A Favor Done, A Husband Won-Chapter 300 - 296: Shi Mianmian’s Dad’s Signature Box
"Ji Han." In the CEO’s office, Shi Mianmian looked up and wiggled her finger at Jing Jihan. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
Jing Jihan glanced down at her and leaned over: "Mianmian, what do you want to say?"
"Is this where you work? It’s so big!" Shi Mianmian looked up at him with big round eyes but still spoke in a small voice: "Has Mommy been here?"
Jing Jihan chuckled softly, patting her head: "She’s been here."
Not only has she been here, a certain actress once played out a scene of a vixen seducing Tang Sanzang.
And succeeded in seducing him.
He led Mianmian by her little hand to sit by the sofa in the office: "It’s just Uncle and you here, you don’t need to speak so softly, don’t be nervous."
"Okay, okay." Only then did Mianmian return her voice to a normal volume. After being placed on the sofa, she quickly removed her small backpack from her back, taking out a clean notebook, some watercolor markers, and drawing paper: "Mommy just called me on my kids’ watch, telling me to obediently do my homework and not disturb Uncle Ji Han and Uncle Lu Zhao’s work. Uncle, you go work, I’ll do my homework and won’t disturb you!"
Saying that, she hastened to place her things on the coffee table opposite, but the gap between the sofa and coffee table was a bit large, and she wiggled her little bottom forward, nearly falling off.
Jing Jihan sighed with a laugh, effortlessly catching her and settling her back on the sofa: "Don’t fall, hold on."
Mianmian, though a child, was very close to Uncle Ji Han, but the office environment wasn’t just unfamiliar; it lacked the warmth of home and was marked by the rigor and coldness of a work area, causing a natural sense of awe in a child. Back on the sofa, she kept clutching Jing Jihan’s hand, looking up at him.
Jing Jihan called Lu Zhao, and shortly after, Lu Zhao brought in a small children’s stool and a foldable table bought nearby.
Mianmian sat on the small stool, placing her homework and drawing paper on the foldable table beside her, the height just right.
Lu Zhao quickly exited the office again.
Jing Jihan glanced down to see Shi Mianmian diligently starting her assignments. Though young, Mianmian was serious about the writing and pen-holding techniques taught by her teacher, and the numbers she wrote were very neat.
He leaned closer, watching Mianmian quickly solve a "making ten" math problem, and feeling his gaze, she quickly covered the completed problem with her hand, turning to laugh at him: "Uncle Ji Han, don’t look! It makes me nervous!"
"Nervous about what?"
"I’m afraid I’ll write something wrong and Uncle will laugh at me!" Mianmian pouted her little lips.
Jing Jihan chuckled, pinching her pouty little lips: "Mianmian is so great, how could I laugh at you? Uncle is going to work, but I’ll be here with you. If you need anything, just call me, okay?"
Mianmian quickly nodded and very understandingly waved at him: "Uncle, go work! Bye-bye, bye-bye!"
Though saying goodbye, the distance between her and his temporary little foldable table was less than five meters, visible with a lift of the head.
...
An hour later, having finished the math problems in her notebook, Shi Mianmian looked up while using watercolor markers to draw, glancing toward Uncle Ji Han behind the desk.
Earlier, she heard Uncle Ji Han answering phone calls and using conference software to communicate with someone, but she didn’t understand, her mind filled with, "When will Mommy let Uncle Ji Han become my dad," and in absent-minded thoughts, accidentally poked her chin and face with the pen.
When Jing Jihan finished reviewing a document, placing down the tablet he’d just picked up, he glanced at her and saw a little face covered in various red and green marks looking like a little kitty.
Mianmian was still sneaking glances at him, suddenly caught and immediately grinned goofily at him.
Jing Jihan: "..."
Amused and exasperated.
"Mianmian, come here." Jing Jihan called to her.
Mianmian quickly put down her pen, eagerly toddled over, circled the particularly large desk, and tried to climb onto Jing Jihan’s lap.
Jing Jihan then picked her up, settling her in his lap and wiping her face, but the marks wouldn’t come off.
His eyebrows moved slightly, looking down at the little painted kitty in his lap: "Did your teacher tell you to draw on paper, did they tell you to draw on your face?"
Mianmian first looked at him blankly, then realized what he meant, quickly raised her chubby little hands to cover her face: "Ah! I drew on my face again!"
This face-covering gesture... indeed just like Shi Su.
Truly mother and daughter.
Jing Jihan chuckled, taking disinfection wipes from the desk drawer to clean her face—it was washable watercolor, easily removed with wipes.
Yet Mianmian, having embarrassed herself in front of Uncle Ji Han, tucked her head into his chest, even after her face was clean, stayed nestled without wanting to leave.
Jing Jihan didn’t shoo her away, gently patting her little head, indulging her affection; the little one didn’t take up much space, not affecting his work.
He remained unaffected, while Mianmian fell asleep in his arms within minutes.
The little one, eyes closed, clung to his shirt buttons with both little hands, sleeping soundly, treating his embrace like a comfortable big bed.
Is this finding safety in his arms, lacking it earlier in the office?
Initially thinking of moving her to the resting area, Jing Jihan instead laid Mianmian on the sofa to sleep, covering her with a coat, unwilling to risk waking her in a strange place.
Turning back, he suddenly spotted the drawing paper given to Mianmian by the kindergarten on the small foldable table by the sofa.
He stopped, glanced down, leaned closer to pick it up.
Instructions on the paper detailed the kindergarten homework: Let’s give kids a chance to draw a picture of their father in their mind. (Remember to ask your father to sign the finished drawing.)
On white paper, Shi Mianmian had used a brown watercolor pen to sketch something resembling a table, seated behind it a man seemingly wearing a white shirt and black pants.
Jing Jihan glanced at the desk nearby, then down at his own shirt.
...Although abstract, it certainly looks like him.
A vast improvement over the portrait she once drew of Shi Su brandishing a forty-meter-long square brick.
He picked up the drawing, looked back at the sleeping little one, and after a moment carried it to the desk, took a pen, and signed in the bottom right corner of the picture.
