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Young Master Yan paid two hundred million yuan for a wife. The whole country heard about it.

What the whole country didn't hear about was what happened next — she ran away just days after the wedding. That particular piece of embarrassment stayed between him, her, and the sky above.

Five years pass. Then one day, a delivery shows up at his door. Not a package. A child. A tiny, sharp-eyed little boy who looks disturbingly like a miniature version of himself.

"Kid, who are you?"

The boy barely blinks. "I'm the father of your grandchild."

Master Yan pinches the bridge of his nose. People have always said he's a little unhinged. Apparently, it runs in the family.

He tries a softer approach. "Then… who's your mommy?"

The young master sighs at the sheer stupidity of the question, jabs a tiny finger forward, and declares: "My mommy is your grandchild's grandmother."

A fortune teller once warned him he'd meet two great nemeses in his lifetime. The first, without a doubt, was her.

The second one is currently standing in front of him in tiny little shoes — and somehow, already winning.