So she stayed quiet, swallowing her words like bitter pills.
"Daddy," she murmured instead, "why do you work so much? You're always tired."
He smiled faintly, looking away. "Because someone has to pay for the ingredients of all those mooncakes you love."
"Liar," she said softly.
That made him pause. He looked back at her, curious. "What makes you say that?"
"Because you were tired even before we started cooking."
He blinked, then sighed, a little smile tugging at his lips. "You're too sharp for your age."
Huaijin didn't answer. She only closed her eyes, pretending to sleep again.
But she wasn't pretending when a single tear rolled down her cheek.
That night, after Yuanfeng turned off the lights and left her room, Huaijin stayed awake.
Her small hands clutched the blanket, and her mind replayed fragments of memories from her previous life.
The article she once found online, a short report buried in an old database:
