Song Rongquan’s face hardened. "You don’t understand what it’s like," he said, his voice edging higher. "I’m doing everything I can. Do you think it’s easy raising five children alone? I have to look presentable to find work. I have to eat if I’m going to have the energy to provide—"

"Provide what, exactly?" Guiying cut in. "What have you provided them?" His voice didn’t rise, but it filled the room. "You cut your stomach open five times. Those scars are probably permanent. You went through five pregnancies, five births, and this is the life you chose for them? Why have them if you weren’t ready to give them the best you could offer and more?"

He took a step forward. "You say you love them, but it’s obvious who you love more. You’re well fed. Well dressed. You look rested. Your phone is new. And your daughter hasn’t eaten since yesterday." He let it settle. "Where’s the sacrifice, Mr. Song? What have you given up for them? From where I’m standing, you’ve given up nothing and taken everything."

"You don’t know anything about my situation—"

"Are they your pawns?" Guiying said. "Is that what they are to you? Five children you brought into the world so you could use them to pull money from people who actually care? Is this the life you wanted for them when you decided to have them?"

"I love my children!" Song Rongquan’s voice cracked, genuine anger finally breaking through the smooth exterior. "You walk in here after five minutes and think you understand everything—"

"I understand what I see," Guiying said. "And what I see is a man who chose himself. Every single time, you chose yourself."

The room went still.

Yilin hadn’t moved from the doorway. She watched Guiying with eyes too old for her age, and she wasn’t crying. Somehow that was worse.

Bai Feng stood up quietly. "Mr. Song," he said evenly, "we didn’t come here to argue. We came because we received a report and wanted to help your family." He held Song Rongquan’s gaze. "But it’s clear you don’t need our help. Your children do."

Song Rongquan opened his mouth to speak.

"Directly to the children," Liang Xueyi said, her voice quiet but final. "Food, clothing, medical assessment, schooling. We’ll handle it all directly. No cash transfers."

The calculation showed on Song Rongquan’s face.

That wasn’t what he’d been hoping to hear.

Bai Feng stood and straightened his jacket. The change in his posture shifted the room.

"Mr. Song, before we leave, you need to know what happens next." His voice had gone flat and precise. "We’re filing a report with the Civil Affairs Bureau and local child protection services. It covers the conditions here and the welfare of all five children."

Song Rongquan’s eyes narrowed. "You can’t just—"

"We can," Bai Feng said. "And we will."

He paused. "A social worker will be assigned to this case. They’ll conduct regular, unannounced visits."

Song Rongquan opened his mouth, but Bai Feng continued.

"Five children living like this, without adequate food or supervision, isn’t a private matter. It’s a legal one. You’ll be required to cooperate fully. Any interference or obstruction will be documented. That record can be used to pursue further action, including temporary removal into protective care."

The color drained from Song Rongquan’s face.

Liang Xueyi stood. Her voice was quiet, but it left no room for argument. "Our organisation will arrange immediate food assistance and medical assessments for all five children. We’ll also conduct a full evaluation of their living situation."

She met his gaze. "That happens regardless of your cooperation. Cooperating would be in your best interest."

Song Rongquan said nothing.

Bai Feng picked up his bag. "You’ll receive the social worker’s contact details within forty-eight hours." He looked at Song Rongquan once. "Use that time wisely."

They left him standing in the silence.

They didn’t linger in the apartment.

The moment they hit the stairwell, Bai Feng pulled out his phone and started moving. "I’ll contact He Mingshan and Wen Ruohai. We’ll get food to them today." He glanced at Liang Xueyi. "Can you reach Lin Rouyi? The kids need medical assessments, especially the younger ones."

"I’ll call her now," Liang Xueyi said, already dialing.

"I’ll stay," Guiying said.

Both of them stopped and looked at him.

"I have a few hours before my shoot," he explained. "Someone should be here until the food arrives and make sure the kids actually eat it. I don’t trust him to do that."

Bai Feng studied him for a beat, then nodded. "I’ll have everything arranged and sent over within the hour. The neighbor who filed the report lives on this floor—"

"I’ll find her," Guiying said.

Bai Feng nodded, satisfied, and they headed down together. Liang Xueyi was already speaking to Lin Rouyi. Bai Feng typed as he walked. At the bottom of the stairs they split without ceremony, each heading to the next thing that needed doing.

Guiying paused in the lobby after they left.

Then he turned and went back up.

Guiying pushed the apartment door open again.

Song Rongquan looked up, caught off guard. "You came back?"

Guiying pulled a chair over and sat down across from him. "Before you bring the kids back, I need to talk."

Song Rongquan stayed quiet, watching him.

Guiying kept his voice low. "I don’t get it. Five kids, five different fathers. At some point you had to think this through."

Song Rongquan exhaled through his nose, leaning back like the question had been circling in his head for a while. "I thought if they were mine, they wouldn’t leave. Blood’s supposed to mean something." He shrugged. "I was wrong."

Guiying didn’t look away. "And you still say you love them?"

"Of course I do," Song Rongquan said, his voice sharpening. "You think I don’t know they’re hungry? You think I want them like this?"

"Then why are they like this?" Guiying asked. Not loud, just steady. "When was the last time you actually took care of them? Walked Yilin to school, took Lian to a doctor, sat down with all five and acted like their father?"

Song Rongquan’s jaw tightened. He looked at the floor. "It’s been rough. I’m trying to get back on my feet."

"People in rough patches still feed their kids," Guiying said.

The room went quiet again. Song Rongquan didn’t argue. He just muttered, "You don’t know what it’s like doing this alone."

"Maybe not," Guiying said. "But I saw how Yilin looked at me when she opened the door." He stood up, adjusting his jacket. "You don’t need money right now. You need help. The organisation can set you up with counseling, if you’ll take it."