"Xiao Shi, Yu'er… when are you coming home?" The deep, hoarse voice crackled affectionately through the phone.
In a sleek, modern office lined with polished wood and glass, a man sat behind a large desk, idly twirling a pen between his fingers. The swivel chair creaked slightly as he shifted, his phone pressed against his ear. Before him stood an employee, shifting awkwardly, waiting for a signature on the stack of documents resting untouched on the table.
Ziyu smiled softly as she held the phone to her ear. Her other hand skimmed over the clothes on a rack inside a VL boutique.
"I'll be back soon, Dad," she said, brushing her fingers across a black checkered shirt. She paused, then pulled it out with a small grin. It was simple, but neat — the kind of thing he would love. She held it up to the shop assistant and gestured that it was her pick, heading toward the counter.
"But Ziyu," her father groaned lightly, "you said that last week. You promised you'd be right behind me after spending all that time with Yanyan. It's not fair that she always hugs all your attention. I'm getting old — come back and take care of me."
He spoke dramatically, but the warmth in his voice was undeniable. Ziyu laughed quietly.
"Okay, okay. I'll be home soon. Love you very much. Bye," she said, ending the call.
Back in the office, her father stared at her contact photo on the phone screen, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The pen in his hand finally made contact with paper as he looked up at the employee still waiting.
"Ohhh! Right — the documents. Let's get this done."
Meanwhile, the shop assistant at the boutique was folding the shirt neatly.
"Would you like this wrapped? We're running a Father's Day promotion," she offered politely.
Ziyu glanced around the shop. The single shirt suddenly felt too small for the depth of the feeling she wanted to express. Her eyes landed on a sleek pair of limited-edition Vouis Luitton sandals displayed behind glass.
"That one, please. Pack it together with the shirt," she said with a soft smile.
After swiping her card, she left the boutique, hands full with a beautifully wrapped gift box. She made a quick stop at a card store down the street and picked out a crisp, elegant "Happy Father's Day" card. She slipped it into her cross bag, heart swelling just a little.
Outside, leaning casually against the car, stood Yiran — Ziyu's best friend. Her arms were crossed, her sunglasses tilted on her nose.
"You're so lucky your flight leaves tonight," Yiran sighed as Ziyu approached.
They climbed into the car, and the engine hummed to life. The city passed by in a blur as they drove — warm golden sunlight casting long shadows over the streets. Their conversation bounced from shared memories to silly moments, from childhood antics to adult regrets.
"I hate to be the one to say it…" Yiran said hesitantly, eyes on the road, "but I'm really going to miss you."
Ziyu burst out laughing at the overly serious tone. Yiran instantly regretted being sincere.
"Aww" Ziyu teased, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
The drive to the airport seemed to speed up as the emotional weight settled in. The closer they got to the gates, the more Yiran's expression faltered.
When they finally arrived, Ziyu checked in quickly. They stood near the boarding area, and Yiran broke.
Tears streamed down her face as she pulled Ziyu into a fierce hug.
"I know you're not going to miss me," she sniffled, "but just get home safe, okay? I love you. Don't forget the rock honey I gave you. And it's going to get chilly soon, so please cover up properly!"
Ziyu rubbed her back gently as she sobbed.
"Ranran, I'll be fine. It's June — the sun is still high back home," she said with a small chuckle. "Don't worry too much. I love you too."
With one last look, Ziyu walked through the boarding gate. Security, passport check, and then finally, the plane.
She settled into her first-class window seat, watching the runway stretch endlessly ahead. The captain's voice murmured something about the sixteen-hour flight. Her mind wandered.
"Long trip ahead," she murmured, sliding out her phone. She typed a message and hit send:
"On the plane. Take care of yourself. Love you dearly. I'll miss you."
Back in the car, Yiran felt her phone vibrate. She opened the message with swollen eyes, still wiping away snot and tears — and burst out laughing.
*******
Ziyu finally arrived at Beijing Capital International Airport. The noise hit her like a wave — the same lively, crowded chaos she remembered. Rolling her suitcase beside her, she walked toward the exit, weaving through families, travelers, and blinking flight screens.
The night outside was pitch black and warm, thick with summer air and distant car horns. She paused on the pavement near the pickup area, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
"It's good to be back," she said aloud, a smile stretching across her face.
Then a thought hit her. "Ah… I didn't tell Dad I was coming home today."
She shrugged it off and took a seat on the curb near the bus and taxi lanes, luggage by her side. Planes soared overhead, and travelers reunited with loved ones in emotional embraces. Cars passed, people laughed, cried, waved.
Ziyu watched, quietly. the feeling of being the spectator and not the one involved— she couldn't name. She observed, a silent spectator to life unfolding. There was a certain peace in that. A quiet longing, but the kind that made waiting feel sweet, not sad.
She closed her eyes, letting the breeze wash over her.
"Yu'er!" a familiar voice called out from a distance.
Her eyes snapped open. There he was — her father, Mr. Shen — flanked by two bodyguards, waving both hands high above his head like a man who hadn't seen his daughter in years, even tho it's been two weeks since he left her in the US.
Ziyu stood, grabbed her suitcase, and began walking toward him. Her pace quickened — from walking, to speed walking, to running — until she crashed into his open arms.
He hugged her tightly, a hand gently rubbing the back of her head.
"Yu'er, did you miss me?" he asked softly.
Ziyu nodded in his arms. He laughed — a deep, satisfied sound that warmed her heart.
"Me too," he murmured. With his arm around her shoulder, he led her to the car waiting nearby.
Once they were on the road, the father-daughter banter began — like no time had passed at all.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home today?" he started, his voice rising just slightly.
"I forgot," Ziyu said plainly, eyes focused on the city lights beyond the window.
"You forgot. Forgot?! Why are you always so careless?" he exclaimed, but not out of anger — more out of exaggerated distress.
Ziyu turned to him and raised a brow. "But you still came for me, didn't you?"
"I did," he replied, pouting like a child caught losing an argument.
She smirked. Argument over.
They pulled up in front of the Shen family mansion — grand, intimidating, and glowing under the moonlight. As the car came to a halt, a row of staff members stood at attention on either side of the driveway — maids, guards, and service staff in a perfect line.
At the front stood a woman dressed in a tailored black suit, posture rigid, hands clasped behind her back.
The moment the car door opened, all of them bowed low.
"Welcome home, Young Mistress."
Ziyu waved lightly, smiling. "You do too much," she said, giving her father a playful smack on the back.
"But they need to know how much I adore you," he replied with a grin.
"And you need to tone it down," she muttered, still half-laughing as she continued hitting him softly.
The suited woman blinked, visibly confused by the scene. The infamous Mr. Shen — rumored to be cold, calculated, and intimidating — was getting playfully smacked by his daughter, and grinning like a fool.
'He has a daughter complex,' she concluded internally, keeping her face neutral.
When the laughter faded, Mr. Shen gestured to the woman.
"I figured you might need some help settling back in. And more importantly — safety is a priority. So, I got you a bodyguard."
Ziyu looked at the woman and blinked once. Her expression remained neutral.
"This is Zhang Luming. I'm sure you'll like her," he added proudly, like a child presenting a school project.
Ziyu looked at his excited face, and smiled.
"Thank you, Dad. Now let's go inside — it's nearly midnight. We can't keep everyone standing out here."
Once the welcome fuss had died down, and the house fell into the quiet of late night,
Ziyu slipped into the study where her father sat reading.
Without a word, she stormed in, dropped a box and envelope on his desk, yelled
"Good night!" at full volume, and stormed right back out.
Mr. Shen blinked in surprise. He reached for the box first, carefully unwrapping it — and immediately smiled at the shirt and sandals inside.
Then he picked up the card.
Inside, her handwriting was simple but sure:
'Happy Father's Day, Dad.
I'm very grateful to be your daughter.
Thank you for being the father I needed — not just the one I have.
Thank you for loving me.
I love you'.
He stared at the card for a long time, smile stretching across his face.
"She's rarely this sincere," he muttered.
He called in a maid.
"Get this framed and put it on my desk," he said, voice light but firm. Then he waved over another.
"I'll wear the shirt and sandals tomorrow. Make sure they're ready in the morning."