pushed the porcelain cup towards me; it had a jade-like texture. Then, I saw him speak. I couldn't hear the words, only saw his beautifully shaped thin lips moving, seeming to ask if I needed him to call Mr. Henderson. The sunlight fell on my eyelashes. I squinted, observing his distant and handsome features. Suddenly, I felt very satisfied. He was quite good-looking, no worse than Chloe. What did I want him to do for me? I hadn't decided. I was just curious. (04) The Sterling family had many eyes and ears. The matter Arthur tried so hard to conceal reached my ears within half a day. It was just that in the past, I didn't care and pretended not to know. In my eyes and heart, there was only Arthur. I relied on him; as long as he stayed with me and was willing to coax me, that was enough. But this time was different. I suddenly developed a very strong curiosity about things other than Arthur. Arthur had told his friends that he felt like he was raising a flower with his own hands. Watching her grow, bloom, stand tall and graceful, blooming wildly in the mountains, shining because of his sunlight, and becoming shy because of his rain—a flower that bloomed only for him. He was addicted to this feeling. He described it so well; I wanted to try it too. "I want to plant a tree," I suddenly said, very seriously and slowly. "I want to experience giving him sunlight, dew, and watching him grow." Julian froze. He didn't understand what I meant and looked a bit bewildered. I let out a small yawn and switched to a more straightforward way of speaking: "I want to keep you." He was basically at a dead end now. If only I helped him, then he could be considered a tree growing for me, right? Julian remained silent. Then, his ears turned red. He looked a little distressed, a little awkward, and a little speechless. I knew this sentence might sound a bit frivolous, but I didn't care much. I figured he must feel humiliated. But for some reason, he looked at me, his features still gentle, showing a hint of helplessness, which diluted that distancing aloofness. He even crouched down, smoothed the blanket that had slipped on my knees, and brushed off the dust that had fallen on it. This reaction was completely different from the female leads in TV dramas who would argue righteously, "You're insulting me." "Miss Sterling..." he hesitated, asking uncertainly, "Will you tell your family about this?" (05) To be honest, it took me a long time to understand what he meant. Because I had poor absorption when I was young, I didn't get enough nutrients and developed slower. Even with all the supplements later, I still looked younger than my peers. So he thought I was a minor and needed to inform my parents before making a decision. What made him think I was a minor? I felt stifled. He clearly should know my identity and the world of difference between him and me. Yet he wasn't afraid of me, nor did he revere me. He even dared to question my decision, thinking I was playing house. When Chloe looked at Arthur, it was with respect and admiration. She looked at him as if looking at her god and faith. Arthur was very proud of this. But Julian looked at me like he was looking at a younger sister throwing a tantrum; he was underestimating me. I got angry, so I abruptly stuck out my leg and kicked him. Not hard, but my shoe flew off. In the past, when I liked to throw random tantrums, Arthur would usually turn and walk away, and everyone else was used to staying three feet away. But Julian didn't hide. He didn't even move, and a light gray shoe print instantly appeared on his pristine white shirt. I was stunned for a few seconds, a little unaccustomed to it. "I'm keeping you; no need to tell anyone else," I slowly retracted my leg after a moment and said sluggishly. "So you have to listen to me and be on call." He was silent for a few seconds. Unexpectedly, he didn't raise any conditions but half-crouched down and gently put the shoe back on for me. "Okay," Julian looked up at me. "I understand." I felt like he sighed, but maybe he didn't. After he left, I called Mr. Henderson. "I had a few outfits made at The Tailor's," I nonchalantly touched the blanket on my knees. "Send them over for me." The Tailor's was a bespoke tailoring shop that was a status symbol in New York. Ordinary families had to wait in line, but the Sterlings didn't. Mr. Henderson instinctively asked, "Are they for Mr. Arthur..." What Mr. Arthur? I hadn't snapped back to reality, my mind filled only with that glaring stain on Julian's clothes. Didn't he know how to dodge? A birch tree with a black smudge wouldn't look good. Mr. Henderson knew me too well. He glanced at my expression and naturally changed the name: "Send them to Mr. Vance." A college boy who just started school, being called 'Mr.' I frowned. "Don't call him Mr. Vance, call him..." Mr. Henderson respectfully lowered his head, waiting for my final word. I was stuck for a long time: "Just call him... Little Tree!" (06) I gradually began to understand the joy Arthur spoke of. When Julian met me for the first time, although his clothes were washed clean, you could tell they were slightly old, and so were his shoes; he had probably worn them for years. I sent him new clothes, and he wore them. I disliked that he ate steamed buns and pickles every day, so I had someone deliver meals to him daily. As expected, I saw his complexion improve significantly, and he finally didn't look so frail. I saw how exhausted he was taking care of his grandmother every day, so I simply moved her to a private room and hired a dedicated caregiver. Julian didn't refuse, but he would seriously thank me every time. He remembered every expense clearly: "I will pay you back, Miss Sterling." "I don't want money." My tone was casual. Remembering something, I became bossy, "Since I'm sponsoring you, I only sponsor the best. You must get first place in your department this semester." It was a question, but it was also a command. Julian was slightly taken aback, then nodded. "Okay." He then carefully chose his words and asked what I liked. Probably planning a return gift. I thought it was unnecessary. I originally wanted to ask him what he could afford to give, but seeing him standing clean and refreshing in the sunlight, I felt great. This was a handsome and elegant young man. Clothes make the man; now he was even more suave and charming, reminding people of a jade-like gentleman. Is this what planting a tree is like? No wonder Arthur liked it. It was truly delightful. "I like plants," I rested my chin on my hand. "Not flowers, they're too easy to kill." Julian: "..." He agreed, and really gave me a pot of succulents he cultivated himself. This was completely different from Arthur. The gifts I gave Arthur disappeared without a trace after he received them. Arthur wouldn't thank me either; his attitude was always that it was expected. Actually, I didn't care before, but now I know that originally, getting a response was this kind of feeling. Like dropping a coin into the water and hearing the splash. It sounded quite nice. So the object of my gift-giving changed from Arthur to Julian. For this reason, I specially bought a small greenhouse and filled it with lush potted plants. They were all gifts from Julian, and it quickly turned into an ocean of green. (07) It wasn't until Arthur came to see me that I remembered I hadn't seen him in a long time. I also hadn't sent him any messages to care about him in a long time. But I withheld the news that I was sponsoring Julian; after all, Arthur had also hidden the news of sponsoring Chloe. I thought this was very fair. The only difference was that he couldn't hide it, but I could. Arthur only knew that an unknown person was protecting Julian. Not only could the people around him no longer touch Julian, but they also avoided him like the plague. He inquired anxiously about the news while carefully avoiding me, becoming so irritable that pimples even popped up on his forehead. I froze the first second I saw him. Then I gently looked away, thinking with a bit of disgust: How did he get so ugly? Not as good-looking as Little Tree. "Evelyn," his tone was indifferent, "I've been busy socializing lately and haven't had time to see you. Dinner tonight?" Little Tree said he would cook for me tonight. I didn't want to eat with Arthur. Just as I was about to refuse, Arthur naturally changed the subject: "The Tailor's didn't contact me this month. I have an important gathering, and I don't have the right clothes." The Tailor's used to custom-make three suits for Arthur every month, under my orders. But the clothes for this month had long been worn by Little Tree; there was none for him. Mr. Henderson, who personally delivered them for me, didn't even bat an eyelid. I looked at him strangely. "Then you should go to The Tailor's." Why come to me? I wasn't a tailor. But without me, The Tailor's wouldn't even pay attention to Arthur. He wasn't qualified. Arthur was silent for a few seconds, a hint of impatience appearing between his brows: "Stop making a fuss." I looked at him with interest. "The Tailor's has been busy lately. You can go wait in line." He finally seemed to realize that my reaction wasn't quite right. Arthur looked at me, hesitated for a few seconds, and his voice softened a bit: "Evelyn, are you upset because I haven't come to see you recently?" I scrutinized him, increasingly feeling that men who are getting older really need to pay attention to maintenance. Arthur's phone vibrated. He was probably distracted, even forgetting to avoid me, and looked directly down at the message on his phone. It was probably a message from Chloe. I didn't want to peek, but I accidentally caught a glimpse; it was a photo. — "My friend is shooting promotional photos for Columbia today, and I came to help carry water and stuff >w<" The boy in the photo looked very familiar; it was Julian. Julian had also told me about the promotional photos. Seeing him wearing the clothes I gave him made me feel even better. Arthur only took one look and didn't even notice the message Chloe sent before freezing in place. He zoomed in on the photo, the irritation in his eyes going completely blank. Then, his fingers trembled, his knuckles turning white as he stared dead at the pattern on Julian's cuff—it was the signature mark of The Tailor's. Having worn it for so many years, he couldn't possibly mistake it. (08) It felt like minutes had passed, or maybe just a few seconds. When I started getting impatient, Arthur finally turned to look at me. He wasn't completely stupid, after all. My recent coldness, the backer that suddenly appeared behind Julian, the tight-lipped attitude of everyone around him, and even those subtle, strange looks—Arthur hadn't failed to notice them. But when he actually saw something that belonged to him appear on Julian, the blood rushed to his head, and he almost lost his reason. "Evelyn Sterling." Arthur's eyes were bloodshot, and he practically gritted his teeth. "What is your relationship with him?" Mr. Henderson moved, and I knew what he was planning, so I stopped him: "Mr. Henderson, no need." Then I directly splashed the hot tea in my hand onto Arthur's face. He couldn't dodge in time and looked extremely disheveled. Mr. Henderson handed me a tissue. I wiped my hands, my tone curious: "Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?" Arthur clearly hadn't expected me to react this way and stood frozen in place. "Listen, Arthur." I toyed with a leaf of the small potted plant in my lap. "I haven't even settled the score with you regarding that girl; you have no right to question me." His lips trembled, as if waking up from his own world, the furious expression turning pale. "You know?" He seemed anxious to explain. "Evelyn, about me and Chloe... Chloe Davis, it's not what you think. I didn't tell you just because I was afraid you'd be upset." I said "Oh": "Are you done?" "Chloe is just a little girl. I hope you can be a little more understanding." He took a deep breath, as if calming down, his face dark, and the forced gentleness seemed a bit awkward. "You are my fiancée; you don't need to compare yourself with others." But I didn't speak immediately. Originally, my mood was good, and I might have even been able to peacefully say a few words to him. Thinking about it now, my good mood had nothing to do with him. He just came to ruin my mood. I asked impatiently, "Arthur, who do you think you are?" Arthur was stunned. He had never been humiliated by me like this, and he couldn't recover for a moment. I became even more curious. "Are you confused about your status? Asking me to be more understanding and to compare myself with others, your entire family doesn't deserve to say such things to me." So annoying. I was inherently someone with a bad temper, and such mean words came easily to me. It's just that I wouldn't say them to him before. It was as if I should cherish something that belonged to me. But now I kind of wanted to throw him away. "Let's go, Mr. Henderson." I stopped looking at Arthur. "To the greenhouse." Mr. Henderson pushed my wheelchair, ready to take me away. "I know, are you jealous? Are you deliberately taking revenge on me, which is why you went to that kid?" Arthur, covered in tea stains, chased after me. "Evelyn, let me tell you, he's up to no good. He's usually fake to Chloe, a country bumpkin from a poor village..." "Mr. Arthur," Mr. Henderson coldly interrupted him. "Watch your words. You have no right to comment on Miss Sterling's affairs." Arthur unconsciously stopped his steps. He was afraid of Mr. Henderson and didn't speak again, only staring at me intently, as if hoping I would call him back. Mr. Henderson had been with the Sterling family for too long; his status was different from an ordinary subordinate. The elders of the Arthur family would nod and bow when they saw Mr. Henderson, and Arthur was always very humble and polite to him. Even though Mr. Henderson was my butler, he dared to offend me but didn't dare to offend Mr. Henderson. After stepping out of the elevator, I said, "Teach the Arthur family a lesson." "Yes." The Arthur family wasn't stupid; they would definitely know it was Arthur who made a mistake. They would give me a satisfactory answer. This was better than letting Mr. Henderson just beat him up, lest he leave my gallery bruised and battered, leading others to think our Sterling family was unreasonable. Mr. Henderson looked at me with some relief. "Miss has grown up." Even my dad, who was far away abroad, called to praise me when he heard about it. "That kid dared to speak rudely to you; he deserves a lesson." He first scolded Arthur, then asked me, "But why are you suddenly willing to be so ruthless this time?" After all, having Mr. Henderson beat him up was a minor issue; it would pass once the injuries healed. But causing trouble for the Arthur family meant losing all face. I snorted lightly. "He called Little Tree a country bumpkin, even though I've raised him so well." My dad was totally confused. "What?" Mr. Henderson didn't report everything to him. Besides, sponsoring a poor student wasn't a big deal; he still didn't know what I had been doing lately. However, my dad and I often had heart-to-heart talks. "I'll tell you when you get back." I didn't explain much. "I just think he's blind." (09) I bought an apartment outside Julian's school. I recorded his fingerprint, but he usually only came when I called him. Occasionally, if there were no seats in the library and he needed a place to study, he would ask for my permission in advance. I found it strange: "Recording your fingerprint means you can come whenever you want. Why do you have to get my permission every time?" Julian said it was my house, and if I was in it, it would be very impolite of him to come over without saying a word. I didn't like people who lectured. But he was the Little Tree I kept; his voice was nice, and his tone was gentle. I just let him be. I regularly hired people to clean this apartment, and since no one stayed overnight, it was usually spotless. However, there were many traces of use in the kitchen. Because ever since the first time I said Julian's cooking was delicious, Julian often came to cook for me. The stove was ignited, and the sound of chopping vegetables could be heard. Before the meal, Julian handed me a fruit platter. The honeydew melon was freshly cut, exuding a sweet and fragrant scent; the grapes had been peeled by him, revealing the crystal-clear flesh, and even the white veins of the mandarin orange segments had been torn off cleanly. The good mood that had been disturbed by Arthur returned, and I forked a piece of melon: "Come here." "What's wrong?" He wiped the water drops off his hands. "Are you hungry? I'll try to be faster." I handed the honeydew melon to his mouth. Julian instinctively took a bite, then froze. A hint of a smile rippled outward from the depths of his eyes. He said, "Thank you, Miss." He didn't feel there was anything wrong with this. I certainly wouldn't think there was anything wrong. I accepted his thanks as a matter of course and forked a grape for him. When he went to the kitchen, I began to concentrate on enjoying my pre-dinner fruit. Sweet. Tonight's dinner was very sumptuous. Although it didn't use exceptionally expensive ingredients like the family chef did, I wasn't picky. "Miss, can you give me one of your bank accounts?" Julian suddenly asked at the dinner table. Before I could ask him why, he confessed on his own accord: "I got paid for shooting the promotional photos, and I want to transfer it to you." I looked at him. "Do you think I'm poorer than you?" "That's not what I mean." Julian served me chicken soup, carefully skimming the fat floating on the surface, his voice gentle. "I eat your food, live in your house, use your things now, and I have nowhere to spend money, so I should give all the money I earn to you, and you can help me spend it." He was very good with words. The irritability that had just surfaced in my heart was instantly smoothed over. I thought for a moment: "Then just leave it with me." I would find my dad's most trusted investment manager to help him manage this money and give it back to him when it multiplied several times. Julian smiled at me, like a clear breeze and bright moon: "Thank you, Miss." I didn't lack money and was always generous. Getting along with Julian always put me in a good mood. In the past, if Arthur put me in a good mood, I would unstintingly give him some resources he needed—all of which he subtly asked for. But Julian never asked me for anything; he only accepted what I gave him. I thought to myself, he doesn't even know how to proactively ask for money. I still have to help him figure out how he can be this poor. I said, "Will you have scholarship money this year?" "Yes," Julian said. "When it's credited, I'll put it all with you, Miss. Is that okay?" His dark eyes were as clean as a clear spring. I swallowed the beef in my mouth and said slowly, "Okay." Adding his scholarship money, I would add some more to make his principal a lucky number, and then hand it over to the financial manager. After dinner, I gave Julian a card. I had given him a debit card with $100,000 before, but he never used it, and he probably didn't know how much money was in it. This time I gave him a black card from the Sterling Group. "Many properties under my family's name can use this card. For example, the shopping center opposite your school, everything inside is free when you swipe this card," I said. "If there's anyone who doesn't recognize it, call me." He was stunned for a few seconds. "Miss." I don't know since when, he stopped calling me Miss Sterling and started calling me Miss. Julian sighed: "You treat me so well, it's easy to make people..." He seemed to be deliberating on what word to use. After a long time, he came up with "spoiled." I thought to myself, there are too many people around me who throw their weight around. How could a person with such a gentle personality as Julian become arrogant? He half-crouched down to help me put on the slippers I had kicked under the table: "I might even push my luck." I looked at him strangely. "You were supposed to be spoiled and push your luck." I wanted the little tree I planted to receive the brightest sunlight and the most nourishing rain in the world. — "Because you are my person." (10) When I received the apology call from the Arthur family, I was slowly walking around the Columbia campus. Although I couldn't stand for long periods, to prevent my leg muscles from atrophying, I would walk for a while every day. This time, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to stroll around Columbia. Julian finished his last exam today, and I planned to pick him up, though I hadn't told him yet. This was called creating a surprise. It's not that I hadn't done things on a whim before, but it always seemed like Arthur wasn't very surprised. Julian was different from Arthur. I couldn't help but guess what kind of expression he would show when he saw me. The more I thought about it, the more the corners of my mouth couldn't help but turn up. Columbia, as one of the top universities in New York and even the whole country, had an extremely beautiful campus with clean and spacious roads. The passing students were also very polite. Even if occasionally someone curiously looked at Mr. Henderson pushing the wheelchair and me standing next to it, they only glanced and quickly looked away. The head of the Arthur family was apologizing to me with trepidation. Speaking of Arthur, he scolded him thoroughly, saying the family had recently punished him, listing them one by one, and finally asked if I was satisfied with this handling. I didn't listen carefully because I was looking at the soil where Little Tree grew. Since he asked, I dropped a sentence, "Average," and hung up the phone. "Miss, do you want to sit and rest for a while?" Mr. Henderson asked. "It's fine here, Mr. Henderson." I shook my head. "Julian should study for a few more years, don't you think?" Mr. Henderson didn't call Julian Little Tree like I did. He called him Mr. Vance now, explaining that since Julian was my person, his status was now equivalent to half a young master of the Sterling family. "Mr. Vance is limited by his major, so further study is the best choice," Mr. Henderson said. "The path Miss chooses for him is naturally the best." "If he wants to start a business, the family seems to have people who can guide him. If he graduates, our overseas industries have expanded well..." I thought about it, always feeling that every option suited him very well. "I'll ask him when the time comes and let him choose himself." Mr. Henderson seemed a bit surprised, but this emotion was fleeting. "Let's go pick him up from his exam." I sat in the wheelchair. This was my first time picking someone up from an exam, and it was the top student in the department. A very novel feeling. Before arriving outside the exam room, I suddenly saw a familiar figure with a backpack walking out of the teaching building, looking in a hurry. "Miss, it's Mr. Vance," Mr. Henderson said. "Should I call out to him?" "He handed in his paper early." I thought about it, a bit of mischief arising. "No, let's follow him." I planned to get close and startle him later. Mr. Henderson didn't say a word and pushed me to follow. Julian's goal was very clear, but the place he was walking to made me increasingly confused. Mr. Henderson: "That's the experimental field of Columbia's College of Agriculture." Agriculture, this was completely unrelated to Julian's materials major. I was puzzled when I heard someone call his name. "Julian." A dusty guy emerged from the field. "You come here more often than I do. My advisor asked me a few days ago if you wanted to join his lab." His voice was loud, but I couldn't hear what Julian said. I only saw that boy laugh loudly: "If it weren't for your sweet talk, I wouldn't have bothered teaching you... Alright, the cherry tomatoes you planted have no problems. By the way, does your family run an agricultural supply store? You're always planting these random things." Julian seemed to think of something and revealed a faint smile. The sunlight was warm, gently enveloping his handsome profile. I stood frozen in place. Actually, I knew Julian was very busy. I said I wanted him to give me plants just casually. Maybe the first pot of succulents was cultivated by him, but the second pot, the third pot... I would never investigate where he brought them from, or whether he bought them. But I didn't care. I treated people well just based on my mood because what I gave was something not worth mentioning to me, so whether I got a return or not didn't matter. Then, seeking advice from the College of Agriculture, going down to the muddy ground every day to watch the seeds sprout with his own eyes, and sending me a whole ocean of green, downplaying it from beginning to end without saying a word. To Julian, was this giving also something not worth mentioning? My heart felt like it was suddenly pricked. It didn't hurt; it was just a sore and itchy feeling, oozing out wet emotions bit by bit. I lowered my eyes: "Let's go, Mr. Henderson, don't let him see us."
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