Chapter 61: Little brat, even dare to scheme against your dad

Chapter 61: You Little Rascal, Daring to Scheme Against Your Own Father

Fu Siyuan was still holding his little sister when he couldn't help but snort with laughter upon hearing her ask about "Fu the Penny-Pincher."

Hearing the laughter, Fu Cheng looked up and glared fiercely at his youngest son. His grip on the phone tightened, almost crushing it after listening to Special Assistant Chen's words.

Dr. Wang watched his phone with a pained expression, too worried about it to enjoy the show.

"Daddy, are you angry? Then Zhi Zhi won’t ask anymore, okay?"

Seeing her father’s dark expression, the little one immediately leaned forward, grabbing his sleeve.

Of course, Fu Cheng was angry—furious, in fact. Being called "Fu the Skinflint" by his own assistant was bad enough, but now his daughter had heard it too.

Now, how was he supposed to explain to her that it was just his employees calling him cheap?

The forced smile on his face was barely holding up. Fu Cheng clenched his phone, his molars grinding audibly. "Daddy’s not angry, Daddy’s just a little tired from standing."

Hearing that her father was tired, the little one immediately tried to wriggle out of her third brother’s arms. "Daddy, sit! Sitting down will make you feel better!"

Fu Cheng’s heart melted at his daughter’s thoughtfulness. Just as he nodded, about to sit down, his youngest son once again shattered his peace.

"Dad, since when can’t our family afford a small island? Just consider it an early coming-of-age gift for me, okay?"

"Mr. Fu, Si Yuan’s design draft is truly excellent. I’d like to ask again—are you sure you don’t want to submit it to the jury?"

Fu Siyuan and his professor spoke at the same time.

Fu Siyuan had been smiling faintly, but after hearing his professor’s words, his brows furrowed, and he turned to shoot him a displeased look.

"I’ve already made it very clear—this draft is a gift for my sister. It won’t be submitted to any competition. Please stop asking my father about it. This is my creation, and I have the final say."

The professor knew Fu Siyuan’s stubborn streak. His gaze bypassed Fu Siyuan entirely, landing instead on Fu Cheng.

Fu Cheng was already preoccupied with Fu Group’s troubles. Hearing the professor suggest submitting his son’s work to a jury, he frowned impatiently. "This is Fu Siyuan’s own work. He gets to decide."

"And Fu Siyuan! Don’t bring up that island nonsense again. Even if Fu Group is thriving, it can’t withstand you squandering money like this. Want an island? Absolutely not!"

Settling back into his wheelchair, Fu Cheng glanced at his two sons. "Come with me to Fu Group."

From Special Assistant Chen’s earlier behavior, it was clear he was still slacking off.

Fu Group was on the verge of collapse, and yet he was still goofing off on forums!

The thought made Fu Cheng see red.

His throat worked visibly. Even with the car’s air conditioning blasting, he couldn’t calm down.

Fu Siyuan carried his sister into their father’s car. The siblings sat in the backseat, neither speaking first.

Until a little voice broke the silence.

"Third Brother, what’s a judging panel?"

That older brother earlier seemed so anxious. Why was he in such a hurry? Zhi Zhi really wanted to understand.

But she was new to the human world. The knowledge her mother had taught her was barely enough to survive.

She couldn’t understand most of what her brothers and father were saying.

Clutching the hand-stitched embroidery on her brother’s collar, the little one tilted her head up, her bright, clear black eyes fixed intently on the young man.

Fu Siyuan was still thinking about how to tell his father that Fu Group wasn’t actually bankrupt—in fact, it was on an upswing.

But his old man was still drowning in anxiety over his "life’s work crumbling."

Sighing, the young man withdrew his gaze from his father.

His father was good, but his temper was just too explosive.

Not like him—calm and composed...

Feeling a tug on his collar, Fu Siyuan looked down. After a moment of thought, he explained in the simplest terms he could.

"Third Brother will give you an example. Suppose Second Brother and Third Brother both made pea mash for Zhi Zhi to eat. But whose pea mash tastes better? Of course, Zhi Zhi gets to decide!"

"A judging panel means letting Zhi Zhi taste both and decide which one she likes better. The one she likes best takes the prize!"

The little one’s mind worked quickly.

After listening to her third brother’s explanation, she immediately perked up. "So Zhi Zhi is the judging panel! Whichever pea mash Zhi Zhi likes, that brother wins!"

Fu Siyuan smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. "Exactly! Zhi Zhi’s so smart!"

Hearing her third brother’s praise, Zhi Zhi bubbled with laughter.

The little girl, who had been sitting on the young man’s lap, suddenly shifted.

She turned around, kneeling upright on the seat, then wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and lisped sweetly, "Third Brother’s sketch of the house is so pretty. Third Brother doesn’t want the judging panel to like it?"

Even though her phrasing was a bit wonky, Fu Siyuan understood.

Worried that the driver might brake suddenly and make her fall, he held her steady with one hand while leaning slightly to let her snuggle closer.

"That’s Third Brother’s gift to Zhi Zhi—a little castle. Does Zhi Zhi like it?"

The little one nodded vigorously. "Mhm! Zhi Zhi likes it so much!"

"But Third Brother’s little house is so pretty! Mama says good things should be shared with everyone."

"Third Brother shared with brothers, shared with Zhi Zhi, shared with Daddy, shared with so many people."

"But lots of folks missed out on seeing Third Brother’s little house. Third Brother is so amazing! Daddy said so too, right, Daddy?"

Holding up a tiny finger, she counted everyone who had seen her third brother’s drawing today.

She was trying to express something else but couldn’t quite find the words.

Flustered, she reached out and roped her dad in for help.

"Papa, the little house Third Brother drew is so pretty! Like sooo many people love Third Brother's little house."

Kneeling on the car seat, the little dumpling made a big circle with her hands.

Her small face was full of frustration, unable to express her thoughts clearly; she was nearly in tears.

Seeing this, Fu Cheng reached out and swept his youngest daughter into his arms.

He patted her back gently with his large hand, but his gaze fell on his youngest son beside him.

"The mentor said you have a great chance at the Pritzker Prize this time. Why not give it a try?"

Hearing this, Fu Siyuan curled his lips. "I draw designs just as a hobby. I have no desire for fame or fortune."

"Besides, what good would winning do for me? For example... Papa, would you give me a private island?"

His daughter in his arms was tugging at his collar, staring at him eagerly.

Meanwhile, his spoiled son was demanding an island outright.

Fu Cheng did some quick mental math, gritted his teeth, and said solemnly, "Alright, you've got yourself an island. Your sister really wants to see you on that award stage. You'd better not disappoint her."

Fu Siyuan wasn’t a fool—he understood his sister wanted him to submit his designs to the judging panel.

But for the sake of the island, he had to hold back until his old man cracked first. Then, victory would be his. "Alright, just watch me."

Seeing the bright smile on his son’s face, Fu Cheng realized he’d been played.

The man let out an exasperated laugh. Ignoring his own incomplete recovery, he kicked his son’s leg. "You little rascal, daring to scheme against your own father."