No, no, I want it too If Little Hanhan has it, I want it too

At the dining table.

"Wuwuwu, this is too much, Doudou, wuwuwu... How could she do this? How could Little Hanhan be like this? It was just a couple of hugs, wuwuwu... How can she be so petty, wuwuwu..."

Du Wanyi curled up in Shen Ming's arms, crying like a heartbroken child—several hundred months old—her eyes brimming with tears.

Shen Ming: "..."

You call that "a couple of hugs"? She was already acting so brazenly right in front of us. Who knows what would happen if we weren’t here? The kind-hearted old father felt like his head was suddenly tinged with a shade of green.

Sigh...

Fortunately, after switching seats, the young mistress stopped pressuring her old mother.

According to the law of conservation of energy, matter doesn’t just disappear—it merely transforms from one state to another. The pressure on Du Wanyi vanished, only to transfer somewhere else. As for where? Well, isn’t that a tough question to guess?

Ye Cheng: "..."

Well, well, well… Because she was wearing slippers—soft ones at that—Ye Cheng could more keenly feel the shape of the young mistress’s delicate feet. For instance, her toes were like silkworms, bringing him immense joy… or rather, immense fury!

In the end, Mrs. Du couldn’t withstand the pressure from the young mistress and was the first to fall. Their positions were swapped—not because Mrs. Du initiated it, nor because the young mistress suggested it, but because the peacemaker, "Brother Doudou," proposed it.

It gave the mother and daughter a way to save face. Du Wanyi, sniffling and whimpering, ran off to seek comfort from her "Doudou," crying loudly as if to declare to the young mistress: "I have one too, I don’t need yours!" Just like a child throwing a tantrum.

As for Ye Cheng, the moment the young mistress took her new seat, she didn’t say a word—just plop, her foot came down on his, and she hadn’t let up even as the dinner was about to end.

So good… Please, reward me like this every time. It’d be even better if the young mistress wasn’t wearing slippers—just like during the "victory screen."

The pleasant dinner soon came to an end.

There was a small incident—Ye Cheng picked up some food for the young mistress with his chopsticks, only to be met with a sharp glare. Still… she ate it. Though, the foot pressing down on his toes dug in a little harder.

Bliss.

After dinner, with only an hour or two left before the dormitory curfew, Ye Cheng prepared to leave. Now that he had secured the young mistress’s "waiver of liability," there was no reason to stay.

Except… Mrs. Du was reluctant to let him go.

"Wuwuwu, Little Chengcheng, just drop out of school! Big Sis will take care of you, wuwuwu…" Du Wanyi leaned against the doorway, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief she’d seemingly conjured out of nowhere, gazing at Ye Cheng with pitiful reluctance.

Thud!

Du Wanyi was promptly knocked out by the young mistress.

"Little Lan, please take this troublesome old woman back to her room," the young mistress said coolly, her eyes half-lidded as she glanced at the unconscious figure on the floor before turning to the short-haired woman beside her.

The short-haired woman blinked, then quickly nodded. "Yes, Young Mistress!"

With the unreliable lady knocked out, the world instantly quieted down. Nearby, "Brother Doudou"—no, the kind-hearted old father—could only shake his head at the scene.

Ah, children grow up and develop their own thoughts… He felt a twinge of emotion—though it lasted only a few seconds before his gaze met Ye Cheng’s resentful stare, clearly still bitter about being sent to the young mistress’s "execution platform" earlier.

Shen Ming: "..."

"Ahem. Well, Hanhan, I’d like to borrow your friend for a moment," Shen Ming coughed, speaking with an air of seriousness, feeling the need to salvage his dignity.

The young mistress nodded. If it were her kind-hearted old father, there was no need for concern. But if that "troublesome old woman" had suggested "borrowing someone for a moment," she’d have been knocked out with a stick.

And so, with the young mistress’s permission, Ye Cheng was "borrowed" for a private conversation.

By a small fountain not far from the young mistress, Ye Cheng and Shen Ming stood, seemingly deep in discussion.

"Brother Doudou, has anyone ever told you that the words 'loyalty and righteousness' are written all over your face?" Ye Cheng struck first.

Shen Ming took a moment to process that Ye Cheng was mocking his earlier sudden change in attitude. He chuckled awkwardly and shook his head.

"No, you’re the first. Though I’ve heard plenty of people say that about my wife," he added after a moment of thought.

Du Wanyi—loyal and righteous?

It was hard to imagine those two concepts being linked to her. No wonder the young mistress was so cold—with a family famous for their "loyalty and righteousness," it was a miracle she hadn’t turned out the same.

After a brief exchange of "pleasantries" (read: mutual jabs), the two began a proper conversation.

"Hanhan has always been a bit solitary. She never had many friends growing up. Though no one dares to bully her, I hope you’ll take good care of her, Little Cheng."

"Brother Doudou, you’re mistaken. I am the young mistress’s most loyal underling! If I don’t take care of her, who will?" Ye Cheng declared with an exaggerated air of "loyalty," leaving Shen Ming momentarily stunned.

As for the nickname "Brother Doudou," Shen Ming couldn’t really complain—he’d been "Doudou" in the family for years anyway.

It was worth noting that Shen Ming was no match for Du Wanyi—whether in a fair fight or underhanded tactics, he stood no chance. She was simply too strong.

In a way, Du Wanyi was like those martial arts prodigies from ancient times—even with her half-hearted training, she was terrifyingly skilled.

The Du family was influential, and the masters they hired were the real deal—not the charlatans roaming the streets. Of course, no fraud would dare try their luck with the Du family anyway.

Otherwise, they’d quickly learn how "minced meat" was made.

The young mistress was unlucky—she hadn’t inherited her mother’s physique. If anything, she was frailer than most.

"An underling? Heh, you’re an interesting kid. Feel free to visit anytime—even if Hanhan isn’t with you," Shen Ming said with a smile.

Having seen much of the world, Shen Ming quite liked Ye Cheng’s lively yet measured personality. No wonder my daughter took a liking to him—he’s different from the rest.

In the past, Shen Ming and Du Wanyi shared the same worry—that the young mistress might end up alone forever. After all, their daughter’s temperament was… difficult, to say the least. Not just with outsiders, but even with family.

Perhaps that wasn’t what he truly felt in his heart, but his outward demeanor had always been cold and detached—unchanged for so many years. It was rare to see something different today in Ye Cheng, whether good or bad. At least it had stirred a slight change in his daughter, and he hoped it would continue.

“So, Brother Doudou, are you just going to talk the talk?” Ye Cheng blinked, looking at Shen Ming.

Shen Ming paused, slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well… shouldn’t you, uh, show some sincerity?” Ye Cheng rubbed his fingers together, hinting at the universal language of money.

Shen Ming: “…”

This kid was really something—so blunt, not even pretending to be polite. He’s already entrusted his daughter to him, and now he’s eyeing the spare change in his pockets? Unbelievable.

“Don’t look at me. I’m broke too. All the money at home is with Hanhan and her mom. Sigh…” Shen Ming’s voice grew heavier, adopting the classic “down-on-his-luck middle-aged man” vibe.

Ye Cheng shook his head repeatedly. “Wow, Brother Doudou, you’re just as penniless as I thought. Ever seen this? A hundred bucks!”

With that, Ye Cheng pulled out a crumpled red bill from his underwear—still warm from body heat—and waved it proudly. After a quick flash, he carefully tucked it back where it came from, treating it like treasure.

“Don’t worry, Brother Doudou. While this might be an impossible dream for you, for me, it’s just another day. But I believe one day you’ll be as rich as me. Keep fighting!” Ye Cheng patted Shen Ming’s shoulder with an air of exaggerated wisdom.

Shen Ming: “…”

After their chat, Ye Cheng bid farewell to Shen Ming with a wave and jogged off toward the young mistress.

“See you next time, Brother Doudou!”

Soon, Ye Cheng and the young mistress were seated in the back of the Shen family’s black car, leaving the estate behind as they disappeared into the night, headed for school.

“That kid.” Shen Ming chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back.

Halfway down the path, he was “ambushed” by a certain Mrs. Du. Du Wanyi lay sprawled across the walkway, holding a sign that read in bold letters: “This road is mine, these trees are mine. To pass through, pay the toll!”

“Little Mingming, I’m in a really bad mood right now!”

Du Wanyi propped her head up with one hand while pointing accusingly at Shen Ming with the other.

Shen Ming: “…”

Doing a quick mental calculation, he realized it was that time again—time to pay up.

“Doudou, you’d better make me happy today, or else… you know what I’m capable of!” Du Wanyi narrowed her eyes menacingly, making a grabbing motion in the air before slowly clenching her fist.

As if struck by inspiration, she reached into the “pocket dimension” of her cleavage and pulled out a tablet, shoving it in Shen Ming’s face.

“Doudou, I want this!”

On the screen was a photo of Ye Cheng hanging on a balcony—his sculpted muscles, explosive definition, and bulging biceps on full display. Shen Ming sucked in a sharp breath.

This kid looked so bookish—who knew he was built like a warrior?

“Uh, Wanyi, work’s been busy lately. I haven’t had time to work out. Maybe—”

“No maybes! I don’t want to look at a blob! Waaah! I want abs! I want muscles! Little Hanhan gets to feast on this, and I want it too! Waaah! Waaaah!”

Du Wanyi threw a full-blown tantrum, rolling on the ground like a spoiled child, demanding that Shen Ming train until he matched Ye Cheng’s physique.

Wasn’t this just bullying an old man?

Shen Ming: “…”

That kid—even after leaving, he still managed to screw him over…

Meanwhile…

At the luxurious private airport in Great Sea City, a private jet touched down, its exterior adorned with a gleaming golden character:

“XIA!”

24-karat pure gold!

As the plane’s door opened, a pink-haired little gremlin emerged, accompanied by an obnoxiously bratty laugh.

“Nyahahaha~~~”

“Grandpa Niu, I’m heeeere!!!”