VHBF -Chapter 118 The Bigshot Researcher Daddy (Part 8)

His son kidnapped his granddaughter???

Mo Guosheng hung up the phone with a blank expression. His son was the child’s father, her legal guardian—how did that turn into kidnapping?

The research institute said Professor Mo had taken a few days off. The Su family called as well, saying that two days ago the granddaughter had been picked up by his son, asking whether they’d arrived home yet, and why there hadn’t been a single phone call.

Yinyin had even promised she’d call them once she got back.

Mo Guosheng hung up and called his son.

No one answered the first call. The second rang a few times before it was picked up.

The one who answered was his precious granddaughter. In her soft, babyish voice she said, “Grandpa? I’m with Daddy. The house here is really big, and Daddy has a big dog…”

Mo Guosheng finally relaxed. See? How could a father possibly kidnap his own daughter?

His son wasn’t that unreliable anyway. Besides, she was his daughter—he didn’t even have the standing to do something like that.

After chatting with his granddaughter for a bit, Mo Guosheng asked her to pass the phone to her dad.

The little one called out, “Bad Daddy, Grandpa wants you to answer the phone!”

Mo Guosheng’s mouth twitched. Just a short while ago his granddaughter had been pretty clingy with his son, and now she was already calling him “bad daddy”?

His son was really failing at being a father!

On the other end of the line, the little dumpling was sitting on the floor, with a pile of pretty dolls spread out in front of her. Bad Daddy had said he wouldn’t let the good daddy out until she finished dressing up all the dolls.

The dumpling worked very seriously, putting pretty little dresses on each doll and braiding their hair. By the time she clumsily finished dressing them all up, Mo Linqing had finished his call and came back.

He squatted down, pinched the kid’s cheek, and asked, “Do you still want to see your good daddy?”

The dumpling looked up at him and answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Yinyin really wants to.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “Then what about me?”

Seeing the child’s confused look, Mo Linqing explained again, “If your good daddy appears, I’ll disappear forever. Would you still be willing, little brat?”

To a child so young, the idea of “disappearing forever” was far too heavy. She had only thought about letting the good daddy come out so the bad daddy wouldn’t do bad things. She’d never considered what it would mean if only one of them could exist.

The other one… if he were to disappear forever…

The dumpling’s goldfish-sized brain finally remembered what Uncle System had said: Daddy was half good daddy and half bad daddy. If Daddy was to live on, the bad daddy had to disappear…

Yinyin’s brows scrunched together tightly. She didn’t even want the freshly dressed dolls anymore. Her chubby little face was full of struggle.

She widened her eyes and stared straight at Mo Linqing.

After watching her seriously for a long while, Mo Linqing simply sat down, leaning his back against the wall, long legs stretched out casually, arms crossed as he looked at the dumpling.

Those ink-black eyes looked like they were smiling, but in reality they were filled with something unreadable. The path laid before the child felt like standing on the edge of a cliff—say one wrong thing, and you’d plunge into the abyss.

Mo Linqing rubbed his fingertips together, his heart tightening imperceptibly.

The undercurrents went completely unnoticed by the dumpling. Sitting on the floor, she thought very, very seriously.

Good daddy or bad daddy—this was a problem. A very big problem.

No matter how badly she wanted to see her good daddy and have Daddy always by her side, it had never occurred to her that bad daddy would disappear because of it.

Mo Linqing thought he was stupid. Why ask such a foolish question to a little kid? Who mattered more to her—did that even need asking?

She probably wished he’d disappear as soon as possible so her good daddy could come out.

A meaningless question. He gave a light laugh and was just about to say something—

When the kid suddenly lifted her little face and asked carefully, “Yinyin… Yinyin can’t have both?”

Mo Linqing froze, his gaze fixed on her.

The dumpling looked a little shy, feeling that she was being greedy, but—

“I know being greedy is bad. Good kids can’t be greedy. But—but both daddies were originally just one daddy. Why does one have to disappear?”

“Of course… not a single one can be missing!”

After saying that, she nodded her little head heavily, as if it were only natural. Yinyin felt that Uncle System was wrong. Since Daddy had split into two, why did one have to disappear?

Wouldn’t two be complete?

In the dumpling’s poor, limited understanding, if half of Daddy were missing, then he’d no longer be the complete Daddy.

Even if… the current Daddy really did seem a bit bad.

Not obedient.

But it was okay. Daddy would definitely become obedient. He was just unhappy, that’s all.

The dumpling thought that if she could make bad daddy happy, he wouldn’t do bad things. Once he was happy, he’d do good things.

Just like—just like that day he picked up the big dog that had been wandering outside.

That day, to please bad daddy and ask him to let good daddy out sooner, the dumpling had given him a gift—a little bunny plush she’d treasured for a long time, kept in her schoolbag. It was very cute.

She remembered that after receiving the gift, bad daddy seemed very happy. When they ran into that injured stray dog later, she’d carefully asked if Daddy could save it. Bad daddy, who was usually so bad, agreed.

They took the dog to the hospital to treat its wounds, then brought it home to take care of it.

Thinking of this, the dumpling broke into a sweet smile. She reached out and tugged at bad daddy’s sleeve, shaking it gently.

Mo Linqing lowered his gaze, eyes landing on the short, chubby little hand clutching his sleeve.

“Daddy, if—if you’re unhappy, then—then you can bite Yinyin.”

The dumpling squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her chubby little face over, full of nervousness. Then she suddenly thought of something and added new terms, “O-or Yinyin can let you hit me once. Yinyin also has lots of little toys. I can lend them to you to play with.”

Even without being bitten, just thinking about those beloved little toys—all the pretty, cute ones stored in the little pink bed at Daddy’s place—still made her reluctant.

Her chubby little face was full of pain at the thought, yet she forced herself to keep a serious expression.

In her babyish voice, she told Mo Linqing: “Daddy, you have to be happy. You have to be cheerful. If you’re not happy, I’ll give you my toys to play with. And if you’re still unhappy, Yinyin can let you hit me once to vent it out.”

“As long as—as long as you don’t do bad things.”

“Daddy has to be good, okay?”

That night, Mo Linqing couldn’t sleep.

He’d been wrong. How could lifeless dolls ever be more fun than a living, breathing little brat who could talk sweetly and coax people?

This kid was so smart, so good with words—nothing like that blockhead of a main personality. She was like him.

She must’ve taken after him.

He wanted to keep the kid. When the end of the world came, he’d take her with him to watch the beauty of the world’s destruction.

Mo Linqing frowned slightly. He could feel the main personality getting harder to suppress. A pulling, painful sensation surged in his head. He got out of bed and drank another bottle of medicine.

Only after drinking it did his brow relax. Lying back down, the kid’s words replayed in his mind over and over. The more he thought about them, the better his mood became.

A good night’s sleep.

Perhaps because he was in a good mood, Mo Linqing was unusually generous the next morning and took the dumpling out to play.

That day, Mo Linqing fully fulfilled his duties as a father.

He took her to an amusement park, played with her, bought her balloons, cake, cotton candy, and even stood up for justice with her—speaking up for a pitiful little kid who was being bullied by a bunch of brats.

Something soft and itchy pressed against his face. Little hands cupped his cheeks as the dumpling declared confidently, “Daddy, you were so awesome just now! Super amazing!”

She gave him a thumbs-up. “That bad kid got scared off by Daddy and won’t bully people anymore.”

“Daddy did a good deed! Yinyin wants to praise you!”

Mo Linqing tugged at the corner of his mouth, wanting to say, Kid, you’re thinking too much. Doing good deeds? Impossible—absolutely impossible in this lifetime!

But when he met those bright, clear eyes full of trust and admiration, the words just wouldn’t come out.

On the way back, Mo Linqing suddenly thought of something. If he destroyed the world, who would open amusement parks for the kid to play in? Who would produce all those tasty snacks?

That soft, chewy candy the kid loved—one bite full of milky sweetness. If everyone was dead, who would make delicious food for his kid?

As the dumpling stepped up the stairs, the big dog they’d just rescued came trotting over, nudging her chubby little body with its head, nearly knocking the three-heads-tall dumpling over.

Mo Linqing pulled the kid back, then lightly kicked the dog’s fat butt with the tip of his shoe. One look from him, and the big dog immediately froze.

The dumpling took off her shoes and went into the house together with the big dog.

In her babyish voice, she shared the day’s happiness with it—telling it where Daddy had taken her, what they’d played, what they’d eaten. To the dumpling, everything that happened that day, big or small, was interesting.

“That bad kid was really bad. He threw rocks at another kid.”

“But Daddy was awesome—he scared him away!”

Her excited little voice echoed nonstop through the small villa. The big dog lay on the carpet listening, occasionally sneaking a rub against the little owner’s soft, chubby belly when the big owner wasn’t paying attention.

The dumpling was a little chatterbox, as if she had endless things to say. Her chirping became the only melody in the quiet villa.

She hugged the dog’s head with her chubby arms and gently rubbed against it. Her tone suddenly softened. “A-actually, bad Daddy isn’t that bad.”

The big dog barked once in disagreement.

But the dumpling said happily, “Dudu, you think so too, right?”

Big dog Dudu: “…”

Mo Linqing suddenly recalled a painting.

The first time he’d woken up, there’d been an unfinished painting on the desk. Warm lamplight, a small home, a table filled with hearty home-cooked dishes, several people sitting around the table with smiles on their faces.

Back then, he hadn’t paid it any mind. But now that he thought about it, the feeling in that painting was very much like this moment.

Mo Linqing clicked his tongue.

So the main personality was actually a closeted romantic—he liked this kind of noisy, lively warmth?