Yuanfeng said, oblivious. He ran a hand through his already ssy hair. "But why here? And why so early?"
Huaijin answered with the cynical knowledge of her past life. "She wants to scope out our ’poverty’ better to play the sympathetic, well-off cousin on cara. And she wants to steal my rehearsal ti with you, Daddy, because she knows you’re the best at analysing scene potential."
Yuanfeng rely smiled kindly. "Well, that’s just a bit competitive, isn’t it? But she’s still family. Let’s be welcoming."
He went to the door and opened it.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Chi Yuanying, dressed impeccably in an expensive, brand-na outfit that sohow managed to look simple and elegant.
Beside her stood a stiff-looking nanny, holding a pristine, wheeled suitcase. Yuanying, a pretty girl with large, seemingly innocent eyes, instantly scanned the entrance, the slightly scuffed floor, the cramped space, and the sound of the old refrigerator humming mournfully.
"Uncle Yuanfeng!" Yuanying chirped, her voice perfectly modulated, a honeyed blend of sweetness and slight nervousness.
She stepped forward, ignoring the nanny, and gave Yuanfeng a carefully asured hug. "Thank you so much for having . My mummy said it would be so much fun to rehearse together, and she insisted I stay here so we could focus!"
Insisted she stay here? Huaijin thought darkly, standing rigidly in the doorway to the kitchen. No, the Chi family matriarch insisted you stay here to prove a point about my father’s inadequacy.
Yuanfeng, however, was imdiately flustered. He hadn’t expected a sleepover.
"Oh, well, hello, Yuanying. That’s... that’s very kind of your mother," he stamred, his academic brain instantly panicking about the lack of a guest room and the single, aging bathroom. "But are you sure? Our place is quite... modest."
He was aware of the glaring contrast between Yuanying’s tailored clothes and the threadbare welco mat.
Yuanying perfected the art of the delicate, slightly dismissive glance around the tiny entryway. "Oh, it’s charming, Uncle! So rustic. But don’t worry, I brought my own special water and snacks. I just need a little corner to set up my rehearsal space. Huaijin said you’re the best coach!"
This was the first stroke of chaos. The small apartnt suddenly felt impossibly tight with the addition of the suitcase, the nanny (who retreated after a brief, frosty exchange with Yuanfeng about dietary restrictions), and the calculated presence of Yuanying.
The rehearsal wasn’t a friendly collaborative effort; it was a subtle, psychological skirmish orchestrated by Yuanying. The next week’s segnt involved the children creating a dramatic skit together.
They moved to the small living room, the main space in the apartnt.
Yuanying strategically placed her expensive, noise-cancelling headphones and a high-end tablet on the coffee table, an object Yuanfeng and Huaijin mostly used for stacking books.
"Okay, Huaijin, let’s go over the scene where we discover the lost treasure map," Yuanying instructed, her voice pleasant but patronising. "Uncle Yuanfeng, can you please sit here? We need your insightful comntary."
Yuanfeng, happy to be in his elent, sat on the edge of the sofa, ready to analyse the scene structure.
Huaijin, however, imdiately countered Yuanying’s territorial move.
She darted over to Yuanfeng and, instead of sitting beside him, wedged herself between his arm and the sofa cushion, instantly latching onto his side.
"Daddy, my back hurts from sitting on that hard box all yesterday," Huaijin whimpered, her voice reverting to maximum six-year-old pathos. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Yuanfeng imdiately lted. "Oh, my poor darling. Here." He put an arm around her, letting her lean her entire weight against him. "Better?"
"Much better," Huaijin declared triumphantly, shooting a smug, covert glance at Yuanying.
Yuanying’s polite smile faltered for a microsecond. She recovered quickly.
"Alright, Huaijin, darling. But try to focus. Uncle Yuanfeng needs to concentrate, too, and you’re distracting him," Yuanying said, her tone dripping with gentle, concerned superiority.
"Nonsense, Yuanying," Yuanfeng interjected, completely missing the undercurrent of rivalry. He patted Huaijin’s hair. "She’s my thinking cap. I analyse best when she’s here."
Huaijin hugged his arm tighter. ’One point for Team Clingy Kitten.’
The rehearsal began. Yuanying was technically proficient, hitting all her emotional cues perfectly, but her performance was calculated and detached.
"When you read the ancient inscription, Yuanying, you need to convey the sense of subli wonder at the discovery, not just shock," Yuanfeng coached, already in academic mode.
"Think about the mont the theoretical frawork collapses, and a new reality is established. It should be a mont of pure, transcendent realisation."
Yuanying nodded, attempting to look thoughtful. "I see, Uncle. I will try to visualise a mathematical breakthrough."
Huaijin snorted quietly into her father’s shirt. ’Subli wonder? The girl only understands the subli wonder of a Chanel handbag.’
When it was Huaijin’s turn to read a line, she didn’t just read it; she perford a miniature, intense monologue that perfectly blended the required childlike enthusiasm with an unexpected layer of mature, emotional depth, a skill honed by her past life’s emotional resilience.
"Brilliant, Huaijin! That sense of gravitas was perfect!" Yuanfeng exclaid, beaming, giving her a spontaneous hug that knocked her small head back slightly.
Yuanying watched the exchange, her eyes burning with an almost imperceptible resentnt.
The sight of her uncle praising his daughter’s innate talent over her own practised skill, and the effortless, deep affection between them, grated on the future villainess.
’How would it feel if Daddy also praised as Uncle does to Huaijin every single ti, even for the smallest things?’
She decided to escalate the chaos.
"Uncle Yuanfeng," Yuanying asked sweetly, pausing mid-scene. "May I ask you sothing personal?"
Yuanfeng, still flushed with pride over his daughter’s performance, turned to her. "Of course, dear."
"My Dad told that you are trying to publish a paper soon, but you are very short on funds for the illustrations and printing. Is that true, Uncle?" she asked, batting her innocent eyes.
’Very short on funds? Is that what that guy teaches his children? I’ll make sure to note it down.’
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