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

He blinked, wondering if he was still half asleep.

Not right.

According to his little princess's biological clock, on a weekend morning at this time, she should still be in bed, enjoying a sweet time with the blankets.

It's a tug-of-war that's hard to let go of; every time I wake her up, it's like launching a small battle.

That little rascal actually got up by himself?

An absurd thought flashed through Mo Ye's mind: "Could my daughter be possessed by some unclean thing?"

"I'll just grab a handful of glutinous rice..." He found the thought amusing, shook his head, and decided to investigate.

He tiptoed back like a thief, his eyes scanning the courtyard.

Then he saw it.

The little dumpling sat on the warm stone stool with her hands supporting her chin, looking lost in thought and preoccupied.

The morning breeze playfully ruffled the tuft of hair that was sticking up from her sleep, and that strand of hair stood stubbornly upright.

When the wind blows, it sways back and forth, sometimes standing tall and proud, sometimes drooping listlessly.

Paired with Tongtong's chubby face scrunched up and filled with "thoughts," it has a strangely comical and adorable quality.

Looking at that chubby-faced, slightly silly profile, Mo Ye's doubts vanished.

Yes, it's my own daughter, no doubt about it. Her adorable and innocent charm is unique.

"Tongtong?" He approached and asked softly, "What are you doing sitting here so early in the morning? Practicing martial arts?"

Tongtong, who was immersed in her own world and was actually on the verge of dozing off, was startled by the sudden sound.

She let out a soft cry of "Ah!" and almost slipped off the stone block.

She patted her small chest, still shaken, her childish voice tinged with reproach:

"Dad! What are you doing! You scared the child to death! How annoying!"

Look at her, kicking her arms and legs in fright, her little face scrunched up in a grimace.

Mo Ye couldn't help but chuckle softly.

It's quite impressive that he can still swear.

Tongtong composed herself, looked around, and then mysteriously beckoned Mo Ye with her little finger, signaling him to come closer.

Mo Ye bent down obediently.

Tongtong half-covered her mouth with her little hand, leaned close to Mo Ye's ear, and announced a "shocking secret" in what she thought was a very soft whisper:

"Dad, I have a secret to tell you... I wet the bed this morning."

Mo Ye: "..."

Well, this was unexpected.

It seems that "changing and drying bed sheets" will be added to this morning's schedule.

Before Mo Ye could react, Tongtong's expression quickly switched from "frankness" to "smugness." Her eyes sparkled, and she continued in a whispered tone, her voice filled with the pride of "I'm so smart!"

"And... I framed Mom!"

I poured water where Mom sleeps.

That way, Mom won't find out it was me who peed, and I won't get a beating! She nodded affirmatively after saying that.

Mo Ye: "..."

He looked at his daughter's little face, which seemed to be asking for praise and wanting him to compliment his cleverness, and was speechless for a moment.

His daughter, isn't your method of "framing" a bit too crude and direct?

Is your mother someone who is so easily fooled?

I can already foresee what kind of "bloodshed" will ensue in the family once He Wan wakes up.

"So what are you doing sitting here so early in the morning..." Mo Ye pointed to the stone stool beneath her, warm from the morning sun, "and what are you doing now?"

Tongtong chuckled, patted her skirt which still bore obvious damp patches, and said matter-of-factly:

"I'm 'drying' the skirt! I'm drying the skirt so Mom won't have any evidence!"

"Dad, am I super smart?"

Mo Ye rubbed his forehead, both amused and exasperated: "...You're such a clever little devil." This logical loop actually sounded quite plausible at first glance.

"Daddy!" Tongtong suddenly remembered something, her expression turned serious, and she fumbled in her pocket for a while.

He took out a neatly packaged bear-shaped cookie that he had hidden away sometime ago and solemnly placed it in Mo Ye's hand.

"Here, have some. But you can't tell Mom, okay? We'll pinky swear!"

At such a young age, he has already mastered the processes of "bribery" and "silencing" without any formal instruction.

Who taught him all this...?

Mo Ye looked at the small cookie in his palm, then at his daughter's big eyes, which were full of expectation and a little nervous. He couldn't bear to refuse this "heavy" trust, so he had no choice but to take it and nod in agreement.

"Great!" Tongtong beamed with joy upon seeing that he had accepted the "bribe," and patted Mo Ye's hand like a little adult.

"Dad, we're in the same boat now... um... grasshoppers!" She tried hard to recall the words she had learned from the cartoon.

"Yes, yes, we're in the same boat." Mo Ye nodded, suppressing a laugh.

In her heart, she silently prayed for the little "grasshopper," hoping that her little bottom could withstand the strain.

Just as Tongtong was about to continue sharing her "perfect crime" insights, a clear yet distinctly angry shout came from inside the villa:

"He—Huan—Tong—!"

The owner of the voice seemed to take a deep breath, followed by a question that rose slightly in tone, completely losing its usual composure:

Where have you been running off to?!

"Get the hell back here right now—!"

Mo Ye raised an eyebrow.

That voice... it's definitely He Wanqing, but that tone, that choice of words...

This was the first time he had ever seen or heard He Wanqing be so "down-to-earth," or even "irritable."

It seems that the "scapegoating" plan has already begun to show results.

Tongtong, sitting on the stone pier, heard her mother calling her by her full name with a dangerous lisp at the end.

Startled, she trembled all over, her little bottom slipped, and she landed on the ground with a "plop".

"It's all over..." Her little face fell, and her eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Mom found out..."

She scrambled to her feet in a flurry, not even bothering to clean the sand stuck to the back of her skirt, which was still damp and she couldn't get it clean no matter how many times she patted it.

Finally, she could only hang her head, like a little quail about to be executed, and shuffle slowly into the villa.

She kept trying to reassure herself, muttering, "I'm not afraid~ I'm not afraid~ I can take a beating... I'm tough..."

Looking at her cowardly yet fearless little face, Mo Ye couldn't help but turn his back and shrug his shoulders several times.

This practiced self-comforting routine suggests he's definitely a "habitual offender."

As soon as Mo Ye entered the living room, he felt the oppressive atmosphere.

He Wanqing had changed out of her nightgown and was wearing loungewear, but in her hand she was holding a... feather duster!

She crossed her arms over her chest, her right toes tapping lightly on the polished floor, each sound striking Tongtong's fragile little heart.

That breathtakingly beautiful face was now covered with a layer of frost, and her eyes were sharp as knives, shooting straight at the little dumpling dawdling by the door.

.........