CHAPTER 48: MOON CAKE FACTORY!

"Chi Huaijin," Yuanying called out, hands on her hips, "why are you always sticking so close to Song Jue? Don’t think he likes you just because you sit beside him!"

The other kids gasped.

Huaijin blinked, tilting her head innocently. "I didn’t say he likes me."

"Then why are you sitting beside him?"

"Because the teacher told me to," Huaijin said flatly, as if explaining basic physics. "Do you want me to fight the teacher over a chair?"

Yuanying’s lips trembled. "N-No—"

"Then stop being weird," Huaijin concluded, patting her head like one would a lost puppy before walking off with her lunchbox swinging.

Behind her, the other kids snorted. Yuanying’s face puffed red like a tomato.

It wasn’t that Huaijin wanted to pick fights, really. But she’d lived a whole life before this. She’d fought monster-like humans and survived betrayal; she wasn’t about to lose to an eight-year-old kiddo with too many hair clips.

After school, her father would come to pick her up, always five minutes early, and with a patient smile.

Other kids had chauffeurs or maids waiting for them. Huaijin had Yuanfeng, in his slightly wrinkled shirt and kind eyes, waving like she was the most precious thing in the world.

She’d skip into his arms, pretending she wasn’t checking if he looked tired, if he’d eaten, or if he had dark circles under his eyes.

"How was school, sweetheart?" he’d ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Boring," she’d answer. "Yuanying’s IQ is still low, and Liang Lingzhi’s skills need work."

"...Those are your classmates, not test subjects," Yuanfeng said, amused. "Maybe you should be nicer."

"I’m being nice," Huaijin insisted. "I didn’t throw sand at them."

"...Progress, I suppose."

One evening, as they walked home, the sky painted gold and pink, Huaijin risked asking what she’d been afraid to.

"Daddy, did Grandpa call you recently?"

Yuanfeng paused mid-step. "No. Why?"

"Nothing."

That single word carried enough bitterness to flavor an entire pot of herbal medicine.

Huaijin despised going to the Chi estate. Not because of Grandpa Chi himself, who was strict but fair, but because of her.

That woman, Xu Meilin.

That witch with a squid-like face. The delusional peacock who thought batting her lashes at Yuanfeng would somehow make her look appealing.

Huaijin’s lips curled in disgust just thinking about it.

That woman had once clung to her father’s arm like a desperate barnacle, simpering in her sugary voice, "Oh, Yuanfeng, you look so tired, I made you some tonic soup~"

Soup? Please.

If poisoned ego had a smell, that was it.

Even now, the mere idea of her father being around Xu Meilin made Huaijin want to hiss like an angry cat.

In her past life, that woman had constantly interfered, whispering things in Grandpa Chi’s ear, trying to convince him that Yuanfeng was "too idealistic" and should focus on "family stability." Which translated to: ’marry me so I can freeload off your genius.’

Well, that was then. This time, it’s not happening, not in life... no, not even again.

"Daddy," she said suddenly, gripping his sleeve, "if someone like that old witch auntie Xu tries to get close to you, can you promise me something?"

He blinked, startled. "Xu Meilin? How do you even know that name?"

"...I heard Grandpa say it once."

A lie, of course. She’d heard it hundreds of times, in gossip, in memories, and in regrets.

Yuanfeng chuckled lightly. "Well, you don’t need to worry about that, my little one. Adults have their own way of dealing with things."

"No," Huaijin said seriously, her eyes sharp in a way no child’s should be. "Promise me you’ll stay away from her. She’s... bad for you."

Well, she can’t start cursing out that witch all of a sudden, or else Yuanfeng might faint from the shock.

Yuanfeng’s smile faltered slightly, but he didn’t press. Instead, he crouched down, looking at her with that gentle patience only he possessed.

"Alright," he said softly. "I promise."

Huaijin exhaled in relief, though deep down, she knew that promises didn’t stop fate.

That’s why she needed money.

If she has enough money and influence around her, not just that old witch, every woman would think a hundred times before sneaking a glance at her father!

*

*

*

That night, Huaijin sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by crayons, paper, and the seriousness of a CEO in crisis.

She needed to prevent her father from becoming Song Jue’s teacher in the future. To do that, she had to make sure he never reached the point of financial desperation.

And that meant she needed to start earning income.

"Alright," she muttered, scribbling in her notebook. "Operation Save Daddy starts now!"

She drew a crooked chart:

Make money.

Keep Daddy from working too much.

Prevent tragic death.

Live happily ever after.

Simple. Efficient. Flawless!

The only problem? She was a five-year-old.

Her job prospects were... limited.

After much deliberation (and a small nap), she came up with a few ideas:

Option A: Sell her handmade mooncakes. (Cute but seasonal.)

Option B: Offer tutoring services. (She was smarter than half her classmates anyway.)

Option C: Become a child influencer. (Her father would have a heart attack.)

Option D: Blackmail the rich brats at school. (Morally questionable, but tempting.)

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, humming.

Maybe Option A was the most practical.

The Mid-Autumn Festival was coming up, after all. Her kindergarten was holding a small fair where students could bring handmade goods. She could make mooncakes with her father and sell them for pocket money, no, for future investment capital!

She’d call it: "Sweet Moon Project."

"Daddy always says, small steps lead to big success," Huaijin whispered with a proud nod.

She didn’t notice Yuanfeng standing by the door, holding a cup of warm milk and smiling softly as he watched her.

Later that night, after Huaijin had fallen asleep at her desk with crayon smudges on her cheek, Yuanfeng sighed and tucked her in.

He picked up her childish notes from the floor, doodles of him wearing a crown labeled "Best Daddy Ever", and lists like "Things I’ll buy when I’m rich: 1. A house 2. Mooncake factory 3. Anti-Xu-Meilin shield."

He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"Ah, Huaijin," he murmured, brushing her hair aside. "You’re too smart for your own good."

He didn’t know where she learned such determination, or why she sometimes looked at him with the eyes of someone who had seen too much of the world.

But one thing he knew for certain: as long as she was smiling, he could bear anything.

***

The next morning, her resolve renewed, Huaijin walked into class ready to conquer the world.

Unfortunately, the world had other plans for her.

Yuanying and Liang Lingzhi were whispering in the corner again, shooting her looks.

Oh great.

What now?

As she sat down beside Song Jue, the boy turned to her, frowning slightly.

"You’ve got something on your cheek."

"Huh?"

Before she could react, he leaned over and wiped the faint crayon smudge off her face with his thumb.

The classroom collectively gasped.

’It’s fine if it’s just the girls, why were those boys acting like they saw a ghost?’

Yuanying’s jaw dropped in shock, while Liang Lingzhi looked ready to explode.

Huaijin blinked blankly. "...What are you doing?"

"Crayon," Song Jue said simply, going back to his notebook as if he hadn’t just triggered World War III.

Huaijin sighed. "Great. Now they’re going to think we’re dating or something."

"Dating?" Song Jue looked confused. "I’m eight, and you’re five."

"Exactly."

She groaned, dropping her forehead on the desk.

"Note to self," she mumbled, "next time, sit beside the class goldfish instead."

Even with all her teasing and exaggerated frustrations, Huaijin’s determination never wavered.

Every laugh she shared, every mooncake she baked, every coin she saved, it all carried the weight of her secret vow.

No one else knew that behind her mischievous grin was a ticking mind constantly planning how to outwit fate.

She had a goal, and she wasn’t going to let destiny, "protagonists," or even cosmic plotlines stand in her way.

*

*

*

To Yuanfeng, it was... frankly adorable.

How serious his daughter was, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug with her chubby cheeks puffed up in concentration, surrounded by scattered crayons, colorful sticky notes, and a calculator she probably didn’t even know how to use properly.

He leaned casually against the doorway, watching her tiny figure as she muttered to herself with that look of intense focus, the kind of look he wore in meetings when dealing with multi-million-dollar mergers.

The only difference was that she was drawing a crooked mooncake factory on paper.

He had to bite his tongue to stop a laugh from escaping.

"Hmm... If I sell one mooncake for five yuan, and I sell one hundred mooncakes..." she mumbled, furrowing her brows so hard it was like the math itself was a sworn enemy. "Then that’s... five hundred yuan! Wahaha, I’ll be rich! Daddy can retire!"