Chapter 1

Before the school stage play performance, my daughter Betty came home clutching a dingy cardboard costume, secretly wiping tears in the corner.

I asked her what role she was playing.

She mumbled quietly, "A trash can."

Her teacher posted the program schedule in the group chat, explaining: "Every child is important. Trash cans are also part of urban civilization."

But when I clicked on it, I discovered that the school board chairman's daughter was playing the princess, and the PTA president's son was playing the prince.

And my daughter's name was placed at the very bottom of the "Background Props Group."

My daughter's teacher messaged me privately: "Mrs. James, don't be too fussy. Your family hasn't really contributed much to the class."

I looked at the contract on the table that I'd just signed and smiled.

That cardboard costume was hastily thrown together from delivery boxes.

Square and boxy, painted with a layer of gray, with the words "Trash Can" crookedly stuck on the chest.

My daughter Betty stood in the entryway, fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, eyes red as if she'd just been crying.

She's seven years old this year.

Usually she'd feel bad for half a day if her dress hem got a little muddy, but now she clutched that dirty cardboard costume, trying hard to act like it didn't matter.

"Mom, Samantha said this role is important too."

Her voice got smaller and smaller. "Everyone needs to protect the environment, so we need trash cans."

I crouched down and took the cardboard costume from her arms.

The gray paint wasn't completely dry yet and got all over my hands.

I suppressed my anger and asked her, "Didn't you say before that you were going to play the little artist with a paintbrush?"

Half a month ago, she practiced her lines in front of the mirror every night.

"I'm going to paint the sky blue and paint every child into springtime."

One line, she'd practice seriously more than ten times.

She even showed me her sketch.

Rainbows, stages, balloons, and a group of children standing in the center.

She said the teacher praised her drawing as the best and would let her be the opening little artist for Children's Day.

Betty lowered her head.

"Samantha said Christiana is more suitable for the little artist."

"Her dad is the school board chairman. The principal said she has to stand in the center."

I picked up my phone and opened the class group chat.

The program schedule had just been posted: "Childlike Hearts Toward the Future."

Princess: Christiana.

Prince: Mendez.

Little Artist: Christiana.

Flower Team: PTA members' children.

Background Props Group: Betty, Trash Can.

I stared at that line for a long time.

My phone buzzed again. Teacher Samantha sent me a private message.

"Mrs. James, I know you might feel a bit uncomfortable, but children need to adapt to the group."

"Many parents contributed money and effort for our class's Children's Day activity this time."

"You're usually busy with work, don't participate in the PTA, and don't really contribute to the class. The teacher can only consider everything comprehensively."

"The trash can role also has great educational significance. Please don't let your child misunderstand."

I looked at the words "contribute" and almost laughed out loud.

Three hours ago, SUN School had just sent someone to my office to sign the sponsorship contract for the entire Children's Day event with me.

Stage, lighting, live streaming, photography, balloons, interactive gifts.

Total price: eight hundred sixty thousand dollars.

The contract's Party A was James Entertainment under my name.

The school representative had nodded and bowed, saying this Children's Day gala was an important window for showcasing the school's arts education achievements, and hoped we could cooperate long-term.

I only made one request at the time.

Make sure all the children happily celebrate Children's Day.

The representative smiled and said, "Don't worry, Ms. James. Our school has always put children first."

Now it seemed they valued not children, but the parents behind the children.

I didn't immediately reply to Samantha.

I placed the cardboard costume on the table and asked Betty, "Did anyone laugh at you during rehearsal today?"

Tears immediately fell from her eyes.

"Mendez said I was just there on stage for them to throw waste paper at."

"He also stuffed his finished yogurt box into my costume."

"Samantha saw it and said it was part of the performance effect."

My fingers clenched bit by bit.

Betty hurriedly wiped her tears. "Mom, can I not go tomorrow?"

I hugged her. "Go."

Her body stiffened.

I gently stroked her head. "But not to be a trash can."