Jiang Zhiwan had never been the “good child” in Pei Jinghuai’s eyes.

Although Pei Jinghuai indulged her occasional willfulness, allowed her to linger in his study late at night, and pitied the flashes of vulnerability in her eyes, every night after he fell asleep, the girl who timidly called him “Uncle Pei” during the day would quietly sneak into his room and curl up in his arms with devotion.

Sometimes, she would do things even more daring.

Jiang Zhiwan pressed her face against his chest, the corners of her lips curving into a satisfied yet obsessive smile.

Until faint red marks appeared on her neck, until she softly announced that she wanted to move out, using the most innocent tone to stab at his deepest hidden pain.

“Uncle, you’re getting old.”

His usual composure finally shattered.

In a burst of anger, Pei Jinghuai crossed the greatest line of his life, pulling the twenty-year-old girl onto his lap and punishing her with strikes from his palm, each one carrying complicated emotions.

The sharp sounds echoed through the room, mixed with her restrained gasps and his heated breathing.

At that moment, something between them completely collapsed.

That night, when her soft body pressed close to him once again, Pei Jinghuai’s breathing lost control for the first time because of her.

“Jiang Zhiwan, tell me… how long has this been going on?”

The girl in his arms lifted her face. Moonlight illuminated the burning madness in her eyes, no longer hidden at all.

There had never been innocence or timidity in her gaze.

“Did you really not know? Uncle Pei… weren’t you enjoying it too?”