The dazzling sports car sped down the road, with Xuan focused intently on the steering wheel, more silent than ever.

  Cang Tongkai tossed his phone onto the seat beside him and gave a cold smile as he looked out the window.

  "It was a message from your father, wasn′t it?” Xuan asked.

  "Mm.” Cang Tongkai replied indifferently, as if he were describing an unimportant passerby. “That man said he′s not coming back. There′s a problem with the business in New York. Ah, stop at that ice cream shop up ahead.”

  Whether he comes back or not—what difference does it make? He couldn′t remember his mother′s face, as she passed away on the day he was born. And he barely remembered his father′s face, as he was rarely home.

  A week ago, on his seventeenth birthday, his father didn′t come back. On his sixteenth birthday, his father didn′t come back. On his fifteenth, his tenth, his seventh—every birthday he could remember, his father had never returned. The only thing that arrived reliably was money—plenty of it—in the form of checks, supplementary cards, or even an entire bag of diamonds, flooding into Cang Tongkai′s hands.

  With money, isn′t that everything? Any birthday gift he wanted, he could buy. Such a generous father.

  The sweet, pretty double-scoop ice cream, nestled in a special cooler, was carefully pced in the car by Cang Tongkai.

  TuTu loved the fresh, daily-made ice cream from this shop. Every time she ate it, she’d happily do somersaults in the water, making Cang Tongkai ugh heartily, wondering whether she was eating ice cream or some kind of stimunt.

  Today was no exception for TuTu. The air in the hidden chamber was filled with the delightful scent of vanil and chocote.

  Savoring the taste, she smacked her lips in satisfaction, joyfully swimming around as she asked Cang Tongkai to get her a three-scoop serving tomorrow—this time with taro, peanut, and pineapple fvors.

  Cang Tongkai sat on the floor in front of the fish tank, leaning against the thick gss, recounting the day′s events at school: how a girl from the neighboring css gave him a love letter, how he memorized an entire text after reading it just once, leaving the Chinese teacher—who was convinced he couldn′t recite even a single line—shocked and flustered. He also shared lunchtime gossip he overheard, like how the cafeteria chefs were daydreaming about raising a couple of pigs behind the dining hall.

  TuTu ughed heartily, eagerly joining in to discuss the girl who wrote the love letter, the flustered teacher, and the gossiping chefs. One person and one fish, ughing together until they were nearly doubled over. The air in the hidden chamber wasn′t just sweet—it was filled with genuine ease and simple happiness.

  As the time crept into the te night, TuTu surfaced, flicking her tail to send a spray of droplets onto Cang Tongkai′s head.

  "Hey, you should get to sleep. You′ve got school tomorrow!”

  Cang Tongkai yawed, shaking his head. “Things haven′t been peaceful outside tely. I′ll stay a little longer before leaving.”

  "It′s those intruders who know I′m here, isn′t it?” TuTu blew a bubble, seemingly unconcerned.

  "I′ll protect you.” Cang Tongkai stood up, pressing his nose to the gss. "Trust me, I′ll always protect you.”

  TuTu swam over happily and gave his nose a little kiss. "Mm, I know. I′ll always stay by your side.”

  The light above shimmered on the water′s surface, casting gentle, sparkling reflections onto them. Even the painting on the opposite wall seemed to come alive, as if the waves beneath the blue sea were conveying an indescribable emotion.

  Another hour passed, and Cang Tongkai rubbed his tired eyes. "I′ve been getting sleepy every night tely. I′ll go make a cup of coffee.”

  As he walked down the winding stairs of the vil, the cool night breeze stirred the thick curtains. Outside the window, the sound of wild cats could be heard—first one, then two, and eventually a whole group, their calls rising and falling. Cang Tongkai furrowed his brow, set the coffee cup down, and began walking toward the front door.

  The rge grandfather clock in the living room ticked, its hands inching closer to midnight.