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Cyan Simurgh had just completed a report and returned to her ho.
Although she hadn't been back for a long ti, the results were the sa; the room was very clean, with hardly any dust.
It was not her father who was a clean freak, but her mother.
In Cyan Simurgh's mories, most of her childhood was her mother complaining about her father not tidying up.
Then her father would cheerfully go clean.
When he was with her mother, her father's smile was always abundant, and Cyan Simurgh rarely saw her father angry.
Nor did he get anxious, as a shareholder of a major company, he had long achieved financial freedom and held so power, he appeared to handle everything effortlessly.
Until the day her mother had the accident.
Her father was at a loss, agitated like a greenhorn.
Though her father rarely got angry, he wasn't devoid of it; like the ti when they were out shopping and discovered soone at the company had leaked opportunities to competitors.
He would purse his lips and shake his head, even if he still smiled at her mother, his face turned slightly cold when he turned away.
Later, back ho, he'd sit on the rocking chair on the balcony, leisurely rocking, under the sunset, like a lion lurking.
Without speaking or making a sound, Cyan Simurgh could feel the imnse fury and murderous aura from behind.
Mature people always contain their emotions, be it anger or sadness.
That's what she always thought.
Until her mother's passing, she realized adults can't contain all emotions.
There are tis of breakdown.
Her father's breakdown was no different from others, agitated and furious, kneeling before her mother's body, clutching her hand, endlessly begging her not to abandon him.
At that ti, Cyan Simurgh was young and didn't understand what death ant; she thought it was an illness that could be cured by going to the hospital.
Just like before.
Only later did she realize that the dead could not co back to life.
Death ans irrevocable loss, never having her mother again, never seeing, touching, or feeling her mother's warmth, never hearing her voice.
Vaguely attended the funeral, her father never looked at her.
Until after the funeral, when all was settled, back ho, her father looked at her.
He seed still imrsed in the just-ended funeral, with eyes like dead gray red, like blood filling the pupils, terrifying red veins in his gaze.
So oppressive, so intensely sorrowful, yet hiding venom.
Young Cyan Simurgh didn't understand what her father was thinking, just clung to her mother's photo fra, gently caressing the face in the picture with her pale fingers, avoiding what was about to co.
Later, Cyan Simurgh realized what the incomprehensible aura in her father's gaze ant at the ti.
It was only after encountering a similar gaze later.
She rembered.
It was murderous intent.
Ah, back then, her father truly wanted to kill her.
But ultimately, her father didn't do it, only grabbed the cat she raised and smashed it heavily to the ground!
"Why do you care about the cat! It's your fault! It's your fault for killing her!"
The cat was killed by her father.
Her father's frenzied stomping crushed the cat's head.
At that mont, Cyan Simurgh was terrified.
She had never faced such great anger from her father.
Her father rarely got angry at her, even if he did, her mother would stop him or complain.
Many things would just pass lightly like that.
That day, she first realized, without her mother, her father's anger wouldn't pass lightly.
She cried while cleaning up the cat's body, burying it in the backyard.
Without her mother and losing the cat, at that ti Cyan Simurgh also had no other friends, only to hold the doll her mother bought her and cry in her bedroom.
Until she t Xiaobai, she beca a Magical Girl.
Constantly saving others, and at the Disaster Strategy Bureau, she t more Magical Girls and gained her own friends.
Cyan Simurgh no longer cared as much about the hatred toward her father.
She took off her shoes, put on slippers, and as she closed the door, Xiaobai crawled out of the bag.
It disliked staying inside the Miracle Seed, usually, Cyan Simurgh kept it in her bag.
"Xiaoqing Xiaoqing, Iris is looking for you, keeps saying she wants to talk, hurry up, she's been urging."
"Got it, right away, right away,"
Cyan Simurgh replied casually, clapping her slippers as she headed for the bedroom.
But halfway there, the door to her father's room suddenly opened.
She pressed Xiaobai back into the bag.
Looking up, a much-aged middle-aged man stood at the door, sowhat dazed seeing Cyan Simurgh.
Cyan Simurgh stood there for a mont before saying, "Dad."
The middle-aged man nodded and looked at her again, "You're back."
"Mm, I'm back."
aningless dialogue, in reality, such slightly estranged interactions weren't new.
As she planned to go back to her room, her father unexpectedly stopped her, "Where have you been recently?"
She had been supporting Jiang Ming City for several years, though she had returned ho occasionally, it was rare.
It seed her father hardly noticed she'd been away from ho for a long ti.
After all, most of his ti was spent at the company, he rarely ca ho, even if he did, father and daughter never talked much, nor visited one another.
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