Shocking! A three-year-old brings his aloof mother to their door.

Mo Ye was making up a wild and unrestrained "Journey to the West" story when he casually added, "Then, Sun Wukong took the seven fairies back to Flower Fruit Mountain, and later... they gave birth to seven gourd brothers."

He was stunned as soon as he finished speaking.

Where is this going?

Although Tongtong was so sleepy that her eyelids were drooping, her little logic engine was still running at a low speed. She frowned and asked the soul-searching question: "Isn't Sun Wukong a monkey? Fairies are people, right?"

"How could a human and a monkey... produce a gourd? Isn't a gourd a plant, Dad?"

Mo Ye: "..." When he made up the story, he was completely imaginative and did not consider species isolation and logical loops at all. At this moment, under his daughter's innocent and earnest gaze, he suddenly stopped and felt like he had shot himself in the foot. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead.

Leaning against the headboard on the other side of the bed, He Wanqing, who appeared to be casually flipping through a financial magazine, had already pricked up her ears.

Upon hearing Mo Ye's outrageous "adaptation," the corner of her cool lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

At this moment, she slightly raised her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the edge of the magazine before settling leisurely on Mo Ye's rarely seen embarrassed profile.

Under the lamplight, his brows were slightly furrowed, his eyes darting around, as he tried to figure out how to smooth things over in the "pit" he had dug for himself. He looked... kind of cute.

A faint smile rose in He Wanqing's heart, but she maintained her expressionless face, only her eyes held a hint of playful scrutiny, as if she were waiting for the end of an impromptu performance.

Mo Ye keenly noticed He Wanqing's interested gaze, and immediately felt even more embarrassed.

He coughed lightly twice, trying to salvage some of his "strict father" image: "Ahem... well... myths are all very wondrous, there are many..."

Yes, it's symbolic! Tongtong is still young; she'll understand some of these things later.

That's all for today's story. It's time for bed. Tomorrow, Daddy will tell you the real story of the Calabash Brothers and Grandpa, okay?

Perhaps she had played too hard during the day and sleepiness finally overcame her, or perhaps her father's suggestion sounded good, because Tongtong didn't ask any further questions. Her little head began to nod like a chick pecking at rice, her long eyelashes slowly drooping, and she mumbled something indistinctly:

"Hmm... okay... Daddy will tell you tomorrow..." Soon, even and long breathing sounds rang out, and the little guy fell into a deep sleep.

Mo Ye finally breathed a long sigh of relief, gently laid his daughter down, covered her with the blanket, wiped away non-existent cold sweat, and secretly vowed in his heart: next time I tell Tongtong a story, I will definitely not be so carefree!

Little did he know that his "modified" myth would soon, through Tongtong's "education," successfully distort the mythological understanding of most of the kindergarten class, causing headaches for the teachers. The name "Mo Ye" would also rise to the status of "Father of the Demon Child" and "Mudslide in the Storytelling World" in the teachers' private complaints.

Once he was sure Tongtong was fast asleep, Mo Ye, like a secret agent on a covert mission, quietly got out of bed, tiptoed out of the bedroom, and made no sound.

Inside the guest room, the light from the computer screen shone on Mo Ye's focused face.

The keyboard emitted a regular and crisp tapping sound, like a unique melody in the night.

After a long while, he stretched out a big yawn, his joints making a slight cracking sound, and a look of relief appeared on his face as if he had completed his task.

He sent out an encrypted file with a message: "Mr. He, the basic artificial intelligence learning model framework and optimization algorithm you requested have been debugged and are accompanied by documentation. Please check."

Almost instantly, there was a reply from the CEO of a well-known technology company in the industry, who was also a longtime friend of his mentor: "Received!"

Xiao Mo, you're still so efficient!

Uncle really likes you more and more the more he looks at you.

How about it? Come work for my company after graduation?

Name your terms!

We'll give you your own project team and the best resources!

Mo Ye rubbed his temples helplessly.

It's all my fault for having that show-off mentor who accidentally revealed some of his abilities at a technical exchange meeting, and from then on, he was "targeted" by this Mr. He.

He politely but firmly declined, saying, "Uncle He, you flatter me too much. I want to finish my studies first, and I will seriously consider my future plans after graduation."

Clearly unwilling to give up, they immediately sent another message, even playing the "emotional card": "You absolutely must put Uncle's company first! We can discuss anything! And... Uncle has a daughter who's about your age, just returned from studying abroad, she's beautiful and has a great personality, you young people might have something in common, if you could..."

Mo Ye stared at the message, three black lines appearing on his forehead. He quickly typed to interrupt this dangerous attempt to win him over: "Uncle He! If you keep doing this, I won't dare take your side jobs next time. [Smile]"

"No, no, no! I won't say anymore!" The other person immediately backed down. "Think it over, think it over carefully! My company's doors are always open for you, and you really can set your own salary!"

Mo Ye replied with a simple "OK" emoji, then placed his phone face down on the table, deciding to ignore it.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to rest, unaware that another "midnight operation" was quietly underway.

Tongtong was awakened by a rumbling protest from her stomach, not knowing how long she had slept.

She groggily opened her eyes, her little hand instinctively touching her flat tummy, and muttered in a low voice, "Tongtong is hungry..." The image of the sweet strawberry cake she hadn't finished eating that night immediately flashed into her mind.

Sleepiness and appetite battled, but appetite ultimately prevailed.

She didn't even notice that her father wasn't around. She carefully moved off the bed, barefoot, like a wary and purposeful little kitten, and silently slipped out of the room, walking down the stairs step by step.

The living room was completely dark, with only a few drops of moonlight filtering through the gauze curtains.

Relying on her memory, Tongtong found her way to the huge double-door refrigerator.

She stood on tiptoe, her little hands struggling to grasp the refrigerator door handle, and pulled hard to open it—

The cool air, mixed with the aroma of food, wafted towards us.

She tilted her little head up and immediately spotted her "treasure" in the top food container!

However, the next second, the little dumpling was stunned.

She looked at her short, dangling hands, then at the little cake high above her, her face filled with confusion and frustration.

She couldn't reach it!

This is a discovery that would make a three-year-old extremely sad.

She stood there, torn between giving up or finding a small stool, completely unaware that a tall, slender figure had silently appeared behind her.

"What's wrong, Tongtong? Are you hungry?" Mo Ye's gentle voice rang out in the quiet night, slightly hoarse from just finishing work, yet exceptionally reassuring. He had originally planned to rest, but upon hearing the faint noises in the living room, he came out to check on them.

"Ah!" Tongtong was startled by the sudden sound, her little body tilted, and she almost slipped on the smooth floor.

With quick reflexes, Mo Ye stretched out his long arm and steadily pulled her into his embrace.