Time slipped like water through fingers; before anyone noticed, Friday night had fallen like a dark silk curtain. After dinner, Little Loli sprawled over the couch as usual, catching up on anime beneath the warm glow of the TV.
“I’m back!” Her dad’s boisterous shout burst from the door like a firecracker. “Welcome back...” Little Loli’s voice drifted over, soft as mist over a lake. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Shoes off, her dad hurried to Xiao Qianxue’s side.
“It’s nothing... it’s just the dance tomorrow night, right?” Little Loli lay on the couch like a lazy cat; her pale little feet swung back and forth, bait for any wandering gaze. “Yeah. What about it?” Dad pulled up a stool and sat beside her, his hand landing gently on her head, stroking like a breeze combing through wheat. “No head-pats—that’s a foul!” she murmured in a kill-you-with-cute tone, but her body didn’t move. She melted there like a golden Persian cat soaking in the sun.
“Good girl, decided what to wear?” he asked, his hand never stopping, his heart purring with smug delight. “Feels so good...” his inner voice cheered like a kid at a festival. “Uh... not yet... and head-pats are the worst,” she huffed, a tiny bit tsundere, struggling for a beat before puffing her cheeks and surrendering to the sofa again.
“As expected. Leave it to your old man to pick the perfect gown.” He darted into the bedroom with theatrical mystery. “So he even prepped the outfit... total daughter-con dad,” Little Loli muttered. He returned with a black garment bag, sleek as night. Under her curious gaze, the zipper whispered open. He lifted out a pink ball dress, rose-light blooming in his hands. “Sweet girl, go try it on,” he said, cradling the dress like something made of clouds, expectation shining in his voice.
“Okay, okay, I’ll change.” Resigned, she took the dress and slipped into the bedroom. Not long after, Little Loli finished her quick-change and stepped back out, like the moon sliding from a cloud.
Gold hair, loose and flowing over her shoulders like spilled honey. A cute pink headpiece nestled at her crown, with a veil of thin gauze cascading down, a mist that couldn’t hide her delicate features. Her perfect little face held not a hint of expression, a porcelain mask under soft light. The dress was pale pink, with deep rose patterns blooming across it. Gold lace traced the neckline and cuffs, a quiet gilding that lifted the whole piece. It was off-shoulder—her small collarbones lay bare in the cool air—and she hated that, because revealing wasn’t her style. At the chest, to match Xiao Qianxue’s tastes, Dad had clearly had a designer add a big pink bow; its center gleamed gold, echoing the dress like sunrise touching petals.
The bodice cinched the waist; the hem curved in a half-moon arc, a whisper of French romance. A pink mid-skirt of tulle floated beneath, shot through with fine gold threads like starlight caught in netting. The lower edge arced in scallops, carrying a breath of medieval France with every ripple. White socks hugged her calves, pink floral trim blooming along them—cute, yet never losing their quiet grace.
“Hey, Dad, you still with us?” Little Loli stared at her dad, whose soul looked like it had drifted out the window. She waved a tiny fist, then planted one into his face. “Ow! That hurts!” He clutched his cheek and flew back onto the sofa like a leaf caught by a gust. “But—yeah—this outfit really suits you.” A father had to keep it clean; he gave the simplest verdict he could manage, even as his heart did cartwheels. He was the first witness, after all.
“Mm, I think so too...” The wearer herself sounded calm, no fireworks in her voice. She didn’t know that anyone else would’ve dropped their eyes and their jaw to the floor.
“But this veil’s a nice touch,” Little Loli said, knowing exactly why her dad added it. “Had to be. Do you even know who your dad is?” He puffed up like a rooster sensing dawn, chin tilted to the sky in triumph.
“Next, your dad’s going to teach you ballroom etiquette.” He suddenly remembered something important and blurted it out like a bell. “Oh please, you teaching etiquette...” She felt the old irritation rise first, sharp as a pinprick. In her past life, Young Master Wu had floated through more balls than she could count; even if she only mastered the men’s side, if you’ve never eaten pork, you’ve at least seen a pig run.
Back then, she’d always entered as a key figure; girls flocked like migrating swallows. Etiquette? She had plenty. “Oh, really? Show me,” Dad said, flinging his arms along the back of the sofa, legs crossed, the picture of a man waiting to laugh. “Damn it, you dare mock me?” Heat flashed in her eyes like sparks. It was the first time she’d seen him this flippant. The veil hid her whole expression; he saw nothing but silk and poise.
She stood and thought for a few beats, then slipped into motion like water finding its path: the greeting... accepting a partner’s invitation... dining gestures... Every move was flawless, every beat the exact note, a swan gliding without a ripple. Dad stared, jaw unhinged; the universe slapped his face twice for trying to heckle. “How did you train that?” He shot to his feet, palm on the table, voice jolting the air. “Hmph. Certain spectators don’t get to know.” Little Loli adjusted the pink ornament at her crown with care, then drifted back toward the bedroom, steps light as petals. She still wasn’t used to skirts; one wrong step and the joke would be on her.
“Kids these days just won’t listen. Back then I even changed her diapers...” Dad folded his arms and sighed, his voice a late-night wind. The door banged open—Bang!—and a book flew out, drawing a perfect arc like a swallow in spring, then thunk—dead center into his face. “Ow...” He toppled onto the sofa, playing dead without rehearsal.
“Serves you right.” A crisp voice rang from the room, clear as a silver bell.
