“Ah, that’s right! Your mom asked me to tell you that the fridge is fully stocked with food and drinks. Anyway, don’t go out—just stay home with Beck and keep an eye on Little Jessica.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ve been taking care of her since we were little, I won’t let anything happen to her. You and Mom tell Uncle Johnson not to worry about the two of us, just let him stay at the hospital with Aunt. That’s where the real attention is needed right now.”

Helen King turned his face, glanced at Wood, and couldn’t help but feel speechless—his son was just too reliable.

When Wood was little, Helen King would sometimes chat with colleagues and neighbors about kids. While others looked exhausted when talking about their babies, he just couldn’t relate to that kind of fatigue and helplessness.

Because his own Wood was quiet from birth—not that he never cried, but he never cried for no reason. If he cried, it was either for milk or a diaper change. This even made him think that all babies were like this, and that books and parenting shows were just exaggerating to make money.

It wasn’t until a year later, when his good friend, neighbor, and fellow townsman Old Johnson’s child Molly was born, that he realized it wasn’t that other people’s kids were too noisy, but that his own was just too quiet. As Wood grew up, Helen King revised his view again. It wasn’t that his child was too quiet, but that he was too mature. Thinking back, one-year-old Wood was like a normal two- or three-year-old, and at three, Wood was like a five- or six-year-old, already starting to learn English and Korean on his own, and apparently picking up quite a bit of Chinese from Korean books. When Wood was four, his full-time kindergarten teacher specifically asked to talk to him, saying that Wood could solve those early childhood math games in three seconds, and warned him not to put too much pressure on the child, leaving Helen King at a loss for words. After that, Helen King gradually stopped worrying about his son’s affairs.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to act like a father, he just couldn’t—this kid had excellent grades (obviously), loved sports, respected his parents and elders, cared for younger kids, and was just so trustworthy in everything he did. Well, except for being a bit too sharp-tongued and never saving him any face.

The Korean community where Wood’s family lived was only three blocks from the school. While Helen King was lost in thought, the car had already arrived at their house.

As soon as they got out of the car, a huge white creature lunged at Wood. Wood waved his hand, and the white creature immediately jumped aside in the direction of his gesture, then followed Wood into the house. It was a purebred Great Pyrenees—this was the Beck they’d just been talking about.

Right after, hearing the sound of the car, a woman of about twenty-eight or twenty-nine came out of the house. It was Wood’s mother, Helen King’s wife, Grace Parker. Grace Parker wore the most common hairstyle for Asian women in 1994—a short wavy perm—which Wood found rather embarrassing.

“Mom, where’s Molly?”

“Molly fell asleep. She played all afternoon at kindergarten and was already asleep in the car. Did your dad tell you everything?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of the house.” As he said this, Wood had already wandered into the house.

“That’s good.”

At the entryway, after giving her son five minutes of long-winded but pointless instructions, Wood’s mom was finally ready to leave. Just as Wood’s parents stood at the door, preparing to watch their son lock the door behind them, Wood suddenly poked his head out: “So, Mom, Dad, have a safe trip! And Dad, do you want to make a bet with me? I bet the baby that’s about to be born is going to be a new little sister. If I’m right, you have to give me a hundred dollars in pocket money.”

Then, with a thud, the door was immediately locked from the outside.

Molly, also known as Jessica, didn’t yet have the look of the future ice queen goddess. At five years old, she was just a normal little girl. At this moment, Jessica was lying on her side on the sofa, sleeping quietly, a small ponytail covering her head, her special little blanket kicked to the side. Wood tiptoed back to his room, put down his backpack, grabbed an extra-large blanket, and came out. He spread the blanket directly under the sofa, tucked Jessica in, and then lay down himself.

When Jessica rubbed her eyes with her little hands and sleepily sat up, she found Wood lying right in front of her, holding a big, thick book, using Beck as a pillow, and covered with a blanket. So sneaky—she’d wanted to use Beck as a pillow for a long time, and Wood hadn’t even called her over! So Jessica quickly crawled over Beck and burrowed into Wood’s blanket.

“Molly, we have two options now: one, we stay here all night and wait for Mom and Dad to come back; or two, after we eat and watch TV, I’ll take you to the big bed in the inner room to sleep. Which do you choose?” Wood turned on the TV, then turned to ask Jessica, who was snuggled up on his left.

“Is that even a question? I want to use Beck as a pillow—Beck’s fur is so comfy.” Jessica rubbed her head against Beck, making Beck let out a soft bark.