Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The production team of *Zai Zai the Superman*.

The small team responsible for selecting civilian parent-child duos had spent half a month without finding a single candidate that impressed the producer.

With the show’s filming imminent, everyone wore worried expressions.

Who would have thought that finding one ordinary parent-child pair would be trickier than booking celebrity participants?

During a team meeting, someone suggested directly reaching out to smaller, inexperienced parent-child accounts on major social media platforms.

The producer shot down the suggestion, insisting they needed a parent-child pair that would make them go “wow.”

A staff member couldn’t help but complain openly, "Nowadays, anyone who could make us go ‘wow’ has already gone viral on various platforms. How could they still be waiting for us today?"

Just then, an assistant sitting at the end of the table raised a hand. "Check the team chat—there’s a new application."

In the work group chat, two parent-child photos popped up.

[Photo caption:] A biracial little boy and a long-haired beauty with timeless classical Eastern beauty.

Their faces bore some resemblance, though the beauty’s features were more refined—willow-leaf brows, almond eyes, as exquisitely crafted as a fine brush painting.

Despite being just a simple front-facing photo, it exuded an air of unshakable poise.

A scoff erupted in the meeting room.

"Pfft, that AI rendering is pretty good."

"Yeah, how many classical paintings and biracial baby photos got mashed up here?"

The assistant clarified, "The profile states this is a father and son. The guy with long hair is actually the dad."

"Huh?" Someone sounded puzzled, scrutinizing the details before realizing it was indeed the case.

Soon, heated discussions broke out about the pair’s god-tier visuals.

"Is this even real?"

"As if. These days people filter their driver's licenses. I don’t buy it."

"They look more like siblings. What kind of dad looks like this?"

Amid the back-and-forth, the assistant noticed the producer staring at the photos in silence.

"Boss?"

The producer, visibly excited, said, "Go confirm their details immediately. If everything checks out, sign them ASAP!"

"Got it!" The assistant hurried to contact the applicant.

One person remarked, "When we shoot the preview, I want to see them in person. Do they survive on moonlight and flower nectar to look so ethereal?"

"And they don’t even have any social media accounts? Not celebrities either. If they really join the show, we struck gold, didn’t we?"

-

That morning, in the garden of the Bo family mansion.

Clad in white practice robes, Wen Cishu was practicing Tai Chi under the guidance of an instructor.

Auntie Zhong and Bao Yiming were practicing alongside them.

Though Wen Cishu was only performing the most basic 24-form Tai Chi, and his movements were not quite polished, the instructor kept nodding approvingly.

—Just standing there, Mr. Wen carried an air of otherworldly elegance.

Bao Yiming was unusually well-behaved today, waking up early to have breakfast and exercise with his dad.

When Albert appeared, Wen Cishu was bending down, gently wiping Bao Yiming’s forehead with a warm towel, his expression remarkably gentle.

Albert waited nearby.

Only after the Tai Chi instructor had left did he speak up: "Mr. Wen, the crew has confirmed their invitation for you and young sir to join the show. They need to finalize the schedule for filming the promo clip soon—they’re on a tight schedule and hope to confirm it immediately."

"Really? That’s wonderful." Bao Yiming happily threw his arms around his dad.

Wen Cishu ran his fingers through his hair, also visibly pleased.

Unable to stay still for long, Bao Yiming let go and bounced with excitement: "Then let’s film today!"

Albert chuckled—the young master was entirely different from his two fathers, bursting with energy rarely seen in children.

"It won’t be that fast. Young sir can start thinking about what daily scenes you’d like to film."

Wen Cishu added, "And pick out your outfits too."

"Awesome!" Bao Yiming had a whole wardrobe of stylish clothes he wanted to wear on camera. He darted out of the garden.

Wen Cishu took the warm towel handed to him by Auntie Zhong, wiping his hands leisurely.

His slender fingers, perhaps from the recent exercise, were faintly pink at the joints.

In Mr. Wen’s presence, Albert couldn’t help but feel rough around the edges, as if he himself had become coarse and unrefined.

"Mr. Wen, the crew mentioned there will also be compensation."

"Oh?" Wen Cishu smiled as he walked, "That’ll be my first paycheck, then."

At first, Albert was a bit surprised by the remark.

But then, observing his delicate build, he immediately understood.

—Given Mr. Wen’s health, his parents would never have allowed him to work. And after marriage, Mr. Bo certainly wouldn’t have permitted it either.

Albert then went over the plans, explaining that he would act as Wen Cishu’s assistant to coordinate with the production team.

Wen Cishu had no objections.

Though he didn’t know Bao Tingyuan completely, he was aware of his attention to detail—everything would be handled properly, leaving no need for doubt or interference.

As Albert left, he reflected on how much Mr. Wen had changed, his once fragile, gloomy disposition now replaced with warm cheerfulness.

-

Evening.

Bao Tingyuan returned home from the office. He took off his black suit jacket, handing it to Uncle Xu, and took a white warm towel to wipe his hands.

"How was Mr. Wen today?"

Uncle Xu reported truthfully, unable to suppress a slight smile. "At noon, Mr. Wen was eating well and had an extra half-bowl of soup."

Ever since Mr. Wen started feeling better, the whole family has been thrilled.

Forget about half a bowl of soup—Uncle Xu would literally count if Mr. Wen had eaten two extra grains of rice.

Bao Tingyuan scanned the huge, empty living room and asked, "Is he upstairs?"

Uncle Xu replied, "Mr. Wen showered after dinner and went to help the little master choose outfits."

"Picking clothes at this hour?"

Bao Tingyuan turned his head slightly, his jade-green eyes behind his glasses gazing toward his son's bedroom.

The warm, damp towel dampened the skin between his fingers, and his forehead creased slightly.

He set the towel aside and strode toward the stairs. "I'll go check."

As he left, Uncle Xu asked, "Aren't you having supper tonight?"

"No."

Usually, if Bao Tingyuan returned home late, he would have a bowl of soup or some snacks, so the kitchen always kept some ready.

Watching the tall, straight-backed figure ascend the stairs, Uncle Xu wondered to himself: Was the young master upset again just now?

-

In Bao Yiming's walk-in closet.

Wen Cishu leaned back on the sofa, hugging a soft pillow as he watched his son strut out in different outfits, posing like a model.

A five-foot kid playing male model—if he weren't so good-looking, he'd look like a preening monkey.

"Papa, what do you think about filming me horseback riding?"

"Or maybe rock climbing?"

"How about skiing? Well, but we’d have to go to an indoor slope now."

A new idea every three minutes.

When the little one threw himself beside him, Wen Cishu ruffled his spiky short hair.

"You can take your time deciding the location. Papa doesn’t have any strong opinions. But Papa can’t ski, climb, or ride with you—I’ll just have to watch from the sidelines. Won’t that make you sad?"

Bao Yiming bent his knees and nestled into his papa’s embrace, shaking his head against the soft velvet pajamas. "Of course not!"

Wen Cishu stroked the little whirl at the crown of his head. "When I get the payment, how about Papa gets you a present? What would you like?"

Bao Yiming already knew his papa had never earned money before—this first paycheck was really special. "Then I’ll have to think carefully."

Wen Cishu sighed softly. "Papa will think carefully too. I need to get presents for Mom and Dad, Brother, and everyone else too."

Bao Yiming asked, "Do Grandpa and Grandma even know we’re going to be on the show?" Seeing his papa nod with a smile, he asked with wide-eyed drama, "Will they be shocked when they find out?"

"Probably." Wen Cishu hugged his son, laughing happily, then yawned before adding, "I hope they won’t be too surprised."

He had a playful, lively side that seemed to have been awakened.

At times, he also wished he could become good friends with his son, steering his thinking to keep him from making mistakes later.

"What're you two talking about?"

Bao Tingyuan’s commanding voice cut through the room, and the father and son on the sofa simultaneously turned to look.

Bao Yiming was half-kneeling on the carpet, leaning his head against his "Little Daddy’s" chest, and chimed in cheerfully, “Big Daddy, Little Daddy is thinking about using the show payment to buy gifts.”

Wen Cishu also looked up.

Once again, he wore a black shirt and black trousers, paired with a gray-striped black tie.

The shirt buttons were fastened tightly to the collar, like a man shaped from storm clouds—brooding and intense.

Behind his glasses, his emerald eyes resembled a shadowed forest under storm-laden skies, mysterious and unfathomable.

Bao Tingyuan shot a controlled glance at the person lounging on the sofa before shifting his gaze to his son’s face, asking patiently, “Gifts for whom?”

Wen Cishu didn’t notice his gaze, merely lowering his eyes, sitting up, and tucking his long hair behind his shoulders.

That extra glance was just wishful thinking.

Bao Yiming stood up. “Little Daddy said he wants to give gifts to me, to Grandpa and Grandma, and to Uncle.”

Bao Tingyuan looked at the person slipping on his house shoes and drawled, “Oh?”

Wen Cishu straightened his robe, only to see a dark figure already closing in on him, then without a word bending down to sweep him up.

Wen Cishu staggered slightly, instinctively placing a hand on Bao Tingyuan’s right shoulder and reflexively meeting those emerald eyes.

But Bao Tingyuan was speaking to their son instead. “Yi Ming, tomorrow Albert will send someone with more clothes for you. You can pick a few then.”

“Great,” Bao Yiming replied, having been worried about not having the right outfits.

Though it was just a teaser shoot, he wanted to make a grand entrance.

Wen Cishu lowered his head and thought, *Ah, so he does remember to be good to his son.*

But his body was still weak, and as he approached his usual bedtime, fatigue overwhelmed him. He couldn’t help but let out a soft yawn.

Noticing this, Bao Tingyuan gave one last instruction before carrying him out of the room.

The hallway was deathly quiet. Though the carpet was thick, the faint sound of footsteps could still be heard.

Perhaps because Bao Tingyuan’s arms and embrace were so warm and steady, Wen Cishu felt perfectly at ease, even growing drowsy from the rhythmic motion.

By the time they reached the bed, Wen Cishu’s yawn had left his eyes slightly damp, a clump of eyelashes glistening with sleep-warm tears.

Bao Tingyuan adjusted the blankets, then propped himself on one arm by the headboard, quietly watching the sleep-flushed cheeks bloom across Wen Cishu’s delicate, heart-shaped face.

Between his drooping eyelids, Wen Cishu thought he saw Bao Tingyuan’s lips move.

Struggling against sleep, he murmured hazily, “What?”

Bao Tingyuan watched as he sank into deep slumber.

His delicate, heart-shaped face, in sleep, unexpectedly carried a mesmerizing charm.

Lifting a hand, Bao Tingyuan gently traced his thumb from Wen Cishu’s eyelids to the outer corners, slowly brushing over the lashes glistening with sleep-warm tears. In a low voice, he murmured in French, “Don’t I get a gift?”