Outside the window, the rain had turned into a light drizzle.

The store manager glanced at them, then at the unconscious man and the shaken woman.

After some hesitation, he walked over and said, “Apologies for the scare. We won’t hold you accountable for the damage caused in the store…”

“It’s fine,” Song Honglang replied, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He glanced at the manager. “How much?”

The manager was startled, looked around, and waved his hand. “Nothing’s really broken, no need.”

Before Song Honglang could respond, the wailing of a siren filled the air.

The manager quickly said, “I panicked earlier and called the police and an ambulance. You’d better leave before the cops arrive.”

But just as his words landed, the door was pushed open.

A man in a police uniform stepped in. “Good evening, I’m Officer Zhang Yi, in charge of this district. Did someone here call the police?”

Zhixing shrank back into the booth, glancing at Song Honglang.

Frowning, Song Honglang clearly didn’t want the situation to escalate.

“Uh, yes, we did. Please, come in.”

The manager shot the two of them a pointed look and went to greet Zhang Yi.

Song Honglang took Zhixing’s hand, rubbing it lightly.

Zhang Yi inspected the unconscious man, then noticed two figures standing and preparing to leave.

Frowning, he said, “Stay where you are. Everyone in the store must stay and assist with the investigation.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the two of them bolted for the door.

Zhang Yi shouted, “Liu Gang, don’t let them get away!”

At the door, an officer named Liu Gang, cigarette still in his mouth, was startled as two figures darted past him. He spit out the cigarette and gave chase. “Stop right there!”

Song Honglang didn’t care, dragging Zhixing as they sprinted away.

Out of breath and with her hair disheveled, Zhixing struggled to keep up.

He glanced back at her—her nose was red, her cheeks flushed, and she looked utterly adorable.

Around them, the world seemed to blur, as if the rain had washed away all the colors, leaving a swirling mess.

Somehow, the drizzle had stopped.

In that fleeting moment, Song Honglang felt like the entire world had shrunk to just him and the little fool whose hand he was holding.

After zigzagging through two streets, Song Honglang finally stopped at the entrance of a narrow alley.

He ducked inside, pulling Zhixing along with him.

Leaning against the wall, he whispered, “Shh.”

Zhixing froze.

Then, Song Honglang encircled her waist and pulled her into his arms.

Her back pressed against his warm chest, their labored breaths trembled through their bodies.

A faint scent of lemon shampoo wafted from her, faintly clogging his senses.

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.

Both of them held their breath.

But all Song Honglang could focus on was that maddening lemon scent.

The footsteps paused, lingered, then gradually faded away into silence.

“Phew, phew…”

A loud gasp broke the tension.

Song Honglang turned to see Zhixing gulping air like a fish out of water.

He released her and stepped out of the alley, catching his own breath.

After a few moments, Zhixing pouted unhappily. “I left my bear behind.”

Song Honglang’s throat burned from the exertion, but he still chuckled. “You’re worried about the bear? We almost got caught.”

“Never mind, I’ll get it for you in a few days if you still want it.”

“Okay—achoo!”

Zhixing sneezed.

Song Honglang glanced at her, smirking. “Cold? Want my jacket?”

Zhixing looked at her thin school uniform, then at his long down jacket, her eyes lighting up.

She rubbed her arms, feigning a shiver. “Yes, I’m so cold.”

Song Honglang unzipped his coat, spreading it open. “Come here, then.”

Zhixing blinked in confusion.

Song Honglang stepped forward and wrapped her in both his coat and his arms.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he teased, “Warm? Comfortable?”

“You!” Zhixing tried to protest, but it really was warm.

The two stood there like fools, neither speaking, just holding still.

In the cool autumn air, Song Honglang’s heartbeat pounded. A sudden surge of courage filled him.

He nudged her shoulder with his chin and murmured, “Zhixing, tomorrow night, I’ll take you somewhere.”

He paused, then added, “Don’t be afraid.”

“Where?”

Zhixing turned her head, her nose brushing against his. Their eyes met.

For a moment, Song Honglang could see his own reflection in her gaze.

After a brief stare, he impulsively kissed her cheek, quick and fleeting.

Then, as if startled by his own actions, he pushed her away, pulled off his coat, and tossed it over her head.

Zhixing’s vision went dark as she fumbled with the jacket.

When she finally uncovered herself, she saw Song Honglang’s retreating back.

His voice carried over. “Remember to give me that jacket back at school on Monday. Don’t wash it.”

Confused, Zhixing called after him, “But you’re taking me somewhere tomorrow! I can give it to you then!”

Song Honglang stopped in his tracks. “Just bring yourself tomorrow. The jacket, Monday at school.”

“Fine,” Zhixing agreed.

Neither of them knew that this jacket would become part of a forgotten memory.

Nor would the two café bears ever find their rightful owners.

At this moment, Song Honglang strode away, his hood up and hands in his pockets, looking like any confident teenager.

Zhixing muttered under her breath, “Trying to act cool.”

As Song Honglang walked briskly, his cheeks flushed. He tugged at his hood, trying to hide his reddening face.

His eyes sparkled as he grinned—a grin he thought wasn’t very cool.

But he couldn’t help it.

Reaching for his phone, he made a call.

“Hello, I’d like to book the rooftop garden at the Dutton Hotel…”

“Just tell me the truth, and I’ll let it go,” Du Xue insisted, her tone firm.

“I’m afraid knowing the truth will only make you cling even harder,” Xu Ting muttered.

His phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he saw Song Honglang.

He cast a quick look at Du Xue and walked to the doorway to answer the call.

“What’s up?”

“I just reserved the rooftop garden at Dutton Hotel,” Song Honglang said. “Get a few people to help set it up—make it romantic. I’ll give you the specifics tomorrow.”

Xu Ting was about to tease him, but the call abruptly ended.

He clicked his tongue, scrolled through his contacts, and made another call.

“Lao Liu, when Li Cheng planned that proposal for his girlfriend, you helped him, didn’t you?”

“Sure did! Why? You planning something too?” Lao Liu’s loud voice made Xu Ting hold his phone farther away.

“It’s for Honglang. He booked the rooftop garden at Dutton. Get Li Cheng, Zhang Xin, and Zhou Ming to help. Go all out—money’s not an issue. Honglang will cover it.”

“Got it! Just tell me, who’s the lucky girl this time?”

“Who do you think?” Xu Ting replied with a smirk.

But just as he was about to hang up, the door opened, and Du Xue walked in.

Before Xu Ting could find an excuse to end the call, Lao Liu’s voice boomed loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Holy crap! He’s going after that good girl? Man, Honglang’s really pulling out all the stops just to win—”

Beep, beep, beep. Xu Ting hung up in a hurry, but it was too late.

“For the win?” Du Xue’s brows knitted together. “What does that mean?”

Xu Ting sighed, realizing there was no way out of this.

“Fine, I’ll tell you. But let me be honest—there’s no way you and Honglang are happening.”

Du Xue slipped her hand into her school uniform pocket, her fingers brushing against something long and thin.

Fixing her sharp gaze on Xu Ting, she said, “Spill.”

---

The Next Afternoon

After finishing her last practice exam, Zhixing heard a noise outside her door.

Opening it, she found a stylish young woman standing there.

The girl smiled. “Hi, I’m Wang Jiajia, Li Cheng’s girlfriend. Honglang asked me to help you get ready.”

“Get ready?” Zhixing blinked, confused.

“Yep!” Wang Jiajia’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “We’re talking makeup, hair, and nails—everything to make you look stunning.”

Zhixing immediately understood.

She changed into a casual outfit and followed Wang Jiajia out.

They took a short taxi ride, arriving at an opulent beauty salon half an hour later.

“This place is pricey,” Wang Jiajia said with a hint of envy. “But their work is top-notch. I’m excited for you!”

Inside, they were guided to a lounge where attendants served them juice and snacks.

“Miss Zhang Zhixing, today’s appointment includes skincare, makeup, and hairstyling. Your dress has already been delivered as well.”

The attendant handed Zhixing a box with a polite bow. “Apologies, your stylist is finishing another appointment. Please wait a moment.”

The attendant left, and the room grew quiet.

“Try on the dress now,” Wang Jiajia urged.

Zhixing shook her head. “No need. I’ll wait until after the haircut. It’ll be uncomfortable to sit in a dress for too long.”

“Good point.” Wang Jiajia nodded.

Just then, the door clicked open.

A woman in a pale pink gown walked in, phone in hand.

Her demeanor was elegant, her makeup impeccable. She sat across from them, crossing her legs gracefully as she chatted on the phone.

“Yes, it’s rare to see him at these events,” she said with a leisurely tone.

The woman glanced at Zhixing and Wang Jiajia, letting out a derisive chuckle.

Wang Jiajia frowned. “Is she laughing at us?” she whispered.

Zhixing stayed silent.

“I had to come here to get ready for tonight. He’s worth the effort,” the woman continued, tilting her head.

She shot them another glance, shaking her head. “But honestly, you wouldn’t believe who I saw in the waiting room.”

Wang Jiajia’s frown deepened. She opened her mouth to retort, but the woman rose to leave.

“My driver’s here. We’ll chat later. And don’t come to this salon again—it’s letting just anyone in these days.”

Wang Jiajia glared at the closed door. “What’s her problem? No class at all!”

Zhixing stared at her pale fingers, lost in thought.

“Seriously, you’re not mad? You have such a good temper,” Wang Jiajia remarked.

Internally, Zhixing was rolling her eyes.

Of course, she was furious. She’d just been racking her brain for a way to get back at that woman. Unfortunately, she’d left too quickly.

“Miss Zhang Zhixing, your stylist is here.”

A new voice broke the silence. A man walked in with a professional smile.

Once the styling was finished, Zhixing opened the dress box and changed.

When she stepped out of the dressing room, Wang Jiajia, scrolling through her phone, glanced up—and froze.

Zhixing’s porcelain skin glowed, her almond-shaped eyes sparkling with innocence. Her crimson lips were like a touch of fire.

Her silky black hair was neatly styled, with a delicate star-shaped crown headband accentuating her ethereal aura.

The dress’s spaghetti straps highlighted her slender waist, almost too petite to grasp.

“You’re stunning!” Wang Jiajia exclaimed, pulling Zhixing closer for a better look.

Zhixing chuckled softly, her eyes shimmering.

Wang Jiajia’s heart skipped a beat. She looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale.

“All right, time to meet your prince,” Wang Jiajia said, taking Zhixing’s hand.

Really? Zhixing thought, smiling faintly.

---

Meanwhile, the Dutton Hotel ballroom was filled with the clinking of glasses and polite chatter.

Though the atmosphere was light, the conversations remained centered on business matters.

To Song Hongyu, the entire affair felt pointless. He sipped his champagne, glancing around.

“Mr. Song, a moment?”

He turned to see Mr. He approaching with a young woman in a pale pink gown.

“Mr. He, long time no see,” Song Hongyu greeted with a polite smile.

“It has been a while since our last collaboration,” Mr. He said, clapping him on the shoulder. Gesturing to the woman, he added, “This is my daughter, He Xin. Xin, say hello to Mr. Song.”

“Hello, Mr. Song,” He Xin said shyly.

“You two young people should chat. I’ll go catch up with old friends,” Mr. He said before leaving.

He Xin looked down, muttering, “My dad always teases me. It’s so annoying.”

“You’re lucky to have such a close bond,” Song Hongyu said, his smile faint.

But as he turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling window, his gaze caught on something.

“What are you looking at?” He Xin followed his line of sight.

Outside, the rooftop garden was illuminated by string lights, its beauty amplified by the night.

“Nothing,” Song Hongyu said, smiling. “I think I’ll grab some refreshments. Would you like anything?”

“Thank you,” He Xin murmured, her cheeks pink.

Watching him walk away, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement.

Song Hongyu, the heir to the Song family, was successful, handsome, and well-mannered—a dream catch for any socialite.

As Song Hongyu handed a plate of pastries to an attendant with instructions to deliver them to He Xin, he sighed in relief and stepped out of the room.

Large social gatherings were not his preference, but obligations kept pulling him in.

As he reached the elevator, a girl bumped into him, dropping her bag and scattering its contents.

He noticed a recorder among the items she quickly stuffed back into her bag.

“Which way to the rooftop garden?” she asked hastily.

“Take the elevator to B15, then transfer to C12. Turn the corner, and you’ll be there,” he replied.

“Thank you!”

As the girl dashed off, Song Hongyu’s curiosity was piqued.

The rooftop setup clearly indicated a grand romantic gesture. Now, this girl, recorder in tow, was rushing there.

Interesting.

But he had no plans to get involved.

Song Hongyu stepped into the elevator.

Meanwhile, Du Xue ran on, clenching her jaw.

Originally, Du Xue thought she could wait until Monday to hand it over to Zhixing. But then Song Honglang pulled this move, and if someone hadn’t slipped up, she wouldn’t have known a thing.

She had to tell Zhixing before she agreed. Otherwise, Song Honglang would win by deceiving someone’s feelings.

That Zhixing was such a fool. Her phone wasn’t even reachable, making Du Xue run all the way here.

Even if Zhixing ended up crying later, Du Xue had no intention of comforting her.

That was what Du Xue thought.

---

Zhixing had just arrived at the garden’s entrance when a group of people surrounded her.

They stood on either side, hands over their hearts, bowing deeply.

Zhixing looked startled but couldn’t help finding it funny.

Still such a kid, pulling off a spectacle like this.

She pushed open the small garden gate. Inside, strings of twinkling lights were draped everywhere, with colorful helium balloons tied in the garden’s corners.

Lifting her dress carefully, she climbed the small steps. The moment she reached the top, she saw someone in a suit standing there.

Song Honglang stood with his hands behind his back. When their eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze.

He coughed lightly, tugging at his tie, looking entirely uncomfortable.

Seconds later, massive fireworks erupted around the garden, illuminating everything.

Song Honglang walked over and handed Zhixing a large bouquet of roses.

Zhixing took the roses and quietly looked at him.

Song Honglang swallowed hard. His lips moved, but no words came out.

After a long moment, he groaned in frustration. “Damn it, I can’t remember how I was supposed to say it.”

“Supposed to say?” Zhixing’s eyes curved into crescents. “Someone wrote a script for you?”

“I—ugh, no! It’s just that I…”

Song Honglang stammered, pacing like an ant on a hot pan.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Ruffling his hair in frustration, he yanked off his suit jacket and tore off his tie.

The breeze tousled his shirt, making him look rugged and untamed.

He wrapped his jacket around Zhixing and leaned down, his forehead resting against hers.

“Zhixing.”

“Mm.”

“Zhixing.”

“Mm.”

Song Honglang’s breathing grew heavier. He paused for a few seconds before calling her name again.

“Zhixing.”

Zhixing laughed, her eyes sparkling like stars.

Shit.

This was it.

Song Honglang took a deep breath and, against the cool breeze, shouted, “Zhixing, I like you! Will you be with me?”

Zhixing froze, clutching the roses as laughter overtook her, leaving her doubled over. “Why are you yelling?”

“I—” Song Honglang fumbled for words again and barked, “Just answer me! Yes or no?”

“I—”

“Wait! Let me in!”

Zhixing’s response was cut off by Du Xue’s voice at the garden gate.

She blinked, startled.

Moments later, Du Xue pushed past the people trying to block her way, storming into the garden.

“What are you doing here?”

Song Honglang frowned, his face darkening.

“Zhixing, listen to me.”

Du Xue turned to Zhixing, pulling out a recording pen from her pocket.

Song Honglang looked confused. “What are you doing?”

In the crowd, Xu Ting’s face went pale.

Du Xue pressed play. The recording started, with a voice both unfamiliar and familiar filling the air.

“It was just a bet between Honglang and me. We bet whether he could win over Zhixing. If he did, he’d win.”

“But you broke up because your personalities didn’t match. Stop thinking about getting back together. And leave Zhixing alone. She doesn’t know anything and will probably get dumped by Honglang soon.”

In the sudden silence, the recording played to the end.

Song Honglang stood rooted to the spot, his mind blank as he slowly looked at Zhixing.

Zhixing’s face remained expressionless, but large tears began streaming down her cheeks.

Song Honglang forced a smile, reaching out to wipe away her tears.

Zhixing stepped back.

“I didn’t—” Song Honglang’s voice was hoarse, cracking.

Fully snapping out of his daze, he tried to grab her hand, but she yanked it away.

Then, Zhixing smiled.

Her face was slightly flushed, her tear-filled eyes sparkling like diamonds.

Song Honglang’s chest tightened, and his throat felt like it was being cut by blades.

Forcing himself to speak, he said, “It’s not like that. At first, yes, but later, it wasn’t.”

Zhixing took off the suit jacket with one hand while holding the roses with the other. “Take it back.”

With a clatter, a jewelry box fell out from the bouquet.

Zhixing laughed again, her tears falling harder. She kicked the box aside.

Staggering a few steps, she said, “For a bet, the great Mr. Song sure went all out.”

The jewelry box rolled to Song Honglang’s feet.

His fists clenched tightly.

No, no, no…

Zhixing swung the bouquet, smacking him across the face with it.

Thorns scratched his skin, leaving bloodied streaks.

And with the flowers came a single word:

“Leave.”

Zhixing’s voice was steady.

Then she turned and walked away.

Du Xue followed quickly behind her.

The crowd murmured.

“Honglang…” someone ventured.

“Leave,” Song Honglang said flatly.

Xu Ting finally realized how serious this was but chose to say nothing, following the others as they dispersed.

Song Honglang slid down the glass wall behind him, collapsing to the ground.

The scratches on his face from the roses oozed blood, staining his white shirt collar.

Reaching for the jewelry box, he felt the warmth in his heart fade away.

Inside was the necklace he’d spent hours picking out the day before. It was lemon-shaped, encrusted with tiny diamonds.

He had been waiting for her to ask why it was shaped like that.

Then he would’ve told her—because she had used lemon-scented body wash yesterday.

Maybe she would’ve blushed, gotten mad, and he’d have pulled her into his arms.

Then…

Then there would’ve been so many “thens.”

But now, there were none.

---

Outside the garden, Zhixing finally broke into sobs.

She sobbed uncontrollably, her body shaking as she cried loudly.

“Zhixing, wait!”

Du Xue’s voice came from behind. Hearing it, Zhixing ran even faster.

Tears streaming, she bolted from the garden, took the elevator down, and finally reached the first floor.

At this moment, Zhixing felt like she was about to break down.

She had just listened to the recording. Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions she couldn’t suppress, it triggered her side effects again!

Zhixing never minded using tears as a weapon, nor did she think crying was shameful.

But this side effect always made her cry uncontrollably, tears and snot running everywhere. Could it be any more embarrassing?

As she jogged forward, wiping her face, all she wanted was to find a quiet, private place to cry her heart out.

But before she could, her foot slipped, and she stumbled into a warm embrace.

Song Hongyu froze for a moment, finding it oddly amusing.

He wondered whether it was good luck or bad luck that he’d been run into by two girls today.

Zhixing hiccupped through her sobs and raised her swollen eyes to apologize. “Sorry, I—”

A familiar voice interrupted her.

“Zhixing?”

She blinked her teary eyes and saw that the person before her was none other than Song Hongyu.

For a brief moment, her face lit up with joy—then she started crying even harder.

Song Hongyu looked at her, surprised, and quickly helped her over to a nearby bench.

Taking out his handkerchief, he asked gently, “What happened?”

Zhixing accepted the handkerchief and covered her face with it.

Song Hongyu sighed softly and said nothing more, simply sitting quietly by her side.

After a long while, Zhixing’s breathing evened out, as though she had calmed down.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”

After a pause, Song Hongyu asked, “What’s wrong?”

Zhixing rubbed her red eyes, deciding to play the sympathy card. She gave a bitter smile. “I…”

Seeing her hesitance, Song Hongyu interjected, “If you don’t want to say, you don’t have to.”

Zhixing: “…”

Don’t you have even the slightest curiosity?

She paused before finally speaking. “Song Honglang confessed to me.”

Song Hongyu froze for a moment, then guessed, “In the rooftop garden?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Zhixing asked, puzzled.

A recording pen, a pretty girl, the rooftop garden, a confession, Song Honglang, and Zhixing.

The pieces came together in Song Hongyu’s mind, forming a picture of someone swooping in to steal love, with his younger brother as the protagonist.

After several moments of silence, he finally said, “This will pass.”

Zhixing was quiet for a moment too. “I feel so sad right now. I don’t know what to do.”

Song Hongyu looked at her, his voice gentle. “Go home, get some rest, and sleep. You’ll feel much better afterward.”

Zhixing bit her lip and looked up at him. “Haven’t you ever felt really sad?”

Song Hongyu hesitated briefly, then smiled. “Maybe, but it’s all in the past, so I can’t really recall.”

In a muffled voice, Zhixing pleaded, “Mr. Song, considering how diligently I’ve been sending you reports on Song Honglang, can’t you comfort me just a little?”

Song Hongyu tapped his knee lightly with his fingers, a trace of helplessness in his expression.

“The heartbroken me still has to keep an eye on him for you. Even if I haven’t done a great job, surely I’ve earned some credit?”

Propping her chin on her hands, Zhixing pouted and muttered softly.

Amused, Song Hongyu sighed. “Alright, what would it take for you to feel better?”

Zhixing blinked her swollen eyes and glanced at the sky.

A lone, round moon hung in the night, with a few dim stars scattered across it.

Rocking her head back and forth, she said offhandedly, “I want a star.”

That was quite a demand.

But Song Hongyu responded without hesitation, “Alright.”

He added seriously, “I happen to own a certificate for an unnamed planet.”

Zhixing froze, panic flashing across her face. “No, wait! I was joking! I didn’t mean—”

Flailing her arms and legs, she resembled a startled kitten trying to fend him off.

Song Hongyu chuckled softly.

“You’re teasing me!” Zhixing finally realized, puffing her cheeks in mock indignation. “I knew you couldn’t actually give me a star. You’re such a liar.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

Song Hongyu suddenly leaned in close to Zhixing.

Dazed, she stayed put without moving.

Song Hongyu reached out, gently smoothing her hair, and carefully removed the starry tiara from her head.

As her hair spilled down her temples, he smiled faintly, the corners of his lips soft.

Then, with a theatrical bow, he presented the tiara to her as if it were a precious treasure.

“Your star, delivered.”

Zhixing stared at him blankly before breaking into laughter.

She picked up the tiara, her fingers brushing lightly against his palm, leaving a ticklish sensation.

Song Hongyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

“It’s late. Let me take you home.”

Pulling back his hand, Song Hongyu continued, “Get some rest when you get back. Sleep will make everything better.”

“If I go home, it’ll only get worse.” Zhixing frowned, putting on a pitiful face. “I’m still a child. I shouldn’t have to deal with so many science worksheets.”

Song Hongyu’s expression softened. “Alright, take a break for the next couple of days. Hand the worksheets to Assistant Wang on Monday.”

“But I—”

Zhixing bit her lip.

“Mr. Song?”

A woman’s voice interrupted them.

Zhixing turned her head and saw the woman in the pink dress who had given her trouble earlier that afternoon.

Her mood instantly soured, and she darted behind Song Hongyu.

He Xin didn’t notice Zhixing’s face, her curiosity piqued. “Mr. Song, who might this be?”

Song Hongyu was about to reply when he felt a pinch at his waist.

Suppressing a wince, he coughed lightly, deflecting, “Is there something you need, Miss He?”

“I just came over to say hello.” He Xin smiled before adding, “My father and our driver left on urgent matters. Would you mind giving me a ride?”

Song Hongyu hesitated. One passenger or two—it made no difference.

He nodded. “Of cour—”

Just as he began to speak, Zhixing lightly tapped his arm.

Song Hongyu turned to her, his voice low. “What’s wrong?”

Zhixing pouted, looking aggrieved. “She bullied me earlier.”

“Hm?”

Song Hongyu waited for her to elaborate.

Zhixing continued petulantly, “And she clearly likes you. Reject her to avenge me, and I’ll stop being upset.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Song Hongyu said, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Mr. Song?” He Xin’s tone grew softer as she glanced curiously at the figure behind him.

Unwilling to let it slide, Zhixing suddenly wrapped her arms around Song Hongyu’s waist and peeked out, her voice pitched higher. “Can’t you just take me home alone?”

Song Hongyu choked on his own breath, coughing violently.

He Xin’s eyes widened. “And you are…?”

Zhixing stepped out from behind Song Hongyu, clinging to his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

Looking up at him, she said, “Tell her who I am.”

Song Hongyu fell silent.

Zhixing’s expression brimmed with triumph. This was genius!

In one move, she could avenge the afternoon’s slight, break through the polite barrier with Song Hongyu, and even create a juicy rumor. Brilliant!

Song Hongyu glanced down at the smug girl clutching his arm, then at He Xin.

Taking a deep breath, he answered sincerely:

“She’s my daughter.”

Zhixing: “…”

Song Hongyu added, “She’s upset and throwing a tantrum.”

Zhixing: “…”

She looked up at him, his face composed and serious.

Her throat caught, and she pinched his arm hard.

Song Hongyu glanced at her, patting her head. “There, there. If you don’t want to do your homework, you can do it later. Don’t be mad.”

Zhixing: “…”

If you’re going to play dirty, so will I!

Pulling out a grin, Zhixing threw her arms around him.

Song Hongyu’s brow twitched.

And then, choking back sobs, Zhixing cried out dramatically, “Daddy! I’m not throwing a tantrum! It’s Mom’s death anniversary today, and you’re off partying! Do you even remember her?”

Song Hongyu: “…”

This brat even made up a solid backstory!

Other Novels