The sunlight crept slowly across the room, bathing them both in a soft glow.
For the first time in a long, long while, across both lives, Chi Huaijin felt peace.
***
The days that followed were wrapped in sunlight.
In their little apartment, an old building tucked in a quiet street near the edge of the city, Chi Huaijin's laughter finally filled the once-lonely rooms. Morning light poured through the thin curtains, soft and warm, casting a golden haze over the whitewashed walls. The faint aroma of rice porridge and steamed buns lingered from breakfast. Her father, Chi Yuanfeng, moved around the narrow kitchen with rolled-up sleeves, his tall frame looking slightly awkward in the small space.
For the first time in her lifetime, Chi Huaijin could feel what it truly meant to live.
Her father wasn't a distant shadow or a blurred memory anymore. He was right here, his presence so tangible she could almost count the faint pulse of warmth radiating from him when he leaned down to tie the strings of her apron.
"Don't stand so close to the stove," he chided lightly, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You'll burn your little hands again."
Huaijin blinked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening. "Then I'll stay here and stir for you instead!"
Her tiny hands gripped the wooden spoon with all her might, trying to imitate his movements. The porridge splashed slightly, and Yuanfeng chuckled, quickly taking over before it could spill.
Watching him, Huaijin's heart swelled, a bittersweet warmth spreading through her chest.
'He's smiling again… Father is smiling.'
In her past life, such mornings were rare. After being cast out by the Chi family, Yuanfeng's pride and exhaustion carved deep lines into his face. He spent years struggling to raise her alone, juggling jobs and debts, yet never once did he complain in her presence. But she had been too caught up in her own frustrations, too blind to see how much he sacrificed for her.
Now, seeing him laugh at her clumsy stirring, she could hardly hold back her tears.
If she could, she would have frozen this moment forever.
Days bled into each other softly. They would go shopping in the nearby market, where the vendors already knew Yuanfeng as "the young single dad with the adorable daughter." Huaijin would hold his hand tightly as they strolled through rows of fruit stalls. He'd occasionally stop to buy her an extra bun or a small toy, pretending it was nothing, though she could see the way his ears turned red when she grinned at him in delight.
Every evening, they would sit on the old couch, he reading a newspaper, she pretending to read along, while the hum of the old refrigerator filled the silence. It was an ordinary life, but it was theirs.
For Huaijin, this peace felt like a miracle.
'If I could stay like this forever… just Father and me, that would be enough.'
But destiny was never kind to those who dared to wish for permanence.
It was on a Thursday evening, the sky bruised with the last shades of sunset, when their fragile peace cracked.
Yuanfeng had just finished washing the dishes. Huaijin sat cross-legged on the couch, coloring with her small box of crayons, humming an off-key tune. The faint smell of detergent lingered in the air when the shrill ring of the phone broke the calm.
Riiiing— riiiiing—
The old landline rarely rang. Only the school or the clinic ever called.
Yuanfeng wiped his wet hands and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
Huaijin glanced up, sensing something different in his tone, the faint stiffness in his voice.
A pause followed. Then his expression changed. from calm to tense.
"Daddy?"
Her crayon slipped slightly, leaving a smear of red on the paper.
Yuanfeng's knuckles turned white around the receiver. His voice lowered, steady but strained. "Yes… I understand." Another pause. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed hard. "I'll come back tomorrow morning."
He hung up.
Silence fell.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, his back turned to her. The weight in the air pressed down on the small apartment, heavy and suffocating.
"Daddy…?" Huaijin's small voice trembled.
Yuanfeng turned around slowly. His expression was complicated and calm, but his eyes were shadowed with something unspoken.
"That was from the manor," he finally said. "Your grandfather wants me to come back."
The word Manor carried a faint chill. Even as a child, Chi Huaijin could sense it, that invisible divide between their cozy apartment and that grand, suffocating world her father came from.
That night, dinner tasted like nothing.
Huaijin watched as her father silently ate, his chopsticks moving absently. Every so often, he would glance at her and smile, as though trying to reassure her, but his eyes betrayed a quiet anxiety.
In her past life, she had long forgotten this specific evening. But now that she lived through it again, memories resurfaced like fragments of broken glass.
Yes, it was around this time, her father had been summoned by the Chi family. She remembered how, back then, she had been too young to understand. He had gone to the manor and returned late at night, looking pale and grim. And the next day, their peaceful life began to crumble.
Now, knowing what was to come, Chi Huaijin's little hands tightened on the edge of her bowl.
She didn't want history to repeat itself.
When she was finally tucked into bed, the moonlight spilling across her blanket, she couldn't sleep.
Through the crack of her bedroom door, she saw her father sitting at the table, staring at an old family photo, one of those formal ones taken before his exile from the Chi Manor. His jaw was tight, and his shoulders drooped under invisible weight.
Her father was a proud man. He rarely spoke about his past, but she had pieced together enough to understand: it was the Chi family.