"Xiao Chen, you were late once last month and left early twice, so the bonus situation… there's really nothing I can do." The kindergarten principal sighed and offered what was meant to be a consoling smile. "But don't worry — as long as you're not late or early next month, I'll absolutely put in an application to get that bonus released for you."
Shi Chen was having none of it.
"Principal, I was only two minutes late that one time, and it didn't affect pickup at all. And I didn't leave early either — I just finished cleaning the classroom ahead of schedule. Once the classroom is done, isn't the shift over? How does that count as leaving early?"
"Cleaning the classroom is the bare minimum of wrap-up duties. What about the outdoor play area? The games room? The art studio? Are you saying you didn't help with any of those?"
"Those areas all have their own assigned staff. One person, one zone, per week — wasn't that your rule?"
The principal smiled and adjusted his glasses, a flicker of cunning crossing his eyes. "It was. But I also said that colleagues should support one another. You finish your own tasks and walk straight out while your colleagues are still busy? Don't take this the wrong way, Xiao Chen, but your attitude could use some work."
Shi Chen drew a slow, measured breath. He could feel something igniting in his chest, and he was very close to losing his grip on it entirely.
He'd done his job. Others hadn't done theirs. And somehow that was his fault?
What an absolutely absurd world.
The principal had been finding ways to shave bits off their pay for a while now — usually just a few dozen yuan here and there, which Shi Chen had gritted his teeth and swallowed. But this time it was nearly two thousand yuan. That, he could not swallow.
The thought of two thousand yuan simply evaporating had his mind cycling through every possible way to intimidate, cajole, or otherwise pressure the man into returning it. But the last shred of his rational mind held firm. No. No. You still need this job to eat.
He was a junior-college graduate who had enrolled late and ended up in early-childhood education by default — the only programme still accepting applications. After graduating, finding work in a major city had taken months. This private kindergarten, with its barely-acceptable pay, was what he'd finally landed. Without it, how would he pay next month's rent? How would he eat?
That thought settled it. Shi Chen clenched his fists, forced the anger back down, said a clipped "understood," and turned on his heel, striding out of the principal's office.
He made it to the car park, swung onto his electric scooter, and rode as fast as it would go — as if speed could numb the feeling. His head was full of deeply satisfying mental images of doing unspeakable things to the principal, each one briefly lifting his mood. He was completely absorbed in this exercise and paid absolutely no attention to the small car hurtling toward the intersection at exactly the same reckless speed.
Bang —
The sickening crash tore through the air.
Shi Chen watched in horror as the world spun around him, over and over, everything playing out at a tenth of its usual speed. He saw the faces of onlookers — wide-eyed, wincing, helpless. Fragments of his life strobed through his mind. And at the very last moment, the image that lodged itself behind his eyes was the principal's smug, self-satisfied expression as he pocketed two thousand yuan of Shi Chen's bonus.
Honestly… what terrible luck.
A steady, unhurried voice reached his ears.
"Nothing too serious — a knock to the head. Rest and he'll be fine."
A man in a white coat peeled off his surgical gloves and addressed the housekeeper standing nearby. "Nothing too rich in the diet for now — keep it light. I'll come back in three months for a follow-up. Though of course, a proper hospital visit would be ideal — their facilities are considerably better than what I've brought with me."
"Understood. Thank you, Dr. Chen." The housekeeper, Li, showed the doctor out with a respectful bow.
Consciousness seeped back in. Shi Chen's eyelashes fluttered, and after a moment's struggle, his eyes opened.
The blurred world sharpened gradually into a room — lavish, impeccably furnished, every detail radiating wealth. Was this the underworld? Rather grand for the underworld.
Wait. No.
Shi Chen reached down and touched his own hand.
Warm.
He bolted upright. He looked himself over, then proceeded to methodically check every part of his body. Everything accounted for.
That made no sense. An accident that bad — even if he'd somehow survived, surely he ought to have lost a limb. Was the universe feeling sorry for him over those two thousand yuan?
Well. That's a genuine stroke of good fortune.
A relieved smile spread across his face.
It vanished in the next second.
He threw off the blanket and swung his legs off the bed — then stopped. This was not his room. So where, exactly, was he?
Before he could work it out, the door opened. The housekeeper Li stepped in, and the moment he saw Shi Chen awake, his face broke into a warm smile. "Young Master, you're up. How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?"
Shi Chen blinked. Young Master???
Li, interpreting his blank expression as a lingering effect of the head injury, patiently explained, "Dr. Chen says it's a mild concussion. With proper rest you should be perfectly fine."
Shi Chen still looked completely lost — but his mind was already racing through possibilities. Reincarnation? Transmigration? A dream?
He hadn't arrived at any conclusion when Li continued, "It's drizzling outside. You've still got the Young Master standing out there — shall we perhaps…"
Li caught himself, trailing off. He wanted to speak up for the boy but was afraid of upsetting Shi Chen, given that the child was the whole reason Shi Chen was lying here in the first place.
But Shi Chen had gone very still.
The Young Master. Rain. A mild concussion.
He knew this scene.
He looked up at Li. "That child — his name is Gu An?"
Shi Chen was on his feet before Li finished the sentence.
Right. He hadn't transmigrated to some unknown world — he'd transmigrated into a book. And no wonder it all felt familiar: the novel had been sensationally melodramatic, and its resentful scion shared his exact name.
In the story, the original had been in love with Gu Huai since university. Five years ago, at a graduation party, something had happened between them, and three months later the original had discovered he was pregnant — then used the pregnancy to manoeuvre himself into a marriage. But married life had been nothing like the dream he'd imagined. Gu Huai was never home, visiting once a month at most, and only ever for the child. Gradually, the original had turned the child into a weapon — manipulating him, conditioning him to perform for Gu Huai's approval, using him as leverage in a losing bid for the man's attention. The damage had accumulated in silence until the child developed severe psychological problems, and by the time it came to light, the harm was already deeply entrenched.
When the story broke publicly, the condemnation was absolute. Gu Huai filed for divorce and threw the original out. Unable to bear the weight of it, the original jumped.
The novel's worldbuilding was peculiar — male pregnancy among its quirks — and Shi Chen was prepared to accept that. What he could not accept was a protagonist this catastrophically obsessed with romantic love.
He pressed his fingers to his temples, breathed in, breathed out.
"Where's my coat?" he asked.
Shi Chen took the coat — but didn't put it on. He tucked it under his arm and walked quickly out of the room toward the courtyard.
The vast courtyard was laced with a fine, wind-blown drizzle that fell at odd angles, spattering across the cold stone. The air was damp and biting.
On a late-autumn afternoon like this, Gu An stood in the rain wearing nothing but a loose, thin bear-print sweatshirt — not even a thermal layer underneath. The autumn wind and drizzle were needles against his slight, delicate frame. He was hugging himself, jaw trembling, but he hadn't moved from the spot.
That was the scene Shi Chen walked into: a child not quite a metre tall, standing in cold rain, shaking. The wind and drizzle seemed to strike at his very bones.
Shi Chen crossed the courtyard quickly.
Gu An heard him coming. Assuming it was punishment of some kind, he took a small, wary step back before Shi Chen reached him and let out a faint, pitiful sound: "D-Dad… I'm… I'm sorry, please don't h—"
The sentence never finished.
A warm, heavy coat wrapped around his small frame completely.
Shi Chen lifted him with easy arms and carried him inside, murmuring as they went, "You're frozen through. Let's get you in a hot bath."
Gu An stared at Shi Chen with outright disbelief.
This was… his father?
He pressed his lips together, the whole thing feeling profoundly unreal.
Father never held him like this unless Dad was here too. So… was Dad here? He craned his neck and swept a cautious look around the courtyard. No sign of him.
Shi Chen carried him back to his own room, which had a large en-suite bathroom. He switched on the heat lamp first to let warmth build in the space, then closed the door.
"Where are your clothes kept?" He poured a cup of warm water and turned to hand it over.
Gu An was standing on the floor, clutching himself, his eyes edged with anxiety and wariness.
Shi Chen walked over and pressed the cup into his hands. "Why are you standing there? Sit down."
Gu An raised his head tentatively and said in a very small voice, "Father said dirty children can't sit on the sofa. I'm dirty…"
"Who said that." Shi Chen's voice dropped, but it carried a particular gentleness. "This is your home. And you're not dirty."
Gu An took a half-step back.
Shi Chen exhaled.
The original had clearly left marks on this child that ran very deep. What a mess.
