Grandfather Chi didn't answer. He merely waved his hand dismissively, gesturing them to leave.
As Yuanfeng carried Huaijin out of the study, the light from the corridor fell across them, a tall, composed man holding a small, tearful girl who buried her face in his shoulder.
Behind them, the old patriarch sat in silence, staring at the empty doorway. His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, his gaze distant. "Stubborn boy," he murmured, though there was a trace of reluctant admiration in his tone.
Outside, Huaijin finally began to calm down, her small voice still trembling. "Daddy… you won't let them take me away, right?"
Yuanfeng smiled, kissing her forehead. "Never. As long as I'm here, no one will."
And as he carried her through the long hallway, the sunlight streaming through the windows caught in her dark lashes and the faint curve of her lips, no longer crying, but holding on tightly to the only person in the world she trusted completely.
***
The long corridor of the Chi ancestral manor stretched before them, its polished floors gleaming under the morning light. Sunbeams filtered through the tall windows, casting dappled patterns on the ancient tapestries hanging along the walls.
Everything looked grand and serene on the surface, yet the air was thick with something unspoken, a tension that clung like invisible smoke.
Chi Yuanfeng carried Huaijin in his arms, the little girl still sniffling softly into his shoulder. Her small fingers gripped his shirt tightly, her face buried in his chest.
The faint scent of his clean cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, even though her heart was still pounding from the earlier confrontation.
He walked slowly, his steps steady and unhurried, as though deliberately ignoring the silent eyes of servants and relatives they passed along the way.
Everyone knew something had happened in the study; word in a household like this always spread faster than fire.
No one dared to ask, of course. They only bowed respectfully, lowering their heads as the father and daughter passed by.
At that moment, Huaijin raised her head slightly. Her eyes, still glistening with tears, caught a flash of crimson from the end of the corridor. Her body stiffened instantly.
The sound of clicking heels echoed from around the corner, graceful, deliberate, and just a touch too loud for morning decorum.
And then, she appeared.
Xu Meilin.
Her long hair was tied in an elegant bun, a few curled strands framing her face perfectly. She wore a fitted red qipao that shimmered faintly under the light, embroidered with golden peonies that seemed to bloom and curl with every movement.
Her smile was painted and perfect, the kind that could charm anyone except the small girl in Yuanfeng's arms.
The moment Huaijin saw her, her whole expression changed. The tearful innocence vanished, replaced by a look of wary disgust that only a child could display so openly.
Her nose scrunched up slightly, and she ducked her head back into her father's shoulder, as if hiding from something unpleasant.
Xu Meilin, of course, noticed this. Her smile faltered for a brief second, but she quickly composed herself.
"Oh my, Yuanfeng," she said in a sweet, airy tone that didn't match the calculating gleam in her eyes, "you're already leaving? I just spoke with Uncle Chi; he was hoping to have another word with you before you go."
Yuanfeng stopped walking but didn't turn around immediately. He adjusted Huaijin slightly in his arms before finally facing her. His expression was calm, polite, but distant.
"Good morning, Meilin," he said evenly. "If Father has something to say, I'll call him later. Huaijin isn't feeling well."
Xu Meilin tilted her head slightly, feigning concern. "Oh dear… is she sick? Poor thing. Maybe she caught a chill last night. You really should let the manor doctor take a look."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Huaijin, who was still hiding her face, and she smiled again, a thin, saccharine smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"You know, I've always admired how much you care for her, Yuanfeng. You're such a gentle father. But sometimes," her voice lowered just slightly, "too much gentleness can make a child weak."
That did it.
Before Yuanfeng could respond, a small, muffled voice came from his shoulder.
"I'm not weak," Huaijin mumbled, her voice trembling slightly but full of defiance. "And I don't like you."
The corridor fell silent for a heartbeat.
Xu Meilin's expression froze, the smile on her lips faltering before she forced it back, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of irritation.
"Children say such funny things," she said, chuckling awkwardly. "You really mustn't take it to heart."
But Huaijin wasn't finished. She lifted her head slightly and looked directly at her with that sharp, innocent honesty that could slice deeper than any insult.
"You smell bad, Aunty," she said seriously. "Like fake flowers."
Yuanfeng's lips twitched, the faintest shadow of amusement flashing across his usually calm features.
While Luo Ming, who had been waiting discreetly a few paces behind, turned away to cough into his fist to hide a laugh.
Xu Meilin's smile finally cracked. Her eyes darkened, though she quickly tried to compose herself again.
"Oh dear," she murmured, her voice dripping with sweetness, "it seems little Huaijin doesn't like me much. But I suppose that's only natural for a child who hasn't learned how to respect her elders yet."
Yuanfeng's expression cooled. "You're not her elder," he said flatly, his tone cutting through the air like a blade sheathed in silk. "And if I recall correctly, I never asked you to involve yourself in our family matters."
Xu Meilin's composure wavered. "I'm only concerned, Yuanfeng. After all, your father and I—"
He interrupted her without raising his voice. "My father's concerns are his own. And mine are standing right here in my arms."
The look he gave her was calm, dangerously calm, but it carried a weight that made even Xu Meilin hesitate. For a moment, she couldn't find her words.