The young master said, “If your father beat you, it was for your own good.” Qingqing, who had never opened up to anyone, found herself relaxing in the presence of this stranger, snorting, “How could beating me be for my own good?” The young master explained, “He beat you because he still cares about you, he’s frustrated because he can’t make you better. In our family, we have at least seven or eight siblings, and if our father beats any of us, we’d sneak off to the side and rejoice.”
Qingqing looked at him suspiciously, asking, “Why? Do you all enjoy being abused?” The young master found her earnest gaze both amusing and frustrating, unsure how to respond. Fortunately, his attendant chimed in, “If he beats someone, it means he values them. If a father ignores his child’s mistakes, then it’s truly over for that child…”
Although the attendant’s voice was rather effeminate, his words made sense. Qingqing thought about her own impulsiveness and mistakes, and her understanding deepened. Seeing her nod, the young master smiled, “I’m Li Qin, and you? What’s your name?” Qingqing said, “I’m Qingqing, Lin Qingqing.”
Li Qin asked, “Qingqing? Why are you called Qingqing?” Qingqing, with a trace of sadness, said, “My mother said I’m like the weeds by the pavilion, always unnoticed, so I’m called Qingqing.” Unexpectedly, Li Qin replied, “Who says weeds are bad? They are the most resilient among plants; even if you burn them with fire, the spring breeze will bring them back to life.”
