The commotion among the children quickly drew the adults' attention.
Teachers stationed around the auditorium hurried over, weaving carefully through the rows of little ones.
One crouched beside Ao Yichen, her voice soft and warm.
"Oh, sweetheart, what's the matter? Your uniform looks so nice and tidy—let's not let it get messy on the floor. Come on, let's stand up together, okay?"
But the boy didn't move. He only cried harder, his small body shaking.
"Chen-chen?" A gentle voice called. His mother hurried forward—a frail, kind-looking omega in her mid-twenties. Her light makeup couldn't fully hide the shadows of grief carved deep by sleepless nights.
"Baby, don't cry. Tell Mom what's wrong. I'll try to fix it."
Ao Yichen finally looked up through swollen eyes and pointed a trembling finger at Yanyan.
"They gave my speech to him! It was supposed to be mine! My dad just died—my speech was for him!"
