Chapter 66: Anomalous Time 32

The little boy’s cry of “Daddy” rang out with exceptional clarity and decisiveness, echoing solidly. Even Yu Bai, who had first jokingly suggested the absurd idea, was almost too stunned to react.

…He’d actually gone and called him that.

Uncle Yuan didn’t have a shred of an elder’s dignity!

That shout sounded even more authentic than a real father’s, brimming with the unique awe and fear reserved for a stern parent.

Yu Bai blinked in a daze, and after the initial shock, he caught sight of Xie Wufang’s utterly bewildered expression. A grin tugged irresistibly at the corners of his mouth.

Seeing this, the newly minted “dad”—still thoroughly flustered—seemed to swallow whatever words he’d been about to say.

On the cool, spacious stone steps, the man who still radiated chill took a subtle step back, silently putting a bit more distance between himself and Yuan Yuxing.

…”Don’t come near me,” huh?

Yu Bai caught every bit of Xie Wufang’s little movement, and it only made him laugh harder. His light brown eyes sparkled with brilliant amusement, shining brighter than the stars in the distant night sky.

The harsh, intimidating winter chill under the eaves softened unexpectedly.

The little girl, who had been listening attentively to the adults’ conversation the whole time, giggled along. She felt as if a weight had lifted from her entirely.

Hearing Grandpa Yuan call her god-brother “Daddy” was so weird.

But it was really funny.

The precocious He Xi had basically grasped the retaliatory tactic that Little Bai had described. She also realized that, in the eyes of those uncles and aunts who had been so unkind to Grandpa Zhang, she and Grandpa Yuan were supposed to be siblings.

And she was a bit taller than Little Hang!

So, eager to help out, the little girl thought for a moment and asked proactively, “Big Brother, should I call you Daddy too?”

Her gaze was innocent and pure, but the black-haired man she was looking at stiffened.

Then, without a word, he shifted a little farther to the side.

“…”

Yu Bai, sandwiched between Xie Wufang and the two children, covered his face, trying to recall something sad to rein in his laughter. His voice trembled as he said, “Not right now. You can wait until those people are around to call me that.”

He was laughing so hard he could barely stand it.

“Okay!” He Xi nodded, smartly changing her form of address on the spot to match her little brother’s. “Got it, Uncle Little Bai.”

Yuan Yuxing had fully embraced this generation upheaval, as if he’d just weathered a revolution. He slipped right into the role, buzzing with excitement as he rubbed his hands together. “Uncle, when do we head into the restaurant? Today, I’m gonna piss off that bunch of little bastards—no matter what! Haha!”

…”Don’t call me that anymore.” Yu Bai couldn’t take hearing it again. He reached up to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Wait until I stop laughing before we go in.”

“Alright, alright, no rush, no rush!”

Yuan Yuxing, who was actually in a huge rush, began pacing in place to kill time. “I’ll practice with Little He Xi first, run through it a bit. What if I mess up the lines later?”

Little He Xi adapted even faster than he did. She immediately corrected him. “Grandpa Yuan, you can’t call me Little He Xi. I’m your big sister.”

“Ah! Right, right, yes—Big Sis!”

To help his old friend get revenge, Yuan Yuxing tossed aside any elder’s pride without a second thought. First uncles and dads, now sisters—he called without hesitation.

“Oh, right. I haven’t even checked on you yet.”

With that, the little boy hurriedly looked over the girl who was a bit taller than him, asking with concern, “Did that little punk Zhang Yizhe bully you? He seemed all obedient and sensible today, so I forgot to warn you…”

He Xi thought for a moment, then unconsciously gripped the two braids hanging over her shoulders. She didn’t hide it anymore and whispered, “He messed up my hair. Little Bai redid it for me.”

“What?! He pulled your hair? Did it hurt?”

The little boy jumped in outrage. “That stinking brat! Sneaky turtle bastard, always picking on little girls! Watch me sort him out later and get some payback for you!”

“It’s fine. Little Bai already pulled his hair for me. He’s such a scaredy-cat—he even wet his pants…”

The two little ones huddled together, whispering. A bit farther away, Yu Bai finally got his laughter under control and rubbed his face as he looked away.

“They actually look a bit like real siblings.” He remarked to the man beside him with a touch of emotion. “Uncle Yuan’s like an overgrown kid, while He Xi seems more mature and steady.”

But Yu Bai only mentioned it offhand before tactfully falling silent, saying no more.

Of course, he remembered how domineering Xie Wufang had been in his sick state tonight—getting moody if he so much as mentioned someone else.

He didn’t want to keep the patient upset.

So Yu Bai gazed into those gray-blue eyes, heavy with gloom, and asked earnestly instead, “Is it okay if they call you that for now? You don’t have to respond specially or anything. Ignore them if you want, and just pretend the people in the restaurant don’t exist.”

Xie Wufang wasn’t in great shape to begin with, and Yu Bai was already grateful that he was willing to tolerate this bizarre situation of being called “Daddy” by two humans out of nowhere. He wasn’t expecting the god to play along and help rile them up.

Besides, with his status and demeanor, the more aloof, mysterious, and superior he acted, the better it fit—and the more it would make those turtle bastards squirm in fear.

“Alright.”

Xie Wufang agreed to his request promptly, his expression shifting slightly.

Yu Bai noticed he seemed hesitant to speak and prompted, “What is it? What do you want to say?”

The god, whose understanding of humans was only skin-deep, voiced the confusion that had sparked in him the moment he’d heard Yu Bai’s outrageous suggestion.

“I thought humans only used that term for the male who gave them life,” Xie Wufang said.

Only then did Yu Bai understand, recalling the other’s earlier reaction.

So that’s why he’d been at a loss and backed away blankly?

Theoretically, “Daddy” referred to one’s biological father.

But… humans.

In practice, there were endless variations.

Yu Bai’s eyes curved in a smile as he patiently explained to the god, who only knew simplistic textbook knowledge.

“It started that way, but it evolved into lots of uses. Like calling someone ‘Daddy’ if they’re super impressive or you really look up to them. Or to sweet-talk someone into helping you out. But it’s mostly young people who are pretty close who mess around like that, randomly calling each other ‘Daddy.'”

Especially guys—from elementary school to college—who got a kick out of making others call them that, in their childish way.

Of course, “Daddy” had one other special context.

But even Yu Bai didn’t know much about it, and he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up to the innocent god.

What if the ever-curious Xie Wufang started digging deeper?

Human kinks were so wildly varied that even humans didn’t always understand them.

“Anyway,” Yu Bai reined in his wandering thoughts and summed up, “you can call someone ‘Daddy’ out of fear too. Just think of it as them being scared of you.”

Xie Wufang listened intently and nodded. “I see.”

Then he asked, “Do you call others that way?”

“…”

Yu Bai blinked, momentarily lost in thought somewhere else. His earlobes, tucked into the snowy white fox fur, flushed faintly. He shook his head vigorously. “No, no, absolutely not!”

He whipped his head back and forth like a rattle, then stopped, finding himself amusing. He smiled softly. “I’d only ever call the person who gave me life that way.”

Even Sun Tiantian and Li Nanxiao, who had talked about adopting him multiple times in his childhood, had never truly become his second father. They were just Tian Ge and Uncle Li.

All in all, he wasn’t the type to go around calling people “Daddy.”

Seeing Yu Bai deny it so vehemently, Xie Wufang puzzled over it for a moment before saying, “Because you’re very brave.”

“…” Yu Bai paused, then caught on and immediately agreed. “Right, I fear nothing. That’s why I wouldn’t call anyone else ‘Daddy.'”

Good— the pure-minded god was totally on a different wavelength.

Xie Wufang echoed his words. “Fear nothing?”

“Yeah.” Yu Bai glanced down at his phone screen. “Time’s about up. Shall we head into the restaurant?”

His response was casual, but the man beside him blanked out for an instant.

Yu Bai had already turned toward the restaurant’s main entrance when he glanced sideways at Xie Wufang—and suddenly found himself staring into those deep, intense gray-blue depths.

It seemed like he was worrying about something, in this peculiar moment when he wanted to suppress his innate instincts but couldn’t quite manage it yet.

So he asked softly, “Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Hm?” Yu Bai was caught off guard but answered without thinking. “Nope.”

Then he gave it some real thought and added to his reply, quite seriously.

Because Xie Wufang looked like he was genuinely concerned about it.

“I’ve never been afraid of you. Not even when I saw you instantly restore that exploded kitchen, or when I realized I’d been accidentally trapped in a timespace loop. I didn’t feel scared at all.”

Far from it—he’d even boldly sought out Xie Wufang, demanding in no uncertain terms that he send him back to the normal world.

“I know others are probably afraid of you—like Yan Jing, for instance. Humans have this subconscious fear of the unknown and the mysterious.”

“But I’m not really afraid.” As Yu Bai spoke, he broke into a laugh, his tone light and airy. “Maybe I’m just bolder than most.”

Xie Wufang replied, “You said it was before… You’re afraid of me now.”

This time, it wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

He’d been found out.

The man could be too perceptive at times, so Yu Bai had no choice but to finish what he’d left unsaid.

“It’s not exactly fear—just a little startled, because you’re so different from how you were before,” he said. “But I know it’s because your condition isn’t right at the moment. Even sick humans don’t act like themselves.”

“So it’s fine. I get it.” Yu Bai flashed a relaxed smile. “You’ll be back to normal soon enough. It shouldn’t take long, right?”

At those words, the man—who had looked somewhat pale all evening—fell silent for a moment. He didn’t correct Yu Bai’s completely inverted notions of “normal” and “abnormal.” Instead, he simply answered, “It won’t.”

Relieved by the response, Yu Bai let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Good.”

If Xie Wufang could recover soon, it meant the lingering effects on him weren’t too severe. That alone would put Yu Bai’s mind at ease.

And with the bizarre situation at Uncle Zhang’s house resolved, he no longer had to worry about the Old Man getting so upset he’d end up in the hospital. It was like two massive weights had lifted from his chest at once.

The god had quietly granted his wish to return to the real world.

He didn’t need to do a thing. He just had to let time flow on as usual until that morning seven days from now, and he’d escape this timespace that never should have existed.

But Yu Bai intended to make those remaining full seven days as beautiful and lingering as possible.

As an ordinary human, he wanted to quietly fulfill the Old Man’s wish too.

—Hoping these days could last just a little longer.

With the burden off his shoulders, Yu Bai’s expression softened noticeably. He started toward the dining room on instinct, but the footsteps beside him didn’t follow.

His clear distinction between his attitude toward the old Xie Wufang and the current one had made the man—who had been about to walk alongside him—stop in his tracks, deliberately keeping his distance.

Yu Bai glanced back in bewilderment. “Aren’t you coming in?”

In the darkness of night, gray-blue eyes were shadowed by tousled black hair. Xie Wufang, still standing there, lowered his gaze without meeting Yu Bai’s.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he said.

Yu Bai blinked in surprise, then quickly pieced it together from their earlier exchange.

“I’m not trying to rush your recovery,” he explained right away, “and I’m not especially afraid of you… not even like this.”

“Others might be terrified—especially people who don’t know you—but that’s actually a good thing.”

The thought of his earlier tit-for-tat plan made Yu Bai unable to suppress a grin.

Stars sparkled once more in those light-brown eyes, his voice bright and cheerful. “Good thing you’re here.”

His smile shone radiantly. “Really. I promise.”