Xia Chuan felt utterly drained after finally spoon-feeding the porridge.

But seeing the little girl clutching the photo with pure contentment, he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

He cleared the table swiftly. Just as he was about to call the girl for a bath, a serious problem struck him.

At her age, mothers usually handled bath time. As the old saying went: *men and women should avoid physical contact*. He certainly couldn’t replace her mother. Yet expecting her to bathe alone seemed impossible too…

Xia Chuan glanced instinctively at the girl perched on her chair.

She was just a kid—he wouldn’t see anything—but with so many predators around, what if others got the wrong idea?

After weighing his options, he abandoned the thought. As a pure-hearted bachelor, he couldn’t risk rumors.

If she needed bathing help, he’d need a woman.

But where to find one at this hour?

…Wait. There *was* someone.

The face of a notoriously fierce woman flashed in his mind. He hesitated, then sighed heavily, stood up, and stepped out the door.

—

"Honestly, Xia Chuan, you work fast. Haven’t seen you in days, and now you’ve got a kid?"

Wang Yin eyed the little girl hugging the photo, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

"Wang Yin-jie, stop joking. You know I barely have female friends. How could I have a child?"

Xia Chuan rolled his eyes.

"Oh? I’ve seen you quite close with that Miss Bei Ming from the conglomerate. Or was that my imagination?"

Wang Yin tapped her crimson lips, gazing at the ceiling.

"We’re just friends! Can’t men and women have pure friendships?"

Xia Chuan nearly tore his hair out. *Why did I even call her?*

"I never said your friendship wasn’t pure. You’re the one blurting it out."

Wang Yin watched his flustered reaction with delight, pressing her teasing further.

"Wang Yin-jie, I beg you—stop. Just help the kid bathe. That’s why I called you."

Knowing explanations would only fuel her mischief, Xia Chuan sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Alright, alright. But first—where’d this little girl come from?"

Wang Yin’s expression turned serious, her gaze sharp.

Xia Chuan explained everything.

Her face darkened as she listened. She felt sorrow for the mother’s death—but hearing about the girl’s life before it? Her heart ached.

*How much must that young woman have endured after being raped, clinging to life only for her daughter… before choosing to end it all?*

*If only I’d met her. If only she’d met kind people…*

But life had no "ifs." Only outcomes.

Wang Yin, ever the adult, steadied her emotions. "So… this little one’s been through hell."

"Yeah. Losing both parents at her age…" Xia Chuan’s voice grew heavy. He turned toward the girl on the chair—and froze.

She sat silently, head bowed, hugging her mother’s photo.

At barely three, she might not grasp the words he’d spoken. But she felt the crushing loneliness after her mother’s death.

She knew no one would stroke her cheek with that warm smile again. No one would gently dry her hair after rain. No one would lift her up when she fell, calling her name…

All tenderness had vanished with her mother.

She understood. She just stayed quiet. Alone now, she swallowed her grief to avoid burdening others.

Xia Chuan said nothing. He simply sighed, turning back to Wang Yin.

"Wang Yin-jie, forget that for now. I called you to help bathe her. Can you…?"

"At this point? I’d be heartless to refuse."

Wang Yin’s tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

"Thanks." Xia Chuan offered a faint smile.

Wang Yin waved it off, then swept the girl into her arms.

Startled by the sudden lift, the child clutched her photo tighter. Once steady, she peered curiously at the woman holding her.

Catching her gaze, Wang Yin beamed warmly. "Hello, sweetie. Let Auntie give you a bath, okay?"

*Auntie?*

Xia Chuan bit back a snort. *Sister? You’re nearly thirty. At her age, ‘Auntie’ is generous.*

But he stayed silent. Wang Yin’s terrifying strength was no joke.

The girl studied Wang Yin’s smile, then grinned back, her voice syrupy-sweet:

"Thank you… *Auntie*…"

*Crack.*

Xia Chuan swore he heard something shatter. Wang Yin’s smile froze, # symbols practically throbbing on her forehead.

"Oh dear! Such a fibber! Kids shouldn’t lie—it’s bad manners! I’m *not* an auntie, right, Xia Chuan?!" She shot him a death glare.

"O-of course not!" Xia Chuan stammered. "Our radiant, brilliant, multi-talented Wang Yin-jie? An *auntie*? Calling her ‘little sister’ would insult her youth!"

The flattery was shameless—but Wang Yin preened, nodding sagely.

"Hmph. You’ve barely scratched the surface of my greatness. Keep practicing, kid."

*Your shamelessness has no limits, Auntie Wang…* Xia Chuan deadpanned internally.

—

An hour later, Wang Yin finally finished bathing the girl.

Xia Chuan didn’t mind the delay. As an unmarried woman nearing thirty with no childcare experience, she’d done her best.

It was late. After tucking the girl in, Wang Yin left.

Xia Chuan showered quickly—men were efficient—but it was past eleven by the time he dried his hair. Time for bed.

He surrendered his bed to the girl. *She’s leaving tomorrow. One night on the floor won’t kill me.*

After spreading a sheet on the floor, he turned off the lights. Exhaustion hit him like a wave. Eyes fluttering shut…

"Daddy…"

"Daddy."

"DADDY!"

The whispers shattered the quiet. Xia Chuan cracked an eye open, glaring up at the bed.

"What?"

"Daddy… are you awake?" Her voice trembled in the dark.

*You woke me up, you little demon.*

"Not yet," he muttered flatly.

"Can… can Daddy tell me a story? I can’t sleep…"

Even in darkness, he heard the hope in her voice.

"No. Sleep. It’s late."

"Daaaddy~"

He could *feel* her pouting.

*No story tonight, no sleep for me.*

He sighed, hands behind his head, staring at the black ceiling.

"Fine. Snow White."

"I know that one. Another?"

"Three Little Pigs."

"Heard it."

"Little Red Riding Hood?"

"Know it…"

"Then—"

Three minutes of rejected fairytales later, Xia Chuan snapped.

*How does a toddler remember every story?!*

"Big brother’s out of stories. Sleep." He kept his voice soft.

"Daddy… please…" Her wheedling filled the dark.

Silence. Xia Chuan stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.

Finally, he snapped: "Brat! Are you *trying* to annoy me? It’s midnight! No ghost stories—SLEEP!"

Her voice died instantly. A heavy pause. Then, small and broken:

"It’s just… Mama used to tell me stories like this… I’m sorry… Daddy…"

Her words dissolved into quiet sobs.

"I—"

Hearing her cry, panic seized him. *I was too harsh.*

He fumbled for words. After a long silence, he sighed.

"Don’t cry. Big brother will tell you a story. Okay?"

"Really…?"

"Really. Really."

"What kind of story is it..."

"I'll tell you a story about my mom..."

Xia Chuan gazed at the ceiling, seemingly lost in memories. His lips moved slightly as he slowly uttered each word of the tale.

The little girl didn't interrupt his narration. She listened quietly. At her age, she might not grasp the story's meaning, but the words brought her a hint of inexplicable comfort.

Xia Chuan's story seemed endless. He spoke softly for who knows how long while the little girl could no longer resist sleep's pull. She drifted off slowly.

Feeling his voice blur into faint murmurs, she subconsciously hugged the photo in her arms tighter. Her heavy eyelids closed gently.

In that final moment before sleep claimed her, she murmured unconsciously:

"Mom... Dad..."