On the fourth morning of Qiu Chen's stay in Haishan, the kinship test results between him and Little Tong came out, confirming their biological relationship.
This outcome was hardly surprising—after all, Little Tong was Qiu Sheng’s biological daughter, and Qiu Chen was Qiu Sheng’s older brother. By that logic, Qiu Chen was bound to share a blood tie with Little Tong.
Both Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng had anticipated the test results.
What they hadn’t expected, however, was how quickly Qiu Chen would embrace his new role.
Four days ago, he had worn a string of soapberry beads to ward off the "little devil" that was Little Tong. Now, he was already grooming her as the future heir of the Qiu family.
Qiu Chen personally taught her basic skills like counting, the English alphabet, and pinyin, but it wasn’t enough. Over breakfast, he suddenly declared:
"I’ll have my secretary hire a private tutor for Little Tong. She needs a structured education."
Little Tong set down her silicone spoon and stared pleadingly at Zhong Jin. The mention of more studying made even her puppy-shaped rice lose its appeal.
Zhong Jin shot their daughter a sympathetic glance and cleared his throat.
"Uh, Brother, I don’t think a tutor is necessary. She’s still in kindergarten, and our place is too small anyway. Having a stranger around would make everyone uncomfortable. At her age, she should just enjoy playing."
Qiu Chen pondered for a moment, conceding the point.
"The apartment *is* cramped. How about this—I’ll buy you a bigger place. Haishan’s property prices are reasonable; we could get a villa outright. Alternatively, my second proposal: I take Little Tong back to Jing City and raise her properly."
The offer of a villa was undeniably tempting.
But Zhong Jin had seen the light fade from Little Tong’s eyes these past two days under the weight of studying. He couldn’t bring himself to trade her childhood happiness for a bigger house.
"Little Tong isn’t going to Jing City. She needs to grow up with her parents," Zhong Jin said firmly.
"And Brother, if you want an heir, you should have your own child. Stop eyeing *my* daughter. Little Tong is *our* child—Qiu Sheng’s and mine. All we want is for her to be healthy and happy."
Qiu Chen turned to Qiu Sheng. "You agree with this?"
Qiu Sheng nodded. "Yeah. Zhong Jin and I are on the same page."
With a dismissive wave, Qiu Chen revealed the domineering, unyielding side of a corporate tycoon:
"I’ve set my mind on *this* child. She *will* be raised as the Qiu heir."
Little Tong covered her head and groaned. "Ugh, save me!"
Under the relentless academic pressure of Qiu Chen’s "no-mercy" approach, Little Tong made a desperate decision. She volunteered:
"I want to go to *kindergarten*."
Zhong Jin knew things had gotten bad when even *kindergarten* sounded like an escape.
But there was worse news. "Today’s Saturday. No kindergarten."
Little Tong’s jaw dropped in dismay.
Feeling sorry for her, Zhong Jin waited until Qiu Chen stepped onto the balcony to make a call, then "kidnapped" Little Tong for an outing.
After the covert rescue, Qiu Chen returned to the living room.
His eyes swept the space before landing on Qiu Sheng, who was curled on the couch scrolling through her phone. "Where’s Little Tong?"
"Zhong Jin took her out," Qiu Sheng replied without looking up.
Qiu Chen clicked his tongue. "He’s spoiling her. That child’s future is ruined."
Qiu Sheng set her phone down and sat upright, hands on her knees. "Brother, you’re overstepping. Little Tong is *our* daughter. Zhong Jin and I decide how to raise her. *We’re* her parents."
Qiu Chen fixed her with a dark stare.
"Hmph."
"*You* were the ones who invited me here. Who asked me to lie, to claim the child was born while our parents were traveling in Europe?"
"Did it ever occur to you that when Mom and Dad find out you had a baby behind their backs—and that *I* helped hide it for *three years*—they’ll take their anger out on *me*?"
"You’re their daughter; they’d never hit you. Meanwhile, I’d be lucky to survive with half my life left."
The more he spoke, the guiltier Qiu Sheng felt.
He wasn’t wrong. Their parents *would* blame Qiu Chen too.
Seeing her remorse, Qiu Chen pressed his advantage—the classic guilt-trip maneuver.
Keeping his expression stern, he added, "Did you expect me to shoulder this burden for free?"
Qiu Sheng: "..."
Qiu Chen: "Little Tong *is* the future heir of the Qiu family. End of discussion."
A seasoned negotiator, Qiu Chen effortlessly outmaneuvered Qiu Sheng in their verbal sparring. With a few sharp remarks, he dismissed her objections and strode out to make another call, utterly unruffled.
Qiu Sheng faintly heard him say to the person on the phone, “I won’t be returning to Jing City for now. Come to Haishan instead and bring the documents that need my signature.”
The other person said something in response, though she couldn’t make it out.
Qiu Chen continued, “Yes, there’s something important here that needs handling—it’s related to the group’s long-term strategic development. A long-term plan, you could say.”
Qiu Sheng buried her face in a throw pillow, silently mourning Little Tong’s unfortunate future.
*
Little Tong, unaware that she had already been officially incorporated into the Qiu Group’s strategic development plan—a *long-term* one at that—was currently carefree, tagging along with Zhong Jin to a shooting club for some fun.
Since she couldn’t enter the shooting range, she had to watch Zhong Jin practice through the glass.
Dressed in sleek black athletic wear, Zhong Jin wore noise-canceling earmuffs and protective goggles, gripping his pistol with one hand.
His weapon of choice for target practice was the Beretta M9.
Previously, the club hadn’t stocked this particular model, but after paying extra and waiting a month, the owner had managed to source one for him through special channels.
After the incident involving his family, Zhong Jin had struggled with severe psychological trauma for a while and couldn’t bring himself to touch a gun again.
In a way, he and Qiu Sheng faced similar challenges.
For the sake of her child, Qiu Sheng had pushed past her mental barriers, stepping out confidently, exercising daily, determined to become a mother her child could rely on.
And Zhong Jin? For the sake of *his* child, he had picked up a pistol again.
If, after a year, Little Tong chose to live with Qiu Sheng, Zhong Jin would immediately apply to return to active duty in Jing City—so he had to start training now.
As long as he could transfer back to Jing City, he’d still be able to live in the same city as Little Tong, ensuring he could spend more time with her.
This practice session didn’t go smoothly. His performance was lackluster, and as he walked out of the shooting range, he caught a faint trace of disdain in the coach’s eyes.
Zhong Jin knew exactly what the coach was thinking—here was a man wielding the finest gun in the club, with textbook-perfect form and an intimidating presence, yet his results were embarrassingly poor.
But Zhong Jin didn’t care. For him, the mere fact that he’d fired a single bullet today was a victory.
Little Tong, wearing fluffy cat-ear earmuffs, stood waiting at the entrance of the shooting range. The moment she saw Zhong Jin step out, she immediately raised both thumbs, shaking her head excitedly as she cheered:
“Dad, you’re *one hundred percent* amazing!”
Zhong Jin reached out to adjust her crooked cat ears before bending down to scoop up the chubby child.
The club had a shop selling shooting-themed merchandise, and Zhong Jin took Little Tong inside to browse. He’d assumed the dark, mechanical aesthetic wouldn’t appeal to a child.
But Little Tong’s eyes widened with fascination at everything, and in the end, she even begged Zhong Jin to buy her a toy pistol.
He refused without hesitation. “Kids shouldn’t play with these. You’ll scare people if you take it outside.”
Little Tong obediently held Zhong Jin’s hand as they walked out.
When he said she couldn’t have a gun, she didn’t throw a tantrum. Instead, she cupped a hand over her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, “Dad, I already *have* a gun.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Little Tong extended her tiny hand, thumb raised, index and middle fingers pressed together like a barrel, and pointed it at Zhong Jin. “Look at me.”
Zhong Jin lowered his gaze.
Little Tong dramatically wiggled her “gun” and added sound effects: “*Biu~*”
Zhong Jin clutched his chest in exaggerated pain. “Ah! I’ve been shot!”
She immediately retracted her hand, shaking his arm in concern. “It’s fake! You won’t feel any pain!”
Then she insisted he pick her up again, pressing her little palm anxiously against his chest as she mumbled, “It really won’t hurt…”
Seeing how worried she was, Zhong Jin stopped teasing her. “It really doesn’t hurt. You didn’t hit me.”
Little Tong balled her fist and punched his shoulder. “You *lied* to me.”
This time, it actually hurt. Zhong Jin winced. “Since when did this puppy paw get so strong?”
After leaving the shooting range, Little Tong still refused to go home, demanding they go for hot pot instead.
The weather was perfect for it—chilly, with a light drizzle and overcast skies.
Zhong Jin strapped Little Tong into the child seat, only to realize it seemed a bit too small now—the chubby little girl nearly spilled out of it.
“Have you gained weight? Why does the seat feel smaller?” Zhong Jin asked.
Little Tong calmly shook her head. “Nope. It’s just ’cause I’m wearing too many layers. Don’t blame me—hurry up and call Mom so we can go eat hot pot!”
Zhong Jin pinched the soft little cheeks on either side of her face. “Fine.”
After calling Qiu Sheng, he drove to the neighborhood’s entrance to pick them up. He’d mentioned on the phone that Qiu Sheng should bring Qiu Chen along, but only Qiu Sheng emerged from the complex.
She slid into the passenger seat, and Zhong Jin glanced behind her. “Where’s your brother?”
Qiu Sheng waved a hand dismissively. “Just us. We’re not taking him.”
“That’s not very nice,” Zhong Jin said—but he’d already pressed the gas pedal, speeding away before Qiu Chen could catch up.
Qiu Sheng leaned back against the seat and let out a weary sigh:
“I’ll just pack something for him later. If he comes along, he’ll definitely start asking, ‘How do you say beef in English? How do you say vegetables in English? The beef costs two dollars, the veggies one dollar—do you know how much that adds up to?’ Poor Little Tong wouldn’t even get to eat in peace.”
Little Tong clamped her hands over her cat-ear earmuffs, her big head shaking like a rattle drum. “Don’t say it, don’t say it!”
Qiu Sheng turned and gently patted her little bun. “You’ve suffered so much, sweetheart.”
Zhong Jin, hands on the steering wheel, suddenly remembered the conversation with Qiu Chen before they left: “But your brother said he’d buy us a villa.”
Qiu Sheng fell silent.
Zhong Jin: “I acted too hastily this morning. I shouldn’t have refused so quickly.”
Qiu Sheng: “Now that I think about it, even if we don’t take the villa, Qiu Chen will keep pushing Little Tong.”
“Might as well take the villa then.”
“Makes sense.”
Little Tong covered her head in panic. “No, no!”
