Yu Shuying frowned. That scene surfaced in her mind once again. The man who claimed to be her father... Reeking of alcohol. Then, standing beyond the glass window, laughing loudly. Telling her she would never have a future. So... Could a father like that truly write a song like "Under the Sea"?
"After that, he came upstairs and told me I was worthless," Shuying spoke softly, but every time she recalled that memory, grief and confusion still surged through her heart, impossible to hide.
As expected, the curtain screen changed.
Yu Ye walked upstairs, and he knocked gently on the bedroom door. Through the window, he saw a tiny figure bent over a notebook, writing seriously. Because the smell of alcohol surrounded him, Little Shuying frowned.
Ye laughed. Then, with deliberate harshness, he said, "What are you writing? You think you can do what your mother did? Can you write songs? You think you can perform them too? Can you even write one properly? That kind of pop song? Hahaha!"
The laughter was sharp. Mocking and cruel.
Cruel enough that Little Shuying, silently gripping her pen, tightened her fingers until her knuckles nearly turned white. But inside her mind, only one thought remained. She glanced toward her mother's painting, then lowered her head and carefully wrote into her notebook.
I can do it. The more he looks down on me, the more I'll prove him wrong. I won't write bad songs. And when I stand on stage, I'll stand there proudly. As the words appeared, Little Shuying's character quietly transformed beneath that crushing pressure. She became strong and confident. Unwilling to lose. Determined to prove herself.
And that determination moved countless people. Inside the stadium, applause echoed endlessly. Because a five-year-old child possessed emotions so pure and unwavering.
"Most children would've cried long ago."
"But she didn't."
"She endured it."
"She finished writing."
"This child's character was extraordinary from the beginning."
"Any family lucky enough to have a child like this would be blessed."
"He hurt her deeply... but thankfully, there was still light in her heart."
At the Forum, Professor Tian smiled while looking toward Cihai. "This child will still become exceptional. So what if she was born in hardship? So what if her father drank? So what if her mother could only help occasionally? Even without help, so what? She has something precious, an unextinguishable light inside her heart."
"No wonder Yu Shuying later achieved so much. No wonder her writing was repeatedly quoted by official media over the years. No wonder she could create words and emotions powerful enough to move millions. It turns out... At five years old... She already possessed a soul this extraordinary." Professor Tian sighed deeply.
A child like this, people dreamed of raising one. It felt like receiving a blessing from heaven. Talent. Determination. Character. Everything seemed complete. Perfect.
Yet beside him, Cihai remained silent. Because something still felt wrong. Very wrong. Ye's actions felt too deliberate. Too precise. The drinking. The cruelty. The timing. It was almost as though he intentionally made himself into someone his daughter would hate.
Then, carefully said exactly the words needed at exactly the right moment to awaken resistance. Competition. Pride. Especially that final sentence. "You write that kind of pop song?"
Combined with drunken laughter, it looked ordinary. But somehow, it ignited something deep inside Little Shuying. Her pride. Her refusal to surrender. The light inside her heart. So she fought. She endured. She rose.
Cihai thought about it carefully but he said nothing. Because he wanted proof. Because he simply could not believe such a parent could exist. How could someone do that? If it were true, then how deeply did this man love his daughter? Ye had brain cancer. He worked endlessly to survive. To earn money. To raise his child. To keep living.
And if this had all been intentional, then it meant something terrifying. He willingly became the villain. Created an enemy for his daughter. Turned himself into the mountain she needed to climb. Gave her someone to surpass. Someone to defeat.
And to do that, he stained his own image. Destroyed his own place in her heart. For her future.
"No... Impossible..." Cihai shook his head quickly and throwing away the thought.
How could such a person exist? Even among elite education systems, such devotion was nearly unheard of. Rare. Almost unimaginable.
Then, the final scene before Little Shuying wrote "Under the Sea" appeared. The lighting in Little Shuying's bedroom was bright. Warm and comfortable.
Meanwhile, inside the smallest room of the house, the dimmest room, Ye sat alone. Coughing. Holding his head. Rolling painfully across the bed. Brain cancer struck in the middle of the night. Blue veins bulged across his forehead, and his body trembled violently.
Yet he fought desperately to suppress every cry of pain. Sweat poured down his face. His expression twisted. Beneath thin pajamas was a body slowly being destroyed by illness. Day after day. Night after night.
And despite the agony, he no longer looked drunk. Not at all. He simply stared into the mirror and breathed heavily. He is quietly forcing himself forward.
"Stay alive... Stay alive... If you're gone, what happens to your child? What will she do?!" He roared at his reflection as he stared into the mirror fiercely. As though fighting himself. As though fighting death.
At that moment, everyone watching suddenly realized something: Ye had suffered from brain cancer for over a year. Cheap painkillers. No money for chemotherapy. No money for proper treatment. Then, how had he survived? Day after day. Night after night. Exhausting work. Constant pain. His daughter's misunderstanding. His illness. His loneliness.
How... How had he endured it all?