Green plums cannot become lovers.

Everyone looked up and saw a girl of about twenty years old standing by the table, holding a cell phone in her hand, her face showing excitement and uncertainty. Her gaze swept across the faces of the group, finally settling on An and Asuka.

"Excuse me... are you Asuka? The singing Asuka?"

The girl's voice trembled slightly, and her eyes sparkled with the unique light of a fan.

The atmosphere at the dinner table changed instantly.

Anwa Miho and Mr. Nishimura were both stunned, looking at the girl who had suddenly appeared with confusion. Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha exchanged a glance and instantly understood what was going on.

An and Asuka were silent for two seconds, then nodded and gave a polite and professional smile: "Yes, that's me."

"It really is you!" The girl blushed with excitement and quickly pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. "I... I'm your fan! I especially love your book, 'If We Can Shine!' Could you please sign it for me?"

“Of course.” An and Asuka took the notebook and pen, skillfully signed their names on the title page, and even drew a simple little bird—his trademark.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the girl bowed repeatedly, then asked cautiously, "Um... may I take a picture with you? Just one!"

An and Asuka glanced at the others at the table, then nodded: "Okay, but please hurry."

The girl happily stood beside him and took out her phone to take a selfie. Her fingers were trembling slightly as she took the picture.

"Thank you! I will always support you!" The girl bowed again before reluctantly leaving.

After she left, the dining table fell into an even longer silence.

Miho Anwa and Mr. Nishimura were completely stunned. They looked at Asuka Anwa, at his composed demeanor as he handled the fans, at his practiced autographing, and at the completely different expression on his face that belonged to a "public figure."

"Asuka..." Anwa Miho's voice trembled, "You...you are..."

"Me? Just an ordinary artist with some achievements, who's been lucky enough to release a few albums."

An and Asuka spoke casually.

But both Anwa Miho and Mr. Nishimura knew that things were not that simple. Being recognized and asked for autographs and photos meant that one had not simply "released a few albums".

Mr. Nishimura subconsciously took out his phone and typed "Asuka Music" into the search bar.

The next second, his eyes widened.

Countless search results popped up on the screen—"Tickets for Asuka's first concert sold out in three minutes," "The true identity of the genius musician Asuka revealed: a sixteen-year-old high school student," "'If You Can Shine' tops the music charts, healing countless hearts."

With trembling fingers, he clicked on one of the news articles. The accompanying photo showed An and Asuka standing under the spotlight at a concert. The boy was wearing a stage costume, holding a microphone, with a sea of ​​glow sticks shining behind him. His eyes sparkled on the stage, and he exuded a breathtaking aura.

That was a completely unfamiliar Anwa Asuka to Mr. Nishimura—not the calm and aloof boy from before, but a star standing on a stage, watched by millions.

“This…this is you?” Mr. Nishimura’s voice was hoarse as he turned his phone screen toward Miho Anwa.

As Anwa Miho stared at the photo on the screen, at the radiant boy on stage, she froze as if struck by lightning.

Her birds

The bird she abandoned

Now, she has grown to a level she could never have imagined.

Tears welled up again, but this time, not from guilt, not from pain, but from a more complex, more indescribable emotion—pride? Regret? Or the despair of realizing that I had missed something irretrievable?

An and Asuka watched them quietly, seeing the shock on their faces and the disbelief in their eyes.

After a long silence, he finally spoke softly:

So, you really don't need to worry about me.

“I’m doing very well, much better than you can imagine.”

His voice was calm, but beneath that calmness lay an undeniable power.

It is the quiet and steadfast strength that one only finds at dawn after walking alone through a long night.

Outside the window, Tokyo's lights shone like a galaxy.

Inside the window, an abandoned child and his past are saying their final goodbye.

Volume 1: Chapter 197 I'm sorry

The light from the phone screen illuminated Anwa Miho's face, making the still-damp tear tracks glisten. She looked at the exaggerated headlines in the news, at the radiant young man on stage in the photos, at the fervent praise from fans in the comments section, and a complex emotion welled up within her.

That was her son.

It was the child she carried for ten months, the child she used to hum lullabies to while putting him to sleep late at night, the child she taught him to write his first word.

Even though it had been eight years since they last met, even though he had grown into a completely different person, even though only the thin thread of blood ties remained between them—seeing his achievements, Anwa Miho still couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

“Asuka…” Her voice trembled, a mixture of tears and a near-obsessive joy, “It’s so wonderful…you’ve become so amazing…”

She reached out, as if to touch him across the table, but her hand froze in mid-air and eventually fell limply to the ground.

“I knew you would succeed,” she continued, a proud yet gentle smile, unique to mothers, spreading across her face. “You’ve always been smart, quick to learn, and your teachers always praised your talent… Mom has always believed you would become a very accomplished person…”

As she spoke, her eyes were somewhat unfocused, as if she could see through the tall, upright young man before her the quiet child who had been reading and writing eight years ago.

Those memories were so vivid, so vivid that she almost forgot—it was she herself who had severed the connection with those memories.

An and Asuka watched her silently, their faces expressionless. There was no emotion, no sarcasm, not even a flicker of feeling. They simply watched, as if observing a performance that had nothing to do with them.

He could see through the emotions in her eyes—there was pride, satisfaction, vanity of "Look how amazing my son is," and a certain ingratiation trying to close the distance through praise.

But he didn't want to expose it.

Some truths are too cruel, so cruel that even speaking them aloud is an act of harm. He didn't want to be the one to tear away the last layer of pretense, he didn't want to see this woman completely collapse in front of him.

So he chose to remain silent.

However, An and Asuka's silence did not mean that those around them could remain calm.

"Snapped!"

Eriri slammed her hand heavily on the table, the crisp, abrupt sound silencing the entire restaurant. She stood up, her golden twin tails swaying violently from the movement, her azure eyes burning with fury.

“Auntie,” her voice trembled with emotion, each word seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth, “what are you so moved about?”

She pointed at Anwa Miho, her fingertip almost poking the other's face: "You don't think Asuka's success has anything to do with you, do you? You don't think he's so successful now because of the 'merit' you gave him eight years ago, do you?"

Her questioning was sharp and direct, like a knife that mercilessly dissected the hypocritical warmth.

Kasumigaoka Utaha wasn't as agitated as Eriri, but her wine-red eyes coldly stared at Anwa Miho, her voice eerily calm: "Auntie, if I may be so blunt—besides life itself, what have you ever given your junior?"

She paused, then added, "Or should I ask, what did you take from him?"

These two questions struck Anwa Miho's heart like two heavy hammer blows.

She opened her mouth, wanting to refute, to explain, to say something to defend herself. But when she saw An and Asuka's calm, unwavering eyes, all the words stuck in her throat.

What did she give him?

Life—yes, she gave him life. But what else?

A childhood filled with violence and fear? A fate of being abandoned at the age of ten? A year of waiting alone in an empty house?

What did she take from him?

A child deserves a mother's love, a family deserves warmth, and a teenager deserves carefree youth.

"This..." Anwa Miho's voice was dry and hoarse, like the grinding of sand, "I...I'm not..."

“You can’t say that!” Mr. Nishimura stepped in front of his wife at this moment.

He looked at Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha, his face showing obvious displeasure and a firm determination to defend his family. "Without Miho's education and upbringing, Anwa-kun wouldn't have achieved what he has today! Miho taught him to read and write when he was young, and taught him the principles of being a good person. Aren't these basics important?"

His logic was simple and crude—because he saw An and Asuka's success, he attributed it to "the education they received in their childhood." As for the eight years of absence, the abandonment, and the countless hardships—they were all lightly ignored.

Eriri was so angry at this shameless statement that she laughed: "You! How can you be so unreasonable!"

She was so angry that her face turned red. She wanted to say something more intense, but she couldn't find the words to say and could only glare at Nishimura.

Kasumigaoka Utaha, on the other hand, was much calmer. She tilted her head slightly, her tone carrying an almost academic calmness: "Education? Mr. Nishimura, do you mean teaching him what it feels like to be abandoned when he was still young and ignorant? Or do you mean 'teaching' him what loneliness and independence are through eight years of absence?"

She paused, her voice growing colder: "If you think this kind of 'education' is something to be grateful for, then I suggest your child experience it for themselves—being abandoned by their parents as a child and living alone for eight years, and see if they can 'educate' another Anhe Flying Bird."

If Kasumigaoka Utaha and Eriri only felt a vague sense of heartache when they heard Marina, Shizuka, and Ai recount An and Asuka's past—it was like listening to a distant story, knowing it was tragic, but unable to truly empathize.

Now, witnessing this scene firsthand, seeing how An and Asuka's mother hypocritically tried to share in his glory, seeing how this woman so casually glossed over those eight years of suffering—their hearts truly ached.

The pain was very specific and sharp.

They looked at An and Asuka's calm profiles and imagined how this boy had crawled out of such a hell.

At ten years old, an age when most children are still worrying about homework and happy about snacks, he had to face an empty house, a cold stove, and countless nights without anyone responding.

Not only did he climb out on his own, but he also reached out and pulled up three other girls who were also in the darkness.

Marina, Shizuka, Ai—each of them has their own scars and their own hardships. But An and Asuka, with their slender shoulders, held up a sky for them, allowing them to pursue their dreams and laugh in the sunshine.

At this moment, Kasumigaoka Utaha and Eriri finally understood completely.

I understand why those three girls were willing to share the love of the same person, I understand the almost devout light in their eyes when they looked at An and Asuka, and I understand the unbreakable bond between them.

If it were them, being pulled up from the abyss by such a person, with all his gentleness and unwavering determination illuminating their path—they would be willing too.

I am willing to give everything to repay that light, willing to share all my joys and sorrows with him, and willing to become an indispensable part of his life.

"I...I..." Anwa Miho's lips trembled, and tears welled up again. She wanted to say something, but all her words seemed pale and powerless.

Mr. Nishimura hugged his wife tightly and looked at Anwa Asuka: "Anwa-kun, I know you have grievances. But can you please not bring this up again? Don't you understand Miho's difficulties? She had no choice back then, she had her own hardships!"

His voice was loud and carried a self-righteous air, as if An and Miho were the victims, and that An and Asuka's questioning and the two girls' anger were just being unreasonable.

"Okay, Senpai, Eriri."

Just as the two girls were about to continue arguing, An and Asuka finally spoke up.

His voice was calm, as calm as the sea before a storm. He raised his hand and gently pressed Eriri's shoulder, which was trembling slightly with excitement, then turned to look at Kasumigaoka Utaha, giving her a look that said, "Leave it to me."

The two girls gritted their teeth and finally sat down, but their eyes remained fixed on the two people opposite them, like guardian beasts ready to strike again at any moment.

Anwa Asuka's gaze fell on Mr. Nishimura's face, then slowly moved to Anwa Miho's face. His eyes were deep, as deep as an ancient well, revealing no emotion.

“So,” he began slowly, his voice clear and calm, “after all that, what are Mr. Nishimura and Aunt Miho really trying to say?”

He paused, then added, "Or rather, what is the ultimate purpose of your meeting with me and talking to me today?"

The question was so direct that it surprised both Mr. Nishimura and Miho Anwa.

Mr. Nishimura opened his mouth, clearly not expecting An and Asuka to ask such a question. He glanced at his weeping wife beside him, then at the frighteningly calm young man opposite him, took a deep breath, and tried to soften his voice:

“I… I just wanted to say that even though you and Miho are no longer legally mother and son, you don’t need to be so distant emotionally.”

He spoke very tactfully and cautiously, as if he were testing something.

"Blood ties cannot be severed, if you wish..."

His voice carried a hint of coaxing, "You can still be Miho's child. I'll treat you like family, we can...we can keep in touch often, you can come to Kyoto to see us, and Satoshi will be happy to have a brother..."

As he said this, Anwa Miho's eyes lit up, and she looked at Anwa Asuka with anticipation. Her eyes seemed to say: Yes, that's it, we can be a family again.

But An and Asuka's reaction surprised everyone.

He suddenly laughed.

The smile was faint and indifferent, with only a slight upward curve at the corners of the mouth, but there was no smile in the eyes, only a cold mockery.

“Heh,” he chuckled, his voice laced with undisguised sarcasm, “this is quite different from what you were saying earlier.”

His gaze swept back and forth between Nishimura and Miho's faces, as if trying to see through them: "Didn't Mr. Nishimura just say that Aunt Miho is no longer my mother? Didn't he say that we have no relationship other than blood ties?"

He paused, his voice growing colder: "Why is it that now that I seem to have some fame and some achievements, you suddenly want me to 'become family again'?"

His words were like icicles, piercing through all pretense.

Mr. Nishimura's expression changed slightly, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure: "Anwa-kun, you've misunderstood. That's not what we meant..."

"So what do you mean?" An and Asuka interrupted him, their voices rising abruptly. "Do you think I'm useful now? Do you think that I, as the 'son of a celebrity,' can bring you prestige? Or do you think that once I become even more successful in the future, you can get a share of the profits?"

His questions grew sharper and more merciless with each one.

Mr. Nishimura's face finally darkened: "Anwa-kun, that's going too far! We just want to mend our relationship..."

"Repair what relationship?" An and Asuka stood up, looking down at them. "Did we ever have a relationship? Eight years ago, when she abandoned me and left, all of our relationships were over."

His voice was calm, but beneath that calm there was a chilling power.

“I tell you,” he said, each word as clear as a verdict, “there is no possibility of that.”

He turned to Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha: "Eriri, Senpai, let's go."

After saying that, he turned and left without looking back.

Eriri and Kasumigaoka Utaha immediately stood up and followed closely behind him. Before leaving, Eriri glared fiercely at the two of them, while Kasumigaoka Utaha gave them one last cold, scrutinizing look, as if to say: Remember today, remember what you did to him.