A Little Trick, the Scumbag Dad Can’t Hold the Knife After Understanding Love

When Da Gen was about two years old, a heavy snowfall made foraging for food difficult. It was around the time some mayor—no one remembers which—took office and arranged for food distribution to struggling citizens. Even notorious places like Liuxing Street weren’t overlooked.

The wretched neighborhood was uncharacteristically lively, with nearly everyone turning out.

Ji Tingzhou held Da Gen’s leash, keeping an eye out for pickpockets as they waited in line.

The person handing out food was a kind-faced woman. Seeing how small Ji Tingzhou was, with a dog by his side, something about him moved her, and she secretly slipped him an extra potato.

But that very potato led to Ji Tingzhou getting ambushed on the way home. He was beaten up, and all the food was stolen.

Shielding his head, Ji Tingzhou glared at his attackers with wolf-like intensity, his dark green eyes burning their faces into memory.

Empty-handed and bruised, the boy and his dog trudged back home, heads drooping.

Then, suddenly, Da Gen noticed something. Barking excitedly, he dashed toward a usually picked-clean trash bin and started tugging at a snow-covered, straw-yellow object.

"You like this?"

Ji Tingzhou brushed off the snow, revealing a bald, grimy plastic doll in a dirty dress, its scalp partially exposed.

Da Gen gently licked the doll, wagging his tail eagerly at his young master.

"Then we’ll take it."

Though they’d lost their food, Da Gen had gained his first-ever toy.

To celebrate, Ji Tingzhou tracked down one of the thieves who’d robbed him, sneaked into their home at night, and cleaned them out.

From then on, the doll became Da Gen’s only toy. No matter where they moved, he carried it with him.

Until the day Ji Tingzhou was taken back to the Ji Family, and the doll was thrown away like trash.

Da Gen lay heartbroken in his arms, eyelids heavy.

Back then, Ji Tingzhou vowed that once he had money, he’d buy Da Gen an identical doll.

Little did he know that childhood wish would become a lifelong regret. Like the doll, Da Gen was gone forever—never to be found again.

The memory faded.

Ji Tingzhou didn’t go into detail, only telling Ji Nian that the doll resembled one his old dog had loved.

Ji Nian’s eyes lit up in realization. "Ah, Uncle Da Gen!"

She’d heard about him from Wei Yang and Zhiliao.

【The Princess’s White Moonlight】

Ji Tingzhou at the title: "……"

Must we personify him?

"Let’s bring it to him when we go back. He’ll love it—after all, it’s from Dad."

Ji Nian swung their clasped hands playfully.

Ji Tingzhou froze.

Da Gen’s grave lay at the far end of the Ji Family estate, holding a single bone—the only remnant Ji Tingzhou had later salvaged from the kennels where Ji Yanzhen bred his hunting dogs.

"...Okay."

Softening, Ji Tingzhou ruffled the child’s hair.

They arrived at the fireworks show, reuniting with Shen Qingtang and her grandparents.

Because of Ji Tingzhou, they’d chosen a higher, less crowded spot with a mediocre view but fresh air.

"Ji Nian, look! It’s starting!"

"Kids, over here! Three, two, one—smile for the camera!" Grandpa Shen called.

As fireworks streaked the sky, Ji Nian and Shen Qingtang turned toward the lens—just as Ji Nian yanked Ji Tingzhou into frame.

The moment froze in a snapshot.

Back home, Shen Qingtang went straight to bed, drowsy.

Grandma Shen accompanied her, the pair linking arms affectionately as they left.

Zhiliao updated Ji Tingzhou and Ji Nian about Old Master Chen’s back injury.

Grandpa Shen excused himself to "organize photos," fleeing the scene.

Ji Tingzhou raised a brow.

Ji Nian, however, asked, "Did a doctor check him? Is he okay?"

"Was Uncle Chen Mo informed?"

Elderly bones were fragile.

Zhiliao nodded. "The doctor said it’s fine—just needs rest."

"Chen Mo already came by. Left once he confirmed it wasn’t serious."

(Though he’d moved oddly, legs unsteady, like he’d overexerted himself. Zhiliao kept that detail to herself.)

Relieved, Ji Nian paused.

W​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‍ait.

If his back was hurt, wouldn’t that mean…

Old Master Chen was stuck here for now?

She exchanged a glance with Ji Tingzhou.

He read her instantly: "Send him to Chen Mo’s."

Filial piety wasn’t his duty.

Zhiliao said the old man insisted he’d return home tomorrow unaided.

Ji Nian doubted that—how, with a bad back? Still, out of courtesy, she went upstairs to check on him.

"Grandma."

She met Old Lady Chen at the door.

"Knew you’d be back around now!" Grandma beamed, hugging her and ushering her inside.

"Don’t worry about your grandpa’s back. The doctor said he’ll recover in a few days." She patted Ji Nian’s head.

From the bed, Old Master Chen snorted.

Ji Nian side-eyed him. Was it her imagination, or were his eyes slightly red?

Had it hurt enough to make him cry?

She was shook.

Old Lady Chen followed her gaze and chuckled. "He got weepy missing his daughter. Crying at his age!"

Her tone turned wistful at "daughter."

Ji Nian nodded. "Uncle showed me Mom’s photos. She was gorgeous."

Grandma brightened at her bringing up Chen Yueling.

Old Master Chen cut in: "Of course! A beauty since birth—took after me!"

Ji Nian pondered. "I think she looked more like Grandma."

Old Lady Chen cackled. "Finally, someone with eyes!"

Her laugh was improbably robust for a grandma.

The old man sulked, immobilized but indignant. "You green-eyed brat! Where’s the resemblance to her? Look closer—she’s my spitting image!"

Oddly, this was their first proper conversation.

When his gaze met Ji Nian’s, lingering on her slight curls, something clenched in his chest.

Ji Nian bore no facial resemblance to Chen Yueling, yet her dark green eyes held traces of his daughter’s spirit.

Ji Nian tilted her head, stepped closer, and scrutinized him. Then she nodded.

Thinking she’d conceded, he prepped a smug grunt—until she declared:

"Still not seeing it."

"Mom’s nose hairs were polite. They never stuck out."

Old Master Chen instinctively sniffed. "……"