February 25th, Ye Xixi's fifth birthday.
Today, Xia Weiyi intentionally wore a red dress, with a white mink shawl draped over her shoulders. Her black wavy hair cascaded down to her waist. At twenty-six years of age, she looked both serene and elegant.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, on the lush green lawn, Little Xixi held a small silver pistol, dressed in a velvet tracksuit, her tiny body standing very straight.
Ye Che stood behind her, circling his daughter's shoulders from behind, holding her small, soft hand.
"When you pull the trigger, keep your arm straight, wrist steady, aim directly at the target, and shoot decisively!" he instructed. "Bang—," the bullet hit the bullseye!
Little Xixi excitedly waved her hands and feet: "Daddy, I hit it, Xixi hit it!"
Ye Che rubbed his daughter's forehead indulgently, saying, "How many did you shoot yesterday?"
