"Now," Ling Li said, her voice calm but unmistakably firm, "back to my question. Tell me what happened at your father’s office." The twins froze again, their earlier relief evaporating like mist under sunlight. Kim Kim, ever the strategist, blinked rapidly as if rebooting her mental playbook. Chin Chin, still nestled against their mother, stiffened slightly, her yawn now clearly a diversion tactic gone stale. Kim Kim recovered first. "But Mom," she began, voice rising with theatrical admiration, "you see, the person who designed the system at the office was truly brilliant! It could be said as... ingenious! It recognizes the owner and even family members by blood! And it can feel our emotions!" Kim Kim gestured dramatically, as if presenting a masterpiece to an audience. Her eyes sparkled with exaggerated reverence, clearly hoping to flatter her way out of trouble. Ling Li raised a brow, her expression unreadable. But inside, she was amused. She knew precisely what Kim Kim was doing — and why. After all, she was the one who had designed the system. Four Eyes smirked, his gaze shifting between his daughter and his wife. He could practically hear the gears turning in Kim Kim’s mind. She’s trying to butter you up, he thought, and she’s not even modest about it. "Sister is correct," Chin Chin chimed in, her voice soft and sleepy. She let out another yawn — this one more exaggerated than the last — and leaned deeper into Ling Li’s side. "Mom... I’m sleepy..." Ling Li looked down at her daughter, who was now blinking slowly, her lashes fluttering like a tired kitten’s. Chin Chin’s small hand curled around her mother’s wrist, her body limp with practiced fatigue. Four Eyes glanced at Ling Li, then at the twins, then back again. His lips parted in a silent chuckle. "Are they auditioning for a drama?" he murmured. Ling Li sighed, her expression caught between sternness and affection. "You two are unbelievable." Kim Kim snorted, clearly unimpressed by her sister’s sleepy act. "She’s faking it," she muttered. "She was just awake enough to eat two bowls of noodles before we came." Chin Chin opened one eye, glaring at her sister. "Traitor." Four Eyes laughed aloud this time, unable to hold it in. "You both inherited your mother’s cunning and your grandfather’s flair for theatrics." Ling Li shook her head, gently brushing Chin Chin’s hair back. "I’m not angry," she said. "I just want to know what happened. No tricks. No flattery. Just the truth." The twins exchanged a glance — one of those silent, telepathic twin moments where a thousand thoughts passed in a blink. Kim Kim sighed dramatically. "Fine. We may have... accidentally activated the emergency lockdown." Chin Chin added quickly, "But only because the receptionist said we couldn’t have the mango pudding in the executive fridge." Ling Li blinked. "You triggered a lockdown... over mango pudding?" Kim Kim nodded solemnly. "It was a very delicious pudding." Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥 Jack, still in the front seat, groaned audibly. "They locked down the entire floor. I couldn’t even access my files for two hours." Chin Chin perked up. "But Uncle Jack, you got to take a nap!" Jack, ’did I just mutter something unintelligible?’ He hurriedly turned up the car’s privacy screen. Kim Kim looked at them silently, but she was implying, ’See, I told you, he is useless.’ Four Eyes leaned back, chuckling, giving Kim Kim’s head a soft pat. "Well, at least the system works. It recognized them as family and didn’t call security." Ling Li sighed again, but this time with a smile. "Next time, just ask. No need to storm the fridge." The twins nodded solemnly, their faces the picture of repentance — though their eyes still gleamed with mischief. Outside, the city lights blurred past, casting fleeting shadows across their faces. Inside the car, laughter mingled with lessons, and the warmth of family wrapped around them like silk. But far beyond the city’s glow, in the catacombs where bells cried and vengeance brewed, Solaris was already watching. And the storm he was preparing would not be so gentle. The car rolled past the gilded gates of Peonies’ Castle, its tires whispering against the cobblestone path lined with moonlit petals. The estate, nestled in the heart of South Central Beijing, stood like a dream sculpted from wealth and legacy. Known as one of the most luxurious districts in the city, the Li family’s ancestral home was more than opulent — it was sacred. Peonies bloomed in every direction, their colors painting the night in strokes of crimson, ivory, violet, and gold. The air was thick with their fragrance — sweet, earthy, and calming, like a lullaby sung by the garden itself. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting soft halos across the winding paths and koi ponds that dotted the grounds. As the car pulled to a stop beneath the arched entrance, Four Eyes stepped out first, his movements fluid and practiced. He opened the door for Ling Li, who emerged with quiet grace, her coat fluttering behind her like a shadow stitched in silk. In her arms, Chin Chin stirred faintly, her breath warm against her mother’s neck. Kim Kim remained curled against Four Eyes’s shoulder, her tiny fingers still clutching his collar in sleep. Without a word, the couple moved in perfect sync — two halves of a whole. They carried the twins through the grand foyer, past the marble columns and the ancestral wall etched with generations of Li family names. The chandeliers above glowed like constellations, their light refracting through crystal and casting dancing patterns across the polished floors. Upstairs, the twins’ bedroom awaited — a sanctuary of soft pastels, plush toys, and enchanted nightlights that flickered like fireflies. Ling Li gently laid Chin Chin onto her bed, brushing a kiss across her forehead before tucking the blanket beneath her chin. Four Eyes did the same with Kim Kim, adjusting her pillow and smoothing her hair with a tenderness that only a father could master. The girls didn’t stir. Their breathing remained slow, steady, wrapped in the safety of home. Ling Li stood for a moment, watching them sleep. Her heart swelled — not just with love, but with a quiet ache.