Green plums cannot become lovers.

Amidst the chaos, An and Asuka remained seated, calmly observing everything.

He watched as his mother gently comforted her crying son, saw the worry and love overflowing in her eyes, and watched her natural, subtle actions as a mother—wiping away tears, checking for injuries, and whispering words of comfort.

What a heartwarming scene.

In my memory, I have never been treated like this before.

An and Asuka's faces were expressionless. There was no jealousy, no resentment, not even sadness. He simply watched quietly, as if observing a stage play that had nothing to do with him.

But Kasumigaoka Utaha and Eriri, who were sitting next to him, saw his hand hanging under the table—his hand was clenched tightly, his knuckles were white from the force, and his nails were digging deep into his palm, almost drawing blood.

Eriri's nose tingled, and she almost cried too. She reached out and gently placed her hand on An and Asuka's clenched fists, wanting to offer some warmth and support.

"Junior, it's okay to cry if you want to."

"Cry?" An and Asuka were taken aback for a moment upon hearing this, then couldn't help but laugh.

"Cry? Don't worry, senior, I don't feel like crying."

"But......"

“Really, you don’t need to worry.” An and Asuka looked at the family not far away and said softly, “It’s just a little regrettable.”

"pity?"

“Yes.” An and Asuka nodded, looking proud. “Because they lost a child who was a genius.”

Volume 1: Chapter 196 Farewell, Past.

By the time Anhe and Miho's family finally managed to calm their child's crying and returned to the dining table, a full ten minutes had passed.

The other customers in the restaurant had already changed, and the waiters were cleaning up the mess at the next table. A faint lemon scent of cleaning agent wafted in the air. It was completely dark outside; through the glass, one could only see the reflection of the restaurant lights and the occasional streak of car headlights.

"Excuse me, Asuka..." When Anwa Miho sat down again, her face still bore traces of tears and a hint of exhaustion. Her hair was a little messy, and there were traces of juice on the cuffs of her off-white dress. She looked even more disheveled than before.

"It's okay, I understand."

An and Asuka shook their heads, their gaze falling on the little boy beside them who was playing with a napkin. Children's emotions come and go quickly; they had already forgotten the unpleasantness from before and were focused on tearing the napkin into various shapes.

“After all, taking care of such a lively child,” An and Asuka said calmly, “it must be very hard work.”

Upon hearing this, Anwa Miho's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. She knew what he was saying—what he was implying.

Indeed, Ash and Asuka from eight years ago are completely different children. Asuka was very quiet from a young age, rarely cried, would tidy up her toys by herself, would bring her a glass of warm water when she was tired, and would wipe away her tears with her little hands when she cried.

As for Ash... Ash is a typical spoiled child. He can be willful, he can whine, and he can cry loudly when he doesn't get what he wants.

One is so sensible it breaks your heart, the other is so lively it gives you a headache.

"It's...it's just a child's nature."

Anwa Miho forced a smile and reached out to lovingly pat the boy's head. Her movements were gentle, her fingertips brushing against the child's soft hair, her eyes filled with a mother's tenderness.

But just then, Xiao Zhi suddenly looked up, threw the torn tissue in his hand, and shouted, "Mom! I want a hamburger! I want a Coke!"

The untouched food on the table was still laid out before them—an elegant set meal, steaming soup, and a brightly colored salad. But the child's gaze had already bypassed these, landing on a children's hamburger with a cartoon flag stuck in the hand of a child at the next table.

“But…” Anwa Miho looked at the food on the table with some difficulty, “We already have so much food.”

"I don't care! I want a hamburger! I want a Coke!" Xiao Zhi started kicking his legs, the sound getting louder and louder, quickly attracting the attention of those around him.

The guests at the next table cast disapproving glances, the couple in the distance frowned, and the waiter stopped and looked over with concern. While children's tantrums are common in family restaurants, this level of willfulness still drew attention.

Kasumigaoka Utaha and Eriri exchanged a glance, both seeing undisguised disgust in each other's eyes. It wasn't that they disliked children, but rather that they couldn't understand how this woman could so indulge one child so completely, yet so cruelly abandon the other eight years ago.

Finally, after Mr. Nishimura's quiet persuasion, "Fine, just buy him one," Anwa Miho relented. She called the waiter, ordered a kids' burger meal, and a large Coke.

The waiter quickly brought the food. Xiao Zhi immediately grabbed the hamburger happily and took a big bite, getting ketchup all over his mouth. An and Miho quickly grabbed tissues to wipe it off for him, their movements gentle and practiced.

An and Asuka watched this scene quietly for a long time before speaking softly, "I thought Mother would refuse."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the otherwise quiet restaurant.

Anwa Miho looked up and met his gaze.

“After all, you always said we should conserve food,” An and Asuka continued, their eyes sweeping over the almost untouched food on the table. “We shouldn’t waste food, we shouldn’t be picky eaters, and we shouldn’t expect to get what we want right away—these are all things you taught me.”

His tone was calm, as if he were recalling an interesting past event, but every word was like a fine needle piercing Anwa Miho's heart.

Anwa Miho opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her gaze shifted between the food on the table and the hamburger in her son's hand, and a clear look of embarrassment appeared on her face.

“The situation is different now, Anwa-kun.” Mr. Nishimura spoke up at this moment, his voice steady, with a patient attempt to explain, “Miho is no longer in that hell. She has more choices and can give her child a better life.”

He used the word "hell" with a heavy tone.

Clearly, he had heard about An and Miho's past marriage—the alcoholic and gambling husband, the home filled with violence and fear, those dark and hopeless days. That's why when he met her, he didn't hesitate to lend a helping hand, giving her a chance to escape her past.

Upon hearing this, An and Asuka nodded thoughtfully: "Hell... that's true."

His gaze fell once again on Anwa Miho's face, those eyes that were so similar to his own, now filled with guilt, pain, and a kind of almost desperate longing.

“Then I really must congratulate you, Mother,” An and Asuka said with a polite smile, as if congratulating a distant relative, “for finally escaping that place.”

Then he paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and asked, "So, where is Father?"

"Huh?" Anwa Miho was taken aback, clearly not keeping up with the sudden shift in the topic.

"Didn't you go looking for him?" An and Asuka asked calmly. "So, did you find any trace of him?"

This question was like a bucket of ice water poured over Anwa Miho's head.

She froze, her face turning from embarrassed to deathly pale. Her lips trembled slightly, and her fingers unconsciously gripped the tablecloth, her knuckles turning white. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her throat seemed to be blocked by something, and she could only utter broken, breathy sounds.

"This...this..." Her gaze darted around in a panic, not daring to look into Anwa Asuka's eyes, nor into Mr. Nishimura beside her.

After all, the last thing she said to ten-year-old Asuka when she left eight years ago was, "Mommy is going to find Daddy and will be back soon."

Now, she sits next to another man, holding another child in her arms.

The lie, brewed by time, has become the most bitter wine, and now she must drink it herself.

“I see,” An and Asuka nodded, their tone carrying an almost cruel understanding. “It seems things aren’t going very well.”

His voice remained calm, but each word was like a slowly spinning knife: "I thought you would eventually find him, and I have been looking forward to your return."

"I wait every day."

"Waiting from spring to winter, from sunny days to rainy days, from day to night."

"I think maybe Mom will come back tomorrow, and maybe Dad will come back with her too. Maybe we can have dinner together, like before."

His voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a murmur. But the restaurant was so quiet that everyone could hear every word he said.

Anwa Miho's tears welled up again. This time, she didn't even have the strength to suppress her sobs; she could only let large tears fall onto the table, making soft "plop" sounds. Her shoulders trembled violently, and she felt as if she might fall apart at any moment.

"I'm...I'm sorry..." Her voice was broken and incoherent, "Asuka...I'm sorry..."

“That’s all in the past, Anwa-kun!” Mr. Nishimura suddenly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor with a screeching sound.

He stood in front of his wife, his gaze towards An and Asuka a mixture of anger, sympathy, and a certain instinct to defend his family. "Miho is no longer that irresponsible man's wife, nor is she your mother! You don't need to say these things to her!"

“I see…” An and Asuka repeated softly, then nodded. “I understand.”

He looked at Anwa Miho, who was still crying, and asked in an almost polite tone, "Then, shall I call you Aunt Miho from now on?"

“No, no…” Anwa Miho shook her head in despair, wanting to say something, wanting to stop the change in address, wanting to grasp the last connection with her son. But Mr. Nishimura reached out and gently took her hand.

"Miho," he called her softly, his voice carrying a comforting quality.

Anwa Miho's body stiffened. She looked up, her eyes blurry with tears, at her husband, then at Satoshi who was still eating his hamburger, and finally at the boy across from her who was calmly watching her.

Eight years have passed. She has a new family, a new life, and new responsibilities. She can no longer live in the past, no longer be bound by the sins of the past.

But... but that was her bird. It was the child she carried for ten months, the child she had sworn to protect with her life.

Finally, under Mr. Nishimura's firm yet gentle gaze, Anwa Miho slowly lowered her head. She neither said "good" nor "bad," but remained silent.

That silence itself is an answer.

An and Asuka watched this scene unfold, seeing their mother choose silence under the comfort of her new husband, and seeing her make a choice between her new family and her old sins.

He felt his eyes were a little dry, as if something had pricked them. But he didn't look away; he just stared quietly.

Just then, Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha almost simultaneously reached out and covered An and Asuka's hands, which were resting on the table.

One hand was warm, with the soft touch unique to an artist; the other was slightly cool, its fingertips bearing the calluses of years of writing. Two hands, two temperatures, yet conveying the same sentiment—we are here, you are not alone.

An and Fei Niao lowered their heads, looking at the three clasped hands. His was at the bottom, cold and stiff; theirs was above, warm and soft.

After a long while, he gently exhaled, and his breath condensed into a white mist in the quiet air before slowly dissipating.

After a while, Anwa Miho finally caught her breath. She picked up a tissue and carefully wiped away the tears on her face, tidied her disheveled hair, and tried to make herself look presentable. When she raised her head again, her face was now adorned with a forced, cautious, and ingratiating smile.

“Asuka,” her voice was still a little hoarse, “could…could you tell me how you’ve been all these years?”

She asked very carefully, as if afraid of touching on something she shouldn't, or as if she had finally mustered up the courage to peek into the eight years she had been absent from.

An and Asuka were silent for a moment, then replied in an almost reporting tone, "Well, there's not much to say. I finished elementary and junior high school in Aichi, and luckily got into a high school in Tokyo, so I'm currently studying here."

He spoke very briefly, so briefly it was like reading a resume. Elementary school, middle school, high school—three words summed up eight years of his life.

"What about your grandparents?!" Anwa Miho asked the question almost impatiently, a glimmer of hope flashing in her eyes.

Before she left, she secretly called her parents and asked them to "go and look at the birds from time to time."

She knew her parents disliked Asuka's father, and by extension, they were prejudiced against Asuka as well, but Asuka was, after all, their grandson, and blood was thicker than water. She thought that at least her parents would give him food and a place to sleep.

“Grandpa and Grandma…” An and Asuka paused, “They should be alright.”

"Should?" Anwa Miho keenly grasped the uncertain word.

An and Asuka looked at her, a faint, almost imperceptible hint of mockery flashing in their deep brown eyes: "After all, you know they despise me."

Anwa Miho's face turned pale again.

Of course she knew. Her parents were priests at the local shrine, conservative and traditional. When she insisted on marrying that "good-for-nothing" man, her parents almost severed ties with her.

Later, the man ran away, and she became a single mother. Her parents' attitude towards her was even more complicated—there was both reproach like "See, this is what happens when you don't listen to us," and secret heartache for their daughter.

As for Asuka... Asuka, being that man's child, naturally also bore this complex emotion. No, perhaps it wasn't complex, just simple disgust.

"What? Then you..." Anwa Miho's voice trembled, "You didn't go to them for help? Didn't they take care of you?"

An and Asuka shook their heads, their expressions eerily calm: “I went twice. The first time, my grandmother gave me some old clothes and a little money, saying, ‘Don’t come again, we can’t afford to raise you.’ The second time, my grandfather didn’t even open the door.”

He spoke calmly, as if he were telling someone else's story.

“I waited at the door for three hours, from afternoon until dusk. Then it started raining, so I left.”

Anwa Miho covered her mouth, tears welling up again. She imagined the scene—a ten-year-old child, carrying a small schoolbag, standing in front of a tightly closed door, waiting from dawn to dusk, from sunny days to rainy days. And behind the door were the parents she thought would take care of him.

“It’s nothing, Auntie, you don’t need to worry.” Anhe Feibiao said with a smile, a smile that was polite but distant. “Even if I’m alone, I’ve managed to live a good life.”

He said “well” instead of “hardly”. He said “live on” instead of “survive”.

A single word makes all the difference.

Anwa Miho's tears flowed even more fiercely. Looking at the calm boy before her, at his polite smile, at his straight back, she finally understood one thing—

Her birds no longer need her.

It wasn't out of spite or resentment, but a genuine and complete "needlessness." In the eight years without her, he grew into an independent and resilient tree. He had his own roots, his own branches, and his own sky.

She was merely an overreacting bystander, eight years late, who only brought pain and embarrassment.

Just then, An and Asuka seemed to suddenly remember something and asked, "By the way, Auntie, where do you live now? If you have time, I'd like to visit you."

The question was asked naturally, like a junior showing concern for an elder. But Anwa Miho knew that this wasn't concern, but a test—or rather, a way of drawing a line.

“We live in Kyoto,” Mr. Nishimura answered for his wife, his voice tinged with weariness. “We’re in Tokyo for tourism.”

A fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of helplessness crossed his face as he spoke. Yes, it was just a normal family trip; he simply wanted to take his wife and child to an amusement park in Tokyo for a day on the weekend. Who could have imagined that on such an ordinary spring evening, he would encounter the son his wife had abandoned eight years ago?

Fate can be so ironic sometimes.

“Kyoto,” Anwa Asuka nodded, her tone carrying appropriate appreciation, “is a good place. An ancient capital with many historical sites and a rich cultural atmosphere.”

His evaluation was objective and polite, as if he were commenting on a tourist destination.

"Hmm..." Anwa Miho responded softly, her voice so low it was almost inaudible.

Silence fell over the table again. Ash had finished his hamburger and was playing with bubbles in his cola through a straw; Mr. Nishimura had his arm around his wife's shoulder, looking at An and Asuka with complicated emotions; Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha held An and Asuka's hands tightly, as if they could share some of his burden.

Night had completely fallen outside the window. The restaurant's glass windows had become a giant mirror, reflecting the lights, shadows, and the various expressions on everyone's faces inside.

In the midst of the silence, a young woman's voice suddenly rang out nearby:

"Um... excuse me for bothering you."