Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"An addendum to *Zai Zai the Superman* contract?" Wen Cishu exclaimed in surprise as he flipped through the document. Everything else seemed normal—except for the guest compensation section, which included an additional five million.

Though Wen Cishu wasn’t strapped for cash, this was his first time getting paid for actual "work," so he couldn’t help but feel delighted.

He rolled onto his back, sprawled on the covers, still holding the paper, and turned his head toward the intricately carved Chinese screen.

-

Bao Tingyuan stepped out of the bathroom and faintly heard Wen Cishu’s voice—cheerful and musical, tinged with excitement.

Wen Cishu: "Dummy, of course your big dad handled it for us."

As Bao Tingyuan slid the screen open, he saw the man lying on his back, talking on the phone.

Wen Cishu glanced at him, remembering he wanted to ask about the ring, and said to the little monkey, "Alright, finish your homework and go to bed early~"

His voice carried a warmth like winter sunshine.

Just as Wen Cishu hung up and started to sit up, Bao Tingyuan had already reached the bedside and leaned down to embrace him.

He caught the subtle scent of sandalwood—the fragrance of Bao Tingyuan’s usual shampoo and body wash.

Sandalwood naturally carried a calm, steady aroma, yet from Bao Tingyuan, it held an unexpectedly cool edge, elegant yet aloof.

By the time Wen Cishu registered what was happening, a broad palm was already cradling the small of his back.

The heat seared into his skin through the thin silk of his pajamas.

Without thinking, he arched into the touch.

Bao Tingyuan’s piercing green eyes, like a thawing river in early spring, flickered with a surge of icy turbulence.

Effortlessly, he scooped Wen Cishu up and settled him against the headboard, his voice low and composed as ever. "No questions for me?"

At this moment, they were far too close.

Drowning in the sandalwood scent, Wen Cishu couldn’t help but wonder:

They say this fragrance is meant to calm the mind and soothe the spirit—so why was his heart racing?

Pulling himself together, as if spellbound by those piercing green eyes, he stammered mechanically, "You... you negotiated with the production team?"

He had completely forgotten how confidently he’d told the little monkey just moments ago. Now, nerves turned his words into a jumble.

"I sent Albert to deal with it."

Bao Tingyuan gazed intently into his dark eyes, hunting for any trace of that earlier delight.

Wen Cishu felt the heat radiating from his arms, even the steady warmth from his chest.

His brain short-circuited, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, he mumbled stiffly, "Thanks."

Lowering his lashes, he wondered helplessly—why was Bao Tingyuan looking at him so intensely tonight? Had he drunk too much?

He gave a subtle sniff but caught no whiff of booze.

Bao Tingyuan swept the loose strands of hair aside, tucking them carefully behind Wen Cishu’s ear.

"Just saying goodbye to a friend over drinks. They overdid it a little."

The deep, velvety voice mixed with warm, humid breath caused Wen Cishu's gaze, resting on his shoulder, to waver slightly.

—How did he know he was thinking about "alcohol"?

Wen Cishu thought again. Since Bao Tingyuan had unexpectedly chosen to speak, he couldn’t leave him hanging. He gave a slight nod and said softly, "Mm, your health also..."

He nearly bit his tongue, hastily changing his words, fumbling over his speech, "I mean, even though you're in good health, you still shouldn’t stay up late and drink. After all... after all, Yi Ming is still young, only nine. He can’t... no, what I mean is..."

He lost his own train of thought, flustered as he abruptly lifted his face, meeting the pair of eyes right before him.

Again, that quiet, intense stare.

If not for the cold glint always reflected in those frameless glasses, Wen Cishu might have thought he was being openly tempted.

His slender fingers instinctively clutched the blanket, unable to bear it as he lowered his lashes again. "That’s not what I meant. I want you to be healthy. We... we can watch Yi Ming grow up together, even see him get married."

This was the first time Bao Tingyuan had heard him say such things—words that mirrored his own thoughts.

Just as his hand, resting at his side, was about to rest on Wen Cishu’s shoulder, he noticed Wen Cishu suddenly staring at his neck.

Wen Cishu’s gaze, full of curiosity, lingered on the faintly visible necklace beneath the collar of his pajamas.

The platinum chain hid well under his clothes.

Or rather, Bao Tingyuan always kept his pajamas so neatly buttoned that Wen Cishu had never noticed he wore a necklace before.

The chain hung naturally, likely with a pendant beneath.

On impulse, Wen Cishu thought of the "missing wedding ring" and instinctively reached out, trying to pull aside the pajama collar for a clearer look.

But his raised wrist was enveloped in warmth by a broad palm.

Coming to his senses, Wen Cishu realized what he was doing.

Would he be misunderstood as trying to undress him?

"Uh."

Bao Tingyuan naturally tucked his hand back under the blanket, then stepped away, pulling the blanket up. "Get some rest."

Wen Cishu thought to himself, *This mute can actually speak—like just now, about the drinking.*

Maybe he just needs prompting?

Leaning against the pillow, he looked up at the man standing to leave and got straight to the point. "Have you seen my wedding ring?"

As soon as he spoke, he clearly saw a flash of light cross Bao Tingyuan’s lenses.

He was certain—Bao Tingyuan knew where the ring was.

His almond-shaped eyes, slightly upturned, brimmed with anticipation as he waited for an answer.

"No."

Bao Tingyuan straightened the blanket mechanically, his expression indifferent. "I’m going to rest. Goodnight."

Wen Cishu: *So you can pick when to talk, is that it?!*

But as the tall figure walked toward the room divider, stepping into that off-limits bedroom, suddenly he quickly added, "I didn’t mean to criticize earlier..."

The voice was light and soft, like a tuft of down.

Like a cloud casting a plump shadow on the lake.

"Mhm."

Bao Tingyuan paused mid-step, about to savor the gentle charm of that voice, when he heard a faint noise outside the front door.

"Knock knock~ knock knock~"

A cheerful, rhythmic knock.

There was no need to guess who it was.

Bao Tingyuan turned and walked over to open the door. "Yi Ming?"

"Papa!" Bao Yiming carefully held up a tray, on which sat a porcelain bowl of hot medicinal soup and a small cup of osmanthus honey water.

He tiptoed into the room.

Following behind him in the hallway was Aunt Zhong. She explained, "Master Bao, this is the calming soup Dr. Lin prescribed before leaving—it’s meant to be taken before bed."

"Mhm." Bao Tingyuan gave a quiet nod.

Wen Cishu sat up. "Thank you, Baby Mingming," he said, pausing briefly before adding, "but why aren’t you asleep yet?"

Bao Yiming safely placed the tray on the bedside table before playfully flopping onto his little daddy's lap, leaning against him over the blanket.

"Little Daddy, I’m so excited! The show’s in just a few days, and I just can’t sleep. I wish Saturday would come sooner."

Wen Cishu smiled, thinking the child must love being around people.

Bao Tingyuan, recalling the upcoming show, felt his neutral expression soured briefly—but it softened instantly at the sight of Wen Cishu’s smile.

Bao Yiming perched on his knees and, while his little daddy drank the medicine, carefully held his hair back.

"Little Daddy, drink the honey water quickly."

In truth, the herbal medicine Wen Cishu was given had never been too bitter.

Now, it seemed someone must’ve told Dr. Lin long ago to add harmonizing herbs to each prescription, specifically to dilute the strong bitterness.

Wen Cishu thought that perhaps he’d been willfully blind before, unable to see what was right in front of him.

Given that, he couldn’t hold Bao Tingyuan responsible for holding things back.

He took a sip of the osmanthus honey water, letting it linger on his tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.

From the corner of his eye, Wen Cishu noticed Bao Tingyuan was still in the room, so he teased the little monkey, "The medicine’s not so bad—plus, there’s honey water. Don’t worry."

Bao Tingyuan arched a brow.

"Mhm." Bao Yiming nestled against his little daddy’s legs, playing with the silky black hair. "Little Daddy, can I sleep with you tonight, like we did on the show?"

After all, he was only nine—his whining was undeniably cute.

He stole a glance at his big daddy, and before the man could say anything, he rolled over and hugged his little daddy’s waist, wiggling. "Please? Little Daddy, please?"

Wen Cishu’s long hair spilled down his back in waves, glowing under the lamplight. "Okay~"

Bao Tingyuan didn’t say much, only instructing, “Yiming, don’t crowd your Papa.”

“Yeah!”

Bao Yiming happily snuggled into his Papa’s arms, cuddling up as he talked excitedly about planting potatoes and couldn’t wait for them to sprout. “I hope I wake up tomorrow and see them sprouted! Papa, have you ever seen sprouted potatoes before?”

“Hmm…” Wen Cishu thought seriously. “Not that I remember. But I do know sprouted potatoes are toxic and shouldn’t be eaten.”

“Whoa, Papa knows everything!”

After closing the room divider, Bao Tingyuan lingered absentmindedly, not leaving immediately.

The father and son’s soft laughter was bright and cheerful.

Wen Cishu glanced at the divider, as if catching a glimpse of a shadow beneath it.

It suddenly occurred to him that sleeping in separate rooms might not have been meant to shut him out—rather, Bao Tingyuan had locked himself away.

But today, he had spoken again.

That was always a good sign.

Wen Cishu hugged his little one’s shoulder. “Alright, Daddy’s going to get ready for bed now, and we’ll rest soon.”

Bao Yiming sat up as his dad rose. “Papa, can I tell you a bedtime story? In French?”

“Of course. Your grandma used to love telling me French bedtime stories—they always made me sleepy.”

Wen Cishu’s voice carried laughter as he headed to the bathroom.

Then he remembered something else and turned back to look at his son from the doorway.

“Oh, Yiming, did you already talk to Dad about Grandpa’s birthday?”

“Mhm.”

Bao Yiming hugged a soft pillow and nodded obediently. “Dad said he already prepared a gift for me to take. But he won’t go. Papa, will you come with me?”

Ever since he could remember, he had gone to Grandpa’s birthday alone every year.

Though he could handle being the family’s little representative, he still wished for his dad’s company.

“I get it.”

Wen Cishu cast another glance at the divider.

The relationship between Tingyuan and his father was… messy.

To be precise, there were many past events Wen Cishu didn’t fully understand.

—Maybe he could understand Tingyuan better through Yiming’s grandpa?

He agreed. “Then Daddy will go with you.”

“Awesome!” Bao Yiming bounced happily. “If Grandpa sees Papa, he’ll be so happy—he’ll play the piano and spin me around dancing!”

Whenever Grandpa got excited during holidays, he’d play the piano and whirl him around in dance, nothing like the proper Chinese gentlemen he knew but more like a fun-loving Frenchman.

After getting ready, Wen Cishu made his way back to bed, thinking: He should probably tell Tingyuan about the birthday party tomorrow. He couldn’t help wondering how Tingyuan would take it.

He settled in and said to his son, “Go ahead, Daddy wants to hear your French fairy tale.”

Bao Yiming carefully pulled the blanket up, the warm, comforting scent making him feel cozy and at peace.

He sat up straight, tilted his head, and began recalling the French versions of fairy tales stored in his memory: “Hmm…”

Three minutes later: “Hmm… Still thinking…”

It wasn’t that he forgot French—just that he didn’t know how to tell a story.

Wen Cishu, his eyes closed, couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smile.

Bao Yiming: “Little Dad, maybe we should just go to sleep. Otherwise, Big Dad will say I’m being naughty and kick me out.”

Wen Cishu laughed and curled up, hugging his adorable big baby.

“Alright, let’s sleep, my silly little Mingming.”

Bao Yiming turned off the light and mumbled while clinging to his Little Dad’s arm: “Little Dad, please don’t call me that when others are around.”

*This kid really cares about his image—must have inherited that from your Big Dad,* Wen Cishu thought to himself.

“Got it. In front of others, you’re Daddy’s sweet little Mingming.”

Tonight, Bao Yiming was practically bursting with happiness.

In the bedroom separated by a folding screen.

Bao Tingyuan leaned against the bed, his gaze thoughtful as he stared at the words “Come home early” on his phone screen.

His fingers lifted slightly, lightly touching the pendant of his necklace through his pajamas.