the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 356: The Little Boy Squats in the Courtyard, Brushin

The evening before the Lunar New Year had just passed. At five in the morning, Imperial City was cold enough to make icicles fall from the sky. Richard Shaw was forced to crawl out of his warm bed and head to the airport to pick soone up.

The driver was Richard Shaw’s forr personal soldier from his early years, a young man who remained stoic through life-and-death situations. After picking up the fully able-bodied Ignatius Leclair, he couldn’t help but grumble inwardly—why didn’t he just take a private plane and land directly at the cabin in the outskirts? Major General’s mobility wasn’t great to begin with, and this back-and-forth airport run was going to eat up two or three hours.

The young man cranked the car heater to full blast, thinking that by the ti they returned, the young master would already be up. He might as well bring back so breakfast along the way.

Richard Shaw rarely saw Ignatius Leclair in such a withdrawn and taciturn state, nor did he often wake before dawn just to make arrangents like these. Ignatius had left the Leclair Mansion when he was six years old, receiving an education entirely in line with Howard Family traditions. Back then, Aunt Lan had been a renowned socialite of Imperial City, always composed and dignified in her mannerisms.

From a young age, Ignatius carried himself like a prematurely aged man—mature and astute beyond his years. However, there were exceptions. Whenever he wanted to stir things up, it usually ant sothing big was happening.

"Do you want to go to the Shaw Mansion or the cabin?" Richard Shaw asked from the car. His features were strikingly handso, but years of military campaigns left an indelible impression—what hit you first wasn’t his looks but the steely, resolute aura he exuded.

"The cabin." Ignatius, as always, knew the cabin was reserved solely for the father-son duo, with no room for outsiders. But he was feeling low and deliberately wanted to tread on Richard Shaw’s sore spots.

Richard frowned at the response, pondering who in Imperial City could even rein him in these days. The last ti Ignatius caused a major stir was when Aunt Lan passed away—he turned South Sea upside down, and it was only Mrs. Howard herself who stepped in to calm the fiasco.

What was it about this ti? Richard mused that nothing big had happened recently in South Sea, except for Bessie Leclair planning to marry Yeager Family’s third son. Stone Leclair’s promotion was also slated for next spring, and if it was about Stone getting married, that had already taken place so ti ago.

"Shuangzi, head to the cabin. Pick up so glutinous rice cakes that Casimir likes on the way." Richard instructed casually. His little rascal loved those soft, sticky rice cakes, eating four at a ti. Fearing they were too greasy, Richard only bought them every now and then.

"Got it." Shuangzi responded crisply and drove toward the cabin in the suburbs.

When they returned to the cabin, young Casimir had just gotten up and was squatting by the wooden-fenced yard to brush his teeth.

The boy, bundled up in a puffy jacket with a tiger motif, hadn’t fully opened his sleepy eyes. While brushing his teeth, he was still drowsy. Everything in the yard had been put together by Richard and the boy themselves.

Casimir had his own custom-built washing station. Water flowed through bamboo pipes and cascaded down smooth, adorable stones of varying sizes, feeding into a stream carved out to lead into the ditch beyond the yard.

The yard’s bamboo, vines, and grass were frost-covered, and the homade fountain had frozen over in the frigid weather.

As Richard stepped into the yard, he saw Casimir squatting by the washing station, swaying his little fra as he brushed his teeth. The tiger tail on the back of his puffy jacket swung rhythmically, and Richard imdiately knew the little rascal was dozing off again. He stiffened his face and called out, "Casimir Shaw!"

Casimir, groggy from sleep, was still savoring the dream he had last night—he dreamt of a gentle, beautiful elder sister who bought him an abundance of glutinous rice cakes. He clung sweetly to the pretty sister, calling her "Mommy," but just as he was about to see her face clearly, his father’s voice rang out.

Casimir instinctively jumped to his feet, standing bolt upright. In a crisp, loud voice, he shouted, "Present!"