"What's up?"
Lu Junhan's voice was low and hoarse after his shower, carrying the same edge of impatience from earlier.
"Could you step out for a moment?" The butler's tone was extra soft, as though afraid of interrupting something. "There's a matter you may need to handle yourself."
Lu Junhan's brows drew together, the irritation in his eyes clear. He strode over, pulled the door open, and said coldly:
"What the hell—"
The rest of the words caught in his throat.
There, sitting on the floor right outside his door, was the little villain… fast asleep.
She was still in the thin white camisole nightdress she'd worn when pestering him earlier, clearly no match for the villa's cool night air.
Her long lashes drooped over her cheeks; her tender skin looked soft enough to dent with a touch. Her small mouth was parted slightly, breath light and even. She slept deeply, delicate as a porcelain doll.
Her head rested against the door, tiny arms wrapped around a huge pillow, body curled into the corner like some abandoned milk kitten.
The sight made people hesitate to disturb her—harder still to wake her.
Lu Junhan's lips pressed into a straight line. He remembered—vaguely—that this little thing had pestered him several times tonight about sleeping in his room. He'd ignored her; he never slept with anyone else in the same bed.
Not even a child.
Even if she really was his daughter—it didn't matter.
The butler pursed his lips. As someone who'd served the Lu family for years, he easily saw through the little lady's intention. "I passed by her room just now and didn't see her. Later I found her here. I think she wanted to sleep with you. Children… tend to feel insecure at night."
He was already making his biggest concession just acknowledging her as Lu Shao's daughter.
Sleep with him? Absolutely not.
Anyone could get into his bed?
"Give her a bed and she still refuses to sleep in it," Lu Junhan's eyes chilled. "If she likes the door so much, let her sit there."
The butler hesitated. "It's quite cold at night, and she isn't wearing much. I'm afraid she'll catch a chill…"
Lu Junhan's thin lips compressed further. He turned away, voice like ice: "Carry her back to her room."
Before the butler could reply, the "asleep" little girl suddenly reacted—his words snapping her eyes open.
She'd been dozing, but woke when she heard the butler's steps, thinking it might be the "bad guys" from earlier. Then her dad opened the door.
She'd kept her eyes closed when he turned away—then scrambled up, grabbing his bathrobe with a tiny hand, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears:
"Dad… I don't want to go back! Lili just wants to sleep with you!"
Lu Junhan's gaze was ice. "Take her back."
"Dad, I don't want to—"
Tears welled, spilling down her doll-like cheeks. She sniffled pitifully. "Please… don't chase me away, okay?"
"…."
She rubbed at her eyes, voice small and choked. "Uuuh… Dad…"
"…."
Five minutes later, Lu Junhan, face black as ink, tossed a quilt across the middle of his ornate bed—an unmistakable dividing line. His eyes were cold as he warned the girl now curled up on the right:
"You stay on your side. Don't cross it."
She beamed, big red-rimmed eyes blinking, lashes fluttering. "Okay, Dad."
Gone was the tearful, pitiful act from moments ago.
"…."
He was almost certain she'd been working him from the start.
He lay down, but before he could open his book, the little head popped over the "border."
"Dad, do you want to hear a bedtime story?"
He flipped his financial report, slender fingers turning a page. "No."
She inched closer. "Then can you tell me one? I want to hear it."
"No." Another page turned.
"Why not, Dad?"
The whole tiny body rolled across the quilt, blocking his reading.
Lu Junhan: "…."
Her round, bright eyes blinked at him, lashes like butterfly wings. "Other kids get stories. Lili wants one too."
"Keep dreaming." He scooped her back over the quilt.
She tumbled but bounced back, buzzing like a persistent mosquito: "Dad! Tell Lili a story…"
Lu Junhan exhaled slowly, eyes dangerous. "Can you shut up and sleep?"
She only brightened. "So you will tell me?"
"…Fine."
"Yay!"
"There once was someone. Then they died. The end."
"…So short. Dad, you don't know stories?"
"Shut up and sleep."
"…Okay."
To her, finding Dad tonight was already good. Sleeping beside him and hearing any "story" was a bonus.
She pulled the quilt over her, but before drifting off, peeked over the quilt once more, hair spilling like ink.
"Dad, good night."
He didn't look up or respond.
She closed her eyes, and her breathing soon evened.
After a while, he glanced over. She was curled on her side, hand against her cheek, small face peaceful yet faintly frowning.
Lu Junhan set down his book and switched off the lamp.
…
The next morning, he left for work as usual.
Naturally, she tried to follow—only to be intercepted and deposited into Song Qingwan's arms.
Song Qingwan, delighted, refused to let her go. But when she heard the girl wanted to go to the office, she quickly persuaded:
"Lili, your dad's work is boring—he just frowns all day. Come with Aunt instead."
She'd almost called herself "Grandma," but that sounded old. "Aunt" suited her better—young, unmarried, and certainly not Lu Junhan's mother.