Even if Can-Can was certain that Gu Chi was her daddy, the truth was he had already reincarnated long ago. The father she remembered—she had only seen once in this life.

She didn’t know whether he was good or bad now, and following him blindly could be dangerous.

Her crying grew louder and louder. She pressed her hands over her eyes like a pitiful little kitten and kept mumbling one line, over and over, in a slurred, choked-up voice: “Daddy’s not a bad person…”

Qi Sen had no choice. He picked her up and gently patted her back, soothing her with soft words. But when his gaze met Gu Chi’s, his eyes narrowed.

Gu Chi knew he was in the wrong and awkwardly turned his head, avoiding eye contact.

Qi Sen continued comforting Can-Can.

“Don’t cry anymore, Can-Can. It was Gege who was too harsh.”

“Wuwuwuwu!” Her thunderstorm-like sobbing resumed at full volume.

“I’m sorry, Can-Can. Don’t cry, please don’t cry…”

“Wuwuwuwu…”

“If you stop crying… Gege will buy you rainbow candy.”

Silence.

Her sobs vanished in an instant—like someone hit the mute button on the whole world.

Can-Can peeked through the cracks of her tiny hands, her watery almond eyes blinking. She sniffled and asked in a muffled little voice, “R-really?”

Everyone present was dumbfounded.

It took one second. From torrential downpour… to sunshine.

The power of rainbow candy… was terrifying.

**

Gu Chi brought home over twenty boxes of rainbow candy.

Gu Jueyan frowned at the sight. “Why’d you buy all this?”

Gu Chi smiled. “Can-Can likes them. I’ll give them all to her tomorrow.”

She really was the cutest little bun~

“What now? Done raising dragons in TV dramas, moving on to raising kids?” Gu Jueyan’s voice turned stern. “You seriously need to find something better to do.”

Gu Chi defended himself, “She called me Daddy. I can’t just let that go and give her nothing, right?”

Gu Jueyan scoffed. “The entire internet calls me Daddy. So what, I’m supposed to buy everyone a house and a car?”

Gu Chi paused in his steps, then gave it serious thought.

“Well… if you’re not afraid of going bankrupt, I mean, technically, it’s not impossible.”

Gu Dad: …?

That night, after Gu Chi left, Qi Sen took Can-Can to the little corner supermarket to buy rainbow candy.

He hesitated between the big box and the small box. But after a moment staring into her bunny-red, teary eyes, he reached for the big one.

Can-Can covered her mouth with both hands and giggled, her shoulders shaking like a little bunny thief who’d just stolen a carrot.

Her voice was clear and bright: “Gege, you’re buying one this big for Can-Can?”

Qi Sen ruffled her hair and gave a quiet nod.

Can-Can clutched the rainbow candy close, her smile even sweeter than the candy itself.

She loved sweets. But Second Brother and Third Brother always said too much sugar would rot her teeth, so they never let her eat too much.

So whenever she did get candy, she treated it like a priceless treasure.

She poked her soft little cheeks and suddenly opened her mouth with an “Ah!”

Qi Sen paused. “What is it?”

“Look, Second Brother! No little bugs in Can-Can’s teeth, right? So Can-Can can eat candy!” she said seriously, hugging the candy and presenting her case like a little lawyer.

Qi Sen chuckled.

By the time they got home, Pei Shen had already returned to his own apartment.

Can-Can ran up with a thermos of jujube and white fungus soup that Qi Sen had made and knocked excitedly on Pei Shen’s door.

“Third Brother! I brought you soup-soup! It’s sweet and yummy,” she chirped, pointing at the thermos.

Mission accomplished, Can-Can turned to bounce away. But just as the little bunny took her first hop, she remembered Second Brother’s words. She scratched her head and turned back.

“Third Brother,” she said with her most serious expression, mimicking the scolding voice her daddy once used on her, “Second Brother said you have to go to bed early! You’re a big kid now, so you have to be obedient, understand?”

Pei Shen teased her, “What if I’m not obedient?”

Can-Can frowned, puffing up and imitating her daddy’s tone in a baby voice, “Being too nice to you, aren’t we? You just don’t listen, not even for a day!”

Pei Shen laughed, crouching down to tap her little nose. “Alright, alright. Go downstairs and get to bed.”

Can-Can always went to bed early—usually asleep by nine and up by six. Her routine was as steady as clockwork.

She returned to her usual cheerful self, waved, and said sweetly, “Goodnight, Third Brother!” Then bounced downstairs like a little bunny with a mission complete.

But of course, Pei Shen didn’t go to bed early like Qi Sen had nagged him to.

There were only five days left until the provincial chemistry competition. Time was tight. Earlier that day, the teacher had pulled him aside to check in and offer words of encouragement—“I believe in you,” “You’ll do great,” and so on. But the effect was pressure, not comfort.

Neither he nor Qi Sen had the luxury of failure and a fresh start.

Pei Shen’s parents had been far better than Qi Sen’s abusive foster parents. But after they passed, the compensation money from the accident barely lasted—most of it was spent on Grandma’s medical care. All that remained was a few thousand for tuition.

The college entrance exam was Qi Sen’s last straw. Pei Shen’s only way out was winning through the chemistry olympiad.

He loved chemistry. Loved the way elements danced and reacted. He adored that quote by Ihab Hassan:
“Many people don’t realize—we plow the soil of stars, and drink the universe in a cup of rain.”

Stars and cosmos flowed through the body. Chemistry, to him, was pure poetry.

The light in Pei Shen’s room stayed on.

He read until past three in the morning, only stopping when his chest gave a dull throb—reminding him of Qi Sen’s words.

He stumbled to bed, face washed clean of lip tint and blush, pale as paper.

He fell into a deep sleep.

No matter how many times Qi Sen, Can-Can, and Tao-Tao knocked on his door the next morning, he didn’t stir.

His cheeks were flushed red, but his body lay completely still.

Even when the ambulance arrived—he barely responded.

**

In the sharp, disinfectant-scented hospital hallway, Can-Can sat outside the room hugging her box of rainbow candy. Her lashes trembled, still clinging to unshed tears.

From down the corridor, Qi Sen came running back, receipts in one hand and breakfast in the other—warm soy milk and buns. He handed them to Can-Can and Tao-Tao, then crouched in front of Can-Can and gently wiped her tears.

He said softly, “He’s okay. He’s just too tired. He’ll rest here a little while and then come home.”