Chapter Text
The lobby of Sunflower Academy smelled of lavender and the distinct, overwhelming aura of wealthy, competitive parenting.
Wu Suowei sat on a small, brightly colored plastic chair that was entirely too small for his frame, his knees practically touching his chin. He was dressed in a sharp, conservative gray suit, his hair neatly combed, looking the picture of a respectable young businessman.
Next to him sat Chi Cheng.
Cheng looked like an undercover agent trying very hard not to look like an undercover agent.
He was wearing the light blue button-down shirt Suowei had ironed, but he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing thick, scarred forearms.
He sat perfectly straight, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the room with a cold, predatory intensity that made three different mothers instinctively pull their children closer.
Between them sat Sia, looking like an angel in a small white dress with a red bow, happily coloring a picture of a dinosaur with a black crayon. She was currently coloring the dinosaur's teeth bright red.
"Smile," Suowei whispered through his teeth, nudging Cheng with his elbow. "You look like you're about to waterboard the receptionist."
"The receptionist is hiding something," Cheng muttered back, his eyes narrowing as the woman in question reached under her desk. "Her hand has been near the panic button for ten minutes."
"She’s reaching for a tissue, you paranoid lunatic! Just look soft! Think about... I don't know, think about a puppy. Or a nice bowl of noodles."
"Noodles are dead to me since you started buying the low-sodium version."
"It’s better for your blood pressure!"
"Mr. and Mr... Wu-Chi?"
A woman with a tight, high bun and a clipboard stepped out of the main office. She wore a pastel pink blazer and an expression that suggested she could smell something faintly unpleasant. "The admissions committee is ready for you."
Suowei popped up instantly, his face melting into a dazzling, perfect customer-service smile. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Xiao! Come on, Sia, let’s go show the nice ladies how smart you are."
Sia hopped off her chair, grabbing Suowei’s hand with one hand and Cheng’s index finger with the other. Cheng allowed himself to be led into the interrogation room, interview room, like a man marching toward a firing squad.
The room featured three elderly women sitting behind a long wooden table, looking like a tribunal of high judges. In the center of the room was a small table with a set of wooden building blocks and a colorful puzzle.
"Please, sit," the head administrator, Madame Chen, said, gesturing to two slightly larger plastic chairs.
She looked over her spectacles, her eyes instantly locking onto Chi Cheng’s formidable frame and the faint, visible scar tracing along his jawline.
"We reviewed your application. It says here that you run an... independent import-export consultancy?"
"Yes!" Suowei chimed in before Cheng could speak. "We specialize in logistics. High-value, time-sensitive assets. Moving things across borders quickly, ensuring all... clearance protocols are met. It’s a lot of long hours, but it’s very rewarding!"
"And your partner?" Madame Chen looked at Cheng. "What is your specific role in this... consultancy, Mr. Chi?"
Cheng stared at her. The silence stretched for five seconds. Ten seconds. Suowei’s smile began to twitch violently.
"I eliminate obstacles," Cheng said flatly.
Suowei let out a high-pitched, nervous laugh that sounded like a strangled bird. "He means risk management! He manages risks! If there’s an issue with a supplier or a delivery route, Cheng just... goes in and smooths it over! He’s very hands-on! Very thorough!"
Madame Chen’s eyebrows rose. "I see. And how do you balance such a high-stress lifestyle with the emotional development of a child? Sunflower Academy prides itself on teaching non-violent conflict resolution and emotional literacy."
"Oh, we are entirely non-violent!" Suowei insisted, his hands waving in the air. "We believe in communication and healthy boundaries. Sia is an absolute joy. She’s so gentle, so sweet—"
CRASH.
Everyone turned to look at the small play table.
Sia had successfully built a tower out of the wooden blocks.
However, another child, a boy who had been left in the corner to play, had just marched over and deliberately knocked her tower down, laughing loudly.
Suowei’s heart stopped. He looked at Sia.
Sia’s face didn't crumple into tears. Instead, her small eyes narrowed into tiny, dangerous slits.
She looked exactly like Chi Cheng did right before he dropped someone off a roof.
She slowly reached into her little frog backpack, which Suowei had forgotten to check before they left the house.
"Sia, no—" Suowei gasped, lunging forward.
Too late.
Sia didn't pull out a crayon. She pulled out a heavy, professional-grade tactical flashlight, the heavy metal kind Cheng used for night ops, and with the speed, she brought it down cleanly onto the boy’s toy truck, smashing it into two distinct plastic pieces.
The boy let out a terrifying, ear-splitting wail.
"Target neutralized," Sia chirped, looking up at Cheng with pure pride. "Daddy, did I do good?"
The three admissions officers gasped, rising from their seats in absolute horror. "My goodness! The aggression! The blatant disregard for school property!"
Suowei’s face was entirely pale. He covered his mouth with his hands, his brain frantically calculating how many identities they would need to forge to move to Argentina by midnight.
But Chi Cheng didn't panic. He slowly stood up from his tiny plastic chair, his massive height casting a long shadow across the room.
He marched over to Sia, knelt down on one knee, and took the tactical flashlight from her small hand.
The admissions officers watched breathlessly, expecting a harsh lecture or a display of discipline.
Cheng inspected the flashlight, checked the lens for scratches, and then looked at Sia.
"Your grip was loose," Cheng said, his voice quiet but echoing clearly in the silent room. "If the object was moving, you would have dropped it. Keep your thumb locked over the tail cap next time."
Sia nodded, her little face dead serious. "Thumb locked. Got it, Daddy."
"Chi Cheng!" Suowei screamed, finally finding his voice. He stormed over, grabbing Cheng by the collar of his ironed blue shirt and pulling him away. "Are you insane? You're teaching her weapon retention in an elite preschool interview!"
"She defended her perimeter," Cheng said, completely reasonable. "The other asset initiated hostility."
"This isn't a battlefield, it’s a daycare!" Suowei turned to the horrified admissions panel, his hands shaking as he bowed repeatedly. "I am so sorry! We will pay for the truck! We will pay for the psychological counseling for the boy! Please, she’s a good kid, she just... she learns from bad influences!" He glared violently at Cheng.
Madame Chen adjusted her blazer, her face set in stone. "Mr. Wu. I think it is safe to say that Sunflower Academy is not the right fit for your... unique family dynamic. Good day.”
The ride back to the apartment was silent and tense.
Suowei sat in the passenger seat of Cheng’s car, while Sia was in the backseat. He looked miserable, his beautiful plans for a normal, respectable education for their accidental daughter thoroughly shattered.
When they got up to the apartment, Suowei immediately marched into the kitchen without a word, slamming pots and pans around as he began to aggressively chop vegetables for dinner.
Sia sat on the living room rug, looking unusually quiet. She had her frog backpack next to her, but she wasn't playing. She kept glancing over at the kitchen, then up at Cheng, who had returned to his sofa, staring at his unlit monitor.
"Daddy?" Sia whispered, shuffling over to Cheng’s legs.
Cheng didn't look down. "What."
"Am I a bad girl?"
Cheng’s fingers paused over his controller. He slowly looked down at her. Her large eyes were watery, her small chin trembling. She looked small, unbearably small, against the backdrop of their massive, cold apartment.
"Why do you say that?" Cheng asked.
"Papa Wei is sad," she mumbled, pointing a tiny finger toward the kitchen, where the aggressive sound of a knife hitting a cutting board sounded like a machine gun. "Because I smashed the truck. He wants me to be a good girl. But I... I wanted to protect my tower."
Cheng raised an eyebrow, his tone unbelievably soft, sounding like he was definitely trying, even if his voice still carried the deep rumble. "Why did you do it anyway? I know you don't act like that."
Sia’s eyes welled up with big, heavy toddler tears, her fingers nervously twisting and pulling at the fabric of Cheng’s dark pants.
"B-Because..." she hiccuped, her voice tiny and broken. "I-I wanted you to look at me, Daddy! You only look at the big screen or the big guns... you don't look at Sia if I don't smash things like you do. But... but now I made Papa sad..."
Cheng stayed quiet for a long moment. He realized right then that this kid was terrifyingly intelligent with emotions.
He looked toward the kitchen door, where Suowei’s shadow was moving back and forth, tireless, constantly stressed, and working himself to the bone to provide an actual, physical home for three people who had no conventional right to one.
Cheng reached down, his large, rough hand dropping onto the top of Sia’s head.
He didn't know how to be gentle, his hands were made for breaking things, but he kept his palm steady, his heavy fingers lightly stroking her messy, crooked pigtails.
"You are not a bad girl," Cheng said softly. "But Suowei is not mad because you protected your tower. He is mad because he wants you to have a life where you don't have to protect it."
Sia blinked up at him, not entirely understanding the words, but sensing the rare, deep warmth behind them.
"Suowei works hard to keep this place clean," Cheng continued, his voice lifting slightly so it would carry into the kitchen. "He cooks food that isn't from a convenience store. He buys duck pajamas. He wants you to go to a school where people play with blocks, not where people look for threats. If you want to make him happy, you don't smash things when people look at you. You let him handle it. That's his job."
The chopping in the kitchen suddenly stopped.
The silence returned to the apartment, but it wasn't the cold, tense silence from before. It was soft, heavy with the weight of unsaid things.
Cheng tilted his head down, his dark eyes locking onto Sia's with an actual, deliberate focus. "And... I will try to look at you more, hm?"
Sia’s face instantly brightened, a tiny gasp leaving her lips.
A moment later, the kitchen door opened.
Suowei stood there, a wooden spoon clutched in his hand, his eyes slightly red and watery.
He looked at Cheng, who was still awkwardly resting his massive hand on Sia’s head, looking entirely uncomfortable with his own sudden outburst of emotional maturity.
Suowei let out a long, shaky breath, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his exhaustion.
"Dinner's ready," Suowei said, his voice soft. "I made the braised pork belly. The full-sodium version."
Cheng’s eyes ignited with a faint, predatory satisfaction. He stood up, scooping Sia up with one arm and tossing her effortlessly over his shoulder like a lightweight sack of flour, making her shriek with pure delight.
"See?" Cheng told her as they marched toward the dining table. "I told you. He's weak. A little bit of praise and he gives us the pork fat."
"I can hear you, Chi Cheng!" Suowei yelled, setting the heavy ceramic bowls on the table. "And if you don't use a napkin tonight, I am putting you back on low-sodium dietary restrictions until the year 2030!"
Sia dropped into her booster seat, clapping her hands together as she looked at the beautiful spread of food. "Thank you for the food, Papa!"
Cheng sat down next to her, picking up his chopsticks. He looked at the little girl, then at Suowei, who was currently fussing over Sia’s bib, wiping a stray drop of sauce from her cheek before she could even start eating.
They were criminals. They were targets. Their names were aliases, their home was a temporary safehouse, and their future was a hazy, high-risk gamble.
But as Chi Cheng took a bite of the perfectly seasoned pork, watching Suowei laugh at Sia trying to use her chopsticks like drumsticks against the table, he thought that perhaps, for the first time in his life, he wasn't looking for an exit strategy.
"Hey, Cheng," Suowei said, looking up from his own bowl. "I found another daycare listing. It’s called 'The Little Sprouts Cooperative'. They don't have an interview. They just require a safety deposit and a signature."
Cheng swallowed his food, his expression turning into a familiar, dark deadpan. "Does it have a gate?"
"Yes."
"Good," Cheng said, reaching over to drop a piece of meat into Sia’s bowl. "If anyone touches her tower there, I’ll handle the risk management myself."
"No weapons!" Suowei shrieked.
"A shovel isn't a weapon," Cheng argued smoothly, his face dead serious. "It’s a gardening tool."
"Chi Cheng!"