On Sunday, Little Tong still couldn’t go to kindergarten.
Qiu Chen even bought a full set of early education materials, preparing to personally tutor Little Tong in a systematic way.
Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng felt sorry for the child, so they ca up with a plan: during their morning jog, Zhong Jin would take Little Tong to the police station so she could play there.
After their morning run, the three of them had breakfast outside. Qiu Sheng packed a al to bring back for Qiu Chen, while Zhong Jin took Little Tong straight to the police station.
When Qiu Sheng returned ho alone, Qiu Chen realized they had sneaked the child away again and grumbled a few words about them spoiling her.
However, Qiu Chen soon received a call—his secretary had flown in from Jing City to deliver docunts and had already arrived in Haishan.
In a hurry to get back to work, Qiu Chen didn’t have ti to say anything more.
It had been a while since Little Tong last visited the police station, and the place looked a little different now. Thick windproof curtains hung over the entrance, and the lobby was warm with the air conditioning running.
Her little scooter was still parked in its usual spot. The cleaning auntie would wipe it down from ti to ti, so even though it hadn’t been used in a while, it remained spotless.
Zhong Jin had brought her directly after their run, so it was still early, and the day-shift colleagues hadn’t arrived yet.
Little Tong hid behind the curtains on her scooter, and whenever a familiar officer walked in, she’d bend down mischievously and say, “Hello, welco!”
The officers would then exclaim in delight, “Little Tong’s here?”
She’d zoom over on her scooter, hugging them and whining, “There’s an uncle at my house now, and he makes study every day.”
Before long, everyone at the station knew about Little Tong’s uncle and how awful he was—never having cared for her before but now forcing her to study as soon as they t.
Little Tong counted on her fingers, “I can count to 100 now, and I can say my ABCs.”
Rao Shishi frowned indignantly, “Exactly! For a kid not even four years old, counting to 100 and knowing the ABCs is already impressive. Why force our little stinker to study more? She’s even lost weight from all that stress.”
What kind of madness makes a three-and-a-half-year-old study like that?
The officers couldn’t fathom such obsessive, overbearing parenting.
And just like that, Little Tong effortlessly won everyone’s sympathy.
They handed her a tablet to watch cartoons in her usual spot. Rao Shishi stuffed her little backpack with snacks, and though the room was warm, people kept coming in and out, so Gu Le even fetched Little Tong’s blanket from Zhong Jin’s office to drape over her legs.
Returning to the police station was like coming ho for Little Tong.
Cozy under her blanket, she held a bottle of Wahaha in one hand and a Panpan bread roll in the other, while SpongeBob played on the tablet in front of her.
The officers, having missed her for so long, gathered around to chat whenever they finished their tasks.
With a cheese stick from Rao Shishi in her mouth, Little Tong repeated all the ways her uncle forced her to study.
Everyone chid in to badmouth the uncle, and Little Tong happily swung her legs.
Then, holding up a finger with wide, serious eyes, she declared:
“Uncle makes study. If I learn my ABCs, he’ll give 100,000 yuan and buy a villa. He’s a big anie! Officer Hu De, arrest him!”
The smiles slowly faded from the officers’ faces.
Rao Shishi asked skeptically, “Little Tong, are you saying your uncle will give you 100,000 yuan just for learning the alphabet?”
“Yes, but I don’t want money. I just want to play.”
Hu De chuckled dryly. “Alright, I’ll go arrest him right now—so he can be *my* uncle.”
Gu Le pinched Little Tong’s cheek. “You lucky rascal. Study hard—education changes destinies.”
Little Tong blinked innocently, confused why everyone had suddenly stopped criticizing her uncle when they’d been doing so well before.
Perhaps the visit to the station stirred up old mories, because on the way ho that evening, Little Tong told Zhong Jin:
“I don’t want to study anymore. If anyone forces , I’ll jump into the sea. I’m really good at drawing, you know.”
Zhong Jin understood—she was rembering that high school girl who nearly jumped into the sea after being pushed too hard by her parents over academics.
Though Qiu Chen would never drive Little Tong to such extres, Zhong Jin’s heart still ached for her.
Their usually cheerful little girl had been so stressed these past few days that she’d even recited the ABCs in her sleep last night.
Zhong Jin decided it was ti to have a serious talk with Qiu Chen.
After parking the car underground, Zhong Jin carried Little Tong upstairs in the elevator.
Little Tong clung to Zhong Jin's coat like a dejected little duck, resting her chin on his shoulder and mumbling gloomily, "I still don’t want to go ho. Can we just live at the police station from now on?"
Zhong Jin replied, "Let’s go back and talk properly with your uncle. Be brave and tell him you don’t like studying. I’ll back you up—he’ll understand."
Little Tong still didn’t seem convinced.
Zhong Jin patted her shoulder. "Cheer up."
The mont they pushed open the door, Qiu Chen rose from the sofa with a smile, his tone uncharacteristically warm and affectionate. "Little Tong, you’re back? Did you have fun today?"
Little Tong imdiately grabbed Zhong Jin’s sleeve and hid behind him.
Qiu Chen waved her over. "Co here. No studying today. Uncle has sothing to show you."
Little Tong took a few cautious steps forward on her short legs, her tiny hands fidgeting, still eyeing Qiu Chen with a hint of distrust.
Qiu Chen took her hand and led her to the dining table.
Spread across the table were cakes, fried chicken, and sausages, while the fridge held an entire drawer of ice cream.
Little Tong stared blankly at the feast, swallowing hard.
Next, Qiu Chen guided her to the play corner, now overflowing with toys—plush dolls, a full set of playhouse props, and even a ticulously crafted miniature Ferrari.
He helped Little Tong into the toy car, demonstrating how to start the engine, accelerate, and brake, then encouraged her to try it herself.
Gripping the steering wheel, she pressed the ignition button on the right. As the little Ferrari smoothly rolled forward, Little Tong let out a delighted squeal.
After noticing Little Tong’s resistance to studying, Qiu Chen had quickly revised his teaching strategy.
His earlier rewards—like "a thousand yuan per word" or "a hundred thousand for 26 words"—ant nothing to a child her age. She had no grasp of what such sums represented.
So today, Qiu Chen replaced money with things a child would actually love.
It was like leveling up in a ga: each completed task earned her a reward. Though the challenges would grow tougher, the system kept her eager and engaged.
Qiu Chen had tested this incentive model on his employees first. Now, applying it to a child? Effortlessly effective.
Once Little Tong finished her Ferrari joyride, Qiu Chen said, "All these things are yours—but you’ll earn them through studying. Finish your daily lessons, and you can pick one reward."
Little Tong eagerly clasped Qiu Chen’s hand. "Okay, Uncle! Today I want the strawberry cake and this little car!"
Qiu Chen nodded. "Two rewards, then. morize ten letters and say ‘apple’ in English, and they’re yours."
Puffing out her little belly, her big eyes sparkling with excitent, Little Tong couldn’t wait. "Okay, let’s start learning!"
Qiu Chen led her to a brand-new kids’ study desk in the living room and opened an early-education textbook his secretary had brought from Jing City.
Zhong Jin had spent the whole walk ho rehearsing argunts to convince Qiu Chen to let their daughter enjoy a carefree childhood.
He’d even resolved to fight Qiu Chen if necessary—anything to stop this "heir training" obsession. For his daughter, he was ready to go all out.
Yet here they were, with Little Tong’s tiny legs already stepping into the trap of material incentives.
In the days that followed, her enthusiasm for studying soared. After dinner, she’d head straight to the play corner to choose her prize, then actively seek out Qiu Chen for lessons.
Today, they were learning family terms in English.
Qiu Chen asked, "How do you say ‘Mom’ in English?"
Little Tong sat primly at the desk, arms folded on the surface, answering earnestly: "Mom is... *mather*."
The pronunciation was off, but Qiu Chen wasn’t rushing. They’d refine it gradually.
Next question: "And ‘Dad’?"
Little Tong: "*Father*."
"Good job! Now, how do you say ‘uncle’?"
Little Tong: "*Juler*."
Qiu Chen: "......Uncle. We learned this yesterday. Think carefully. It’s... *un*... *un* what?"
Little Tong: "*Unler*."
"*Uncle*. Repeat after : Uncle."
Little Tong fiddled with her fingers, tilting her head innocently. "Uncle, why isn’t it *-ler*?"
"Don’t worry about the *-ler*. Just copy : *Uncle*."
With an exaggerated sigh, as if humoring him, Little Tong repeated dutifully: "*Uncle*."
According to the original lesson plan, the next step was to teach the English words for "grandpa," "grandma," "grandfather," and "grandmother." But Qiu Chen chickened out—he didn’t dare continue. They hadn’t even grasped a single word properly yet, and teaching compound terms might just give him a heart attack.
With practiced ease, Qiu Chen tucked away the English textbook and pulled out the math workbook instead. "Now, let’s learn addition and subtraction within five."
Little Tong nodded eagerly. "Okay, okay!"
Hearing it was math ti, she very expertly hoisted her chubby little foot—clad in a five-toed sock—onto the edge of the table.
Qiu Chen asked her, "What’s 2 2?"
Little Tong carefully counted on her plump toes, chanting, "One-two, one-two."
After finishing, she answered brightly, "It’s two!"
Qiu Chen: "...Count again."
Three recounts later, it was still two.
The man sighed heavily three tis. "Little Tong, we learned 2 2 yesterday. Can’t you rember? Uncle already taught you this. Did you return the knowledge to ?"
Little Tong’s dark eyes instantly lit up. "Uncle, where’s the cheese? Can I have a lobster-and-cheese pizza, please? Thank you!"
Qiu Chen: "..."
He stood up. "I’m going to take a shower to cool off. While I’m gone, write the numbers from 1 to 10 from mory."
Qiu Chen walked into the bathroom and locked the door with a click.
On the sofa, Zhong Jin imdiately sprang into action. He crouched in front of the coffee table, long legs bent, and picked up a pencil. Mimicking Little Tong’s handwriting, he painstakingly scrawled the numbers 1 through 10 in wobbly strokes.
When he finished, Qiu Sheng leaned over to inspect. "The ‘8’ doesn’t look quite right. She doesn’t write it in one stroke—it’s two zeros stacked on top of each other."
Zhong Jin erased the "8" and rewrote it.
Qiu Sheng gave it a once-over. "That’ll do. Should be enough to fool him."
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