"Mom, I'm full! I'm going to play with Anqing!"

Perhaps because her best friend wasn't by her side, Xu Yuting's appetite was low. She took only a few bites, stirred her spoon absently, and pushed the bowl away.

"No wasting food. Finish your bowl first."

With slender, fair hands, Xu Lu deftly used her chopsticks to add a piece of meat and some vegetables to her daughter's bowl before speaking calmly.

Children need proper nourishment to grow. For her daughter, she cared with unwavering devotion.

"Ah… Mom, please stop adding food! I really can't eat another bite."

The girl failed to grasp her mother's kindness. She frowned slightly, face scrunched in protest, taking that gentle care completely for granted.

"If you don't finish it, you're not going out."

The woman continued her meal at a leisurely pace, voice even.

"Wah… Mom, how could you?! I'm already full, and you're still forcing me? Trying to stuff your daughter to death?"

Yuting bravely protested what she saw as injustice, determined to set things straight.

*Woof woof woof…* This little girl truly doesn't know how lucky she is. Having a family who cherishes you—isn't that the greatest blessing? Wait… where's her dad anyway?

Meng Qiutong ate puppy food from a dog-designated bowl. Surprisingly tasty—maybe her taste buds had changed along with her transformation into a tiny pup.

At first, she refused it, clinging to the last shred of human dignity.

But hunger won. She took one reluctant bite… and was instantly hooked.

Human dignity? Long forgotten. She was just a pitiful little pup now.

"If you don't eat, I'll tell Anqing Yuting's a naughty kid. Let's see if he still wants to play with you."

Xu Lu had long mastered the perfect trick to handle her stubborn daughter—and it never failed.

"I'll eat, I'll eat! Mom, please don't say that!"

True to form, the mere mention of Anqing melted Yuting's resistance. She became quietly obedient.

Across from the small villa, light now glowed warmly in Anqing's home.

"What's Yuting up to? What about Jin Xia and Zi Qing?"

The boy chewed the fast food his dad bought, thoughts drifting to his friends.

After a full day of settling in—nearly six p.m., sunset painting the sky—the essentials were finally ready: water, electricity.

He'd helped too, tidying trash on the second floor to make the place look cleaner.

"Dad… can I go play at my friend's house?"

He'd promised Yuting. Not wanting to break his word, he gathered courage and asked Zhao's father nearby.

"Play, play, play! All you do is play. Didn't lift a finger today. Useless eater."

Zhao's mother snapped, face cold.

"He's still young. What help did you expect? Xiaoqing worked hard—he cleaned the second floor himself."

Unlike his mother's sharp gaze, Zhao's father shielded his son gently.

…

Anqing stayed silent, head bowed.

He dreaded becoming the spark that ignited another fight.

"Hehe, Xiaoqing, be a good boy. Bathe first, change into clean clothes, then go play."

After shooting his wife a firm look, Zhao's father softened his tone.

He had no issue with playdates—but Anqing was dirty. Sending him out like that would make them lose face.

"Mm-hmm."

Relief flooded the boy. He glanced cautiously at Zhao's mother.

…

She said nothing, lit a cigarette, and began puffing quietly.

"Dad, Mom, I'm going to bathe now!"

Nearly two days without a wash—he felt grimy. This bath felt like pure joy.

"Mm. Clothes are on your bed. Go get them."

Zhao's father nodded, letting him go.

Grabbing fresh clothes and a small towel, the boy hurried to the bathroom.

No water heater yet—and he was too small to handle it anyway.

Stripping down, he tiptoed to twist the faucet open—just a tiny bit.

Cool tap water trickled out. Delighted, he crouched beneath it, letting the stream rinse his hair and flow down his body.

"So refreshing!"

On this sweltering summer day, a cold shower was pure bliss.

He scrubbed carefully where dirt lingered. No soap, no shampoo—just a simple rinse.

He didn't linger. Wasting water meant a higher bill, Dad had warned.

Done, he tiptoed again to shut the faucet tight, twisting extra to prevent leaks.

Dried off, hair damp, he changed into clean clothes—slightly too big.

"Off to play with Yuting!"

Just a kid craving time with his best friend.

He jogged to the living room. Both parents were there.

He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.

"Dad… Mom, I'm going to Yuting's."

His hair still damp, mosquito bites faded—he looked like an adorable porcelain doll.

"Mm. Be safe. Don't stay out too late."

Zhao's father knew the friend lived just across the street—in the small villa. A stone's throw away.

"Mm-hmm! I'll be back soon."

Mom rarely acknowledged him. Dad's approval was enough. Heart light, he ran off, eager.

"He's only been here days—and already has a new friend? Whose kid?"

With no entertainment in the quiet living room, Zhao's mother spoke up.

"The child across the street. Same age as Xiaoqing."

Zhao's father, mending his wife's pants with needle and thread, replied softly.

"Boy or girl?"

Boredom prompted the unusually talkative Zhao's mother to continue.

"A very pretty, bold little girl. She adores playing with Anqing. I saw them this morning."

Yuting's image flashed in Zhao's father's mind as he spoke objectively.

"Hmph. Not a girl, but cute enough. Maybe he'll marry into a wealthy family someday."

A quiet sigh lingered in her words—dissatisfaction with her son's gender.