Good times always seem to pass in the blink of an eye. John and Saeed both completed their theses around the same time. While Saeed quickly submitted his application to the Morton College Academic Committee for his defense, John dragged his feet.

　　Professor Li encouraged him, “I’ve reviewed your doctoral thesis, and it’s even better than I expected. You should go ahead and apply for your defense.”

　　“Professor, could I possibly delay my graduation?”

　　Professor Li looked surprised. “I was concerned your thesis might not make the cut, but now that it’s done, why the delay?”

　　John hesitated, “I really enjoy campus life.”

　　Professor Li chuckled. “It sounds like you enjoy it more than just a little! But don’t put it off. A real man should get out into the world and gain some practical experience.”

　　“Is it possible to apply for a postdoc position after graduation?”

　　“Are you looking to stay at the university? Don’t use that as an excuse to avoid facing the real world. Academia might not suit your temperament. And do you think your mother would even support you staying on?”

　　Once again, it was his mother causing the issue! Reality seldom aligns with our desires. Job hunting had been a struggle, and John’s request to stay on at the university was gently declined by Professor Li. Disheartened, John left the office to pour out his frustrations to Saeed. Saeed’s situation was even more dire, partly due to his tumultuous past.

　　Saeed's family were relatives of the Pahlavi dynasty. When the Iranian Islamic Revolution erupted in 1978, the Pahlavi regime collapsed almost overnight. On a plane fleeing the chaos, Saeed’s father reassured his two sons: “Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon.” In the end, they, along with over five hundred other exiled aristocrats, ended up in England, resettled in a sparsely populated village on the outskirts of Oxfordshire. The British government had unilaterally placed the exiles there without consulting the local residents, who saw them as “invaders claiming scarce public resources” and were openly hostile.

　　During their early days in England, Saeed’s family watched on television as crowds in Tehran celebrated by toppling statues of the Pahlavi king, publicly shaming pro-American officials who had been unable to escape, and hosting lavish parties in their former opulent estate. Saeed’s father realized that their dreams of restoring the monarchy had evaporated.

　　Without their former status and the protection of the Western world, Saeed’s family quickly fell into financial difficulty. Their education was sustained by the sale of family jewelry. Once the jewelry was gone, they barely scraped by with help from other exiled nobles. The turmoil led to Saeed’s brother developing depression, which tragically resulted in an overdose at the age of twenty. But depression doesn’t end with death; it lingers within the exiled community, waiting to consume the next vulnerable soul.

　　Determined not to be discarded like a forgotten relic by the West, the Iranian exiles turned to religion as their spiritual refuge, trying to anchor their restless souls. The pall of depression lifted temporarily, and the Iranian enclave grew rapidly, becoming a notable presence in the once-quiet village. The exiles and the local British increasingly found themselves at odds, their mutual disdain and animosity deepening.

　　Saeed’s research flourished because his subject was a seemingly ordinary object from his family’s past. He insisted on using Persian for his academic notes as a tribute to his roots, and his debates with Liyan about the Islamic Golden Age were a nostalgic nod to the grandeur of the Pahlavi dynasty. Despite his academic successes, Saeed struggled to find a job and reluctantly returned to Carterton, where he planned to take over the family’s Islamic restaurant and marry the daughter of a family friend who had supported his studies.

　　Liyan felt a pang of sympathy for Saeed’s plight. John explained, “Saeed’s field is so specialized that finding a teaching position is incredibly tough. Plus, the British government, in an effort to appease the current Iranian regime, has pledged not to provide any more support to the exiles from the Pahlavi era.”

　　“So, it’s like the saying, ‘When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter; when the person leaves, the tea cools.’ Saeed really got the short end of the stick,” Liyan remarked.

　　John tried to offer some perspective. “Saeed’s situation isn’t as dire as you might think. Don’t underestimate the significance of the Islamic restaurant. For exiled Muslims, it’s like a ‘mosque’ away from home. Even in the UK, many contracts and significant events within the Iranian community are handled according to Islamic principles at these restaurants. In many ways, the owner of an Islamic restaurant serves as a spiritual leader for the local Muslim community.”

　　Liyan was puzzled. “Earning a Ph.D. but ending up running a restaurant and marrying a stranger—how is that a success? Is Saeed’s goal really to become a religious leader?”

　　“You’re quite the skeptic,” John said with a knowing smile. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes, destiny is shaped by the times. Taking a step back might give you a clearer view.”

　　“That sounds too fatalistic. I was taught that people have the power to shape their own destinies. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

　　“Ah, so you’re a staunch Marxist too!”

　　John’s attempt to reassure Liyan didn’t quite hit the mark. As the sole heir to his family’s business, John was expected to join the Huntington Auction House. Apart from that, no one dared to hire him—more precisely, no one wanted to cross Mrs. Huntington. Despite their differing circumstances, both John and Saeed faced similar struggles, with their career paths converging in their mutual challenge of finding employment.

　　Mrs. Huntington was in high spirits because John was graduating on time, and she inquired about the date of the graduation ceremony.

　　“Graduations are boring. You don't need to go,” John said.

　　“Don’t be ridiculous! Attending our children’s graduations is a Huntington family tradition. If your father were still alive, we’d both be there,” Mrs. Huntington reprimanded him.

　　John understood that earning his Ph.D. brought pride to his mother, and she wouldn’t miss any opportunity to showcase the Huntington family's prestige. “If you want to go, then go,” he conceded.

　　Mrs. Huntington then asked, “When are you starting at Huntington Auction House?”

　　“I don’t want to work at the auction house,” John replied.

　　“Every year, so many graduates end up unemployed. You have a family business to inherit, and you want to laze around instead?” she retorted.

　　John remained silent.

　　“Is it because of Shen Liyan that you don’t want to work at the auction house?” Mrs. Huntington suspected that Liyan’s influence over John had surpassed her own, and she regretted allowing his feelings to develop freely over the past three years.

　　John was furious. “Don’t blame everything on Liyan. This has nothing to do with her. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have even finished my Ph.D.”

　　Mrs. Huntington realized that John had previously brought girlfriends to the estate to provoke her. The more she disliked them, the more John flaunted them in front of her, a childish act that indicated his relationships with them were not solid. If she had kept her cool back then and not intervened, those relationships likely wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. But John’s defense of Liyan came from genuine affection. The fact that her son was head over heels for a Chinese woman made Mrs. Huntington realize she had underestimated this Chinese exchange student.

　　On the main path from the library to Morton College, a dignified woman stepped out of a sleek black luxury car. Her perfectly coiffed hair drew the attention of passersby. Liyan thought she looked familiar. As they were about to pass each other, the middle-aged woman greeted her, “Liyan, it’s been a while.”

　　Liyan hadn’t expected to run into John’s mother here. “Hello, Mrs. Huntington. Are you here to see John?”

　　“I’m here specifically to see you today.”

　　Last night, John had suddenly mentioned he had important business to attend to this morning. Now, Liyan realized he had been deliberately sent away. This encounter with Mrs. Huntington had been carefully arranged. It had been three years since Liyan last visited the estate. What could Mrs. Huntington want with her? It had to be about John. Liyan sensed trouble but decided to wait for Mrs. Huntington to reveal her intentions.

　　"John doesn’t want to work at the auction house because he fears leaving Morton College means he can't take care of you properly. But as his mother, I can’t stand by and watch him waste his time," Mrs. Huntington said bluntly, placing the blame for John’s reluctance to work squarely on Liyan.

　　Liyan quickly clarified, "I’ve never asked John to delay his career for my sake."

　　"Then may I ask a favor of you? Could you persuade John to join Huntington Auction House?"

　　"I’ll talk to him, but ultimately, where he works should be John’s decision."

　　"Huntington Auction House is a family business. It’s never been run by outsiders. This is John’s responsibility, and he can’t shirk it."

　　Liyan was puzzled. Many family businesses hire professional managers when there isn’t a suitable heir. The younger generation often holds a board title, showing up only for major decisions, enjoying financial freedom from the family business dividends while pursuing their chosen careers and lives. Trusting others is also a way of liberating oneself. Why did Huntington Auction House insist on John taking over? However, as John’s girlfriend, she wasn’t in a position to question the internal affairs of the Huntington family, so she swallowed her curiosity.

　　"I’ll have a good talk with John," Liyan said, accommodatingly.

　　"You’re such an understanding child," Mrs. Huntington said approvingly. "Here’s a little something from me. If John working at the auction house means he can’t take care of you properly, I wouldn’t be at ease. Your well-being helps both John and me worry less." She pressed a small envelope into Liyan’s hand.

　　Liyan’s intuition told her that the envelope contained a bank card.

　　If John had to cover all their dating expenses, he would gladly do so, as he wasn’t short on money and loved playing the knight. But Liyan meticulously calculated their spending ratio during their relationship—3:1. This was a balance she could afford and made them both feel comfortable with their respective statuses. During their relationship, Liyan had never accepted any expensive gifts from John. He understood and respected her, never daring to give her anything beyond her financial means. The only exception was a cashmere coat, which Liyan accepted only after John’s persistent urging and waiting until it was discounted to a more affordable price, making it a New Year’s gift.

　　Accepting expensive gifts beyond one’s means implicitly allows the giver to expect some form of repayment in the future. Financial independence during a relationship is a foundation for personal independence and a way for a woman to protect herself. If Liyan didn’t accept expensive gifts from John, she certainly wouldn’t accept them from anyone else.

　　She firmly declined, "I have my income as a teaching assistant. I can take care of myself."

　　Mrs. Huntington wouldn’t take the envelope back. "Are you treating me as an outsider? Didn’t we just agree that we’re both doing this for John’s sake?"

　　The luxury car already drew attention, and the sight of two women standing by it, making gestures of refusal, attracted even more glances from passersby, making Liyan uncomfortable.

　　"I have work to attend to, so I’ll head back to the office." Mrs. Huntington curled Liyan’s fingers around the envelope, forcing her to hold onto the bank card.

　　Confronting Mrs. Huntington directly wasn’t wise or prudent. Liyan decided to take the envelope for now, intending to return the card to John when she saw him at lunch.

　　Noticing Liyan’s resistance weakening, Mrs. Huntington happily got back into the car.

　　At lunch, Liyan cautiously broached the topic with John. "Where are you planning to work?"

　　John, usually understanding, was taken aback by her sudden question, especially given his frustration with his job search. He responded angrily, "I’m not planning to work right now."

　　"Why don’t you want to work at the family business? Many people would envy such an opportunity."

　　John felt a pang of disappointment. "Do you also want me to work at the auction house?"

　　"It's better to work at Huntington Auction House than to be idle while you can't find a suitable job," Liyan suggested gently.

　　"Why do you sound just like my mom? Are you worried that without an income, our life will be tough?" John retorted, his tone sharp.

　　Liyan felt deeply wronged. "I’m not someone who only cares about wealth. Your mother came by this morning and asked me to convince you to work at Huntington Auction House."

　　"Don’t speak for her, and stay out of my family’s business," John snapped, immediately regretting it. He realized he had pushed Liyan away, turning her into an outsider, while he and his mother remained family.

　　"Don't misunderstand me. All I meant was that having something to do is better than doing nothing," Liyan explained anxiously.

　　"All my life, she’s never approved of anything I wanted to do. I'm just her puppet. I thought you would understand," John said, his voice filled with frustration.

　　"She wants what’s best for you. She’s your mother," Liyan reasoned, trying to soothe him.

　　"You don't understand her at all. She’s always used ‘it’s for your own good’ to control my life," John shot back, feeling a deep-seated resentment.

　　Liyan realized she couldn't persuade John. She sensed there were deeper issues between John and his mother.

　　Seeing the returned bank card, John's mouth twitched slightly. His anger was boiling over, with memories of his mother controlling his life flooding back.

　　John had once waved his acceptance letter from Berklee College of Music in front of his father, excitedly announcing, "I got in! Dad, please talk to Mom. I want to go to the U.S. to study music." John was determined to leave home and pursue the freedom he longed for.

　　His father patted John's shoulder, his voice lacking any joy, "I know you have a talent for music. I’ll talk to your mother." He took the letter, but a frown creased his forehead.

　　"John wants to study music in the U.S. Since he’s not interested in the auction house, let him go," Edmund meekly suggested to his wife.

　　"If John doesn't inherit the auction house, who will?" Mrs. Huntington retorted.

　　"Can you hold on for a few more years and then let my brother take over?" Edmund proposed.

　　"I didn't take over the auction house just to hand it over to someone else. I didn't marry into this family to be pushed out," Mrs. Huntington said firmly.

　　"My brother will support us financially, just as we’re supporting him now," Edmund tried to reassure his wife.

　　“Support?” Mrs. Huntington said with disdain. “You call scraps and leftovers support? How long do you think that charity will last? Thirty years? Fifty? In high society, status has to be diligently maintained. Once you leave the center of power, you'll quickly be pushed out of the circle. Where are your extended family members now? Do you even remember them?”

　　Edmund knew the survival rules of high society better than his wife. The luxury John was born into came with a price. It seemed like he was born into the upper class, but he had no real control over his life, just like every other heir to the Huntington estate. The tension between his wife and son stemmed from him.

　　After falling seriously ill, Edmund relied heavily on a few senior employees at the auction house. He treated them as friends rather than just employees, but how did they repay his trust? They poached the auction house’s loyal clients and colluded with outsiders to sell valuable antiques at dirt-cheap prices. If his wife hadn’t noticed something was wrong and stepped in, Huntington Auction House might have become a subsidiary by now.

　　After decisively firing the disloyal employees, his wife began to overhaul the auction house meticulously. Her hard work was beyond mere effort. A year later, the auction house had recovered from its decline. But his wife's personality had undergone a significant change. She became more suspicious, anxious, and increasingly controlling of their son. Edmund knew why. He couldn’t shoulder the family burden, leaving his wife to support everything alone. The auction house was in crisis, and she had no one to consult with. The treacherous employees had proven that so-called friends would only follow the wind. Only blood ties were eternal. But John was a troublesome son. He was always focused on playing music and dating, and without consulting his parents, he had applied to a music college in the U.S. What could you do? John was only nineteen. Edmund had also been a late bloomer, wandering until he was thirty-three before returning to work at the auction house and only deciding to take over at forty-three.

　　Feeling guilty towards his wife for making such an unreasonable request for their son, Edmund said, “I know you won’t agree to John studying music, but please be gentle when you talk to him.”

　　“Dad, did you talk to Mom yet?” John couldn’t help but ask, seeing his father avoid him for days.

　　His faxther remained silent.

　　His mother appeared with John's acceptance letter. “Is this what you were talking about?”

　　John couldn’t look his mother in the eye. He hung his head. “I want to go to the U.S.”

　　“You like music, so keep it as your hobby. But the Huntington family doesn’t need a musician.”

　　In front of John, his mother set the acceptance letter on fire and threw it into the fireplace. The flames quickly turned it to ashes.

　　“Dad!” John cried out to his father, his voice filled with grief and defiance.

　　"Listen to your mother and don’t upset her.” His father turned away, coldly wheeling himself out of the room.

　　Why does everything have to be her way? What do I even count for? John slammed the bank card onto his mother’s desk, his suppressed anger erupting like a volcano. “Liyan doesn’t want your money!”

　　“Why are you so angry? I’m just trying to help you. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to take good care of her while working at the auction house,” Mrs. Huntington replied.

　　“You don’t need to worry. I never planned to go to the auction house.”

　　“If not the auction house, then where?” Mrs. Huntington sneered.

　　“I’ve applied for a postdoctoral position with Professor Li.”

　　“And you’re saying it’s not because of Shen Liyan?”

　　“Stop interfering in my life and my relationships.”

　　“How long are you going to keep running away?”

　　“I hate being your puppet. Don’t think I don’t know you used the same tactics to drive Claire away five years ago.”

　　“You and Claire were not a good match. She was just a social climber.”

　　“So every girl I date is after our family’s money? Is it only a marriage with a girl from a noble family that would satisfy you? Have you ever considered my feelings?”

　　“You’ll understand my intentions eventually. Even though I’m not optimistic about your relationship with Shen Liyan, I don’t intend to drive her away this time. I just want you to work at Huntington Auction House.”

　　“Should I be grateful for your mercy?”

　　“You’re too emotional right now. Whatever I say won’t help.”

　　After venting his anger, John calmed down. He had been taught to maintain his composure, as showing emotions would reveal his weaknesses. But he had already shown his weaknesses to his mother, and he didn’t want her to think she had the upper hand. He coldly issued his final warning, “From now on, don’t meet Shen Liyan behind my back. If you do, you’ll lose me forever.”

　　Mrs. Huntington stopped making excuses for herself. She had originally thought Shen Liyan would accept the money just like John’s previous girlfriends, revealing her greed and giving Mrs. Huntington leverage. But Liyan had returned the money. Was she trying to retreat in order to advance? Was she trying to win their favor? Mrs. Huntington realized she was speculating about someone she disliked, which only made her angrier. She hadn’t anticipated that her actions would provoke John’s rebellion, reigniting old wounds and deepening the rift between them. Overwhelmed by physical and emotional exhaustion, she stumbled and grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself, the fierce look in her eyes replaced by weary defeat.

　　John watched coldly, just as his mother had once treated him.

　　She’s regretting it. Let her regret it. His life had always been manipulated by his mother, but from now on, he would take back control. Without looking back, John left the estate, determined to reclaim his life.