Zhong Jin sat on the sofa, sipping coffee from his cup when he noticed a round little head peeking out from behind the master bedroom door, secretly watching him.
"Come here," Zhong Jin set down his coffee cup and beckoned to her.
Little Tong, dressed in her bear-patterned pajamas with her messy long hair loose, waddled over on her short legs. Leaning against the coffee table, she stealthily tried to take a sip of his coffee.
Zhong Jin grabbed the chubby child by the waist and lifted her up. "Kids can't drink coffee."
Little Tong had already managed to lick a tiny bit. Wiping her tongue with her sleeve, she scrunched her face and said, "Bitter."
"Why are you so greedy? That mouth of yours has to taste everything, huh?"
Little Tong crossed her little feet on the coffee table and pointed at her mouth. "I only got this one mouth. What's wrong with treating it nice?"
Zhong Jin: "..."
The chubby kid then lunged forward, clutching Zhong Jin’s knees, and looked up at him. "Daddy, are you drinking this nasty stuff ‘cause you did something bad? Is Mommy punishing you?"
Zhong Jin smirked nonchalantly. "Why would she punish me? If anything, I should be punishing her. She hid my daughter from me and even warned me to ‘be careful.’ Well, she better watch out too."
Qiu Sheng suddenly appeared behind them, clearing her throat softly.
Zhong Jin immediately stood up, gesturing respectfully toward the sofa. "Please, have a seat."
Little Tong was quick to read the room—she knew exactly who held the higher rank in the family hierarchy.
Letting go of Zhong Jin’s knees, she scurried over to Qiu Sheng, standing obediently by her mother’s leg. Sensing Qiu Sheng’s displeasure, the mischievous child instinctively tried to cover her tracks.
Widening her eyes innocently, she greeted Zhong Jin with polite detachment. "Hello, Uncle."
Zhong Jin: "…?"
Qiu Sheng crossed her arms and glared down at her, though her voice softened involuntarily.
"Stop pretending you don’t know him. Your smartwatch logs every midnight flight to see him. I know everything you’ve been up to."
Little Tong giggled and ducked her head.
Zhong Jin pulled the chubby kid back to his side, settling her onto his lap. "Don’t blame her. If you hadn’t forbidden us from seeing each other, we wouldn’t have had to sneak around."
"When did I ever forbid you?"
Zhong Jin scoffed. "Oh, I know all about it. You kept me from her and even threatened me."
Qiu Sheng let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Wow, after all these years apart, you’ve mastered the art of making things up. Where’s your famed sense of justice now?"
"You know exactly whether I’m making it up or not."
Aunt Liang, standing at the kitchen doorway, could practically smell the tension in the living room. She hurried over, hoping to mediate before things escalated—especially with the child present.
"Let’s all calm down. We’re all just little bears here..."
The living room fell into dead silence.
Unfazed, Aunt Liang smoothly rephrased. "We all want what’s best for the child. Let’s talk this through calmly—no need to scare her."
Little Tong quickly waved her hands, piping up, "Auntie, I’m not scared. Not even a little bit."
Aunt Liang gave an awkward smile and added,
"Even if the child isn’t scared, arguing won’t solve anything. Both of you, take a breather."
After Aunt Liang’s mediation, Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin gradually cooled off from their heated exchange.
Zhong Jin spoke up first.
"Like I said yesterday, I came today to discuss Little Tong’s custody arrangements. I’m her father—I have parental rights too. You acknowledge that, right?"
"Yes, I do."
Zhong Jin nodded. "Then from now on, I’ll take custody. You can visit anytime, and you won’t need to pay child support. I’ll cover all expenses."
Qiu Sheng bristled instantly. "In your dreams. Your schemes are practically slapping me in the face."
"If you have objections, voice them. That’s what we’re here to discuss."
Qiu Sheng sneered. "My objection is: keep dreaming."
"Fine."
Zhong Jin raised a hand, signaling a truce.
"Then you tell me—how should custody be split?"
Qiu Sheng turned to Little Tong. "Sweetheart, you choose. Do you want to live with Daddy or Mommy?"
She was confident—after all, the child had sought her out first in this world and spent most of her time with her.
Little Tong pondered seriously before pointing at Qiu Sheng. "I wanna live with Mommy."
Zhong Jin calmly listed: "Steamed crab, braised beef ribs, honey-glazed roast chicken, red-braised pork..."
Little Tong immediately amended, "I wanna live with Daddy."
Qiu Sheng: "Zhong Big-Head, that’s cheating."
Zhong Jin: "Qiu Peanut, you can’t deny that cooking is part of my skill set. I’m competing fairly here."
Little Tong suddenly had a new idea. Raising a finger, she declared earnestly,
"I have a great idea—let’s all live together!"
For this nonsense, Little Tong was promptly stripped of her decision-making privileges, leaving Zhong Big-Head and Qiu Peanut to resume their custody battle.
After another long round of bickering, they finally reached an agreement.
Seven days a week: Qiu Sheng would take Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; Zhong Jin would take Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The leftover day sparked another dispute, so they settled on co-parenting Sundays.
Any special circumstances would be negotiated as needed.
Today was Wednesday—technically Qiu Sheng’s day. Since Zhong Jin needed to shop for supplies to prepare for his custody days, he didn’t linger. With a polite farewell, he left.
A short while later, the doorbell rang again. Aunt Liang opened it to find Zhong Jin still standing outside.
"Did you forget something, Mr. Zhong?" Aunt Liang asked politely.
Zhong Jin stood in the doorway. "Do you have any spare masks?"
Aunt Liang handed him a few from the cabinet. Watching him put one on and leave, she sighed inwardly. Parenting isn’t easy—love makes fools of us all.
After Zhong Jin was truly gone, Qiu Sheng remained on the sofa, lost in thought. She didn’t snap out of it until Aunt Liang called her for breakfast.
Little Tong wasn’t in the living room. Qiu Sheng got up to search and found her in the walk-in closet, sitting on the floor with her head bowed, fiddling with something.
Approaching, Qiu Sheng saw the child’s hand stuffed inside a drawer—whether she was putting something in or taking something out was unclear.
Qiu Sheng crouched down and ruffled her round little head. "Mommy told you not to play with this drawer. You’ll pinch your fingers. Take your hand out."
Little Tong mumbled without looking up, "My hand’s stuck."
Qiu Sheng pulled at the drawer handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She crouched down and peered into the gap, only to find the tracks jammed with stuffed toys.
“Did you stuff these in here?” she asked.
Little Tong nodded. “Yes.”
Qiu Sheng sighed. “Didn’t Mommy tell you not to play with drawers?”
Little Tong hung her head in silence. After a moment, she peeked up to gauge Qiu Sheng’s expression, only to find her still glaring. Quickly, she dropped her gaze again, staying quiet.
Seeing her pitiful look, Qiu Sheng’s heart softened. She called Aunt Liang over, who used barbecue tongs to fish out the stuffed toys blocking the tracks. Once the drawer was freed, Little Tong’s hand slipped out.
Noticing the red marks on the child’s wrist from the drawer’s edge, Qiu Sheng felt both heartache and frustration. This kid was stubborn—the more she was told not to do something, the more determined she became.
Qiu Sheng had once suggested installing childproof locks on the drawers, but Aunt Liang advised against overprotecting her. “Let her experience the real world,” she’d said.
For example, letting her learn at home that drawers can pinch fingers, fire can burn, and hot food can scald the mouth—these were necessary lessons for a child to develop proper life skills.
Aunt Liang even shared a story about a boy she’d cared for who’d been overly sheltered. His soup was always cooled before being served, so he’d never encountered steaming hot broth.
One day, while eating hot pot with relatives, he scooped up a spoonful of boiling soup and drank it straight, severely burning his esophagus.
Though Qiu Sheng worried about her child getting hurt, she recognized the wisdom in Aunt Liang’s words. Overprotection wasn’t beneficial for growth.
Kneeling by the drawer, she thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen and returned with a cucumber. She placed half of it inside the drawer and abruptly slammed it shut—the cucumber snapped clean in two.
Little Tong jumped, clutching her clothes nervously.
“See how dangerous that is? Will you do it again?” Qiu Sheng asked.
Little Tong shook her head vigorously. “No, Mommy.”
Qiu Sheng smiled warmly. “Good girl. Let’s go eat, baby.”
As they walked away hand in hand, Little Tong kept glancing back at the severed cucumber on the floor, clearly shaken.
The night before, Little Tong had enjoyed steamed crab, crab roe rice, and shrimp at Zhong Jin’s place, so she barely touched breakfast the next morning. Knowing the reason, Qiu Sheng wasn’t concerned, but she still sent Zhong Jin a message:
If you don’t want a chubby little one, stop feeding her midnight snacks.
Though Qiu Sheng herself had indulged, she couldn’t help feeling reluctant about Little Tong staying with Zhong Jin the next day. She worried a man might not be as attentive.
Still wearing a mask, Qiu Sheng took Little Tong shopping. Like any doting mother, she swiped her card for anything the child might need, then had everything delivered to Zhong Jin’s place.
Zhong Jin, at work, kept getting delivery notifications until he finally sent Assistant Fang to his villa to sign for the packages.
That evening, the entryway was piled high with boxes—some from Qiu Sheng, but most were his own online orders.
He spent the night unpacking, only to realize many items were duplicates. Between the two of them, they’d bought ten bottles of baby shampoo and body wash—enough to last Little Tong till she was six.
Even the high chairs were doubled.
After assembling the walnut-and-leather one Qiu Sheng had bought, Zhong Jin placed it beside his own red-and-green model for comparison. He preferred the latter and decided to let Little Tong choose tomorrow.
As a first-time father, he cautiously called Assistant Fang for advice: “Should a three-year-old sleep with adults or in their own room?”
Assistant Fang replied, “It varies. Some kids sleep alone by three; others stay with parents till four or five.”
“What about your child?” Zhong Jin asked.
“My daughter sleeps with her grandma.”
Zhong Jin hummed in acknowledgment and hung up.
Settling on the couch, he opened another package, revealing seven palm-sized panda plushies. Little Tong had asked for a Fu Bao doll, so he’d bought these—each named on the card: Qi Zai, He Hua, Meng Lan, Fu Bao, Fei Yun, and A Bao.
His villa had eight rooms, but only his master bedroom was regularly used. The others, though furnished, stayed empty.
After some thought, he prepared the bedroom opposite his, laying out cartoon-themed bedsheets. Qiu Sheng’s coffee-colored panda rug fit perfectly here, along with toys and plushies.
Once everything was arranged, Zhong Jin padded around the house in slippers, struck by how unfamiliar it now felt—yet there was a quiet excitement at the thought of his child living here.
He hadn’t expected Little Tong to arrive that night, but as he stepped out of the shower in pajamas, towel-drying his hair, he spotted her dragging a panda plush down the hallway.
She stopped, frowning. “Daddy, where’s the food?”
Zhong Jin hesitated. “No more midnight snacks.”
Little Tong tilted her head, glaring up at him with exaggerated side-eye.
Before he could explain, she flopped onto the floor, limbs splayed like a lifeless doll, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Zhong Jin crouched and waved a hand in front of her unblinking eyes.
“I’m out of battery, Daddy,” she deadpanned. “Please recharge with food. Thank you.”
“Will takeout work?”
She sprang up, clinging to his arm. “Fried chicken is full charge!”
When the delivery arrived, Zhong Jin led her to the dining room, pointing at the two high chairs side by side. “Which one do you like?”
Little Tong pointed decisively at the red-and-green one. “This.”
Zhong Jin nodded. “I agree.”
Then he pushed that red-and-green dining table into the corner, picked up Little Tong, and placed her in the high chair Qiu Sheng had bought:
"But to keep Mom from being sad, let's use the one she bought, okay?"
Little Tong pinched her fingers into an "OK" gesture and thoughtfully added, "Dad, as long as the food tastes good, it doesn’t matter if I sit in an ugly baby chair, right?"
"I think so too," Zhong Jin said.
Last night, Little Tong had snacked at Zhong Jin’s place again, so by breakfast time, she had no appetite.
At first, Qiu Sheng asked if she’d gone to her dad’s for late-night treats, and Little Tong shook her head guiltily in denial.
Then Qiu Sheng changed tactics: "Was the crab tasty last night?"
Little Tong immediately raised a finger, eyes wide with earnest correction: "Actually, we had fried chicken yesterday."
Qiu Sheng nodded knowingly.
When Zhong Jin came to pick up Little Tong, he was scolded mercilessly by Qiu Sheng, who even threatened that for every late-night snack he gave her, she’d dock him a day of custody.
Zhong Jin wilted under the reprimand, and even in the car, he and Little Tong were still comforting each other.
Little Tong followed Zhong Jin to his company, where he’d preemptively bought a peanut-shaped wiggle car to keep her entertained in the office.
At first, she was intrigued by the new toy, but after a couple of laps, she lost interest.
She scooted over to Zhong Jin: "I wanna play outside."
Glancing at the half-written email on his screen, he abandoned his laptop and followed her out.
The hallway outside was long, lined with glass walls on both sides, revealing the offices of various departments.
Little Tong pedaled furiously, zipping down the corridor like it was an amusement park ride. While she was having a blast, Zhong Jin sprinted after her, terrified she’d crash into the glass.
Since the lower half of the glass walls were frosted, employees inside couldn’t see Little Tong on her wiggle car—only their usually stoic boss sprinting like a madman from one end of the hall to the other.
Zhong Jin had been wearing a mask for days, which was already odd, and now this? Too afraid to investigate, they stayed put, wary of getting "bitten."
The spectacle only ended when Assistant Fang arrived with regional distributors in tow.
Once Zhong Jin led them into his office, he tasked Assistant Fang with watching Little Tong.
Lacking Zhong Jin’s stamina, Assistant Fang vetoed hallway play and instead took her on a tour of the offices.
Employees, unaware their boss had a child, treated Little Tong like a rare exhibit, swarming to dote on her. Thankfully, she wasn’t shy and handled the attention with ease.
Someone asked, "Sweetie, what happened to your mouth?"
Little Tong pointed to an empty cup on the desk, had someone hand it to her, and demonstrated: "Like this, sucky-suck, and then like this."
She then proudly added, "My mommy and daddy have it too."
Though no one said a word, knowing glances were exchanged—finally solving the mystery of Zhong Jin’s recent mask habit.
But the boss’s antics were no match for the charm of a cute kid. The employees, especially the women, couldn’t resist showering her with snacks.
Eventually, to avoid disrupting work, Assistant Fang escorted her out.
As Little Tong scooted away from HR, she tugged his sleeve: "I wanna see my dad."
Assistant Fang brought her to the executive office, peering through the glass. Zhong Jin, mid-meeting with the distributors, noticed and raised a brow.
Assistant Fang gestured at Little Tong, then at him, signaling her request. Zhong Jin gave a slight nod.
The assistant cracked the door open, and Little Tong slithered in like a little eel on her wiggle car.
The middle-aged guests turned, and one woman cooed, "What an adorable child! Who are you?"
Little Tong stopped her car and introduced herself: "I’m a Zhong Yuntong."
Zhong Jin corrected her fondly: "Don’t say ‘a.’ Just say, ‘I’m Zhong Yuntong.’"
The woman asked, "Is this your daughter, Mr. Zhong? She’s so well-behaved."
Zhong Jin beckoned her over, and she scooted to his side. He lifted her onto his lap.
A man in a suit asked, "What happened to her mouth?"
Little Tong explained again: "I sucked my bottle like this. My dad has it too." She reached for Zhong Jin’s mask, but he caught her chubby hand in time.
The guests exchanged amused smiles.
With Little Tong in his arms, Zhong Jin resumed discussing business.
"We called you here to discuss rebate models. Previously, we used SI rebates, but starting this quarter, we’re switching to ST rebates."
Mid-sentence, Little Tong stuffed a preserved plum into his mouth. The sudden sourness made him grimace.
"Who gave you this?" Zhong Jin paused to ask.
Little Tong curled against his chest and pointed outside: "That auntie did."
"Eat it yourself. I don’t want it," he said.
She nuzzled closer: "No, it’s sour."
Resigned, he chewed the plum and continued the meeting.
Little Tong interrupted repeatedly, but Zhong Jin patiently addressed her each time before returning to work.
Thankfully, she eventually fell asleep, smoothing the rest of the discussion.
After just one day at the office, Zhong Jin’s image shifted from a composed, elegant executive to a doting father with no boundaries.
Unfazed, he left early to take Little Tong grocery shopping downstairs.
In the produce section, he held up a cucumber and lettuce: "Which one do you want?"
Little Tong sat in the shopping cart, cheeks propped in her hands, shaking her head stubbornly. "No, I want meat."
Zhong Jin tossed the two vegetables into the cart anyway, then picked up a carrot and a tomato. "Which one do you want?"
Little Tong drummed her hands against the cart handle in protest. "I said meat!"
Zhong Jin added both vegetables to the cart again. Frustrated, Little Tong butted her big head against Zhong Jin’s stomach until he finally stopped teasing her and wheeled the cart toward the meat section.
After returning home with groceries, Zhong Jin let Little Tong play basketball in the living room while he cooked in the kitchen.
Bored after a while, Little Tong crept to the kitchen doorway, clinging to the sliding door as she peeked inside at Zhong Jin.
Without turning around, he said, "Be patient. If you're bored, go find a toy."
"Okay, okay."
Little Tong nodded obediently, then spotted a small cart by the door holding the cucumbers and carrots from the supermarket. She swiftly snatched a cucumber, hunched over, and scurried back to the living room.
A moment later, she returned, stole a carrot, and dashed off again.
When Zhong Jin finished prepping ingredients and went to wash the vegetables, he found them all missing.
He stepped out of the kitchen, hands still wet, and searched the silent house. The living room was empty. He pushed open doors one by one until he finally found Zhong Yuntong in an unused bedroom on the first floor.
Kneeling by the nightstand with her back to him, she was barely visible in the dim evening light.
Zhong Jin flicked on the light, flooding the room with brightness. The little troublemaker startled, twisting around to glare at him with wide, dark eyes.
"Zhong Yuntong?"
His tone sharpened as he took in the crushed cucumbers and carrots strewn across the floor.
Little Tong tucked her hands behind her back, eyes defiant. "Mom taught me to do it like this."
