Chapter Forty-Nine: Your Father Has Come Home (Part Five)

Without Ci Mo around, an inexplicable irritation lingered in the air. Was it simply because since arriving in this world, he had always been there, and now, with his sudden absence, she found herself unsettled?

She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair, withdrew her gaze, and quickly regained her composure.

“He can't read or write…”

At this, her head began to ache. That day, Ci Mo had trailed after her, his eyes full of longing, wanting to go with her to school. Following the unspoken rule that the eldest must look after the younger, she had agreed. Besides, with the Chao family’s wealth and influence, even if Ci Mo had lost his memory and lacked any formal education, sneaking him into school shouldn’t have been too difficult.

She never expected, though, that the plan would collapse at the final hurdle. Ci Mo couldn’t even write his own name. The butler would not allow it, insisting that he must first complete the basic courses before anything else.

So amnesia could make you forget even how to write?

The little furball blinked its beady black eyes, its small gaze swimming with confusion. After all, as someone suffering from amnesia herself, Chao Xu had retained all her muscle memory and instincts—she hadn’t forgotten a single basic skill.

“Maybe the degree of amnesia is different,” she mused.

No sooner had she spoken than Lu Yuehong, walking ahead, stopped. Their conversation was cut short. Gesturing towards the classroom up ahead, Lu Yuehong beamed brightly. “That’s our Class Nine. Shall we go in now?”

Chao Xu nodded and followed her forward. Just as Lu Yuehong reached out to open the door and Chao Xu prepared to enter, a sudden, loud crash erupted from within.

Something wasn’t right.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced quickly around the classroom. In the farthest corner, next to the trash bin, the most battered and broken desk lay toppled on the floor, its contents—books and papers—spilled in a sorry heap.

Amidst the scattered books knelt a short, plump girl with short hair and thick black glasses, clumsily gathering the fallen texts into her arms.

Because of her heavyset body, every movement seemed especially laborious; she was soon panting heavily with effort. Yet not a single classmate paid her any mind—they all continued with their own work. One boy, finding amusement in her predicament, even turned around with a grin, whistled, and jeered,

“Well, isn’t that Chi Naiyun? My eyesight’s not so good; without my glasses I could’ve sworn it was a sow rooting around for food on the floor. Hahaha!”

The boy laughed loudly at his own joke, but those nearby seemed entirely accustomed to such cruel taunts—some girls even giggled along.

The girl, humiliated in front of everyone, said nothing. She pressed her pale lips tightly together, stacked the books into neat piles, and prepared to right her fallen desk.

Just then, the boy who’d knocked over her desk, leaning carelessly against the wall nearby, sneered and drawled, “Tch, you really are that little idiot’s best friend—one fool and one dunce, a match made in heaven—hahaha… Ah!”

The moment the words left his lips, the girl who had endured every insult in silence suddenly snapped. Her eyes reddened, and while everyone else was caught off guard, she lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. With swift, unreserved fury, she struck his face again and again.

“You can talk about me, but you can’t talk about Xiao Si!”