But Ling Zhiwei was never one for small talk. Getting a word out of him was like squeezing toothpaste, to say nothing of trying to curry favor with Ling Chengyao and his wife.
Every day after school, he would come home, toss his backpack on the floor, kick his shoes under the sofa, and walk straight into his room to do his homework.
At dinner, he would only eat from the dish directly in front of him and never spoke unless spoken to.
When asked about school, he would only answer with a nod or a shake of his head.
Occasionally, he might manage an "It's fine" or "Nothing happened," but he wouldn't utter another word beyond that.
In just three or four days, stories began to circulate around the house:
Ling Zhiwei had either gotten his new pants caked in mud or chipped a corner off the coffee table;
