Little Ash blinked, a confused “eh” slipping out, like a sparrow chirping in mist.

“What’s with the ‘eh’?”

Ye Weibai smiled and held out his hand in front of her. “Let’s go.”

“Oh—oh!”

She was still a bit dazed, but Father’s nod felt right. She grinned, twisted her waist like a willow in breeze, and perched on the edge of his palm like a small bird.

“Want to sit on my shoulder?”

He lifted his palm to eye level and looked at Little Ash. “Your view’s wider this way.”

“Mm.” She tilted her head, then spotted something. Her eyes lit like stars after rain. “There! Let me sit there!”

He followed her finger and laughed. “The pocket?”

He wore his usual fitted, pale-white shirt. A pocket rested over his left chest, and above it a gray cat lay embroidered, curled and yawning like fog at dawn.

“Mm! Pocket!” She stood up, impatience fluttering like a flag. “The pocket will be perfect!”

“You like cats?”

“Love them! But more importantly—” Her mouth curved, her eyes arced like a crescent moon. She smiled sweet and bright. “I can hear Dad’s heartbeat there!”

“My heartbeat—”

“Mm!” Standing in his palm, she spread her arms, as if hugging the wind, smile opening like a flower. “Dad’s heartbeat must be amazing!”

Ye Weibai paused; then his smile softened like sun on snow. “Then listen. If it scares you to tears, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t cry!”

He set his hand by the pocket. The girl grabbed the edge and scrambled in, legs and arms working like a climbing squirrel.

“Ow.” She made it in, but headfirst, like an upside-down sapling in loose soil.

Her skirt flipped down, blue-and-white panties flashing, her legs kicked like paddles. Ye Weibai chuckled. “Crash landing.”

He reached to fish her out, fingers brushing her calf, but she refused with a shiver. “Ticklish, ticklish, Dad! Let Little Ash do it. Little Ash can!”

He withdrew his hand and let the smile stay in his eyes. A mischievous little thing rolled and kicked across his chest like a kitten in warm straw.

“Mm—out!” She finally found her pose, a playful spring sending half her body popping from the pocket. She gripped the top edge, face all smiles, gaze sweeping far like a hawk’s. “Whoa! So good! Is this Dad’s usual view?”

“How is it, steady enough?”

“Mm!” She nodded, then fretted, brow puckering like ripples. “But seeing Dad’s face is troublesome like this!”

“You can’t have both. That’s your choice.” From this angle, unless he lowered his head and she raised hers, Ye Weibai couldn’t see the girl’s expression clearly.

She soon beamed again, joy bright as lantern light. “It’s fine. Hearing Dad’s heartbeat already makes me happy!”

She turned, arms spread like wings, and nestled hard into Ye Weibai’s left chest, a bird finding a warm branch.

The heart must be a sensitive thing. Ye Weibai felt a warm, soft body press into his left chest, so close it seemed ready to melt into him like honey.

He didn’t feel suffocated; he felt uncommonly at ease, like a lake under dawn. He lowered his head. “How is it?”

Little Ash leaned her whole weight against her Father. Her cheek pressed tight to the shirt. Through the thin fabric, she felt his skin’s warmth… and that heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump…

Little Ash froze, breath caught like a leaf in clear water.

It was a mountain spring leaping over pebbles. It was a thousand fireworks spearing Nightfall. It was blossoms opening under sunlight, vivid and sure.

It was only a sound, yet heaven and earth folded her in, an endless embrace of warmth and softness.

“So…” Like drifting into a dream, she murmured, “gentle.”

“What’s that diagnosis, Doctor Little Ash? Some atrial weakness?” Ye Weibai chuckled, voice like low wind.

She lifted her head. Heat flushed her; cheeks rosy like wine, yet her gaze was steady as starlight. “Really. Father’s heartbeat is super gentle.”

“Gentle, but…” Her voice drooped like a fading ember. She looked up into her Father’s eyes and gripped his shirt till it wrinkled like creased paper. “It’s also… tired.”

Ye Weibai paused. His pupils held her worried face like a moon in water. In that instant, an unfamiliar expression crossed his calm features, subtle as a dragonfly’s shadow.

It was shallow, it left no trace, and no one would notice it. Even the eyes of the Deities wouldn’t catch it. But Ye Weibai knew himself. The feeling had a name—fatigue.

“Little Ash.” After a long moment, he sighed, air leaving like mist. He looked at his daughter and spoke softly, just as serious. “You really are my—weakness.”

“Eh? Then—” Her words cut off as Ye Weibai pressed a fingertip to the top of her head, gentle as a snowflake, and nudged.

“I almost bit my tongue!” She yelped, clutching her head, like a kitten offended. “Dad! Don’t press me while I’m talking! Biting your tongue hurts like crazy!”

“Does it? From here it sounds pretty funny.” Ye Weibai laughed, the sound warm as a hearth.

“It’s not funny at all!”

…

…

Morning light flowed soft as water, pooling over the washed-brick stone path like pale gold.

Whoosh—!

A wind came from nowhere, slipped through the community gate, and swept the open promenade. Leaves on the roadside trees rustled like green rain, and the heart loosened.

“Wow! Such a big wind!”

Watching the leaves sway, the palm-sized, gray-haired girl in Ye Weibai’s pocket spread her arms and faced the gust, short hair and sleeves flying like white flags. Her mouth opened, eyes sparkled, and pure praise spilled out.

A Doll speaking should be scandalous, like thunder in a temple. But this World held no one else—only Ye Weibai and Little Ash—so there was nothing to fear.

This World was a copy of the one Little Ash lived in before she became a Deity—an Inner World where ordinary beings couldn’t survive.

When the Deity of Misfortune replicated this World, it didn’t copy the living beings. Even these trees, flowers, and grass… were merely projections—that was Little Ash’s line back then.

So in this thirty-hectare residential zone, along the wide central promenade, only Ye Weibai and Little Ash strolled, footsteps echoing like soft drums.

Not just this neighborhood. The whole city, the whole country, the whole planet… likely held only the two of them, like two stars on an empty sky.

Is that lonely?

No. For these two, it barely mattered, like a quiet pond holding its own moon.

For Little Ash, as long as Father stood by her, it was enough. Others, more or fewer, had nothing to do with her, like distant bells in fog.

For Ye Weibai, the same, his calm like a windless field.

Moreover, Ye Weibai probably never found Loneliness remarkable, neither jewel nor thorn.

He didn’t think Loneliness was a blessing, nor a worry. He didn’t fear blending in, nor consider blending in a virtue. His heart walked like cloud-shade over grass.

Like how between Happy and Unhappy, there is a state called Nothing to Be Happy or Unhappy About, plain as rice and clear as water.

Loneliness, to him, wasn’t worth attention, a ripple gone before a second glance.

That was Ye Weibai.

All he sought was honesty within the heart, clear as a mountain spring.