An indescribable awkwardness washed over Luo Nuoyan. The person before him was his own daughter—his daughter whom he hadn’t seen for nearly a month—and yet she hadn’t even called him "Dad" this time.
She’d merely offered a greeting before turning to leave.
Was he truly so insignificant in his daughter’s heart?
A silent wail rose within Luo Nuoyan. Yet under so many watching eyes, he maintained his dignity. Clearing his throat lightly, he asked with forced concern, "How… have you been lately?"
"Fine." Chen Mo’s expression remained calm. Materially, life was undoubtedly good—Luo Xianxue never worried about a single daily need.
But beyond that? A Lady bullied in secret by the Head Maid—could that ever be called "good"?
Considering Luo Xianxue’s feelings, Chen Mo held his tongue.
But that flat, indifferent reply felt like another knife to Luo Nuoyan’s heart.
He was a deeply hidden daughter-loving fool, dreaming nightly of his girl clinging to him. But now…
His love had been misplaced!
Luo Nuoyan lifted his gaze to the ceiling, holding back tears.
With a long sigh, he waved Chen Mo away. Then, like a soulless shadow, he shuffled toward the back room.
By the window, Luo Nuoyan watched the bustling city streets. A trace of daze flickered in his eyes.
He plucked a flower from the nearby vase. Alone in the room, he slowly plucked off each petal.
"My daughter hates me."
"She doesn’t hate me."
"My daughter hates me."
"She doesn’t hate me…"
The last petal drifted to the floor. Luo Nuoyan’s hand trembled slightly. "She hates me…"
Tears spilled over.
Grief flowed backward like a river.
Meanwhile, Chen Mo had returned to the room. He walked to Luo Xianxue’s bag, took the only set of casual clothes inside, and headed for the bathroom.
Meeting her father? Chen Mo felt nothing special—no real pressure. Since Luo Xianxue hadn’t brought it up in his mind, he let it be.
In the bathroom, Chen Mo—who saw Luo Xianxue purely as a daughter to raise—still felt a flicker of unease holding her clothes.
Changing meant undressing. Undressing meant…
"Something wrong?" Luo Xianxue sensed his hesitation.
Chen Mo glanced at the clothes, then sideways at the white strap on her delicate shoulder. After three seconds of pause, he asked carefully, "You don’t mind? I’ll… need to take most of it off."
Instantly, Luo Xianxue’s voice vanished from his mind.
The reminder made her realize what was coming. Shyness flooded her.
If she’d been physically present, Chen Mo knew she’d be avoiding his eyes like a kitten that knocked over a vase.
"It’s… it’s fine. We have to go out, right?" Her words sounded more like self-comfort than an answer to him.
If only he could temporarily leave her body! He’d let her change alone, then return after five minutes. No awkwardness.
But his soul was that of a hot-blooded adult. This tantalizing scene—even after two lifetimes—he’d never witnessed in reality!
"Whatever. It has to be done." Chen Mo steeled himself. He began unfastening the dress. Even with his gaze deliberately averted, he caught a glimpse of powder-pink fabric as the skirt slid down. Her slender calves and rosy, jade-like feet were almost too alluring.
Not a foot fetishist himself, he finally understood why old perverts got so worked up over bare feet versus black or white stockings.
His eyes drifted upward. Her flat stomach held a tiny, soft bulge—barely visible unless you pinched it.
Curious, Chen Mo did just that. His face instantly melted into bliss.
As if answering his expression, Luo Xianxue’s timid voice echoed in his head: "It’s Phantom Sir’s fault… all those cream-filled cookies."
Chen Mo almost laughed. "Blame me? It’s adorable."
Luo Xianxue huffed softly but said no more.
Truth was, Chen Mo *was* partly to blame. Before he came, Luo Xianxue’s meals and routines were robotic in their precision.
But whenever Chen Mo was present—reading, drawing—cream-filled cookies never left her side.
And after he’d mentioned liking manga? Luo Xianxue pulled her first all-nighter.
At this rate, they could publish a book:
*The Pure Lady’s Fall*
After a furtive glance at the eye-catching northern hemisphere, Chen Mo picked up the casual clothes and began dressing.
Fully changed, he stepped out holding the dress. His entire aura shifted uniquely upward.
The dark-toned outfit, paired with his faintly aloof presence, didn’t scream gentle Lady—it radiated *yakuza princess*.
He tied his hair back with practiced ease, then pulled a baseball cap low over his eyes. "Did you bring what I asked for?" he asked Luo Xianxue.
"Mhm. In the innermost pocket of my bag."
Following her directions, Chen Mo rummaged and pulled out a tiny Bluetooth earpiece.
He’d requested it earlier. To chat with Luo Xianxue, he’d either have to talk aloud (strange) or text on his phone (tiring). This way, he could pretend to be on a call.
"Let’s sneak out."
"Mhm! There’s a back door. I had the bodyguard wait there earlier."
"I know." Chen Mo adjusted his cap lower and descended the stairs. Without Luo Xianxue’s guidance, he navigated straight to the back exit.
In high school, he’d dined here with classmates—a rich kid treating the whole class. His sharp memory retained the hotel’s layout.
But this casual familiarity didn’t escape Luo Xianxue’s notice.
A question lingered, unresolved, in her mind:
*Has Phantom Sir been here before?*
