Spring leaves and autumn arrives, year after year!
The car accident did not claim Mu Shuoqian’s life, it merely left a ten-centimeter-long scar on his forehead. Some fine strands of hair concealed the fierce scar, making his face still look perfectly flawless.
He was sitting at the dining table eating, when a man in his fifties approached, holding a set of papers in his hand.
"Sir, the young master’s test results are out." Uncle Yu stood aside, trembling with nerves, hesitant to hand over the papers.
Mu Shuoqian put down his knife and fork, glanced over nonchalantly, "Hand it over."
Uncle Yu sighed quietly and placed the papers on the table next to him.
Mu Shuoqian picked up the papers and read them from the beginning, his expression turning from sunny to cloudy, his eyebrows squeezing into a character of ’川’: "Where is he?"
Uncle Yu hurriedly dashed up the stairs, coming to a door adorned with One Piece stickers, he gently knocked: "Young master, sir is asking you to wake up."
He knocked for a long time without any response from inside, he had to say "I’m coming in" before pushing the door open.
The room was dark with curtains drawn, a sliver of light seeping through the door crack barely revealed a small lump on the bed.
Uncle Yu walked to the bed and saw the little guy fast asleep with his bum bare, drooling all over the pillow, mumbling in his sleep: "I’m going to be the Pirate King."
Uncle Yu stifled his laughter and leaned over to whisper gently, "Young master."
The little guy on the bed smacked his plump lips, wiped his saliva casually, and turned his head to continue sleeping.
"Ah." Although Uncle Yu felt reluctant to wake him from his sweet dream, remembering the dark look on his father’s face hardened his resolve, and he pinched the boy’s nose.
The little guy woke up, blinking his dewy eyes trying to recognize the person in front of him, still drowsy, his shoulders slumped, looking somewhat dazed. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs n̷o̷v̷e̷l̷f̷i̷r̷e̷.net
"Uncle Yu, I just had a dream."
Uncle Yu brought over the clothes he was supposed to wear today and placed them on the bedside, asking casually, "What dream?"
"I dreamt I turned into a sea cucumber, and then daddy ate me up in one bite."
Uncle Yu burst out laughing, children really have a unique world.
The little guy remained puzzled, propping his chin with one hand, blinking eyes, "I mean, I was eaten, why could I still see dad wiping his mouth? Uncle Yu, do you think I’d taste good as a sea cucumber?"
"Little master with soft and tender skin, you would probably taste pretty good. But what I wanted to tell you is, sir is looking at your report card right now."
Upon hearing this, the little guy showed no reaction, just picked up his trousers lying beside and started to put them on.
"Wrong way, wrong way, the pockets should be in the front." Uncle Yu hurriedly corrected him.
"Uncle Yu, why should the pockets be in the front?"
"Because it’s convenient for placing things."
"Then wouldn’t it be easier to make two pockets at the back as well, so we wouldn’t have to worry about front and back while wearing pants?"
The little guy got dressed and went to wash his face and brush his teeth on his own, before staggering down the stairs.
"Good morning, daddy." He called out lazily to someone reading the newspaper at the dining table as he descended a few stairs.
Mu Shuoqian gave no response, his eyes still fixed on the newspaper, his straight back exuding a chilling hostility.
Uncle Yu spread his hands at the little guy in a gesture of "good luck", went to the kitchen, and brought breakfast over.
The little guy climbed onto a chair, fastened his bib, and was about to grab the milk cup when the man across from him finally looked up from his newspaper, his stern face heralding a storm, and tossed the report card over: "Explain this."
The little guy glanced at it, pouted his lips.
He was still in kindergarten, where there were no exams. The report card Mu Shuoqian had was from an extracurricular tutorial class, where he was learning French.
The little guy had an exceptional talent for languages, almost never forgetting a word. Ever since his early speech, Mu Shuoqian had hired a French tutor to spend every day with him, honing his skills.
In the tutorial class, his performance had always been far ahead, even those several years older than him couldn’t outperform him, but this time, he came in last place.
With such a severe drop in performance, it was no wonder Mu Shuoqian was angry.