Tiny Human Care Guide ✨ 4-in-1 · Chat

The little one has a fever. It's not a serious illness—just a cold from the changing seasons. The doctor visited and said two days of medicine would do the trick. However, the "Beast Squad" group chat hasn't stopped buzzing since seven in the morning. Snow Peak: Who covered him with the blanket? He kicked it three times last night. Honey Jar: I covered him four times. You were the one kicking. Little Su Doesn't Want to Fix Vases: He woke up once in the middle of the night coughing. I poured him some warm water and he finished it. No Cold-Blooded Animals Allowed: Body temperature is 38.1°C, down 0.4 from last night. The medicine is in the second drawer of the kitchen; take after meals. Do not take on an empty stomach. Fang Tingxue didn't go to the office today. He had his laptop spread out on the coffee table, the video conference on mute, glancing toward the bedroom every ten minutes. The little one was curled up on the sofa—a small one He Rong had specially made for him, the size and armrest height just right for him to lean on while looking out the window. Su Yan had repurposed an old blanket of A-Ying's into a shawl, grey and black with a crooked little flower embroidered in the corner. The little one wore it, a literacy book Lu Chen'an bought spread across his knees, but he wasn't reading it. He was looking at Fang Tingxue. "Big brother, your meeting is on mute." "I know." "That person's mouth keeps moving." "Let it move." He Rong brought a bowl of honey-stewed pears from the kitchen, crouching down level with the sofa. "For your cough. It's not hot." The little one took the bowl, holding it with both hands, took a sip, and his eyes lit up. He Rong stood up satisfied and went back to the kitchen to continue kneading dough. As he passed the coffee table, he casually refilled Fang Tingxue's coffee cup—the movement was light, and he didn't say a word. Su Yan didn't go to the studio until the afternoon today. He specifically stayed for three extra hours in the morning, putting away all the sharp tools on the restoration table and clearing out a clean, padded area. "Just in case he wants to come play at the studio," he explained to He Rong. He Rong said your studio is a forty-minute drive from here, and he replied, "Just in case." Lu Chen'an arrived after lunch. He was supposed to have a pre-trial conference today but pushed it back. His reason for entering was valid enough—"Delivering medicine." But he pulled more than just medicine out of his briefcase. There was a new literacy book, a children's puzzle set, and a document titled "Supplementary Provisions on the Joint Guardian Rotation System (Draft)". Fang Tingxue glanced at the thickness of the document: "Are you treating the four of us like a corporation?" Lu Chen'an placed the document on the coffee table: "Yes." The little one poked his head out from the sofa, looking at the four people in the living room. Fang Tingxue sat on the rug, his laptop closed, his tail resting on the edge of the sofa. He Rong came out of the kitchen with a plate of freshly baked honey cookies. Su Yan sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, a restoration catalog spread on his knees. Lu Chen'an was in the only armchair by the window, glasses pushed up to his forehead, reading He Rong's woodworking catalog with his bare eyes. He thought for a moment, then slid down from the sofa, clutching the grey-black shawl, and walked to the very center of the rug. Then he pulled He Rong's tail over to use as a backrest, dragged Fang Tingxue's tail over to cover his legs, and placed the tip of Su Yan's tail in his palm—that tuft of white fur was his favorite to touch. Then he looked up at Lu Chen'an. Lu Chen'an didn't have a tail. He thought about it and handed over the literacy book in his hand. "I don't know this word." Lu Chen'an put down the woodworking catalog and put on his glasses. "Which one." In the woods outside the window, the stream was still flowing. When He Rong built the wooden house, he hung a small wooden sign at the door with nothing written on it. Fang Tingxue had asked, "Who is this sign for?" and He Rong said he didn't know, he'd wait and see later. Later, one day, Su Yan brought a fine-tipped brush used for repairing porcelain. Lu Chen'an wrote four characters. Fang Tingxue hung it up. The wooden sign still hangs there now, each character written by a different person— "Someone is home."