Why did the system take my request to take photos with a cosplayer seriously?

What is that?

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" is not allowed, does that mean being "not at home" is 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 weather 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 dirty.

His hair was a mess, like a bird's nest; his face was unshaven; 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."

"Ah."

"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 I to see each other, and it's a big holiday, can't we say something auspicious?"

"What good fortune do you still 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 sloppy, 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 was quite disheveled. Even my son disliked 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 next?"

"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.

"Ah."

One word.

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

Baima'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 trace of fatigue between the man's brows and eyes. His usual roguishness and composure had been greatly reduced, and he looked listless and lacked energy.

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

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

She leaned closer and tilted her head to look at him: "Which woman did you quarrel with?"

"Boom."

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.