The red cord flew between Yu Xing's fingers. As he answered, he seemed to suddenly find inspiration, and his hands sped up noticeably. The woven section grew longer bit by bit.
Zhao Yijiu had only been trying to find something to talk about, but as he watched, he became engrossed. The gloom in his eyes gave way to a hint of astonishment, and he couldn't help commenting, "...You're a pro."
Yu Xing didn't even look up. "Done sneaking a peek?"
Zhao Yijiu: "..." So he really had noticed.
He fell silent. Yu Xing turned his face toward him instead and smiled. "You're so shy."
Before Zhao Yijiu could retort, Yu Xing straightened his expression and said with feigned resignation, "If you'd ever raised kids on your own, you'd understand how I got so good at crafts."
He'd studied sculpture in college, so he'd always been good with his hands, but he'd never made the kind of little trinkets that girls usually liked.
Later, he raised two girls. One was easy in every way except for her dangerously unstable mental state; the other was emotionally steady, but far too lively.
The latter was Zhu Yan, of course.
Toys, dolls, playing house, braiding hair... Zhu Yan had loved every single thing girls her age were supposed to like.
Compared to Qu Xuanqing's interests—"terrifying folk customs," "methods of killing," "the use of cold weapons," and "researching the ghosts that lived with her"—Zhu Yan's hobbies were so touching that Yu Xing had done his best to indulge them.
There'd been a period when his personality changed. At first, he truly hadn't wanted any contact with strangers, so he'd rather make everything himself.
And not only did he have to make it, he had to make it look good, or Zhu Yan would throw a