Chapter 1039 – Mo Lan’s Baby-Raising Daily Life 6

Sylvia began seizing every moment when Mo Lan turned to brew tea, Sentai tended her vines, Zhizhi gnawed on fruit, or Clack polished his camera, to quickly roll behind curtains, under sofas, into the gaps between bookshelves and walls, and even into half-open drawers to hide, then wait for everyone to come find her.

Mo Lan and Sentai could always spot her immediately.

But upon noticing that Sylvia would sulk in her cradle for a while every time she was “easily” found, Mo Lan had a change of heart and began playing along with the little one’s game of hide-and-seek.

Whenever Sylvia launched a “concealment operation,” they would pretend to notice nothing and continue with whatever they were doing, only secretly noting the location in their minds to ensure safety.

The task of searching was left to the ever-enthusiastic Zhizhi and the eternally patient Clack.

“Sylvia’s disappeared again! Zhizhi, Clack, go find her, quick!”

Mo Lan would deliberately raise her voice, her face full of “alarm.”

Zhizhi would immediately enter detective mode, ears perked up, nose twitching, bounding up and down through the wooden house, rummaging through everything.

Clack would march at a steady pace, the spectral flames in his eye sockets scanning evenly, not missing a single corner.

Like today—the little egg had gone missing again. Zhizhi stuck her bottom in the air and furiously pawed under the sofa, while Clack used his finger bones to gently part the hanging tablecloth. Meanwhile, the “missing” little egg was nestled snugly between a copy oferta on the bookshelf and the wall, quietly “watching” the two of them bustle about, her shell glowing faintly with excitement.

Mo Lan watched all of this with eyes full of tender amusement. She greatly enjoyed this kind of interaction with her child, and carefully nurtured this unique little personality.

Several months slipped quietly by amid the daily games of hide-and-seek.

Every corner of the wooden house, from the storage chests in the attic to the gaps in the kitchen cupboards, had been used as a hiding spot by Sylvia at one point or another.

The little one’s hiding skills grew ever more refined.

On this particular day, the sunlight was just right. Mo Lan was napping with the little egg on the daybed in the Living Room. Sentai’s vines hung lazily from the eaves. Zhizhi was asleep on the sofa, and Clack had dozed off in his coffin.

Sylvia sensed that the grown-ups were in a “guard down” state. She had been lying perfectly still on the soft cushion, but now began rolling with excruciating slowness, sliding down without a sound. She avoided the dozing Zhizhi, rolled silently across the Living Room, slipped out the back door, and rolled all the way into the lush vegetable garden that Mo Lan had been tending in the backyard.

Her objective was clear. She rolled straight to a small patch of freshly tilled, yet unsown earth beside the lettuce bed.

Then, using the top of her shell as a pivot, she began spinning at high speed with perfect stability, effortlessly breaking through the loose soil. Dirt was flung evenly in all directions, and before long, a neat little pit—matching her egg in diameter and deep enough to bury most of her—had appeared.

Sylvia seemed quite satisfied with her “engineering project.” She stopped spinning, adjusted her angle, and “planted” herself inside. What she failed to notice, however, was that her white little “crown” was still poking out above the surface.

The entire process had been observed in perfect clarity by Sentai, whose vines were clinging to the backyard fence.

In the Living Room, Sentai’s vines woke Mo Lan and the others.

Zhizhi immediately snapped into character. She rubbed her eyes with exaggerated drama and hopped over to the cushion. “Oh no! Sylvia’s gone again! Quick, find her!”

She hurriedly knocked on the coffin lid to rouse Clack so they could search together.

And so, one monkey and one skeleton began a “carpet search” of the wooden house.

They checked every corner where Sylvia typically hid, their movements convincing, their expressions “frantic.”

After circling the house “in vain” several times, Zhizhi had a “flash of inspiration” and pushed open the back door, dashing into the yard. “Maybe she’s outside!”

She and Clack looked around the yard, peering here and peeking there, deliberately lingering by the flower beds and under the fruit trees.

Their gazes swept “carelessly” over the vegetable garden multiple times, only to drift away “blankly” each time. Finally, on the third lap of their “thorough” search around the garden, Zhizhi “suddenly” stopped in her tracks. She extended a small paw, pointing at the conspicuous little “white spot” beside the lettuce bed—so strikingly different from the dark brown soil around it—and cried out with the thrill of discovering a new continent:

“Found you! Sylvia! You were hiding here! Planting yourself in the dirt—how did you even come up with that!”

Clack immediately stepped forward and extended his bony hand, brushing away the loose soil covering the eggshell with the utmost gentleness.

Sylvia’s pristine white egg gradually emerged, still speckled with a few spots of damp earth.

The “unearthed” little egg didn’t seem the least bit dejected. On the contrary, she rocked proudly in Clack’s palm, transmitting a clear and triumphant thought-wave: “Zhizhi, Clack, so long, stupid!”

Zhizhi couldn’t help but laugh at this childish yet brazen “remark.” She leaned close to the eggshell, tapped it lightly with her paw, and coaxed along cooperatively:

“Alright, alright! We’re the stupid ones. Our Sylvia is the smartest! What a wonderful hiding spot!”

Inwardly, though, she was laughing to herself: You silly little thing, that white speck of yours stood out in the green vegetable garden like a lighthouse. I spotted you at first glance—I just played along for a few extra laps, that’s all.

Just then—

“Crack!”

One egg, one monkey, one skeleton—every single one of them froze in an instant.

The rocking stopped. The laughter solidified. Even the spectral flames in Clack’s eye sockets seemed to cease their flickering.

Mo Lan, who had been pretending not to notice while closely monitoring everything, vanished from where she stood the instant the sound rang out. The next second, she appeared simultaneously at the edge of the vegetable garden.

Mo Lan’s heartbeat surged. Her purple eyes, unblinking, locked onto the egg in Clack’s palm.

There, across the smooth white shell, a fine crack was rapidly spreading! Then more hairline fractures appeared from different directions, crisscrossing, producing a continuous series of heart-stopping little “crack” sounds.

A piece of shell quietly fell away, revealing beneath it…

Soft skin, tinged a healthy pink.

Then more fragments of shell cascaded down.

A plump little hand clumsily pushed aside the largest piece of shell in front of it.

Then a tiny head, crowned with damp black baby hair, pushed its way determinedly out through the opening.

She opened her eyes.

Her pupils were the same deep purple as Mo Lan’s—still carrying the hazy, dewy sheen of one who had just arrived in the world, yet already astonishingly bright.

She blinked curiously, tiny droplets of water still clinging to her long lashes.

Her little mouth opened slightly, and she let out a crisp, resounding babble—full of proclamation:

“Yah—!” (I’m out!)

Her voice brimmed with curiosity for the world, and pride in her own successful hatching.

Mo Lan held her breath, reached out her hands, and from Clack’s frozen bony grasp, received this warm, soft, tiny little body.