Second floor of Fuk On Building, in the room where Sunri and Pardy were temporarily staying.

  The afternoon sunlight filtered through thick clouds, turning into a hazy wash of gray?white.

  The faint scent of mosquito?repelling incense—lit by Auntie Fung—hung in the air,

  mingling with the smell of old wooden furniture and dust.

  Pardy sat quietly in a small patch of light near the window,

  playing with his toys.

  They were odds and ends Auntie Fung had dug out from some forgotten storage pile:

  a few smooth river stones,

  a chipped wooden toy car,

  and several faded plastic gears.

  He played with deep concentration—

  lining up the stones, pushing the toy car through them like a “tunnel.”

  His little face was calm, expressionless,

  but his clear, bright eyes blinked occasionally with the pure focus only a child could have.

  Sunri sat on the old sofa nearby,

  a newspaper from Auntie Fung spread across his lap as he tried to understand how this world worked.

  He’d discovered that none of them faced language barriers—

  likely another ability granted by the Stone Chamber.

  From time to time, he lifted his head to look at Pardy,

  his gaze soft.

  The pendant against his chest pulsed with steady warmth,

  quietly nourishing both him and Pardy.

  Everything looked peaceful.

  Warm.

  Ordinary.

  But beneath that calm, the undercurrents never stopped—

  especially those related to Daddy.

  Pardy didn’t yet have the words to describe the feeling.

  Back in their original world, even when he was very small,

  he vaguely knew:

  There were always “cool,” “gray,” “sad?looking” shadows drifting near Daddy.

  Most of them weren’t malicious.

  They just… liked Daddy too much.

  They were drawn to the warm, gentle aura he carried—

  like sunlight,

  like deep, quiet water.

  They wanted to come close,

  to be seen,

  to hear a comforting word,

  or simply to stay near that warmth

  as if it could chase away their own cold and loneliness.

  Back then, Pardy didn’t understand.

  He only knew he didn’t like those shadows getting too close to Daddy.

  He would reach out—

  a tiny hand, a tiny gesture—

  and interrupt their approach.

  Whenever he did,

  the shadows would fade,

  then drift away.

  Daddy always thought Pardy was just a baby needing attention.

  He would immediately put down whatever he was doing,

  pick Pardy up,

  and soothe him gently.

  Pardy would bury his face in Daddy’s neck,

  breathing in that comforting scent,

  quietly dispersing the lingering coldness.

  But here—

  in this place called “Hong Kong,”

  especially after moving into this very “lively” tong lau—

  Things changed.

  Not for the better.

  It was like a dam had burst.

  There were so many shadows now.

  So many.

  So often.

  Some were dull and drifting, drawn instinctively to Daddy’s aura,

  hovering at the door or outside the window.

  Some carried clearer emotions—

  curiosity, longing, admiration,

  and a sticky kind of affection Pardy didn’t understand

  but disliked enough that his tiny brows would crease.

  Pardy knew Daddy was too gentle.

  When Daddy saw lost or sorrowful shadows,

  his eyes would soften with sadness.

  He would want to help.

  He would want to reach out.

  He would want to say, “I’ll take you out of here.”

  Just like he did with the schoolgirl ghost in the stairwell.

  And Pardy sensed something else—

  every time Daddy helped a shadow,

  that warm, comforting aura (Pardy didn’t know it was life force and spirit light)

  dimmed just a little.

  So Pardy quietly began his own “protection mission.”

  While playing with his toy stones,

  Pardy suddenly paused—

  a tiny, almost invisible pause.

  He didn’t look up,

  but his clear eyes flicked toward the northeast corner of the room.

  There—

  the air thickened unnaturally,

  the temperature dipped by a barely perceptible degree.

  A faint silhouette of a woman in an old floral qipao

  slowly seeped out of the wall.

  She looked to be in her thirties,

  her expression sorrowful,

  her gaze fixed on Sunri sitting on the sofa.

  Her eyes held awe, longing,

  and a deep loneliness—

  drawn irresistibly to the quiet warmth radiating from him.

  She wanted to be closer,

  even if only to stay in the same room.

  Pardy’s lips pressed together—

  a tiny, almost invisible motion.

  He made no sound.

  No big gesture.

  He simply pushed the chipped wooden toy car

  gently toward the northeast corner.

  The car rolled across the floor—

  and at a very specific point,

  it bumped into something invisible with a soft thunk

  and stopped.

  At the same time,

  Pardy’s small fingers traced a tiny counter?clockwise circle on his pants—

  so subtle it was almost nothing.

  No light.

  No sound.

  Just a pure, cleansing ripple of energy

  radiating outward from him,

  precise and silent,

  passing through the area where the qipao ghost stood.

  The woman’s form jolted violently.

  Her sorrowful, yearning expression froze—

  then dissolved like smoke in a breeze,

  turning thin, transparent.

  In her final moment before disappearing,

  her eyes cleared—

  filled with peace and gratitude.

  She even smiled softly,

  nodded at him,

  and faded into motes of light.

  A faint scent of old floral perfume lingered,

  then vanished.

  The entire process took two or three seconds.

  So quiet it was as if nothing had happened.

  Sunri looked up, sensing something,

  glanced at the corner—

  found it slightly brighter than before—

  then returned to his newspaper.

  Pardy calmly retrieved the toy car

  and continued playing his “tunnel game,”

  as if he had merely picked up a runaway toy.

  He didn’t notice—

  or didn’t care—

  that two pairs of eyes on the high cabinet

  had witnessed everything.

  “Tsk.”

  Windbeak folded his metal wings, muttering on a private spirit?channel only Mo?Dou could hear.

  “Another one.

  What is this, the third today? Fourth?

  This kid is basically a walking ‘Daddy Anti?Ghost Shield’ and ‘Instant Exorcism Machine.’

  And he’s getting smoother at it!

  Didn’t even move this time!

  What kind of unreasonable talent is this?”

  Mo?Dou, perched on the other cabinet,

  licked his paw elegantly,

  golden eyes glinting with understanding and faint approval.

  This ability wasn’t offensive—

  it was something higher.

  A kind of harmonization.

  A blessing.

  It allowed spirits with shallow attachments—

  those merely drawn to Sunri—

  to let go instantly and depart peacefully.

  Compared to Ye Lingyun’s sword,

  Lin Che’s theories,

  or Auntie Fung’s talismans,

  Pardy’s method was…

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  more fundamental.

  “Meow.”

  Mo?Dou’s soft sound carried a meaning: keep watching.

  Windbeak rolled his eyes (as much as a bird could).

  “Yeah yeah, I’m not interfering.

  But it’s hilarious!

  Look at Sunri—he has no idea his kid is secretly clearing his ghostly admirers.

  Is this… filial piety?

  Son helping Dad block unwanted admirers?

  Even ghost admirers?”

  Mo?Dou ignored him,

  tail flicking as he looked toward the door.

  Sure enough—

  a few minutes later,

  another spirit slipped in through the crack.

  A young female student ghost,

  shy and blushing,

  eyes fixed on Sunri.

  This time, Pardy didn’t even bother with the toy car.

  He picked up a blue plastic gear,

  felt the familiar “cold gaze” approaching,

  and his tiny brows creased.

  He set the gear down,

  patted his clothes as if dusting them—

  but his fingers traced several quick, invisible sigils

  filled with release and comfort.

  Before the girl ghost reached the center of the room,

  she froze—

  a blush of embarrassment crossing her face

  as if she suddenly realized her behavior was inappropriate.

  She bowed—

  perhaps to Sunri,

  perhaps to Pardy—

  then drifted back out the door,

  her expression peaceful.

  Windbeak stared, stunned.

  “Seriously?!

  He didn’t even look at her!

  Remote exorcism?!

  His disdain is strong enough to become a blessing now?!”

  Mo?Dou’s eyes curved with amusement.

  He noticed something else—

  Pardy’s methods varied.

  For harmless, lovestruck spirits—

  gentle release.

  For malicious, parasitic ones—

  strong purification.

  This little one wasn’t just talented—

  he was instinctively developing a tiered response system.

  All from pure instinct

  and the simple desire to protect Daddy.

  Just then, Auntie Fung’s voice boomed from downstairs:

  “Sunri! Come help me move something!”

  “Coming!”

  Sunri set down the newspaper and walked to Pardy,

  kneeling to pat his head.

  “Daddy will be right back.

  Stay here and play, okay?”

  Pardy looked up,

  nodded obediently,

  and patted Sunri’s hand in reassurance.

  Sunri smiled and left.

  The room now held only Pardy

  and the two “guardians” on the beams.

  With Daddy gone,

  the flood of “cold shadows” diminished noticeably.

  Pardy visibly relaxed,

  his play more at ease.

  Windbeak couldn’t resist flying down to the windowsill.

  “Hey, kid.

  Do you know what you just did?”

  Pardy looked up,

  saw Windbeak,

  then Mo?Dou,

  and blinked.

  “You… don’t like those ‘things’ getting near your daddy, right?”

  Windbeak pointed his beak toward where the ghosts had appeared.

  Pardy followed the gesture,

  then nodded seriously.

  After a moment, he added softly:

  “Daddy… tired.”

  His vocabulary was limited,

  but the meaning was clear:

  Those things drained Daddy.

  He didn’t want Daddy to be tired.

  Windbeak froze—

  his metal beak twitching.

  “…You’re surprisingly sensible.

  But you know, your daddy wants to help them sometimes.

  Like that schoolgirl ghost.”

  Pardy’s brows tightened again.

  He lowered his head,

  rolling a stone between his fingers,

  and after a long pause whispered:

  “Daddy… Mommy’s.”

  Then added:

  “Help… no good.”

  Windbeak and Mo?Dou exchanged a look.

  They understood.

  To Pardy, the logic was simple:

  Daddy belonged to Mommy.

  Daddy’s warmth was precious.

  It shouldn’t be given away to countless strangers—

  even ghost strangers.

  He was helping Daddy “save energy,”

  and cleaning up the “bad environment.”

  “Meow.”

  Mo?Dou hopped down gracefully,

  sitting beside Pardy with gentle golden eyes,

  tail swaying in approval.

  Pardy looked at him—

  and finally,

  a tiny, almost invisible smile appeared.

  He reached out to pet Mo?Dou’s soft fur.

  Mo?Dou leaned in,

  nudging Pardy’s palm with his head.

  Pardy’s eyes brightened.

  Windbeak watched the “cat?child harmony” scene and muttered:

  “Fine, fine.

  But kid, I should warn you—

  your daddy and Auntie Fung probably already know.”

  As if on cue,

  footsteps and voices came from the stairs.

  Sunri and Auntie Fung entered, carrying supplies.

  “Really have to thank Uncle Hung—these ‘Calming Incense’ and ‘Dust?Purifying Powder’ are great for stabilizing the building,” Auntie Fung said.

  They stepped into the room.

  Auntie Fung immediately noticed Pardy petting Mo?Dou,

  Windbeak pretending to admire the view.

  “Oh my, Pardy playing with the kitty so happily?” she laughed.

  Sunri walked over,

  patting Pardy’s head again.

  Then, casually:

  “Pardy, while Daddy was downstairs…

  did anything cold come in?”

  Pardy froze—

  just a tiny bit.

  He looked up at Daddy,

  eyes wide and slightly guilty,

  but tried to stay calm.

  He shook his head.

  Sunri and Auntie Fung exchanged a knowing smile.

  Auntie Fung crouched down,

  lowering her voice conspiratorially:

  “Pardy, do what you can,

  but don’t tire yourself out, okay?”

  Pardy blinked,

  looking between her and Daddy.

  Sunri knelt,

  took Pardy’s small hand,

  and said gently:

  “Daddy knows you’re protecting me.

  Thank you.”

  Pardy stared—

  processing the words.

  So… Daddy and Auntie Fung already knew?

  They weren’t angry?

  They were… thanking him?

  A warm, glowing feeling

  bloomed in his tiny chest.

  His face finally relaxed.

  He looked into Daddy’s gentle eyes—

  and nodded hard.

  Then, hesitating only a moment,

  he reached out,

  wrapped his arms around Sunri’s neck,

  and buried his face there.

  Sunri laughed softly and hugged him tight.

  In the corner of the room—

  The last ghost of the day,

  a young woman in a Republican?era student uniform,

  who had slipped in earlier

  and had been shyly staring at Sunri’s back—

  suddenly understood everything.

  She drifted closer—

  not toward Sunri,

  but toward Pardy.

  She gathered all her strength

  and sent a clear thought:

  “Thank… thank you, young master…

  Your father is gentle and noble.

  I admire him deeply.

  I have nothing to repay him with…

  but if fate allows in the next life…

  I… I would wish…

  to serve by his side,

  to repay today’s release and guidance…”

  With that, she faded—

  peaceful, grateful,

  a faint golden shimmer marking her departure.

  But that message—

  Pardy heard it.

  Sunri sensed it through the pendant.

  Auntie Fung heard it with her half?trained spirit sense.

  Windbeak and Mo?Dou heard it clearly.

  The room fell silent for three seconds.

  Sunri rubbed his nose awkwardly.

  Auntie Fung snorted, covering her mouth.

  Pardy lifted his head from Daddy’s shoulder—

  his calm expression shattered.

  He understood enough of “next life”

  and “serve by his side.”

  A new emotion—

  sharp, clear, unmistakable—

  jealousy.

  He wriggled out of Sunri’s arms,

  turned toward the spot where the ghost had vanished,

  and puffed up his cheeks like an angry dumpling.

  He could only express his protest in the most direct way possible:

  “No!!”

  He glared at the empty air, spitting out the two words with surprising force and clarity.

  Then he added, with even more determination:

  “Daddy! Mommy’s!”

  That puffed?up, furious, utterly serious little expression—

  Even Lin Che, who had appeared at the doorway at some point (likely drawn by the noise),

  couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.

  Windbeak let out a sharp, strangled “gak!” of laughter,

  rolling halfway across the windowsill and nearly falling off.

  Mo?Dou turned away elegantly, covering his face with his tail,

  his shoulders suspiciously shaking.

  Sunri, caught between laughter and helplessness, quickly scooped his son back into his arms,

  patting his back to soothe him.

  “Alright, alright… Daddy belongs to Mommy, and to Pardy too.”

  Auntie Fung was already bent over laughing, wheezing between breaths:

  “Oh my goodness—Pardy’s jealous!

  Jealous of a ghost!

  And not even a living one—one that already moved on!

  This is… this is once?in?a?century stuff!

  Sunri, look at you—your son is blocking your peach blossoms so hard he’s throwing tantrums!”

  Pardy buried his face in his father’s chest,

  his little ears turning red,

  but his hands still clinging tightly to Sunri’s clothes.

  This small commotion—

  sparked by Pardy’s “daily protection duty”—

  finally settled amid a room full of barely suppressed laughter

  from both the living and the non?living.

  But it also made everyone even more certain:

  Inside this quiet, soft?spoken little child

  was not only astonishing talent,

  but a heart fiercely devoted to his father—

  pure, loyal, and just a little bit possessive.

  After all, when a son gets jealous enough to chase away

  even a future?life admirer,

  his “protection range” and “protective intensity”

  were clearly going to be a long?term, heavy responsibility.