Chapter 10: It’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that neither of us has learned to love ourselves yet.

Cat Salt Café.

The name was like a small key, gently turning the lock on a sealed box deep in Lin Yuan’s heart.

Inside were long-buried memories of sunlit afternoons filled with the purring of cats.

A tiny crack appeared in his gloomy mood.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, then nodded. “Mhm.”

Pushing open the peeling wooden door, the wind chime gave a hoarse yet familiar jingle.

Time inside the café seemed to stand still.

Afternoon sunlight slanted across the faded carpet. Several old cats of unknown breeds were curled up in the gaps of the sofa, letting out faint purrs with each breath.

Lin Yuan habitually walked toward the corner seat by the window.

That was the spot their family of three always sat in back then.

He sat down on the slightly wobbly wooden chair. On the old television, magical girls were being interviewed, full of energy and vigor. He couldn’t help clicking his tongue.

“They don’t go investigate the disappearances, just put on shows online. Nothing but pretty vases.”

“Magical girls have their own difficulties too.”

Ye Zhining sat across from him, leaning forward slightly with her elbows on the table and chin resting in her palm. She quietly observed Lin Yuan for a moment with a meaningful gaze.

“However, Student Lin, if you look closely… you really resemble your mother.”

She paused, her eyes lingering on his delicate brows and eyes and his slightly pale face. The corners of her mouth curved up. “I have a feeling that if you wore one of those fluffy cute skirts and grew your hair out just a little longer… you might get mistaken for a beautiful magical girl on the street and get interviewed.”

“—!”

Lin Yuan’s heart was violently squeezed, contracting sharply. Blood seemed to rush to his head and then drain away instantly.

He jerked his head up, pupils slightly dilated from shock and an indescribable panic, staring straight at Ye Zhining.

“Teacher… please don’t make such weird jokes.”

Lin Yuan spoke in a stiff tone, laced with clear personal emotion. “I dislike magical girls. They’re just a bunch of negligent phonies living under false halos.”

Ye Zhining did not refute his intense words. She simply gave a thoughtful “Mhm,” withdrew her gaze, and turned to look at the street scene outside the window, as if her previous remark had been nothing more than casual teasing.

The conversation naturally shifted from recent news to school life, then slid toward family matters.

“Dad… all he does is work overtime every day and sleep the moment he gets home.”

Lin Yuan kept his head lowered, his voice filled with the irritability and confusion typical of a teenager. “He never talks to me. Every day it’s just ‘remember to take your medicine.’ We have no other interaction. I feel like he doesn’t care about me at all. Maybe in his eyes, I’m just a duty he has to fulfill, a burden that’s dragged his entire second half of life into the mud.”

“Xiao Lin, you’ve already worked very hard.”

Ye Zhining gently shook her head. “Your dad doesn’t not love you. He just hasn’t learned how to love himself yet.”

“If… if Mom were still here, things definitely wouldn’t be like this.”

Lin Yuan’s voice began to tremble.

He turned his head and looked out the window at the dilapidated street. A longing that only appeared in a child’s eyes surfaced in his gaze. “She used to… bring me here every week. We’d sit in this exact spot. She’d order me a caramel latte, drink black tea herself, and watch me play with the cats for an entire afternoon…”

The contrast between the warmth in his memories and the cold reality made his eyes sting.

“It’s all my fault. It’s all because of this damn illness. I’ve emptied the family’s savings, so Dad has to work desperately hard. He’s aged so much from exhaustion.”

Lin Yuan grabbed his own hair, his breathing becoming rapid and chaotic.

“Teacher Ye, tell me… should I even be alive? If it weren’t for me, would Dad… be a little more relaxed? Maybe Mom wouldn’t have…”

“Xiao Lin, lift your head and look at me.”

Lin Yuan’s body stiffened. He didn’t move.

Ye Zhining didn’t urge him. She simply continued in her steady voice.

“You know, as a teacher, how many children do I face every day? Some are smart but unruly, some work hard but lack the right method, some come from wealthy families but don’t know how to cherish it, some are trapped by their circumstances and give up hope too early.”

Her tone carried a trace of emotion, then shifted. “But you? You have excellent grades, you’re sensible and considerate. It might not be appropriate to say this, but… if I were lucky enough to have a child like you, I don’t know how proud and reassured I would be.”

“This world wouldn’t become better without you. It would only make teachers like me feel immense regret and sorrow. Do you understand? All the fault lies with that accident.”

Accident…

Lin Yuan’s pent-up emotions seemed to find a concrete outlet.

He suddenly raised his head, his eyes burning with a nearly obsessive hatred.

“Yes, it’s all those witches! They killed Mom and destroyed everything. I’ve looked it up—the accident back then wasn’t an ordinary one at all! I wish I could personally drag out all those monsters hiding in the dark, one by one…”

Facing Lin Yuan’s near-hysterical outburst, Ye Zhining showed extraordinary patience.

She didn’t scold him for his extremism like traditional educators, nor did she directly deny his hatred.

She simply listened quietly until Lin Yuan finished venting his hatred toward the witches, his chest heaving violently, before speaking softly.

“Xiao Lin, you hate those witches so much—is it because they took your mother’s life, or because they turned the father you could once rely on into the dejected person he is now?”

Lin Yuan froze. He had never so clearly distinguished between these two hatreds.

Was it the former? Of course.

But the latter… that suffocating feeling of the family falling apart and his closest relative becoming a stranger, gnawing at his heart day after day, was perhaps even more agonizing than simple loss.

The tears he had held back for so long finally broke through the last line of defense and rolled down in large drops.

Years of accumulated grievances, self-blame, and longing turned into a bursting flood in this moment.

“Wuu… wuuu…”

Lin Yuan buried his face in his palms. His shoulders shook violently as he let out the long-suppressed, broken sobs.

This was the first time since his mother left that he had completely broken down in front of someone other than his father.

Ye Zhining took out a tissue with a faint clean scent from her bag and handed it to him.

Then she stood up, walked around the table to his side, and gently patted his trembling back.

“Crying it out will make you feel better.”

Ye Zhining whispered beside his ear, “Don’t take all the blame onto yourself. Your father… actually cares about you far more than you think. He just… isn’t very good at expressing it. Or perhaps the pain and pressure in his heart make him unsure how to talk to you. Sometimes, adults are clumsier than children and don’t know how to love. They can only use those clumsy, silent ways to exchange for your future.”

Lin Yuan cried for a long while before slowly raising his head. His eyes were red and swollen, his voice hoarse.

“I… I just want to make him a little happier. But I can’t do anything.”

Ye Zhining smiled and handed him another tissue.

“You’ve already done well. The fact that you came out to talk to me today is already an effort.”

Outside the window, the afternoon light gradually softened.

Lin Yuan leaned against Ye Zhining’s embrace, feeling a long-absent, elder-like warmth. His crying gradually subsided, leaving only occasional sobs.

After a long time, he wiped the tear stains from the corners of his eyes and sat up straight, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Ye Zhining timely changed the subject, turning her gaze toward the counter and asking in a light tone, “Feeling better? Want something to drink?”

Lin Yuan sniffled. “I want… a caramel latte, hot. Mom used to order this for me every time.”

Just as the waiter nodded, noted it down, and turned toward the bar, the café’s old wooden door was pushed open again.

‘Jingle—’

The wind chime rang.

Lin Yuan subconsciously followed the sound and looked toward the entrance.

Then, his pupils suddenly contracted.

Before the chime’s aftersound had faded, two figures—one pink, one white—walked in one after another under the shifting light and shadow at the door.