Ding dong.

Wang Peizhen glanced up from his instant noodles, eyebrow raised.

Who could it be at 8:42 PM? He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Apartment life in a new city came with plenty of unexpected knocks—delivery mistakes, neighbors looking for lost packages.

Still chewing, he padded to the door in his worn socks and opened it lazily.

And then he froze.

Standing outside was a tiny girl—no more than five—wearing a pink hoodie, sparkly shoes, and the biggest pout he’d ever seen.

Her arms were crossed, cheeks puffed like she was ready to scold the world.

She looked up at him, narrowed her eyes, and pouted.

> “You took forever to open the door, Daddy!”

He blinked.

“…Sorry, what?”

The little girl didn’t wait for an invitation. She marched inside with all the confidence in the world, dragging a bunny-shaped backpack behind her.

Peizhen turned slowly, watching her settle herself neatly on his couch, swinging her legs like she belonged there.

> “It smells like you’ve only eaten instant noodles for two days straight. Mama was right.”

“Mama…?” he echoed blankly, still standing by the door like a statue.

The girl gave him a look. Like he was the crazy one.

> “I’m your daughter, obviously. And no, I’m not lost.”

“Yes, I know your full name.”

“Yes, I came alone.”

“No, you can’t call the police.”

Peizhen’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“…Okay. Let’s just slow down.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re saying I’m your—dad?”

She rolled her eyes.

> “Wang Peizhen. Born in Jiangcheng. Top of your class in high school. Now in your third year of med school. Lives alone. Very bad at cleaning.”

“…Okay, stalker,” he muttered under his breath.

But the girl just grinned proudly, as if she’d proven her identity.

Peizhen scratched his head. “Look, kid… I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

That stopped her.

The brightness in her eyes dimmed just a little. Her voice softened.

> “No… I don’t.”

> “I came all the way here because I had to meet you. Before it’s too late.”

His chest tightened unexpectedly.

Before what is too late?

And just as he was about to ask, the girl stood up and held her arms open wide.

> “Anyway. I came from really far away. So hug first. Questions later.”

Peizhen didn’t move.

“…You’re serious?”

> “Completely.”

And At that moment—between the ridiculousness of the situation and the strange warmth blooming in his chest—Peizhen hesitated.

Then he crouched down slowly and pulled her into a gentle hug.

She fit too easily in his arms. Too perfectly.

“…What’s your name?” he whispered.

The girl rested her head on his shoulder and whispered back, like it was a secret only he could hear—

> “Ruoyu. Wang Ruoyu.”

Peizhen’s heart skipped a beat.

He didn’t know where she came from, or why she felt so familiar…

But something in him whispered—his life had just begun to change.

The door was still half-open, but Wang Peizhen’s world had already tilted off its axis.

A little girl stood at his feet, her arms stubbornly looped around his waist like she belonged there. Like this was a home she’d been to a hundred times.

“You took forever to open the door, Daddy,” she pouted.

“D-Daddy?” Peizhen’s voice cracked like he’d swallowed air wrong. “I’m sorry, kid, but you’ve got the wrong person.”

The girl looked up, brows furrowed, lips pursed. “Wang. Pei. Zhen. Born November 19. Type O blood. You live alone. Don’t lock your windows at night. And you keep expired milk in your fridge.”

He blinked.

“Wait, how do you know that?”

“Mama told me,” she said confidently, as if it explained everything.

She marched into the apartment, taking off her little red shoes at the door, like she’d done it before. Her tiny pink backpack had a bunny keychain that jingled with every bounce. She hopped onto the couch, hugged her plushie tight, and patted the seat next to her.

“Come on. Sit. You’re acting weird.”

Peizhen stood frozen at the door, brain buffering.

He wasn’t the type to panic. A top med student, level-headed, problem-solver by nature. But this? This was a curveball from a drama script.

“Okay,” he muttered, stepping in and quietly locking the door behind him. “This has to be a prank. Who put you up to this?”

“I already told you. Mama,” she replied, reaching for the TV remote like she owned the place.

Peizhen cautiously sat beside her. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and sunshine. And something in his chest… tightened.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly.

The girl turned to him, tilted her head, and smiled so brightly it almost hurt to look at her.

“Wang Ruoyu,” she said. “Ruoyu like soft rain. Mama picked it because it sounded gentle.”

His lips parted. Wang Ruoyu?

“My surname?”

“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly. “I mean, you are my dad.”

Peizhen stared. “Okay, Ruoyu… where’s your mom?”

“She’s safe,” she said vaguely, curling up on the couch with her plushie. “I’ll tell you more when you’re ready.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mama says you’re not dumb,” she offered helpfully. “Just slow at feelings.”

Peizhen gawked.

“She also said you’d ask too many questions and forget to offer me dinner.”

His jaw dropped open. “…Dinner! Right.”

He stumbled to the kitchen, opening the fridge with a nervous laugh. “You want noodles? Wait, you’re too young to eat spicy, aren’t you?”

“I like eggs,” she called out. “But not burnt like last time.”

He froze.

“Last time?”

“Oops,” Ruoyu giggled. “Spoiler alert.”

He peeked around the fridge door, narrowing his eyes. “Are you from the future or something?”

She smiled. “If I told you, would you believe me?”

He didn’t answer. His hands moved automatically—cracking eggs, boiling noodles—mind racing. This couldn’t be real. And yet... it didn’t feel fake either. That little girl knew things. Not just random facts. She knew how his apartment smelled. How he always forgot to replace the milk. Even the way he hesitated before adding seasoning to the soup.

She knew him.

He set the bowl down in front of her, and Ruoyu’s eyes lit up.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered.

The title hit him like a whisper to the soul.

“Don’t call me that,” he said gently.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not... I mean, I don’t have a daughter.”

She tilted her head, scooping noodles into her mouth. “Yet.”

He stared at her.

“Where’s your mother?”

“I told you. Safe.”

“Who is she?”

Ruoyu looked down at her bowl. “She’s... someone you used to know.”

His breath caught.

“I used to know a lot of people.”

“She sat two rows behind you in chemistry class. You never looked back. But she looked at you every day.”

His hands turned cold.

“Her name is An Ruoran,” she whispered. “She’s my mama.”

The name landed in his mind like a long-lost song. Familiar. Quiet. Painfully gentle.

An Ruoran.

The shy girl from his hometown. The one who used to stutter when asking for his notes.

The one who suddenly disappeared from his life after graduation.

They messaged a few times through college. Polite. Distant. She was always warm, but never let him close.

And now this little girl was sitting in his home, claiming to be their child?

>

“This is insane,” Peizhen murmured. “This can’t be real…”

Ruoyu finished her noodles and wiped her mouth with a tissue. Then she walked over, climbed onto his lap, and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.

“It’s okay, Daddy. Mama said you’d need time.”

He sat frozen.

“She said you’d feel it in your heart before your brain caught up.”

And oddly enough—he did.

Something about the way Ruoyu fit into his arms. The rhythm of her breath. The shape of her smile.

Something deep inside him whispered:

This is your child.

Wang Peizhen stood frozen in his small apartment, his back pressed against the door he had opened just minutes ago.

That little girl—Ruoyu, as she confidently introduced herself—was now curled up on his couch, munching biscuits like she belonged there.

“You took forever to open the door, Daddy,” she’d pouted.

And then, she’d hugged him. Just like that.

Like she knew him. Like she had every right.

But how could she? He had never seen her in his life.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, pacing in slow circles. “This is either a dream… or some sort of prank show.”

He glanced at her again.

She had thick, dark lashes, a round face, and a stubborn pout that looked hauntingly familiar.

Too familiar.

“Wang Ruoyu…” he muttered. “Five years old, maybe?”

She had told him that—just the name—before hopping onto his couch like it was her daily routine.

Now, she was curled under his throw blanket, watching him with calm, curious eyes.

Peizhen grabbed a glass of water, trying to process the impossible.

“This makes no sense. I’m not even dating anyone. I’ve never—”

His brain slammed the brakes as a name surfaced.

An Ruoran.

Quiet. Shy. Always scribbling something in her notebook in the last row of their high school classroom.

She never talked much, but he remembered the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Years had passed since they last saw each other.

Sure, they still texted every once in a while. Birthday wishes, quick check-ins during exam season—but that was it.

They weren’t close. And they’d never… done anything.

So how could this little girl be saying—

“You’re my daddy.”

No. That wasn’t just impossible. It was insane.

That night, he barely slept.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that small face again.

That firm voice. That innocent smile.

The way she held his hand like she had done it a hundred times before.

By morning, the girl was already awake and brushing her teeth in his bathroom. With his toothbrush.

“Wait—what—hey!” he sputtered. “That’s not for you!”

“But it was already here,” she said, mouth full of foam. “And we’re family, right?”

He blinked hard.

No one in their right mind dreams this vividly.

“Kid… listen.” He crouched down. “You said I’m your dad. Do you even know what that means?”

She nodded matter-of-factly. “Of course.”

“So, where are your real parents?” he asked slowly. “Where do you live?”

“Right here,” she said, looking around his apartment like it was home.

Peizhen rubbed his forehead. “You're not answering the question.”

She tilted her head.

“It’s hard to explain. But I belong with you. I came here because… it’s time.”

Peizhen stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Time?” he echoed. “Time for what?”

She gave him a sleepy smile.

“For you to stop being lonely.”

His chest tightened unexpectedly.

“You don’t even know me,” he whispered.

“Of course I do,” she said, softly now. “I know you better than anyone.”

---

By evening, he was staring at his phone screen.

An Ruoran – Highschool classmate

He hadn’t talked to her in over a year.

She was probably still living in her hometown, studying literature or education—something soft and quiet, like her. She had always been kind. Smart. A little awkward. The type of girl people overlooked… but he hadn’t.

He remembered her smile.

He remembered thinking once, maybe—

But then he left for university in another state. Life moved on. Feelings faded.

Or so he thought.

---

Peizhen looked up from his phone.

Ruoyu was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, drawing crayon doodles on the back of his discarded receipts.

She had drawn a stick figure with a lab coat and messy hair.

“That’s you,” she grinned, showing it to him. “In the future.”

He stared at the messy figure, heart thudding.

“How do you know I’ll wear that?”

She smiled mysteriously. “I just know.”

---

That night, as she nestled under his blanket again, she whispered:

“I was scared before coming here.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t recognize me yet.”

His throat went dry. “And now?”

She looked up at him with warm eyes.

“Now I think… maybe it’ll be okay.”

Peizhen sat in silence as she drifted off to sleep again.

He had a million questions. None of them had answers.

But deep inside, something about this girl made his heart ache.

Not because she was strange.

But because she felt—familiar.

Too familiar.