"Ding-dong~"
Cheng Han rang the doorbell, a thick tome tucked under his right arm as he waited quietly.
A few seconds later.
Footsteps sounded from inside.
Cheng Han blinked and muttered to himself, "A child?"
The footsteps came quickly—the way children walked. Their thoughts were more easily scattered, and they tended to be impatient, always breaking into a run without realizing it.
"Click!"
The lock turned.
The door opened.
Sure enough.
A little boy of around five or six stood inside. His black hair was slightly curly, a typical recessive trait.
The child looked around a few times, then cried out in surprise, "You're Cheng Han, aren't you?!"
He immediately launched into a stream of words. "I've heard a lot about you these past few days. You look like a middle school student, and you're carrying a book. You must be Cheng Han, the one who borrowed the book!"
Cheng Han shook his head and said solemnly, "You're wrong."
He gave an assessment in his heart: His logical thinking was fairly good, and his observation skills were sharp, but he loved showing off far too much.
Overall, he was not a particularly likable child.
The little boy did not believe him at all. "You can't fool me!"
The next instant.
The little fellow was so frightened that he took a step back.
Cheng Han's bearing had changed in an instant.
A moment ago, he had been a warm and gentle youth. Now, a fierce aura emanated from his entire body, like a leopard about to pounce upon its prey.
Yet his expression had not changed in the slightest. He still wore a smile.
"Thump! Thump!"
The little boy let out an "Ah!" and shouted, "Dad, a bad guy is here!" He turned and ran into the house as though a