Xia Chuan first saw her at her mother’s funeral.

He wasn’t there as family—just a part-time security guard at the mortuary, keeping order.

Standing at the edge of the hall, he scanned the crowd. Relatives had shown up in decent numbers.

The funeral was quiet, but snatches of whispers reached his ears:

"Poor kid. Orphaned young, then raped… She shouldn’t have kept that child."

"Abortion might’ve killed her back then."

"Better she’d died too. Leaving a toddler behind—who’ll raise her?"

"Can’t blame her. Surviving society’s judgment was hard enough. May she rest in peace."

"A bright girl… gone too soon…"

A chill of sorrow hung in the air. Xia Chuan swallowed his own feelings. *Rest in peace.*

As temporary staff, he couldn’t show emotion. He straightened his posture, eyes sweeping the room.

Then his gaze froze at the center.

A toddler—barely three—stood unsteadily before the portrait. She stared blankly up at the photo.

*The daughter*, Xia Chuan realized instantly.

She didn’t wail. Just confusion in her eyes.

Too young to understand. Her mother wasn’t coming back.

This was a true goodbye.

After a long stare, she whispered "Mama," then tried jumping to touch the portrait. Too short. She couldn’t even reach the stand.

Wobbling on unsteady legs, she lost balance and fell.

No tantrum. She dusted off her bottom and jumped again. Determined.

Jump. Fall.

Jump. Fall.

A cycle.

Her tiny body tired quickly. Panting heavily on the floor, she looked back at the photo.

After a long silence, her eyes instantly reddened. Tears fell.

She didn’t scream—just buried her face, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

No one noticed but Xia Chuan.

*So she finally understands…* he thought. *Her mother is gone forever.*

Unable to bear it, he sighed and walked over.

Guests chatted, oblivious to the boy approaching the center.

Xia Chuan knelt before her, gently patting her back.

"Don’t cry. Your mom wouldn’t want her daughter this sad…"

He doubted a toddler would grasp his words. He wasn’t good with comfort—just speaking his heart.

Her sobs slowed. She looked up at him, dazed.

"So… promise me you’ll be strong, okay?"

Relieved she’d stopped crying, he pressed on.

She just stared. Then, softly:

"Papa…"

"Huh?"

"PAPA! WAAAAH—"

She lunged into his arms, wailing.

*Wait—what?! I’m seventeen! I don’t have kids!*

*Even ‘uncle’ would make more sense—*

He glanced around. Every guest had stopped talking. All eyes burned into him.

Before he could explain, voices crashed over him:

"So you’re Qian Yu’s father?! Take responsibility, you bastard!"

"You ruined Xiao Yao! Die!"

"Scumbag! Showing up only after her suicide? No conscience?!"

The accusations swirled. Xia Chuan’s mind reeled. *Is this a dream?* But the sobbing child in his arms felt real.

---

The mortuary manager spent ages clarifying: Xia Chuan was just a high school student working part-time.

The crowd huffed in reluctant acceptance.

*Seriously? You jump to conclusions and won’t even apologize?* Xia Chuan thought, face darkening behind the manager.

Their reaction felt extreme. A quick glance should’ve proven he couldn’t be the father.

Yet they’d accused him instantly. Like…

Xia Chuan’s eyes lowered. *Like they wanted to dump responsibility on a stranger.*

From their whispers, he knew the girl had no immediate family left. Who’d raise her?

Most guests wore worn-out clothes—not proper mourning attire. Ordinary folks struggling to feed their own kids. Taking in a child? Impossible.

Even the wealthier ones wouldn’t volunteer. No obligation. No desire for a burden.

No one wanted her. So they’d pinned it on him.

*—No one wanted to be her family.*

Xia Chuan didn’t blame them. Reality was harsh. Raising a child cost time, money, heart.

But the little girl… She’d likely grow up in an orphanage.

He felt pity. And unexpected fondness.

*(Definitely not because she called me ‘Papa’!)*

Still, he couldn’t help her. No duty. No means.

He sighed, scanning the crowd.

Where was she?

Gone. Probably forever.

*Sometimes a single glance is the last time you’ll ever see someone…*

Their paths were like two intersecting lines—touching once, then parting forever.

---

Night had fallen when the funeral ended. Guests drifted away.

Xia Chuan stayed to clean—he’d earn overtime pay. Useful for his family.

The manager trusted him. Handed him the keys. "Lock up when you’re done."

After tidying, Xia Chuan turned to leave—then spotted the portrait still on its stand.

Relatives usually took it home.

*No one here was truly her family…*

He walked over, studying the photo.

A stunning woman. Goddess-tier.

But a stranger. No connection to him.

*Then why this tightness in my chest?*

He steadied his breath. *We met once. Pay respects.*

He bowed slightly three times.

Time to go.

As he turned—

A tiny tug on his sleeve.

Gentle. Insistent.

His body locked.

This mortuary reeked of death. Empty. Silent.

Pallid light flickered.

Only his pounding heart broke the stillness.

The tug grew stronger.

Could it be that I’ve run into a ghost...?

At this thought, Xia Chuan instantly broke out in a cold sweat. He didn’t dare to move, standing frozen in place.

After a long while, Xia Chuan noticed the ghost showed no sign of leaving. It seemed determined to cling to him.

"Great Ghost, please be magnanimous! I’m a law-abiding citizen. I beg you, let me go!"

Xia Chuan prayed fervently in his heart, but feeling the tug on his sleeve, the ghost clearly ignored his pleas.

Seeing the ghost behind him who didn’t take him seriously, Xia Chuan clenched his teeth.

"Death’s inevitable either way. Might as well fight it head-on!"

Thinking this, Xia Chuan spun around abruptly—and then he saw...

A little girl stood behind him, tugging at his sleeve, staring at him with a dazed look.

Huh? Why did this "ghost" look so familiar...

Xia Chuan was clearly stunned.

Noticing Xia Chuan looking back, the little girl instantly beamed with joy and called out:

"Daddy!"