Why is the system taking my request to photograph a cosplayer seriously?

Chapter 263 The siblings made do

In the following days, Baima began to avoid Ding Heng, which gradually evolved into a subconscious instinct.

If they bump into each other in the living room, she will pause, then pretend to remember something, and turn to run upstairs.

When eating, she would choose the seat furthest away from Ding Heng, and keep her head down while eating, not daring to reach out with her chopsticks.

Not to mention actively flirting with him —

Ding Heng would occasionally glance at her, and she would guiltily turn her face away, her small, neat silver teeth grinding together as if she wanted to bury her head in the bowl.

Even Ding Heng's smile, which she usually found gentle and warm, now seemed hateful to her. She felt that there was some kind of unspeakable mockery hidden beneath that smile.

"What are you laughing at?!"

She muttered to herself, but dared not utter a single word on her face.

Gradually, Baima felt a surge of determination, planning to find an opportunity to unleash a powerful move and regain his footing.

But what is the ultimate move?

She hasn't decided yet.

Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, as Baima tossed and turned in bed wrapped in her blanket, the scenes from that night would unconsciously replay in her mind—

Ding Heng's rough, large hands, her embarrassing reaction, and those words that made her both ashamed and angry.

"Don't cause trouble for your brother at home anymore—"

Baima buried her face in the pillow, and kicked her two short legs in the blanket.

What?

It's as if it's all her fault.

But then I thought, do I really not attract Ding Heng at all?

All that effort only earns you one hand-rubbing session —

However, she pondered the word "at home" several times, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt there was something to explore.

If being "at home" isn't okay, then is being "out of home" okay?

Or rather—should we avoid the older women?

The thoughts in Baima's mind grew wildly like weeds, but she became more and more obedient and quiet, so quiet that Wenjing couldn't help but ask her if she was feeling unwell.

Time flew by after the start of the school year, and it was already April.

Qingming Festival.

The sky was overcast, with a light drizzle falling intermittently.

Ding Heng drove to the airport alone, parked his car in the parking lot, and walked into the arrival hall.

Before long, a familiar figure emerged from the passageway.

Ding Wenjie.

To be honest, Ding Heng almost didn't recognize his own father.

The windbreaker was wrinkled, with mud splattered on the collar, and the hiking boots were filthy.

His hair was a mess, like a bird's nest; his face was covered in stubble; his skin was rough and red; and he exuded a sense of exhaustion.

The worst part is that he walks with a limp.

Ding Heng went up to him, but didn't rush to speak. He first looked him up and down.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"fine."

Ding Wenjie waved his hand dismissively.

Ding Heng didn't believe it and bent down to look at his right leg.

Ding Wenjie didn't dodge. He rolled up his trouser leg, revealing a section of his calf wrapped in gauze, with faint yellowish-brown medicine stains on the gauze.

"I was bitten by a snake."

Ding Wenjie pulled his trouser leg down: "It's been treated, it's nothing serious."

"dad."

"Um."

"Are you really planning to make me collect your corpse someday?"

Ding Wenjie raised his hand and slapped Ding Heng on the back of the head.

"It's not easy for my son and me to see each other, and it's a big holiday, can't we say something auspicious?"

What good fortune do you want for Qingming Festival?

Ding Heng grinned, his tone full of helplessness.

"Let's go, the car is outside."

He turned and walked out, with Ding Wenjie following behind, his right leg landing rhythm still a bit off.

After getting into the car, Ding Heng drove out of the parking lot.

"When do you plan to settle down?"

He looked ahead and said in a relaxed tone, "Now that your son has money, finding you a beautiful place to retire is no problem."

Ding Wenjie was unscrewing the cap of a mineral water bottle when he scoffed, "I'm not old yet, you don't need to worry about me."

Ding Heng didn't reply, and the car turned a corner.

Ding Wenjie looked out the window at the street scene, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to see your mother?"

"Let me help you get ready first."

Ding Heng steered the wheel with one hand: "Otherwise, seeing you all scruffy, I'm afraid my mom will be annoyed by you."

Ding Wenjie looked down at his wrinkled windbreaker, then at the mud spots on his trousers, and was speechless for a moment before finally letting out a long sigh.

My son is right; there's really no way to refute him.

The two went to the hotel first. Ding Wenjie took a shower, shaved his beard, and changed into clean clothes.

When he came out again, Ding Wenjie finally looked somewhat like a human being.

Ding Heng leaned against the car door, looked him up and down, and nodded.

"Let's go."

The car drove out of the hotel and arrived at the cemetery.

Ding Heng held up an umbrella and accompanied his father up the stone steps.

Ding Wenjie's leg was still not very convenient, so he walked slowly. Ding Heng didn't urge him, but followed beside him, occasionally reaching out to help him.

The two stopped in front of the tombstone.

Ding Wenjie squatted down, placed the flowers he had brought in front of the tombstone, and then took out a white towel from his pocket and carefully wiped the dust off the tombstone.

Ding Heng stood to the side, lit the incense sticks, and handed them over.

Ding Wenjie took it, inserted it into the incense burner, took a half step back, and bowed three times.

"I've been incredibly busy this year and haven't been able to come much, so please don't be angry."

"I came here for the holiday and I looked quite disheveled. Even my son was disgusted with me."

"I'll be more careful next time, so you won't dislike me."

Ding Wenjie spoke intermittently, his voice mixed with the sound of rain, making it difficult to hear clearly.

After an unknown amount of time, Ding Wenjie straightened up and turned back.

"Let's go."

The two walked down the stone steps. Ding Wenjie's pace was slower than when he came, as if something was dragging his legs.

After getting in the car, Ding Heng turned on the heater and waited until his father was settled before starting the car.

"Dad, what are your plans for the future?"

"I'm having a get-together with some old colleagues from the station tonight."

Ding Wenjie leaned back in his chair and rubbed his knees: "Then I'll go to the capital to see my old classmates, and then we'll see how things go."

Ding Heng didn't say anything more. When the car returned to the entrance of the Chujiang Hotel, he took out a room key from his pocket and handed it over.

"I've booked you a room, get some rest. Call me if you need anything."

Ding Wenjie took the room key, pushed open the door, and got out of the car.

Just as he took a step, Ding Heng's voice came from behind him.

"dad."

Ding Wenjie turned around and saw that his son's expression was unusually serious.

"Take a break when you have time."

Ding Wenjie grinned, didn't reply, just waved to Ding Heng, and turned to walk into the hotel revolving door.

After watching his father's figure disappear behind the glass door, Ding Heng sat in the car for a while before starting the car again.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

Ding Heng picked it up and saw it was a message from Baima.

[White Horse is Not a Horse]: Brother, come to the villa for a visit.

Ding Heng raised an eyebrow, didn't think much of it, and turned the car around.

When he arrived at the villa, Baima, who had been hiding from him for a month and a half, was waiting for him at the entrance.

As soon as Ding Heng entered, Bai Ma mustered up her courage and went up to him, saying something as soon as she opened her mouth.

"Brother, neither Sister Jiang nor Wen Shu are here today?"

Her tone was still that of a little devil, but the man didn't react much, only glancing at her indifferently.

"Um.

One word.

It was so perfunctory it couldn't be more so.

Bai Ma's prepared flirtatious remarks suddenly got stuck in her throat, neither coming out nor going in.

She blinked and carefully examined Ding Heng.

There seemed to be a faint layer of fatigue between the man's brows and eyes. His usual roguishness and composure had been greatly reduced, and he looked sullen and listless.

Baima immediately dropped her little scheme, and her tone softened.

"Brother, what's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?"

She leaned closer, tilting her head to look at him: "Which woman did you argue with?"

"Thump."

Ding Heng raised his hand and flicked her forehead lightly.

Don't make wild guesses.

"Ouch."

Baima covered her forehead and rubbed it a couple of times, looking aggrieved.

"I'm worried about my dad."

Ding Heng changed his shoes and went inside, sitting down on the sofa.

Baima followed him and sat down beside him, crossing her short legs.

"Didn't you say you didn't want to interfere in your uncle's life?"

That's what they say.

Ding Heng said wistfully, "But the thought of actually having to collect his body one day is also quite painful."

Baima frowned in thought, then suddenly his eyes lit up.

"Brother, shall we think of something?"

"What method?"

"Let my mom and your dad—"

"Alright, alright."

Ding Heng raised his hand to interrupt her, both amused and exasperated: "Let's just forget about it. Don't interfere in their affairs."

Baima pursed her lips, said "Oh," and didn't insist any further.

"What do you want with me?"

Ding Heng then turned to the main matter.

Baima quickly sat up straight and pointed to the second floor: "The computer is broken."

Ding Heng blinked: "The computer broke down again?"

"This is really bad!"

Bai Ma's expression was serious: "It blue screens as soon as I turn it on, and I can't get into the system no matter what I do. I've tried so many times. It's one of those blue screens with white text, and a bunch of English text, which I can't understand at all."

Ding Heng sighed, "Then go find a computer repairman. Do you really think I'm a computer expert?"

Baima said matter-of-factly, "I don't want other men in my room."

"Okay, okay, okay."

Ding Heng stood up and walked towards the stairs.

Pema followed behind, asking curiously, "Brother, where are you going?"

"Take your computer to get it repaired."

Ding Heng didn't turn his head, his tone helpless.

Baima quickly jogged a few steps, overtook Ding Heng, and stopped him.

"Brother, please sit down, I'll go get it myself."

"What, can't I even come into your room?"

"Hmm—anyway, not today."

After saying that, Baima ran upstairs, carried the computer out of the room, and ran back downstairs, panting heavily.

The two went out, got into the car, and arrived at a nearby computer repair shop.

The store was small and dimly lit, with walls covered with motherboards and graphics cards of various models.

The boss was a man in his early thirties, who was squatting on the ground disassembling a computer case.

Seeing someone come in, he stood up, dusted off his hands, and looked at the main unit in Baima's arms.

"Computer repair?"

"Hmm, blue screen on startup."

Ding Heng placed the main unit on the counter.

The boss took it and started removing the side panel. The screwdriver spun rapidly in his hand, and in a few minutes, he opened the case and scanned the inside.

"Dude, your setup is pretty good."

The shop owner clicked his tongue twice, his tone envious: "They're not easy to buy now."

"Damn it."

Ding Heng pointed to Baima.

The shop owner then noticed a short figure by the counter.

He exclaimed in surprise, "Wow! Your sister had such a good computer in junior high?"

Baima stood on tiptoe, slapped her hands on the counter, and her little face turned bright red.

"I'm a freshman!!!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The boss quickly waved his hand, chuckled awkwardly, and turned back to continue checking the computer.

Baima withdrew her hand, stood aside angrily, her cheeks puffed out.

Every time she goes out, people treat her like a child.

Middle school student? Elementary school student?

She's used to hearing it.

But in the last two months, that feeling of unease has been even stronger than usual, and I feel really suffocated.

She even began to wonder—was it because of her body type that Ding Heng wasn't interested in her?

Once random, chaotic thoughts pop up, they become impossible to suppress.

After checking the computer, the boss put the side panel back on and tightened the screws.

"There's a problem with the motherboard; it needs to be repaired here. You can pick it up tomorrow."

"OK."

Ding Heng nodded and turned to walk out.

Pema followed behind, looking sullen.

The two got into the car, and Ding Heng glanced at her sideways.

"What are you angry about now?"

"no."

Baima turned her face away and stared out the window.

Ding Heng laughed out loud: "Still saying no? Your lips are practically pouting to the heavens."

Baima pursed her lips, unable to resist speaking.

"Brother."

"Um."