For Qiu Sheng, suddenly having a daughter presented a far greater dilemma than it did for Zhong Jin.
Zhong Jin was a man. Even if a daughter dropped from the sky into his life, people wouldn’t find it too unbelievable.
But Qiu Sheng was a woman.
If she were to have a daughter, it would first require ten months of pregnancy, childbirth, postpartum recovery, and a series of other processes before arriving at the endpoint of “having a daughter.”
Moreover, Qiu Sheng had family. A daughter appearing out of nowhere was sothing that might be hidden from outsiders, but not from the family she lived with every day.
And Little Tong’s existence couldn’t possibly be kept a secret from her parents forever.
So, how to rationalize Little Tong’s birth? This was a question Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin had discussed at length.
Assuming Little Tong was now three and a half years old, they had to trace back three to four years—what was Qiu Sheng doing during that period? Was there any plausible window where she could have secretly given birth without anyone knowing?
Fortunately, Qiu Sheng had a habit of docunting her life on social dia. Scrolling through her posts gave a rough tiline of events from three years ago.
And that’s how they stumbled upon a critical detail: three sumrs ago, during the tifra that matched Little Tong’s age, Qiu Sheng’s parents had gone on a seven-month trip to Europe, leaving Jing City.
During those seven months, Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin had lived together in their ho for two months. Then, for the remaining five months, Zhong Jin left for a training program, and Qiu Sheng moved back to her parents’ house.
At the ti, only her older brother Qiu Chen and a live-in maid were ho. That maid had since resigned and returned to her hotown in another province.
In other words, if they could first win over Qiu Chen—get him to corroborate their story—and have the siblings stick to the sa account, they could pass off Little Tong’s birth as happening while their parents were away in Europe.
And given that Qiu Chen and Qiu Sheng had a good relationship, plus his mature and steady personality, his integrity significantly increased the feasibility of this plan.
After discussing it with Zhong Jin, Qiu Sheng decided that upon her return, she would first reveal Little Tong’s existence to Qiu Chen and gauge his reaction.
Now, Qiu Sheng had finished explaining everything about Little Tong.
Qiu Chen looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, staring blankly for a long mont before finally repeating in disbelief:
“You’re telling … you and Zhong Jin have a daughter? And this three-and-a-half-year-old child is from another world?”
Qiu Sheng: “...I know it’s hard to believe, but yes, that’s exactly what happened.”
Qiu Chen stood up from the chaise lounge, his expression turning grave.
“Qiu Sheng, how long have you been like this? I’ll schedule an appointnt with a psychiatrist for you tomorrow. You need to see a doctor.”
Ever since Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin divorced, Qiu Chen had felt her calmness was unnatural.
But he hadn’t expected her to be holding in sothing this explosive—a year after the divorce, she’d apparently developed full-blown delusions.
Qiu Sheng pulled up photos and videos of Little Tong on her phone, trying to prove that the child was real, not a fignt of her imagination.
After looking through them, Qiu Chen fell into a long silence.
This was the most incomprehensible thing he’d ever encountered in his life.
Seeing his grave expression, Qiu Sheng knew he’d need ti to process.
She offered another idea: “How about I call Zhong Jin on video? You can talk to him. Even if you think I’ve lost it, surely you don’t believe he’d go crazy at the sa ti, right?”
Qiu Chen waved his hand. “Let … digest this first.”
Qiu Sheng added, “Don’t tell Mom and Dad yet.”
“Not a single word leaves my mouth until I understand what’s really going on.”
The next morning, Qiu Chen appeared at breakfast on ti, though his complexion was terrible. Qiu Sheng guessed he hadn’t slept at all, his exhaustion obvious.
Even Tao Siyuan noticed sothing was off. “Qiu Chen, you look awful. Are you feeling unwell?”
Qiu Chen waved it off. “Just had so insomnia last night.”
Just as Zhong Jin had predicted, Qiu Chen’s composed nature ant that even after receiving such a bombshell revelation, he could still keep his cool.
At dinner the previous night, Qiu Sheng had stord out. Now, over breakfast, Qiu Zhengrui brought it up again, his tone sharp:
“You can’t even take a little criticism? You’re my daughter—I’m saying this for your own good. If you wait any longer to remarry, you won’t even be able to have children anymore.”
The ntion of “children” triggered Qiu Chen this ti. “Stop pressuring her. Push her too far, and she might just bring ho so random kid to prove a point.”
Qiu Zhengrui scoffed. “You think children grow on trees? Just lying around on the streets, waiting to be picked up? If she can produce one out of thin air—her own flesh and blood—I’ll hand over my entire fortune to her.”
Qiu Sheng’s eyes lit up at that. She nearly blurted out, Really?
But the timing wasn’t right yet, so she reluctantly stayed silent.
Qiu Chen, however, successfully redirected their father’s fury onto himself.
Qiu Zhengrui started berating him instead. “You’re 35 and haven’t even dated anyone. What’s wrong with you? Planning to die alone? Your problem is way worse than your sister’s.”
While Qiu Chen endured the tirade, Qiu Sheng slipped out of the villa.
At noon, while eating takeout with her team at the daycare center, Qiu Chen showed up again.
His expression was grim as he pulled her aside.
“Tell the truth,” he demanded. “Is that child Zhong Jin’s lovechild? Do you want to remarry him but know the family would never accept it, so you’re covering for him and spinning this interdinsional fairytale?”
“Could you at least try to be imaginative?” Qiu Sheng rolled her eyes and pulled up the DNA test results between her and Little Tong on her phone, shoving it at him.
“If you doubt its authenticity, call the hospital yourself. I’ll authorize the release.”
Qiu Chen was once again thrown into confusion.
Qiu Sheng added, “If you have ti, co with to Haishan City in a few days. You can even do a kinship test with her yourself.”
Before eting Qiu Sheng, Qiu Chen had thought he’d pieced together the truth. But this DNA report shattered his theory.
Was he really supposed to accept that parallel worlds existed?
And that a child from one had crossed over to beco his niece?
It was beyond comprehension.
Qiu Sheng patted his shoulder. “I told you to read more fiction. You always said it was useless. Now you’re realizing how much you’ve missed out on.”
*
Qiu Chen began to reflect anew on whether his 35 years of life had been real and whether alternate worlds truly existed. Or perhaps, the world he lived in was rely a novel—beyond its boundaries, was there a group of people observing his life like an audience?
As he lost himself in these chaotic thoughts,
Zhong Jin and Little Tong, living in Haishan City, continued their daily routine of playful battles of wit.
After lunch, Zhong Jin was heading to the police station, but Little Tong, bored at ho, insisted on going with him.
Having drunk a two-day brew of Chinese yam water, her cough had significantly improved. Following traditional Chinese dicine advice, Zhong Jin had also stopped bundling her up in thick layers, and her energy had noticeably lifted.
Seeing how restless she was at ho, Zhong Jin relented. "Fine, go put on your coat."
Little Tong imdiately dashed to the incubator, swung open the door, and tried to take Sang Biao with her to the station.
"No," Zhong Jin stopped her firmly. "He was just born a few days ago. Taking him outside will freeze him to death."
Kneeling in front of the incubator, Little Tong pouted, her chubby little hand still gripping the handle. "If we dress him up, he won’t be cold."
"Where would he even get clothes? Don’t be ridiculous. Keep this up, and you’re staying ho too."
Scolded, she sniffled and stood up, her feet turned inward, clutching her belly with both hands as she sulked silently.
Seeing this, Zhong Jin’s tone softened. "Go change. Sang Biao’s too small—it’s freezing outside. When he’s older and can handle the cold, we’ll take him out."
Head bowed, Little Tong scurried back to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
She had her own little wardrobe, with clothes hung low enough for her to reach on tiptoe. She tugged down a hooded winter coat—its outer shell smooth and windproof, lined with plush shearling, and featuring two large pockets lined with the sa cozy fleece.
Placing the coat on the bed, she stood beside it and stuffed her hands into the pockets, fingers sinking into the softness like cotton.
Then she flopped onto the bed, pressing her cheek against the shearling lining, quietly savoring the warmth that seed to wrap around her like a hug.
Zhong Jin knocked on the door. "Are you done yet?"
"Done," she said, sitting up and dragging the coat off the bed before shuffling out of the room.
Zhong Jin frowned. "You were in there forever and didn’t even put it on?"
Little Tong tossed the coat at him. "Help ."
Just then, his phone rang. Before answering, he pointed at her. "Do it yourself. Hurry up."
So she struggled on the spot, wrestling her arms into the sleeves.
Once dressed, she noticed Zhong Jin still on the phone in the master bedroom. Seizing the mont, she waddled back to the incubator, swiftly opened the door, and poked Sang Biao’s fluffy feathers.
Covering her mouth, she whispered, "I’m going to the station to see the fun. You can’t co because Grandpa Zhong Jin said no."
When Zhong Jin finally ended the call and walked out, Little Tong hurriedly shut the incubator, pushed herself up from the floor, and stood stiffly, her guilty eyes darting everywhere.
Zhong Jin assud she’d taken Sang Biao out again and glanced at the incubator—but the chick was safely inside. Yet Little Tong’s expression scread guilt.
"What did you do?" he asked.
She waved her hands frantically. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" Then she scampered to the shoe cabinet, pulled out her snow boots, and plopped down to put them on.
Zhong Jin grew increasingly uneasy.
Overt mischief from a child was one thing. What terrified him more was when they were clearly hiding sothing, yet he couldn’t figure out what—a lurking dread of the unknown.
He even checked the incubator again, half-expecting to find her snacking on Sang Biao’s chicken feed.
During the drive to the station,
Zhong Jin’s anxiety spiraled. Had she eaten sothing she shouldn’t have?
He fired off questions: "Did you sneak a bite of Mom’s lipstick? Raw eggs? Lick the soap? Drink toilet water?"
Little Tong shook her head each ti. "Nope."
He tried another angle. "What were you doing while I was on the phone earlier?"
Grinning behind her hands, she refused to spill that she’d badmouthed him to Sang Biao.
Catching her smirk in the rearview mirror, Zhong Jin’s heart sank. *Oh no. She probably ate chicken poop.*
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