He unexpectedly becomes a father at the start of his life, and the mother of his child is a national

The curtains in the hotel room were half-drawn, letting in sunlight that cast bands of light on the carpet.

Lin Caiwei lay on the bed, turned over, buried her face in the pillow, and smelled the faint fragrance of the hotel shampoo around her nose. It wasn't the one she usually used at home, and it felt a little unfamiliar.

She closed her eyes and waited a while before slowly opening them. Her gaze fell on the ceiling; the blank walls had no decorations.

Unlike the bedroom at home, where Sisi's family portrait hangs on the wall, crooked and uneven, it warms the heart.

Rest today.

These three words swirled in her mind before they truly felt real.

The tour has been going on for over half a month, with a fixed daily rhythm:

I was woken up by the alarm clock in the early morning, quickly washed up, ate a few bites of simple breakfast, and rushed to the venue for rehearsal.

In the afternoon, I did my makeup and hair, gave a few scattered interviews, and then it was time for the actual performance. The lights came on, and the audience erupted in cheers.

She had to give her best, singing every song and bowing every time. After the show, she would remove her makeup and review the performance, often working until late at night before she could go to bed. She barely had the energy to text Chen Hao and Sisi.

This was the first time since the start of the tour that she had a whole day off, with no alarm clock, no announcements, no interviews, and no one to bother her. The entire day belonged entirely to her.

But this sudden free time didn't make her feel relaxed; instead, she felt somewhat at a loss.

Having gotten used to being constantly busy, I feel empty inside when I finally quiet down, as if something is missing.

She lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep, even though she had slept soundly the night before—the most restful sleep she had had in a while.

I wasn't woken up by any work calls, nor did I toss and turn because I was worried about the performance.

She reached out, touched her phone on the bedside table, turned on the screen, and saw no new messages or missed calls.

My finger swiped unconsciously and opened the photo album.

The latest photos were all taken at the performance venue; some were candid shots taken by staff members of her singing, with the lights shining on her.

Their expressions were obscured, but their figures appeared somewhat frail; some were audience members, densely packed, holding up glow sticks.

Calling her name, the boisterous cheers could be clearly heard in the photo, but now, seeing it in my eyes, it feels incredibly distant.

She continued scrolling forward, her finger pausing for a moment before stopping at a screenshot of a video call.

That was a few nights ago. After finishing work, she took advantage of her break to video call Chen Hao and Sisi. When she took the screenshot...

Sisi was making a face at the camera, her little face scrunched up, her mouth wide open, revealing two front teeth that had recently fallen out. She spoke with a lisp, calling out "Mama" in a childish voice.

Chen Hao sat next to Sisi without saying a word, just smiling at the camera with a gentle look in his eyes, occasionally reaching out to tidy Sisi's messy hair.

Lin Caiwei stared at the screenshot, her lips unconsciously curving into a smile. Her fingertips gently brushed across Sisi's little face on the screen, her heart melting completely.

She remembered when Sisi lost her first tooth, she ran to her crying, saying her tooth was gone and she was afraid it would never grow back.

She held Sisi and comforted her for a long time, telling her that new teeth would grow back, whiter and straighter than the old ones.

Sisi stopped crying with some doubt, and carefully put the fallen tooth in a small box, saying she would give it to her mother as a gift.

She continued swiping her finger, and another photo popped up—one she had secretly taken when she went home last time.

Sisi, wearing pink pajamas and with her hair all messy, looked like a little madwoman as she sat on the living room carpet.

A large pile of building blocks lay before her, and in her little hands she held a half-assembled castle. The castle was crooked and lopsided, even the walls were leaning.

Sisi watched intently, smiling at the camera with her eyes crinkling into crescents. Her face was still covered in dust from crawling around earlier.

She remembered that day; she quietly pushed open the door without making a sound and saw Sisi sitting alone on the carpet playing with building blocks.

He was muttering to himself, saying, "Build a big castle for Mom, so she can live in it and never leave again."

At that moment, her nose tingled, and she almost cried. She quietly took out her phone, snapped a picture of the instant, and then walked over.

She hugged Sisi from behind, startling her. Turning around and seeing it was her, Sisi immediately dropped her building blocks and rushed into her arms.

He hugged her neck and called "Mommy" over and over again, his voice full of grievance and joy.

Scrolling further back, there's a picture of Chen Hao's back.

That morning, she woke up late. When she came out of her bedroom, she saw Chen Hao making breakfast in the kitchen. She didn't disturb him, but stood at the door of the dining room and took out her phone to take a picture.

In the photo, Chen Hao is wearing loose loungewear and a dark apron with a small oil stain on it.

She'd seen it while he was cooking yesterday. He was standing in front of the stove, his back to her, holding a spatula, stirring something.

The rising smoke blurred his outline, but his tall and straight figure and skillful, methodical movements were still visible.

Lin Caiwei stared at the photo for a long time, her gaze gradually softening.

She remembered that she had never cooked before, and every time she did, it was a complete mess—either burning the vegetables or forgetting to add salt.

Chen Hao never complained; he would simply push her out of the kitchen and cook it himself. After it was done...

He would also put her favorite dishes into her bowl, smiling and saying, "You don't need to do it anymore, I'll do it."

At that time, she took it for granted, but now that they've been apart for so long, she realizes that those ordinary daily routines were actually the most precious warmth.

She wanted to go home.

Once the thought pops into your head, you can't suppress it anymore.

She longed to hear Sisi's sweet, childlike voice call "Mama," to hold Sisi's soft little body, and to kiss Sisi's little face.

I want to watch Sisi chatter away, telling her all the funny things that happened at school; I want to eat the feast Chen Hao cooked.

I want to drink the soup Chen Hao cooks, and I want to sit at the dining table and eat with Chen Hao and Sisi. Even if we don't talk, I will feel at ease.

The three of them wanted to snuggle up on the sofa and watch cartoons, with Sisi in the middle, leaning against her on the left and Chen Hao on the right.

When they see something funny, the three of them laugh together; that lively and heartwarming scene is what she longs for most right now.

She exited the photo album and opened her chat with Chen Hao.

The chat history stopped last night; the last message was a voice message from Sisi. She clicked on it, and Sisi's sweet, childlike voice came through:

"Goodnight, Mom. Sisi will dream about Mom. Mom will dream about Sisi too."

The voice message was short, but she listened to it repeatedly, as if she could see Sisi lying in bed with her eyes closed, earnestly recording the message.