CHAPTER 75: LETHAL CUTENESS!

Director Tang: "Please... let me live..."

All the kids instantly surrounded Huaijin and Mingtong like loyal knights guarding a treasure.

Yuanying wrapped a small blanket around her shoulders.

"You must be cold."

Liang Lingzhi placed the cat plushie properly.

"You must not lose your companion."

Su Mingtong handed her a cup of warm water shyly.

"JieJie, this is for you."

Director Tang watched helplessly as the children formed a protective army around Huaijin.

He had failed utterly and spectacularly.

But the footage?

The footage was gold.

And thus began Huaijin’s reign as the nation’s unofficial "Morning Fairy."

And all she did... was wake up.

Director Tang was well into his late sixties, a man who had seen enough conniving subordinates and blood-boiling board meetings to be almost immune to worldly temptations.

Because there was one kind of temptation he had never developed a resistance to, and that was... cuteness.

Adorable things were his bane, his downfall, his Achilles’ heel. Whether it was a fluffy kitten, a chubby toddler, or a shy high-school intern smiling nervously, he would melt like overheated chocolate in summer.

Everyone in the company knew it, and they tried to take advantage of it too, except for Huaijin.

Huaijin had known this fact the moment she stepped into the building. Director Tang’s secretary whispered it to her as she brought her documents, her expression a mix of amusement and pity.

"That old man has a weakness for cute things," the secretary sighed. "Just be careful, Miss Huaijin. He’s harmless but... overly invested."

But Huaijin had nodded with a thoughtful hum. If that elder was easy to sway, then she had no reason not to sway him, especially when her father’s group was constantly under the scrutiny of sharks disguised as corporate partners.

Director Tang had always been known as a hard-nosed elder, cold, rigid, and impossible to move once he had set his mind.

Years of working with genius trainees, spoiled child stars, and temperamental directors had hardened him to the point that people often joked his heart probably had six layers of steel plating.

But even steel had a weakness.

And in this case, Huaijin seemed to have gotten a bit too involved.

She didn’t even do much. A slight tilt of her head, a soft blink of her cat-like eyes, a gentle tug on his sleeve while offering him a juice box, none of it was intentional. She wasn’t scheming, wasn’t trying to manipulate.

She was simply being Huaijin.

But to Director Tang?

It was lethal.

He stared at her now from three steps behind, walking in a straight line as if escorting the Empress herself.

His eyes gleamed so brightly that two staff members who passed by whispered to each other:

"Did Director Tang just... smile?"

"No way. That was probably sunlight reflecting off his wrinkles."

"...Director Tang doesn’t have wrinkles."

Huaijin could feel the scorching stare burning through the back of her head. Her small fist tightened around her lunchbox as she quickened her steps.

She shouldn’t have given him the pudding. And now he became... like this.

"Director Tang," she said finally, pretending not to notice the way he hovered, "you can go supervise the other children. I’m going to the recording booth."

"Oh no, no," he said, waving his hand with a sincerity that seemed almost devout, "the other children have their supervisors. You— must be protected by me."

Huaijin’s mouth twitched.

Protected? She wasn’t going to battle; she was just filming a comedic segment where kids had to copy adults’ expressions.

But Director Tang followed after her like a devoted duckling. Or rather, like a loyal puppy who had found his deity.

The production crew tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. Someone was already placing bets.

"How long until Director Tang becomes her official nanny?"

"Too late. He already looks like he’d throw hands with anyone who makes her cry."

Huaijin pressed her tiny palm to her forehead.

Daddy... If you knew, you’d probably confiscate all the pudding from the house.

Meanwhile, in the tallest building of CHRONOS Corp...

Yuanfeng sat behind his desk, but his posture was wrong. His body seemed to be still, rigid, and straight.

His eyes were focused, yet completely not on the stack of documents in front of him. His computer wasn’t open to spreadsheets or financial reports. No.

He was watching the live feed of the variety show set.

A serious man, mature, and feared corporate king. A man whose single signature could make entire families rise or fall.

Watching children do warm-up stretches.

His expression was grave, as if he were analyzing military footage.

When Huaijin giggled as she ran to greet the other kids, he narrowed his eyes.

When Liang Lingzhi failed to catch the ball and almost bumped into her, he sat up straighter.

When Su Mingtong tried to give her a hair clip, he froze and rewound the footage twice to make sure it wasn’t a choking hazard.

By the time Chen Mo offered her a piece of candy, Yuanfeng was practically gripping the mouse like a weapon.

"Is that... safe?" he muttered, frowning.

Just then, the door slammed open.

Xue Zheng strode in with a stack of documents and froze mid-step, staring at the scene on the monitor.

"...Bro."

Yuanfeng ignored him.

"Bro."

Still ignored.

Xue Zheng dragged a chair over, sat down, and leaned in. "Are you seriously watching the variety show again?"

"It’s called monitoring." Yuanfeng’s voice was dignified. "I need to ensure she’s safe on set."

"She’s in a studio full of cameras, security, a director, producers, ten assistants, and thirty staff members."

"She’s still small," Yuanfeng replied simply.

Xue Zheng inhaled sharply, trying not to laugh. "Small, yes. But she’s not a glass ornament."

"...She might as well be."

Xue Zheng threw his head back.

What happened to the feared, sharp-witted President Yuan?

Ah, right.

He became a dad.

"I swear," Xue Zheng muttered, rubbing his face, "if you keep staring like that, she’ll develop an instinct that someone’s always watching her."