A belated gift
The dinner ended in an atmosphere that wasn't exactly harmonious, but at least maintained a semblance of peace. Mo Zhichi first sent Lan Tongtong back to the project department's dormitory.
"Sorry to bother you today, Tongtong." Mo Zhichi rolled down the car window, his tone a little tired.
"Brother Mo, you're welcome. Xiao Chi is quite...quite unique." Lan Tongtong tried hard to find a compliment. "Be careful on the road."
Watching the car's taillights disappear into the night, Lan Tongtong breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like she had completed a difficult diplomatic mission.
After returning to the dormitory and washing up, just as she was about to rest, her phone rang again. It was Mo Zhichi again. Lan Tongtong was a little surprised and answered the call: "Brother Mo, are you home?"
On the other end of the phone, Mo Zhichi's voice was filled with rare anxiety and annoyance: "Tongtong, are you still awake? There's something... you have to help me think of a solution."
"What's the matter?" Lan Tongtong sat up straight immediately.
"Today... today is that girl's birthday." Mo Zhichi's voice trailed off, filled with self-blame. "I was so focused on picking her up at the airport that I forgot about this! I didn't prepare anything. I just got home and the gift her roommate sent from abroad arrived. When she opened it, I remembered... I asked her if she wanted any compensation, and she coldly replied, 'No, I'm used to it.' Now she's locked herself in her room and ignored me."
Lan Tongtong suddenly realized. No wonder Mo Xiaochi had seemed so down at dinner, her eyes occasionally glancing at her father with a subtle hint of disappointment after dashed expectations. So today was her birthday! And yet, Mo Zhichi, the chief engineer who could memorize every key project milestone and data, had forgotten his daughter's most important day.
"Brother Mo, don't worry." Lan Tongtong quickly comforted him, her mind racing, "Let's go buy a gift now, the mall is closed... What does Xiaochi like? Is there anything she particularly wants?"
"The things she likes..." Mo Zhichi was a little lost for words. "They are all weird, like trendy brands, anime figures... I don't understand them either. If I ask her, she'll definitely say, 'You won't understand even if I tell you.'"
Lan Tongtong could imagine Mo Zhichi's helplessness in the face of his daughter's new hobbies. She thought about it, Mo Xiaochi was rebellious and independent, and expensive gifts might not make up for the lack of thoughtfulness.
"Brother Mo," Lan Tongtong suddenly had an idea, "Gifts don't have to be expensive. What's important is the thought. Let her feel that you care about her and remember her. It may be too late to prepare a physical gift now, but you can try something else."
"What method?"
"For example, why don't you write a handwritten card? Just write... something about how you remember her birthdays as a child, and how proud you are of how she's grown up, even if you don't fully understand her choices. Apologize sincerely, and promise to get her the gift she wants tomorrow. Slip the card under the door. Or..." Lan Tongtong paused, "If words aren't enough, why don't you do something right now? Even if it's something simple, it will have a different meaning if you make it yourself."
There was a moment's silence on the other end of the line, as Mo Zhichi seemed to be seriously considering the suggestion. Writing a complex engineering report was easy enough, but writing an emotional letter home might be harder than climbing a formwork. As for making a gift by hand... what could an engineer, who spent his days working with steel and concrete, do?
"I...I'll try." Mo Zhichi's voice was uncertain, but he seemed to have grasped a straw. "Thank you, Tongtong, for disturbing you so late."
"It's okay, Brother Mo. Just go and try it. Sincerity is the most important thing." Lan Tongtong encouraged.
After hanging up the phone, Lan Tongtong lay in bed, a sense of melancholy in her heart. Mr. Mo, the resolute and decisive boss on the construction site, was a clumsy father at home, forgetting even his daughter's birthday and needing to ask his "godsister" for help. This stark contrast gave her a more comprehensive understanding of Mo Zhichi. He wasn't omnipotent; he had his weaknesses and frustrations.
Meanwhile, somewhere across town, Mo Zhichi might be poring over a blank sheet of paper, or rummaging through boxes and drawers, searching for materials to craft a "handmade gift." Lan Tongtong imagined that scene, and a slight smile rose from her lips. She hoped Mo Xiaochi could sense his father's clumsy yet sincere affection. After all, a ruler can measure millimeters, but it can't fathom the depth and breadth of a father's love. This belated gift, perhaps, could touch the heart more deeply than any expensive item.
After hanging up the phone, Lan Tongtong couldn't sleep. She was still thinking about Mo Zhichi's situation. With Mo Zhichi's serious personality and his poor ability to express his feelings, writing that card wouldn't be easy.
Sure enough, after about two hours, the phone screen lit up again, and the familiar number jumped. Lan Tongtong immediately picked up the call, and Mo Zhichi's voice came from the other end, even more tired and a little frustrated:
"Tongtong...are you asleep?" He paused, his tone almost difficult to speak, "That card you mentioned...I...I sat there for two hours and didn't move a single stroke."
Lan Tongtong felt both distressed and amused. She could imagine Mo Zhichi staring at the blank card, his brow furrowed as if he were facing an unsolvable technical problem. "Brother Mo, it's okay. Take your time. Don't you know what to write at the beginning?"
"Yeah," Mo Zhichi admitted honestly. "Writing 'Happy Birthday, Daughter'? Too common. Writing 'Dad was wrong'? Too blunt. Writing 'I know you're unhappy today'... but I'm afraid she'll get even angrier." He sighed. "It's much harder than writing a project summary."
Lan Tongtong fully understood this dilemma. She thought for a moment, then said softly but firmly, "Brother Mo, listen to me. Rule number one: Don't mention anything about her future job, career choices, or life plans in the card. Not a single word!"
"Okay, let's not talk about it." Mo Zhichi followed suit.
"Second," Lan Tongtong continued, "Don't think of yourself as the chief supervising engineer. Think of yourself as... um... the father who carried her on his shoulders when she was a child many years ago. Write in that tone."
"When I was a child..." Mo Zhichi murmured, his tone seemed to soften.
"Right! The beginning is actually very simple," Lan Tongtong encouraged him. "Just write: 'To the little ruler:' or 'Dear baby:' If that sounds corny, write 'To the little birthday girl:' Then, in the next sentence, write about the birthday scene you just remembered when she was a child. For example, 'I still remember your third birthday, your face was covered with cake, like a little cat' or 'When you were six, you insisted that your dad make you a little house out of wood as a gift'..."
There was silence on the other end of the phone, as if he was trying hard to recall.
"Also," Lan Tongtong added, deciding to throw in some more juicy tidbits, "writing alone may not be enough. Can you... draw? You don't have to be very good, just draw a simple one. Like, a birthday cake with a candle on it? Or a little sun to represent that she is your little sun? Otherwise, how about a ruler with a little rainbow next to it to represent her?" The imagery of this combination made Lan Tongtong herself feel like laughing.
"Draw?" Mo Zhichi's voice was full of disbelief. It was no problem for him to draw the steel bar diagram, but to draw this kind of... "I'll try..." His tone was very unconfident.
"It's okay. A childish drawing is better, it appears sincere!" Lan Tongtong encouraged. "The most important thing is that the intention is there. Just treat it as completing a special task. Don't think too much. Just write or draw whatever comes to mind. Once you're done, slip it through the crack in the door. Even if she ignores you for a while, she will definitely read it."
"...Okay, I'll try again." Mo Zhichi seemed persuaded, or perhaps he was forced into a corner. "Thank you, Tongtong, for coming back so late..."
"Brother Mo, please go quickly! It will be dawn if you delay any longer!" Lan Tongtong interrupted him with a smile.
After hanging up the phone, Lan Tongtong couldn't help laughing as she imagined Mo Zhichi, under the lamp, scratching his head, clumsily holding a pen, recalling his daughter's childhood memories while trying to draw a crooked cake or sun on the card. This man, so formidable on the construction site, was now so adorably embarrassed by a birthday card for his daughter.
Perhaps it wasn't profound truths or expensive gifts that bridged the gap between this father and daughter, but rather this humble, slightly clumsy, yet profoundly sincere attempt. A ruler can measure everything, but it can't capture tenderness; yet, a simple pen and a heart willing to be childish may hold the key to unlocking hearts.
Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night for the Mo family father and daughter. But for Lan Tongtong, she felt as if she had participated in a heartwarming secret about love and reconciliation, a feeling that made her feel particularly at ease and warm.
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