Every Male Lead love Me

Chapter 4

Mr. Smith had recently left on a business trip, leaving Mrs. Smith as the sole adult in the household. Her profession was nursing, which meant frequent night shifts.

To be fair, managing a household alone while caring for six troubled foster children—on top of grueling overnight work—went far beyond mere exhaustion. In that sense, Xia Tian could understand Mrs. Smith to some degree; her emotional neglect of the foster children was not born of malice.

Of course, understanding did not mean approval.

If she lacked the energy, she could have fostered fewer children—or hired a helper. At the core of it all, the government subsidy remained her primary motivation.

The six children filed downstairs one by one. When Mrs. Smith’s tired eyes landed on Xia Tian, disappointment immediately crept across her face. “Xia Tian, I thought you were the most sensible one.”

The hospital must have been especially hectic the night before; Mrs. Smith’s voice was hoarse.

“M–Mrs. Smith…”

Xia Tian’s tone softened at once.

She knitted her brows gently, her expression filled with concern. “Let me make you a cup of herbal tea first. You should sit down in the living room and catch your breath.”

Before anyone could respond, Xia Tian turned and hurried into the kitchen. She prepared Mrs. Smith’s usual herbal blend, soaked a towel in hot water, and brought both to the living room.

“A warm towel will help,” she said carefully. “It can reduce swelling too.”

Who understood best how to be a well-liked child? Naturally, adults who knew the rules. Xia Tian not only acted obedient—she even carefully summoned tears.

Seeing her guilt-ridden, pitiful expression, Mrs. Smith sighed and shook her head.

Asian girls tended to look slighter and younger than their peers, and Xia Tian’s delicate frame only made her appear more fragile. Watching her fuss over tea and towels, the anger Mrs. Smith had been holding dissolved by more than half before it could surface.

“We’re all family,” she said, her tone noticeably gentler. “What kind of conflict could you and Layla not talk through?”

“Mrs. Smith!”

Frank immediately protested. “Xia Tian stole milk candies and—”

“That’s enough!” Mrs. Smith snapped.

In an adult’s eyes, sneaking a few snacks mattered far less than children constantly fighting. Already irritable, Mrs. Smith grew more annoyed at Frank’s interruption. “They were just candies. Are you implying I starve you all on purpose?”

Frank opened his mouth to argue, but one look at her fury made him swallow his words.

Xia Tian seized the moment. “N–No, Mrs. Smith. Please don’t blame Frank. It’s my fault.”

Mrs. Smith narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think you did wrong?”

Xia Tian let out a shaky sob.

She cried—but not loudly. A full wail would only backfire.

She looked up with tear-filled eyes, then quickly lowered her head. Her dark hair fell forward, hiding her trembling expression as she wrung her fingers in guilt. “I should have… I should have stepped in sooner.”

“What?” Mrs. Smith froze.

“If I’d spoken up earlier… stopped Frank and Matthew from clashing, none of this would have escalated. Layla wouldn’t have been disturbed, Matthew wouldn’t have missed dinner and gone hungry, and I wouldn’t have had to steal milk candy for him…” Xia Tian’s voice quavered. “I was scared. I should have been braver. I worried you. I’m so, so sorry.”

A nine-year-old’s crying came in broken fragments, her words disordered. But it was more than enough for Mrs. Smith to grasp the truth.

Frank had been bullying Matthew.

Calling it a “conflict” was laughable. A six-year-old boy who barely spoke or reacted—how could he possibly provoke anything? Mrs. Smith wasn’t foolish.

The arguments and stolen snacks were merely consequences of Frank’s abuse.

Already simmering with frustration from her night shift, Mrs. Smith now felt her anger ignite. Matthew alone was trouble enough—yet Frank had gone out of his way to target him.

Only then did she remember to actually look at Matthew.

Her gaze finally shifted to the corner of the living room—and she stiffened. The six-year-old’s cheek was badly swollen.

“Frank,” Mrs. Smith erupted, “is this how you behave as an older brother?”

“It wasn’t me!” Frank shouted immediately.

Louder voices—how convincing.

Xia Tian dabbed at her tears while silently scoffing. If she hadn’t cried, Mrs. Smith might not even have noticed Matthew’s injuries. But now that she had—and Frank still denied it—there was no escaping consequences.

“You three,” Mrs. Smith said through clenched teeth, “go eat breakfast. Frank, John, Justin—stay here.”

“Mrs. Smith—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she cut him off. “You cause trouble at school, and now you bully Matthew at home? Frank, you disappoint me.”

Then she turned back to Xia Tian, her tone softening instantly. “Don’t blame yourself, child. This isn’t your fault.”

Xia Tian kept her head lowered. “Mrs. Smith… the heater in Matthew’s room is broken too.”

Mrs. Smith even patted Xia Tian’s shoulder—a rare gesture of warmth. “I’ll call someone to fix it. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” Xia Tian said softly, then added earnestly, “Please drink the tea while it’s still warm.”

What happened to Frank afterward no longer concerned her.

As she left the living room, Layla shot her a vicious glare and stormed off without a word. Matthew, however, followed silently behind.

He stood in the corner, his gaze never leaving Xia Tian.

That emotionless stare still unsettled her, but she crouched down anyway, lowering her voice. “See? There are many ways to fight back. Mrs. Smith makes the rules here. If Frank breaks them, you go to the one who enforces them.”

She patted his head again, feigning intimacy. “You’re so good-looking. Act a little pitiful, and she’ll soften right up. Isn’t that better than getting hurt?”

At her words, Matthew turned his head and looked toward Layla’s retreating figure—as if to say: what about her?

Xia Tian froze.

So he had listened.

Even that single glance filled Xia Tian with delight—it was the first time he had responded to her words.

“I have a plan,” she whispered excitedly. “Tonight I’ll suggest Mrs. Smith make broccoli soup. She hates broccoli.”

Layla was only neurotic; she hadn’t actually harmed Xia Tian.

“And not just that,” Xia Tian muttered, “we’ll put all the broccoli into her bowl. Mrs. Smith says we’re not allowed to be picky, right?”

A small, harmless revenge—nothing worth dwelling on.

Matthew withdrew his gaze, seemingly satisfied.

“Come on, let’s eat breakfast.”

Xia Tian took his hand. “And remember to bring the leftover biscuits to school, in case you get hungry before lunch.”

Of the six foster children, four attended the same elementary school. Matthew had just started first grade, right in the middle of a growth spurt—the age when hunger struck hardest. Accustomed to his silence, Xia Tian thought for a moment before adding, “I have a community activity this afternoon. You should come too. You can play in the garden.”

Matthew simply slipped the remaining biscuit wrapper into his pocket.

Socialization training at six was already late—but better than never.

Xia Tian calculated eagerly: more exposure to the community might open him up. Even if it didn’t, getting familiar with a few stay-at-home women wouldn’t hurt. Those women were warm-hearted and couldn’t stand seeing children injured.

So after school, without asking Matthew—since he wouldn’t respond either way—Xia Tian brought him straight to Mrs. Pitt’s house.

As expected, Mrs. Pitt adored the delicate, beautiful Matthew. She praised him like a little angel and expressed fierce indignation at Frank’s bullying. Only after Xia Tian repeatedly assured her that Frank had been punished did Mrs. Pitt abandon her plan to “have a serious talk” with Mrs. Smith.

Christmas was approaching, and it had been snowing steadily.

Xia Tian assigned Matthew to clear the soft snow from the flowerbeds while she dealt with the hardened ice along the walkway. As she scattered salt, she kept glancing in his direction.

Mrs. Pitt’s reaction wasn’t exaggerated. Matthew Dennish truly was striking.

The boy in the flowerbed was quiet and obedient. Against the clean white snow, his golden hair gleamed brilliantly. He bent down, carefully gathering the snow aside. Even without expression, his round, pale face seemed to radiate focus.

Calling him an angel was no stretch at all.

Xia Tian clicked her tongue in disbelief. Even child stars in Hollywood films didn’t look much better—Matthew Dennish had a face made for fame.

Then, suddenly, his body stiffened.

He spun around and lunged to the right. Xia Tian saw him snatch something from the withered bushes.

She rushed over and froze.

A vole.

“A vole!” she cried.

Her fearful voice made Matthew turn his head.

Unlike mice, voles had large, rounded ears and shiny black eyes. They were… almost cute. But they were still pests.

Technically, clearing the garden included dealing with vermin. Still, Xia Tian was terrified of rodents. She instinctively stepped back. “Don’t touch it with your bare hands—it could carry diseases!”

The vole struggled wildly in Matthew’s palm.

“Let it go first,” Xia Tian scrambled for words. “I—I’ll get Mrs. Pitt!”

The six-year-old lowered his gaze, thick lashes hiding his eyes. Kneeling in the snow, gripping the vole, he looked like a scene from a carefully composed painting.

At her words, he slowly loosened his left hand, fingers uncurling as if to release it.

But just as the vole was about to escape, Matthew’s expression remained cold as he grabbed a stone with his right hand.

When he raised his arm, Xia Tian finally understood.

She had never imagined a child could move so swiftly. She blinked, too late to react.

“Matthew, don’t—”

Her pupils shrank.

She reached out instinctively, but it was already too late. The jagged stone came crashing down toward the vole.