Maybe all men are softies for their daughters. Xavier Foster’s doting over Xiao Huajuan rivals—and maybe even surpasses—how he used to spoil Xiao Niangao.
Fortunately, Xiao Niangao doesn’t mind at all. If anything, he loves his little sister more than their dad does.
He has to watch over her while she sleeps, and keep her company when she’s awake.
Every day, the moment he gets back from kindergarten, his first order of business is to rush home to see Mom and his baby sister.
This particular day, when he bursts in, Chi Chi has just finished feeding the baby.
A few days have passed, and Xiao Huajuan is a little bigger—her features are growing more beautiful and adorable by the day.
Her eyes look just like Chi Chi’s, light in color, with long, fluttery lashes.
Especially when she’s sleeping, her lashes look like tiny little closed fans—she’s the very image of a darling porcelain doll.
Xiao Niangao, holding the chocolate mousse he got from kindergarten, knows the teachers always give him one extra to take home, since he insists on it every day.
“Mommy, I brought you dessert again!”
“Oh really? What is it today?”
“Chocolate mousse!”
“Thank you, sweetheart. Mommy loves it.”
Chi Chi really does enjoy the little desserts from their kindergarten. At first, Xavier Foster made it up as an excuse to coax their son into going, but the truth is the sweets are just right for kids—not too sugary, moist, and fluffy. Chi Chi quickly grew fond of them.
With his sister nestled in Chi Chi’s arms, Xiao Niangao obediently scrubs his hands clean before bounding over to the bed. “Can I touch her?”
Chi Chi shifts the baby a little closer. Xiao Niangao gently pats his sister’s tiny hand.
“Xiao Huajuan, Xiao Huajuan…”
Just as she’s about to drift off, the baby is roused by her brother’s excitement. Her tiny nose scrunches up, and suddenly, as if pressing a secret button, she lets out an earth-shattering wail.
“Waa—waa—”
...
It’s as if a cartoon black crow flies over Xiao Niangao’s head. Why does his sister cry every single day?
Xiao Huajuan is delicate to the core. Chi Chi quickly hands the squalling bundle over to Xavier Foster, who accepts her without a word and begins pacing the room, gently soothing his daughter.
Chi Chi opens her chocolate mousse. “Ahem, it’s all right. Girls do cry a bit more.”
Xiao Niangao takes a bite. “Mommy, Xiao Niangao doesn’t cry.”
“That’s right. You’re a big boy—big boys don’t cry.”
“I’ll protect my sister and never let her cry.”
Mother and son sit side by side at the table, each enjoying their own chocolate mousse. By the time they’re done, Xavier Foster has—at last—lulled Xiao Huajuan to sleep.
He tucks her into the little cradle, then pulls a tissue to wipe the chocolate off his wife’s mouth.
Turning around, he spots his son looking very much like a messy, chocolate-smeared kitten.
When Xiao Huajuan turned one month old, Song Ying’s little Pudding was just hitting one hundred days.
So the two families decided to throw a lively celebration together.
Xiao Niangao dons a mini kid’s tuxedo, complete with a bright red bowtie.
Chi Chi, finally done with her postpartum confinement, is still kept bundled up by Xavier Foster—long sleeves and a fishtail dress that perfectly accentuates her figure.
The entire first floor of the hotel is decked out for the occasion.
Compared to a grown-up party, this one is far more whimsical—with cheerful, colorful balloons on the walls, a spread of fancy cakes and sweets, and an enormous birthday cake decorated with blush-pink fondant bows.
The soft, warm lights fill the room with comfort.
Xiao Niangao tags along after his dad and baby sister, proudly introducing his sister to everyone he meets.
“This is my sister. Her name’s Xiao Huajuan.”
“She’s a whole month old, and she’s really cute.”
“My sister cries all the time. She’s loud—so loud you can hear her downstairs.”
“She’s amazing—she cries three times a day.”
“And her hands are the cutest—so tiny!”
Xiao Huajuan: ...?? (Bro, save me some dignity here!)
Song Ying’s little Pudding has reached his hundredth day—his chubby cheeks have filled out, his skin is porcelain white, and he’s absolutely docile, sucking on a pacifier and wide-eyed with amazement as he surveys the festive scene.
There aren’t that many guests; both families have only invited their closest friends.
Chi Chi and Song Ying settle down to chat about their kids.
Meanwhile, Mia Moore heads off with Little Tangyuan to grab some sweets. At three years old, Little Tangyuan is a whirlwind, darting fearlessly around the room and greeting strangers like it’s nothing.
Mia Moore hands her off to Charles Chase, then rushes over to Chi Chi, nearly tearing out her own hair.
“Help! Will my Little Tangyuan ever act like a lady?!”
Chi Chi can’t help but laugh. Despite being a mom, Mia Moore is still like a mischievous kid herself.
“Yao Yao, if you can’t manage it yourself, how can you expect Tangyuan to be any different?”
Song Ying nods in agreement, adding, “Who was it who used to roughhouse with all the boys in the neighborhood, or who once tried to turn in my homework as her own and got caught—”
Before she can finish, Mia Moore squashes her with a hug, hands over Song Ying’s mouth. “Nooo, Sister Song Ying! Don’t tell! Pudding’s here! If he finds out I’ll lose all face!”
Song Ying just grins. “Relax, Pudding’s just a hundred days old—he doesn’t understand anything. If Chi Chi wants to hear more, I’ve got plenty of stories.”
Thankfully, Chi Chi lets her off this time. “Honestly, it’s fine if girls are a little rambunctious. Look at you—it’s adorable.”
“Chi Chi, when your Xiao Huajuan grows up, you’ll understand! Boys like Xiao Niangao are true mama’s boys. Ugh, but my little one? She leaks air!” (Note: ‘leaks air’ is a joking way to say she’s not a cozy, clingy daughter.)
Just as the words leave her mouth, a commotion breaks out—children’s cries ring through the air.
Chi Chi and Mia Moore both startle, hastily passing their own kids to their husbands and hurrying over to see what’s happened. It’s impossible to tell whose cry came first.
They spot Charles Chase standing off to one side, looking helpless.
The cake sits in the middle of the long table. No one truly intends to eat such an ornate creation—it’s for decoration, after all.
But Charles Chase’s guard slips for just a moment, and Little Tangyuan climbs on a chair, reaching for the fondant bow on top of the cake.
The result: her face is planted squarely into the cake.
Little Tangyuan, realizing she’s made a mistake, starts to cry—because crying means Daddy won’t scold her!
Her face and collar are covered in snowy buttercream. Even her pink dress is smeared and dirty.
“Waa—”
She glances over at her dad through teary eyes, then spots her mom approaching.
A drip of frosting lands in her mouth—it’s so sweet, she can’t help but give a little lick.
Charles Chase is equal parts exasperated and amused. Mia Moore tries to hide behind Chi Chi.
“Can I pretend she’s not mine? I don’t want to claim her.”
Chi Chi can’t keep a straight face. She can’t even imagine what her brother’s daily life must be like—fire and water, chaos every day.
And as soon as Little Tangyuan starts wailing, Xiao Huajuan seems to join a competition—she starts bawling too.
“Sorry, Yao Yao—can’t help you. Mine’s sprung a leak too.”
Chi Chi goes back to Xavier Foster, who’s cradling their still-crying daughter. She takes the baby and soothes her gently.
The party winds down early—everyone has kids and needs their rest.
On the drive home, Chi Chi gazes at the little bundle in her arms, suddenly lost in a dreamlike moment.
Somehow, they’ve all grown up. In just a few years, they’ve become mothers.
Time moves so quickly, but she feels utterly content. Back when she’d carried Xiao Niangao, all she could think of was leaving the Fu family, leaving Xavier Foster behind.
She never imagined that after so many twists and turns, she’d end up here, like this.
Xiao Niangao has already fallen asleep in his car seat. Chi Chi softly calls Xavier Foster’s name.
He doesn’t turn his head from the wheel, just asks gently, “What is it?”
“I just feel so happy.”
There’s a low chuckle from the front, then he replies, “Me too. We're almost home.”
‘Home.’ What a wonderful word.
I’ll take you home.
Let’s go home.
Back to our home.
…
Mr. Fu, among all the countless heart-fluttering moments in this long life, you’ve always been the one who stood out most.