A Little Trick, the Scumbag Dad Can’t Hold the Knife After Understanding Love

The turning point in Lu Jinghuai's life began after the age of five.

And in a way, it also ended there forever.

He had long believed that he was already dead—that his lingering existence was merely a temporary pause of his soul.

Though no one around him ever voiced it aloud, their controlled demeanor and the way they treated him made it clear.

Ah, he was a monster.

A grotesque, stubborn creature that brought his mother sorrow and his father tears.

Whenever they had time, his parents would come to speak with him.

Occasionally, mid-conversation, Lu Jinghuai's ears would ring with static. His father's gentle voice would suddenly turn sharp, demanding to know why he hadn't died yet, only to dissolve into sobs lamenting the hardships they had endured.

Lu Jinghuai's body hadn't withered but grew normally, sustained entirely by his family's wealth. It was no exaggeration to say the money spent on him could have supported a small nation.

Yet it wasn't just money—it was also his parents' attention.

Back then, he was too young to distinguish between reality and hallucination.

So he often teetered between life and death.

Each time, no matter what they were doing, his parents would rush to his side, helping him through one crisis after another.

Lu Jinghuai used this to test their love for him.

Until he grew truly weary of it.

He saw himself as a monster, stifling his own thoughts, imagining himself as a mindless animal, a tool, a butterfly trapped in a spider's web with no hope of flight.

But then, not long ago,

someone other than his parents, doctors, or researchers came to him.

Blindness had sharpened his hearing, though recently, even that had begun to fade as the toxins took their toll.

Yet he still heard it—the tearful voice calling him "Ah-Huai."

No one but his parents and elders had ever called him that, let alone with such tenderness and sorrow.

As if she knew him intimately, grieving for him.

Days passed, and she visited more frequently.

She chattered endlessly, unbothered by his silence.

Others had tried this before, but they always grew quiet when met with no response.

Lu Jinghuai found her talkative.

But not annoying.

Her voice was pleasant, wasn't it?

She introduced herself as Ji Nian, telling him stories and jokes he'd never heard, bringing flowers for him to smell.

Lu Jinghuai had no sense of smell, but in that moment, he swore he caught the sweet, dewy fragrance of blossoms.

She even called him beautiful.

A word he hadn't heard since childhood, long abandoned even by his parents, who avoided mentioning his appearance altogether.

He was used to frightening people—sometimes even hearing suppressed retching.

At such times, he'd think coldly: Ah, Doctor Charlie brought a new recruit today.

Then he'd take vicious pleasure in imagining their trembling hands as they changed his bandages.

When Ji Nian said his face would heal, he felt nothing.

As the bandages came off and he sensed her presence, he wondered:

Will she still call me "beautiful" after seeing this?

Part of him wanted her to recoil like the others. Another part didn't want her to look at all.

The conflict left him in turmoil.

Until Ji Nian cleared the room.

Even after seeing his face, her voice held no disgust—only heartache. She whispered that he was the most beautiful in her eyes…

And then…

Then, she kissed him.

A kiss so gentle it defied belief—given to a monster.

Like something from a fairy tale.

Except princesses kissed frogs or beasts, not something as vile and hideous as him.

Watching Lu Jinghuai's heart rate spike on the monitor, Ji Nian felt a pang of guilt.

[Oops, I acted on impulse.]

"Sorry, I couldn't help it."

But glancing down at him, she realized this might be her only chance to tease him while he lay helpless.

So she bent down and kissed him again.

Lu Jinghuai: !

Heart rate: GO!!!!

"Heh, but I'm not sorry," Ji Nian declared smugly.

"If you're mad, get better quickly and hit me back."

As the medication's side effects took hold, Lu Jinghuai—despite his raging emotions—was forced into sleep.

Ji Nian watched him for a while.

Then, carefully rewrapping his bandages, she murmured, "Sweet dreams."

...

Learning that what she needed would arrive tonight, Ji Nian skipped the lab.

Lu Zhi, insisting she shouldn't stay cooped up like a turtle on her first visit to Country O, arranged an outing to help her unwind.

Ji Nian agreed.

"Here, wear this. It suits your fair skin."

Lu Zhi happily picked out a dress for her, along with matching accessories and a bag—all things he'd bought recently.

Ji Nian watched him bustle about, her gaze tinged with nostalgia.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Noticing her stare, Lu Zhi smiled. "I once wanted a daughter, but after Ah-Huai fell ill, I gave up the idea."

Ji Nian understood.

Having another child then would've felt like abandoning Lu Jinghuai.

"Since your face has healed, why not try makeup?"

Lu Zhi summoned an attendant.

Ji Nian, accustomed to being dressed up (thanks to Ji Tingzhou's influence), obediently complied, fueling Lu Zhi's satisfaction—and his thoughts of adopting her.

Lu Zhi's style contrasted sharply with Ji Tingzhou's. Where Ji Tingzhou favored refined elegance, Lu Zhi adored frilly, elegant dresses.

Now, adorned with a pearl necklace, a fluffy white gown, and a lace-trimmed bonnet, Ji Nian looked every bit the pampered princess. The uneven tones of her face were smoothed over with foundation.

If she returned to China now, no one would recognize her as the old Ji Nian.

Strolling aimlessly, she found herself outside her former residence in Country O—a house with a hot spring, gifted by Ji Tingzhou, which she'd loved dearly.

She ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‍wondered which wealthy owner it belonged to in this world.

Walking further, she reached a familiar shopping street—one she'd once explored with Lu Jinghuai, buying handmade trinkets.

Nostalgia guiding her, Ji Nian wandered leisurely.

[Ah, this shop…]

[I had the softest scarf from here—bought one year when Dad brought me.]

The bell at the door, the cat napping on the wicker chair outside—everything was exactly as she remembered.

As if, if she just walked a little further, Ji Tingzhou's figure would appear at the entrance, returning with his purchases.

'Ding ling.'

The shop door swung open.

A man stepped in, clad in a sharply tailored overcoat, his striking handsomeness carrying the timeless charm of an old-film protagonist.

Ji Nian: "……"

Ji Tingzhou had arrived…

Yet this devastatingly handsome Eastern man possessed none of the gentle manners of a classic leading man.

His gaze landed on the girl—clearly well-cared-for, her cheeks rounder and skin fairer than before—and his lips curled into a smirk, eyes gleaming with deliberate mockery.

"What are you staring at?"