Chapter 174 Day 6 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 174: The Sixth Day of Entering the True and False Young Master Novel

An Yi laid them out one by one, his tone flat, without accusation, merely stating facts.

Yet it was this absolute calm that carried more weight than any heated accusations, because it stripped away emotion, leaving only bare truth.

Song Chengye and Lin Wan's faces grew increasingly pale. They opened their mouths to refute, only to find that everything An Yi said seemed to have truly happened.

They had always believed they were doing well enough, trying hard enough to make amends and to accept him, but never realized that in these daily, thoughtless details, the deeply ingrained favoritism had long been exposed.

"We... we didn't mean to..."

Lin Wan's voice choked with tears as they finally spilled over: "Mom's not really biased... I'm just... just used to it..."

She wept sorrowfully, with genuine regret and helplessness.

If it had been the original An Yi, he might have softened, even felt guilty.

But An Yi simply watched her cry quietly, his gaze as detached as if he were watching rain outside the window, his mind utterly unmoved.

He even found it somewhat tedious—this move of using tears to blur the focus and evoke guilt was not clever.

But many people liked to use it.

Song Chengye looked at his crying wife, then at An Yi's calm indifference. His chest heaved violently a few times before he finally let out a weary sigh, his tone laced with exhaustion and a promise:

"Xiao Yi, we were inconsiderate. I promise you, Dad will make sure it never happens again. We will pay attention, treat you both equally, and not play favorites!"

"Not play favorites?" An Yi seemed to hear something extremely amusing, and suddenly let out a low laugh.

He smiled beautifully, his brows curving like the first thaw of snow.

He stopped laughing and looked at Song Chengye and Lin Wan, his eyes sharp as knives: "Don't you find it strange?"

"'Not play favorites'? But I, An Yi, am your biological child—the one lost for twenty years, just returned to this unfamiliar environment, in a tough spot."

"Why should I be the one demanding you not to favor me? Just because I said 'keep things fair,' you immediately find a seemingly fair but actually lazy excuse, and then feel good about yourselves?"

His words were not fast, but each one was crystal clear, landing like bombs: "Is that kind of 'peace'—built on the premise that I must be very generous, completely forgiving, and even take the initiative to step back—what you truly want?"

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on the pale-faced parents, and gave the final answer word by word: "Unfortunately, I am not that kind of person."

He voiced the thoughts that the original An Yi had kept hidden inside.

These words left Song Chengye and Lin Wan utterly speechless, and even their tears dried up.

They looked at An Yi as if seeing their long-lost son for the first time.

He was not the child they had imagined—someone who needed gentle handling, someone yearning for family warmth. He was calm, rational, perceptive, and... uncompromising.

Just then, Song Xinghai, who had been silent and pale-faced, suddenly stood up.

His body trembled slightly, his eyes red, as he looked at An Yi and spoke in a choked voice: "An Yi... I'm sorry!"

He bowed deeply: "It's my fault... I shouldn't... shouldn't still be taking Mom and Dad's attention for granted... I... I didn't know this would make you feel so bad..."

Lin Wan's heart ached so much, and she instinctively reached out to hold Song Xinghai's hand to comfort him.

But when her eyes met An Yi's calm gaze, her hand froze in midair, and she eventually withdrew it awkwardly.

This small movement once again confirmed An Yi's words.

An Yi took in the scene, finding it increasingly absurd and boring.

He looked at Song Xinghai, at his sincere, tearful apology, at the appearance of someone carrying great pain and grievance.

He was actually serious.

Seeing that An Yi did not speak but only looked at him, Song Xinghai felt growing pressure. As if making a firm decision, he took a deep breath:

"I... I know that if I stay, I'll only make things harder for everyone... I'll pack my things tomorrow and leave... I won't disturb you anymore..."

"Xinghai! Don't talk nonsense!"

Lin Wan immediately cried out. Ignoring An Yi's reaction, she grabbed Song Xinghai's arm: "This is your home! Where would you even go? You're not leaving!"

Song Chengye also said sternly: "Don't act rashly! It hasn't come to that yet!"

In an instant, the living room was filled with Lin Wan's tearful protests, Song Chengye's stern refusals, and Song Xinghai's insistence on leaving—chaos ensued.

An Yi watched this chaotic, emotionally charged scene, feeling only his ears ringing and a surge of intense absurdity and impatience.

He furrowed his brow slightly, raised a hand, and rubbed his forehead.

"Alright, shut it."

Oddly, these words carried some invisible power, or perhaps it was the unyielding coldness and pressure he suddenly exuded, which silenced the three who were arguing.

All sounds cut off abruptly, leaving only rapid breathing in the living room.

They all looked at An Yi with surprise and unease, as if realizing for the first time that this seemingly gentle young man possessed such a chilling aura.

An Yi ignored the parents. His gaze returned to Song Xinghai, with a scrutinizing, almost analytical gaze.

He watched him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled again.

"Song Xinghai."

He called his full name, his voice steady: "I've always found it strange—you and them..."

He gestured toward the parents: "Day after day, in front of me, acting out a loving family scene..."

He tilted his head slightly, as if pondering an interesting question: "Do you actually know what kind of effect this behavior has?"

He paused, looking at Song Xinghai's suddenly constricted pupils and even paler face, and slowly, in a voice almost like a whisper yet crystal clear, asked:

"Do you know... or don't you?"

"Do you know that this constantly reminds me that I am the outsider, that these twenty years of absence can never be compensated? That it subtly fuels my resentment and bitterness? That this seemingly innocent closeness is itself a kind of harm?"

"Or..."

His voice grew softer, yet pierced Song Xinghai's heart like an ice pick: "Are you just unwilling to think about it, still clinging to that faint hope... hoping that they still love you more, that even after I return, your position is secure?"

"So you can continue to enjoy this affection with a clear conscience, and at the same time, use your 'thoughtfulness' and 'yielding' to show off my 'pettiness' and 'unreasonableness'?"