The Cannon Fodder Dad of Three Villainous Cubs - Chapter 1

Ji Zhiqiu suddenly felt like crying.

One second, he was chatting with his roommate on the bottom bunk about their bright future; the next, he had arrived five years later, transformed into a tired, dull middle-aged man.

What kind of jinx am I?

To make matters worse, he realized he was living inside a book.

According to the timeline, the novel’s male lead was currently just a tiny embryo. His three “precious” sons were destined to grow up into the male lead’s greatest rivals the villains of the story. And he, their father, would not only be humiliated and abused by these three brats, but would eventually get dragged into the whirlpool of their conflicts and meet a miserable end.

In the original book, he wasn’t exactly a good person either. He was biased and selfish; the fact that his three sons grew up to be twisted villains was entirely his fault.

During the years he had suffered from amnesia, everything had proceeded according to the original plot. The mistakes were already made and couldn’t be undone. Realizing this, Ji Zhiqiu’s face turned even paler, and he began shaking his leg uncontrollably from anxiety.

He still had so much life left to live and so many good times to enjoy he absolutely could not end up with such a tragic fate!

He had to raise his three sons properly, turn them into upstanding, morally healthy youths of the new era, and avoid the critical plot points that would lead them to encounter the male lead and turn into big villains.

It sounded simple, but it was far from it. Ji Zhiqiu’s gaze hardened. Subconsciously, he looked around, found what he was looking for, and hurried toward it.

“…”

Regaining his senses, he stared blankly at the ice cream in his hand. He wanted to slap his forehead and sigh. He was truly helpless; whenever he had something important and urgent to do, he would unconsciously do something completely irrelevant, almost like a “circuit breaker” mechanism.

Is this really the time to be eating ice cream?!

Whatever. Since he had it, he might as well eat it to calm his nerves.

Heh, it’s delicious. So refreshing.

Ji Zhiqiu lay on the sofa with a bitter, grim expression, but that didn’t stop him from slurping the ice cream rapidly. The sweet taste on his tongue felt like it was healing him.

After finishing, he truly felt much calmer. He stood up and headed toward the study.

But just as he reached the door and was about to raise his hand, the door cracked open on its own.

A little boy, only as tall as his knees, poked his head out.

The boy seemed to have just woken up. His soft hair was a mess, with a few strands sticking straight up. His soft cheeks bore red marks from the pillow, and there was a suspicious trace of drool at the corner of his mouth.

He was wearing rabbit pajamas that covered his bottom, making his radish-like stubby legs look even shorter. He was pudgy, much like the cute, five-headed-tall anime toddlers.

Ji Zhiqiu froze, his eyes widening.

Even though he had anticipated this, only now did it feel real:

Oh my god, he’s just a child! How did I end up raising kids?!

Ji Zhiqiu’s brain was in utter chaos. He stared at the child, and after a few seconds, the muscles in his face twitched uncontrollably as he forced a smile.

Habitually changing his voice to a soft, sugary tone, he crouched down. “Little one…”

The cute toddler, who had just been rubbing his eyes in confusion, suddenly tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and let out a howl. “Waaah! I hate you, bad daddy!”

Ji Zhiqiu: “…”

The sound was piercing. At such close range, Ji Zhiqiu’s eardrums ached, and the vein on his temple throbbed.

This is a demon incarnate!

He stood back up, looking at the wailing child with a complex expression. Because he lacked experience, he truly didn’t know what to do in such a moment.

Ji Yanyan continued to cry and fuss, but not a single tear fell. It seemed he was blaming Ji Zhiqiu for not immediately coming to coax him. He rolled onto the floor like an overturned crab, kicking and flailing his limbs, his mouth still busy. “That’s my ice cream! You can’t eat it!”

Ji Zhiqiu’s brow furrowed.

You brat, I bought that! Forget eating one, even if I emptied the entire fridge, you wouldn’t be allowed to say a word!

He looked at the brat rolling on the ground and felt a massive headache. He dismissed him lazily: “There’s plenty more in the fridge. If you get up, I’ll give you a small bite.”

But the brat pressed his luck. Taking advantage of his distraction, he punched Ji Zhiqiu in the stomach, wanting him to spit it out. “Give it back! It’s all mine, mine!!”

This might have been unintentional, but the malice shown by a three-year-old was unsettling.

Ji Zhiqiu’s expression grew colder by the second. His eyes flickered, and after a few seconds, he crouched down again. Suddenly, he changed his demeanor, smiling kindly at the brat. His features were incredibly handsome and deceptive, almost gentle.

The brat, thinking Ji Zhiqiu was coming to coddle him, tilted his nose up in triumph. But just as he was about to get smug, he saw Ji Zhiqiu raise his hand high.

“Little one, do you want to taste a ‘slap-flavored’ ice cream?”

Brat: “???”

A three-year-old’s brain wasn’t fast enough. He blinked, stunned, forgetting to cry. “What’s slap-flavored ice cream? I haven’t eaten that before.”

“It’s delicious,” Ji Zhiqiu said, his smile vanishing. His eyes grew stern, and he dropped his forced sugary tone. With speed and precision, he grabbed the brat by the collar and lifted the little meatball up without any effort.

Losing his balance, the brat’s stubby arms flailed, and he opened his mouth to scream but Ji Zhiqiu silenced him with just one finger.

Ji Zhiqiu pointed at his nose, his tone stern. “I’m going to let you taste ‘slap-flavored’ ice cream right now. Stand still, stick your bottom out, and don’t force me to do it!”

The brat was completely dumbfounded. He stared at Ji Zhiqiu, the arrogance in his big eyes replaced by a hint of fear.

Behind every “brat” is a coddling parent. Previously, he had spoiled the child endlessly, granting every demand. Whenever the child cried, he would apologize and coax him. Over time, the child had become lawless and forgotten what fear was.

Now, with Ji Zhiqiu’s sudden change to a stern demeanor, the three-year-old who lacked any real strength or leverage was easily intimidated by the sudden shift.

But a brat is still a brat. Even if he was scared, he still wanted to resist. Pouting, he shouted, “I don’t want to!”

Ji Zhiqiu didn’t hesitate; he pulled down the brat’s pants.

He had originally wanted to give the child some face and let him stand properly, intending to just pat him through his pants. But since he was being unreasonable, he wouldn’t hold back.

Ji Zhiqiu directly reached out and struck him once.

As the family’s “little emperor,” the brat was well-fed and pudgy. His skin was delicate and his bottom soft; the strike caused a ripple-like wave across his flesh.

Ji Zhiqiu’s hand itched, and he secretly pinched the little butt. The texture was fantastic, just like a bouncy jelly. To cover up his inappropriate move, he gave him another pat.

Feeling the pain, the brat felt as if his throat had been constricted; he stopped crying and froze, forgetting even to blink.

Ji Zhiqiu withdrew his hand, satisfied with the result.

He didn’t advocate for corporal punishment, but extreme situations called for extreme measures. A few slaps now were far more effective than a verbal lecture; only by feeling genuine pain would the child truly remember the lesson.

Besides, those slaps weren’t hard. The brat’s skin remained fair, without even a red mark.

Ji Zhiqiu felt he was being very generous. If the child wanted ice cream, he would give him two just “slap-flavored” ones. He asked with a sarcastic tone, “Do you like it?”

Ji Yanyan shrank his neck back, his teary eyes blinking. “N-no, I don’t like it.”

“Then do you still want to eat?”

Ji Yanyan shook his head like a rattle, his fleshy body backing away.

Education should be done while the iron is hot. Ji Zhiqiu crossed his arms, looking down at the brat with a cold expression. “We are a family. Good things should be shared. They don’t belong only to you, and the more you throw a tantrum, the more you won’t get. Do you understand?”

Previously, the brat hadn’t taken Ji Zhiqiu seriously; throwing tantrums was how they usually interacted. Hearing this, he pouted and instinctively wanted to argue back. But seeing Ji Zhiqiu’s cold, stern expression, he felt a primal fear and hurriedly shut his mouth.

A look of grievance slowly filled his delicate little face. He bit his lower lip, not daring to make a sound, his round eyes brimming with tears.

The child was truly adorable, and this expression almost made Ji Zhiqiu lose his resolve. He coughed lightly and lowered his voice, “Answer me!”

“I, I won’t do it again,” Ji Yanyan muttered, his voice choked with sobs.

Only then did Ji Zhiqiu nod, magnanimously stating he wouldn’t hold it against him: “Alright, put your pants back on.”

Ji Yanyan crouched down, grabbing his pants with his chubby hands and pulling them up clumsily.

With his tiny brain, he didn’t know how to describe his feelings in words. After pulling up his pants, he looked up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, sniffing, his eyes swimming with unshed tears, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

He wanted to glare at Ji Zhiqiu, but he had succumbed to his “tyranny.” He could only withdraw his gaze, hang his head, his expression one of grievance, his small hands curled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Ji Zhiqiu watched his awkward little posture and raised an eyebrow, amused.

This third son of his was a brat in childhood, a school bully in his teens, and a forceful, overbearing CEO when he grew up. But deep down, his personality was that of a “Dragon Overlord” (a classic web novel trope).

In a situation like this, he would usually trigger an automatic program:

Eyes blazing with hatred, fist clenched, neck stiff, and shouting the golden motto: “Don’t bully the youth because he is poor! In thirty years, the river will flow the other way!”

It was just a pity that Ji Yanyan was only three years old and lacked the cultural knowledge. After holding it in for a long time, he finally just looked up, his baby-faced cheeks pale and tender, his teary eyes fixed on Ji Zhiqiu as he delivered his threat in a tiny, milky voice:

“Daddy is mean! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”