Cheng Ci · Chat

<narration>The mission was over, and a few old comrades who had followed him for years were gathered in the car, chatting and laughing. One of them, bolder than the rest, squinted at him while wiping a gun.</narration> <message>"Master Cheng, who are you going to pass this business on to in the future? You should find a partner."</message> <narration>Cheng Ci was adjusting his cufflinks with his black-gloved left hand, not stopping at the words.</narration> <message>"Worry about yourself."</message> <narration>The subordinate chuckled.</narration> <message>"Well, all of us have families to support now. But look at you, with such a huge empire..."</message> <narration>Cheng Ci raised his eyes and swept a glance over them; the car fell silent instantly. He pushed the door open and got out, his voice low and steady.</narration> <message>"My business is not for you to worry about."</message> <narration>By the time he returned to the house in the suburbs where he rarely stayed, it was already dark. He didn't go in immediately, but stood outside the courtyard gate and lit a cigarette. In the flickering light of the cigarette butt, he saw a small, thin shadow shrink in the corner. It was a child. The face was too dirty to make out features, the clothes were tattered, and the child was stealing glances through the lit window. Cheng Ci was very familiar with that look—it was the look of someone who had been starved for a long time, mixed with the wary light of a small animal. The child noticed him and froze, but did not run. Cheng Ci stubbed out the cigarette. He should have just grabbed the child by the collar and thrown them out, or at least questioned their background. But for some reason, the words from the car earlier that day suddenly flashed through his mind. He paused, and his first words surprisingly weren't a scolding.</narration></narration> <message>"How long have you been standing here?"</message> <narration>The child didn't speak, just stared at him, lips pressed tightly together. Cheng Ci didn't expect an answer either. He turned and opened the door with his key. The heavy wooden door closed behind him, shutting out the cold outside. He stood in the entryway for a moment, listening to the faint, yet clearly audible sound of breathing outside, trying to be quiet. After about five minutes, he pulled the door open again. The child was still standing in the same spot, their hands and feet slightly blue from the cold.</narration> "Nowhere to go?" <narration>The child remained silent. Cheng Ci stepped aside to clear the doorway.</narration> <message>"Come in."</message> <narration>He turned and walked inside, his tone as casual as if he were talking about what to eat tonight.</narration> <message>"It's just raising a little bird, anyway."</message> <narration>The child followed him in, not touching anything, just standing at the edge of the carpet, their wet shoes leaving faint dark marks on the floor. Cheng Ci fetched a clean towel from the inner room and threw it over.</narration> <message>"Dry yourself off. The first room on the left is the guest room."</message> <narration>And so, the child stayed. No names were asked, no backgrounds questioned. Cheng Ci gave his subordinates a card to deposit monthly living expenses and arranged for someone to clean and cook weekly. He didn't return often himself, but every time he did, the fridge was full, the bed in the guest room showed signs of being slept in, and the child was always there—either reading a book or clumsily trying to warm milk in the kitchen. The first time the child called him "Daddy" was after they had lived there for over half a year. Cheng Ci had just handled a thorny dispute and walked through the door carrying a heavy scent of blood, his expression terrifyingly dark. The child came out of the kitchen holding a cup of hot tea, carefully placed it on the coffee table, and spoke in a voice as quiet as a mosquito.</narration> <message>"Daddy... have some tea."</message> <narration>Cheng Ci paused, his hands in the middle of loosening his tie. He looked at the child, who was hanging their head, fingers twisting the hem of their shirt. He didn't reply, but he picked up the cup of tea. Pu'er, brewed a bit strong, but at the perfect temperature. After that, the title stuck. Everyone on the streets knew Master Cheng had a little one by his side, treasured like nothing else, whom no one was allowed to touch, let alone see. Some guessed it was an illegitimate child, but Cheng Ci never explained.</narration> <narration>Eight years.</narration> <narration>Cheng Ci never taught the child anything about the underworld. Not a single thing. He hired the best private tutors, arranged a regular academic path, and even considered sending them abroad in a few years. The documents in the study concerning "business" were always locked away; subordinates who came to report always left before the child came home from school. He had wondered if he should let the child know a little, at least to protect themselves. But every time the thought arose, seeing the profile of the child doing homework by the window, or coming in with fruit and whispering, "Daddy, take a break," he pushed the thought down. His child didn't need to touch any of this.</narration> <message>"Until this day."</message> <narration>Cheng Ci finished a long meeting, and it was close to midnight when his car parked outside the courtyard. He rubbed his temples and pushed open the car door. Just as his foot stepped onto the path leading to the front door, he stopped. Under the dim glow of the ground lights, a few extremely faint red beams stretched across the front door, under the windows, and even around the corner leading to the side yard. It was set up clumsily, and the angles weren't particularly tricky, but it did cover all conventional entry paths. It was the most basic laser sensor alarm available on the market—crude, but effective.</narration> <narration>Cheng Ci stood in place, watching for a few seconds. Then he let out a low chuckle. The laugh was exceptionally clear in the quiet night, carrying a vibration that was almost joyful. He raised his hand, unhurriedly loosening his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his suit. In his cobalt-blue eyes, the calm that had settled over eight years was shattered by a sharp, excited gleam, like finally seeing a young eagle tentatively testing its talons. He took a step forward, precisely avoiding all visible infrared beams, and walked to the door. Before he could even pull out his keys, the door opened from the inside. The dirty little sprout of back then had now grown to his shoulder height, wearing loungewear, with hair still a bit messy from sleep, but eyes incredibly bright, looking straight at him. Cheng Ci reached out, crossed the invisible threshold, and ruffled the child's hair. His voice was deeper than usual, tinged with amusement and an unconcealed pride.</narration> <message>"Little one."</message> <narration>He raised his eyes, scanning the crude red spots of light outside the door.</narration> <message>"Think you can stop Daddy with this?"</message>