Baiyi—the Great Empire’s mightiest, most exalted being.

Yet here he was, reduced to scheming daily just to feed the idiot clinging to his waist.

This was a direct blow to the prestige of the Great Empire’s Grand General.

“Idiot!”

Baiyi flicked the forehead of Lian Ye, who stood beside him, tiny hands gripping his belt like a lifeline.

“Not… idiot!”

Lian Ye scowled, then opened her mouth wide and sank her teeth into his arm.

“You little monster! Why tear my clothes?!”

Her sudden bite jolted him. He yanked off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around her small, fragile frame, shielding her bare skin from prying eyes.

“Milk… hot!”

Just two words, but they carried her deep unhappiness with the scalding drink.

“Tch. So picky.”

Baiyi shot her a weary glance, scanning the street for a clothing shop. Imperial Palace robes were all frills and embroidery—far too rough for a child’s delicate skin. Might even chafe her. That wasn’t acceptable. After a minute’s thought, he decided: clothes first. He sent Xiao Ling to find a carriage, ready to summon her when needed.

“Brat. Come here. Stop dawdling.”

“Daddy… carry.”

Outside an elegant boutique, Baiyi planned to buy her proper clothes. Truth was, despite his rank as Grand General, his salary only afforded a comfortable—not lavish—life. Buying anything here would bleed his wallet dry.

“I told you—I’m not your father.”

He sighed, bending to lift her slight body into his arms.

“Hehe…”

Nestled against his chest, Lian Ye beamed. Her starlit eyes crinkled shut, pink lips curving into a smile so angelically sweet Baiyi froze, momentarily dazed.

“Daddy…?”

Seeing him spaced out, she waved her tiny white hand before his eyes.

“Ahem. Nothing. Let’s go in.”

That smile had softened him. His voice lost its usual edge. Had he been too harsh before?

*No.*

She was just a clueless kid. Discipline was necessary.

Inside the boutique, a neatly dressed clerk greeted them warmly. “Good day, sir. How may I assist you?”

*Sir?!*

Baiyi’s eyes widened in shock. Sixteen years old—barely past adolescence—and called *sir*? Was he really that old?

“Sir? You came to buy clothes for your daughter, didn’t you?”

“Uh… yes.”

A sharp pang hit his chest. Sixteen! In his prime! Yet here he was, *sirred* into oblivion.

*Am I already ancient?*

“Daddy…”

“What?”

The shop’s ice-magic climate control cooled the air. Baiyi set Lian Ye down to browse.

“Old…?”

“No!”

He turned away, scanning racks of clothes.

Ignoring her, he missed how her lower lip jutted out. She darted off, determined to reclaim his attention.

“Hey! Idiot, where are you going?!”

“Mamaaa!”

In a blink, Lian Ye slipped into the adult section.

Too late. Baiyi lunged—but she was already gone.