Qiu Yingying is reborn and bound to a learning system.

The sound of the shattering picture frame still echoed in everyone's hearts, shards of glass scattered on the floor, reflecting fragmented light. That torn family photo suddenly shattered the facade of harmony that the Meng family had maintained for many years.

Xu Qin stared at the shards on the ground, her fingertips clenched so tightly they turned white. A flicker of panic crossed her face, quickly replaced by a deeper stubbornness. She pursed her lips, her eyes swirling with years of pent-up grievances and resentment, as if what she had just shattered wasn't a picture frame, but rather the invisible shackles the Meng family had placed upon her.

"Mom is right," Xu Qin's voice trembled almost imperceptibly, yet it carried a resolute determination. "We were never meant to be together. What you want is an obedient puppet, a daughter who can uphold the Meng family's reputation, not someone like me who only wants to live according to my own desires."

Meng Yanchen stood up abruptly, his suit sleeves taut, his brows furrowed into deep frowns. What surged in his eyes was not uncontrolled anger, but rather suppressed resentment and unbelievable disappointment after his calm was shattered. He used to understand her sensitivity and helplessness, but now he understood her completely. He never expected that she would misinterpret his years of upbringing to this extent.

"Xu Qin, can't you wake up?" His voice was deeper than usual, filled with barely suppressed emotion. "What kind of bewitching potion did Song Yan give you? How could you throw your future aside and say such nonsense?"

"Nonsense?" Xu Qin seemed to have been stung, her eyes reddening as she laughed, her laughter filled with sorrow and accusation. "I'm perfectly clear-headed! Your Meng family has raised me for so many years, never out of love, but merely as a bargaining chip for future marriage alliances, a tool to bring benefits to the Meng family!"

These words were like a fine needle, piercing Meng Yanchen's taut nerves. His face instantly turned cold, the air around him grew frighteningly heavy, and the restraint in his eyes was almost bursting forth, yet he still maintained his last shred of composure. "Tool?" He repeated the word, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly, not from fear, but from the dull pain of being misunderstood by the person closest to him. "Xu Qin, put your hand on your heart and tell me, when have we ever treated you like a tool?"

"Isn't that right?" Xu Qin's neck stiffened, tears streaming down her cheeks, yet she stubbornly raised her head. "From a young age, you made me learn piano and etiquette, went to great lengths to get me into the best hospitals, bought me designer brands, and put me in a big house… Wasn't all of this so that I could marry someone of equal social standing and build a good relationship with the Meng family? You never asked me if I wanted it; you only thought about how I could meet the Meng family's expectations and bring you respect and benefits!"

"Respectable? Benefits?" Meng Yanchen's chest heaved violently, his fingertips clenched until they turned white. He stared intently at Xu Qin, as if trying to find a glimmer of clarity in her eyes. "Have you ever seen a family that arranges a marriage and raises a girl to her thirties without ever making a single demand on her, without forcing you to meet any so-called 'suitable candidates'? Although Mom is strong-willed, when has she ever forced you to do something you don't like? You didn't want to learn piano, but you stopped in the end, didn't you? You wanted to go to the ER, who in the family stopped you?"

"That's because you haven't found the right person yet!" Xu Qin practically roared, her years of pent-up grievances finally exploding. "Once you find someone who can bring greater benefits to the Meng family, you'll immediately push me out! Meng Yanchen, don't pretend you care about me so much; the Meng family's love always comes with conditions!"

Looking at her reddened eyes and the almost obsessive accusation on her face, Meng Yanchen felt as if something was blocking his heart, making him feel suffocated.

He wanted to refute her, to tell her that when her parents passed away, the Meng family took her back only because of the friendship between her father and her father, and simply because they wanted to give her a home; he wanted to tell her that he opposed her being with Song Yan not because of social status, but because he was afraid she would be wronged; he wanted to tell her how happy he and his parents were to watch her carefully integrate into this family over the years.

But the words that came out were only a heavy question, filled with the weariness of being misunderstood: "Xu Qin, in your eyes, is all the kindness we've shown you, all the family ties we've built over the years, so fragile? So unworthy of your trust?"

"You've never given me a reason to believe!" Xu Qin's voice trembled with tears, yet remained resolute. "This home is cold and devoid of warmth. Song Yan is different. He understands me, he knows what I want, and he won't force me to do anything! Only with him do I feel like a human being, not an appendage of the Meng family!"

Looking at the almost moth-to-a-flame devotion on her face, Meng Yanchen felt increasingly weary. He knew that any further explanation would be futile; she had already decided that the Meng family's love was mercenary, and that Song Yan was her salvation.

He remained silent for a long time, his voice hoarse with a hint of helplessness: "If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But I hope you remember that the Meng family has never owed you anything, and our kindness to you has never been for the sake of any marriage alliance. If you regret it in the future, don't blame us for not reminding you."

Xu Qin didn't speak, but forcefully wiped away her tears, turned around and walked quickly towards the stairs, her voice carrying far away: "I won't regret it. I couldn't stay in this house any longer."

As Meng Yanchen watched her retreating figure, a mixture of unease and frustration welled up in his chest, along with an indescribable emptiness. He knew that with her departure, the peace that the Meng family had maintained for so many years had been shattered completely. And the carefully maintained kinship between him and her, along with that broken photo frame, was now irreparably broken.

Fu Wenying stood at the top of the stairs, her face as pale as paper, her fingers gripping the handrail tightly, yet she still maintained the composure of the matriarch of the Meng family, though the disappointment and heartache in her eyes were unmistakable. She didn't speak, but only took a deep look at Xu Qin's back before turning and walking up the stairs step by step. The sound of her high heels clicking on the ground was dull, as if striking everyone's heart.

Meng Huaijin sighed and patted Meng Yanchen on the shoulder: "Let her go. You can't stop a young person's heart. And at home... let's not make things any worse."

Meng Yanchen didn't answer, but simply bent down and silently picked up the broken pieces of the photo frame from the ground. The sharp edge of the glass cut his fingertip, drawing blood, but he seemed oblivious, staring blankly at the torn family photo—in the picture, Xu Qin smiled shyly, nestled beside him; back then, she would timidly call him "brother."

As night deepened, the city's neon lights outlined a cold silhouette. Meng Yanchen changed out of his suit, drove to Xiao Yixiao's bar, and went inside alone without his driver.

The bar was dimly lit, with soothing jazz music playing, isolating him from the outside noise. He went to his private room and ordered some drinks.

Xiao Yixiao arrived and immediately spotted Meng Yanchen. He was wearing a simple dark shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing an expensive watch on his wrist, but the oppressive atmosphere emanating from him was undeniable. Xiao Yixiao walked over, sat down next to Meng Yanchen, and poured himself a glass of wine: "Why are you here at this hour? Judging from your face, something happened at home?"

Meng Yanchen didn't turn his head, but stared at the amber liquid in his glass, the ice cubes making a crisp sound as they hit the glass. He took a big gulp, the spiciness of the whiskey sliding down his throat, the burning sensation temporarily suppressing the dull pain in his heart. "Xu Qin is gone." His voice was soft, but heavy with weariness.

"With Song Yan?" Xiao Yixiao wasn't surprised. He swirled his wine glass gently. "I knew she would choose this path sooner or later, but I didn't expect it to be so soon."

"She felt that our Meng family was raising her for a marriage alliance." Meng Yanchen's lips curled into a self-deprecating smile, but there was no smile in his eyes. "She said that she was a tool we used to exchange for benefits."

Xiao Yixiao raised an eyebrow, not replying immediately, but simply taking a sip of wine with him. He knew Meng Yanchen too well. He appeared strong and restrained, but in his heart, he cared more about the opinions of those around him than anyone else, especially Xu Qin—his younger sister whom he had watched grow up over the years. That feeling, mixed with responsibility and concern, was misinterpreted as "utilitarianism," and one could imagine how bitter it must have been for him.

"Have you ever seen a family arrange a marriage and raise a woman to her thirties without even arranging a blind date for her?" Meng Yanchen's voice carried a hint of barely perceptible grievance, but more so, the frustration of being misunderstood. "My mother is domineering and wants her to live a stable life. I stopped her from being with Song Yan because I was afraid she would suffer, but in her eyes, all of this was seen as scheming."

"She lost her parents at a young age, and neither of us understands the feeling of living under someone else's roof," Xiao Yixiao said slowly, his tone clear. "The Meng family offered her stability and wealth, but what she wanted was the feeling of being 'cared for.' Song Yan just happened to give her that illusion, making her feel that she was the one who was firmly chosen, not an appendage."

Meng Yanchen fell silent, his fingertips tracing the rim of his wine glass. He wasn't unaware; he just hadn't expected that years of devotion would ultimately only earn him the label of "tool." He remembered Xu Qin as a child, hiding behind him and clutching his clothes tightly when she was afraid of thunder; he remembered her excitedly calling him the first time she wore a white coat; he remembered how she would silently shed tears when wronged, refusing to utter a single harsh word.

Those images, superimposed on her resolute accusations today, made him feel as if his heart was blocked, making it hard to breathe.

"Will she regret it?" Meng Yanchen asked softly, as if he were asking Xiao Yixiao, or perhaps himself.

"I don't know." Xiao Yixiao shook his head. "She chose this path herself. Whether it's bitter or sweet, she has to bear it all herself. You've done all you can."

Meng Yanchen didn't say anything more, just kept drinking one glass of wine after another. The jazz music continued to play, the lights remained dim, and the alcohol gradually took effect, making him dizzy and lightheaded, but it made him temporarily forget the grievances of not being understood, forget the frustration of his broken family, and forget the wounds on his fingertips that were still throbbing.

Meng Yanchen only staggered to his feet when the bar's closing time announcement sounded. Xiao Yixiao offered to see him off, but he refused, saying, "I can walk by myself."

He stepped out of the bar, the night breeze brushing against his face, carrying a slight chill that sobered him up a bit. The streets were nearly deserted, and the streetlights cast long, lonely shadows.

He looked up at the dark night sky, feeling completely lost—he didn't know what Xu Qin's future would hold, what the Meng family would face next, or even the meaning of the responsibility and dignity he had upheld for so many years.

He slowly raised his hand, looking at the congealed scabs on his fingertips, as if he were seeing the shattered bonds of family. Some things, once broken, can never be put back together.