Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The next day.

A new hashtag suddenly trended on Weibo: #Singer Zhu Wei Successfully Regains Song Copyrights#.

Zhu Wei posted a long-form Weibo, announcing that she had reached an amicable settlement with her former agency and would be launching her own studio to focus more on her singing career.

Since her debut, she had never had any scandals, and her excellent singing and songwriting skills were widely recognized. As a result, the trending topic was filled not only with celebrating fans but also supportive comments from regular netizens.

"Can't believe this day actually came—it's like the clouds parting to reveal the moon!"

"Bet she cried so many times over this. A lifetime dream come true!"

"So happy for her! Singing shows, please invite her! And concerts, hurry up!"

Some netizens who had only recently started following Zhu Wei and Rong Rong through variety shows joined in congratulating her while making jokes.

"Rong Rong's wish came true—this is so beautiful!"

"Remember when Rong Rong whispered to the gorgeous one, and then the fish bit the hook? I had a feeling something big was about to happen (doing the math)."

"Ming Zai's dad even said he'd go to her concert—who knew it would really happen? How wild is that?"

"Did Ming Zai fail to guide Zhou Xu but ended up guiding Zhu Wei instead? (Just kidding)"

However, some viewers remained cautious and kept reminding others in the comments.

"This matter probably has nothing to do with the gorgeous one or Ming Zai. Let's just congratulate Zhu Wei. Keep the jokes for the show. Looking forward to the second live episode~"

These reasonable remarks quickly stopped people from joking around.

At Zhu Wei's home.

Right after the live broadcast of *Zai Zai the Superman* ended, she received a call from her former agency that very evening, saying they wanted to renegotiate the copyright issue.

Over the next few days, she was busy consulting lawyers and negotiating until the official announcement was finally made today.

Her emotions had been all over the place—she hadn’t slept a full night, and every step she took felt like walking on air, as if she were floating.

She was terrified that it might just be a dream and the copyright deal would fall through.

Only after everything was settled did Zhu Wei realize one thing: her former agent, a money-hungry and resentful person, would never suddenly grow a conscience—not even if they were dying.

There was only one possible explanation—someone had secretly intervened on her behalf.

She immediately contacted someone she knew at her former company and learned that outside pressure had pushed things forward.

Still, no matter how hard she tried to think, she couldn't figure out who this "benefactor" might be.

After posting her long-form Weibo, she kept checking the comments, wanting to see her fans' reactions, when she came across messages from variety show viewers.

Zhu Wei murmured to herself, "Did Rong Rong and Yi Ming's dad really say something?"

She suddenly pictured Yi Ming's father—exceptionally handsome yet always gentle—and hurriedly got out of bed and called, "Rong Rong?"

In the living room.

Rong Rong was whispering with Grandma when she noticed her mother had run outside barefoot. She quickly rushed over, took her mother's hand, and anxiously asked, "Mom, what's wrong? Why aren't you resting like you should?"

Earlier that morning, Dad had made her promise to make sure Mom got plenty of rest before he left for work.

Grandma said, "Your mom is simply too excited to sleep."

Then she stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Zhu Wei picked up her daughter and sat down on the sofa, looking her directly in the eye as she seriously asked about what had happened during the show.

Rong Rong admitted there was something going on and then pointed at the TV.

"Otherwise, Mom can watch TV—Dad edited my videos for me, didn’t he?"

Rong Rong’s father worked as a film editor. After the show aired, he spent time editing the mother-daughter segments into highlight reels so the family could enjoy them anytime.

Zhu Wei located the fishing scene.

When Grandma came out holding a glass of water, she saw Zhu Wei watching so intensely, leaning forward as if trying to burn a hole through the screen.

“Vivi, what's happening with the show?”

“Something just occurred to me.”

Zhu Wei took a sip of water and replayed the segment, frowning slightly as she closely observed Yi Ming’s micro-expressions.

Unfortunately, she wasn't an expert at reading facial expressions and couldn't quite figure it out.

But the copyright issue had arisen the day after the show—it seemed far too coincidental.

Staring at Yi Ming's elegant, aristocratic appearance, Zhu Wei felt certain he wasn’t an ordinary person and probably had the influence to resolve this matter.

With this thought in mind, she wasted no more time and immediately grabbed her phone.

-

Meanwhile, at the Bo estate,

A small group had gathered inside the traditional Chinese-style kitchen.

Wen Cishu stood beside the head chef, taking notes while the chef explained the cooking process.

Also present were Aunt Zhong, Uncle Xu, and two other chefs, all feeling nervous and worried he might mess things up.

The head chef began, “First, sir, you need to heat the pan before adding cold oil. One, it minimizes splattering; two, it's healthier at lower temperatures; three, it reduces smoke.”

Wen Cishu nodded and wrote everything down.

Aunt Zhong remarked, “Cold dishes are fine too.”

Uncle Xu eagerly agreed: “Exactly, cold dishes would be better.”

Wen Cishu turned around: “Why don’t you two go take care of your own tasks? There are already three chefs here.”

Luckily, the kitchen was very spacious—otherwise, there wouldn’t have been enough space for so many people.

Aunt Zhong stepped back: “We’ll stay quiet. Please continue learning.”

Each day, a team of three chefs rotated shifts at the mansion. Today, upon hearing that the master wanted to learn how to cook, they had prepared everything in advance—including all the ingredients.

They were teaching him how to stir-fry broccoli with shrimp: large shrimp, peeled, deveined, and marinated; fresh broccoli florets; minced garlic ready to go.

Wen Cishu took a look and said, “You guys prepped everything already? Then what am I supposed to…”

Does this even count as me cooking?

The master chef calmly explained, “Today, let’s start with basic stir-frying. No need to rush—just follow along.”

Wen Cishu nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

They’d prepped two identical sets of ingredients and set up two stoves—one for the master chef and one for Wen Cishu.

To keep things consistent, they used matching pans, spatulas—everything.

Wen Cishu mirrored the master chef’s every step, from blanching the broccoli to heating the pan, adding oil, garlic, shrimp, and more.

The chefs monitored the heat closely, so Wen Cishu didn’t make any unusual mistakes.

He worked the spatula with unexpected finesse, tossing and stirring before finally adding the pre-made black pepper sauce and mixing it evenly.

Wen Cishu thought with a mental sigh—*they were babying him!*

But when the dish was plated, it looked almost identical to the master chef’s—brightly colored and aromatic.

For his first attempt at cooking, with nothing burnt or overcooked, he felt a weird little thrill of pride.

Taking the warm towel handed by Aunt Zhong to wipe his hands, he smiled slightly, “Looks pretty decent, actually.”

The master chef said reassuringly, “When you’re just starting, the most important thing is making sure the ingredients are cooked and edible. Things like oil temperature, heat control, and seasoning can come later—once you get the hang of it.”

Wen Cishu took the chopsticks and nodded with a smile, “Fair point,” he conceded.

Just as he was about to take a bite, an arm stopped him. “Uncle Xu?”

Uncle Xu held his own chopsticks. “Allow me to taste-test, sir.”

Aunt Zhong also raised her chopsticks. “Yes, we’ll test it first.”

The master chef, however, was confident.

“In theory, it should be perfectly safe. But go ahead, Old Xu.”

Uncle Xu thought indignantly: *If the boss gets sick from this, who’s technically liable—you or me?*

He picked up a large shrimp.

Aunt Zhong took a small piece of broccoli.

Wen Cishu watched as they slowly chewed and couldn’t help asking, “Well? Is it cooked?”

Uncle Xu and Aunt Zhong exchanged glances, both breaking into smiles.

“Tastes great!”

“No kidding?”

Wen Cishu picked up a small floret of broccoli and tasted it. It just tasted like sauced-up veggies.

Then he tried the master chef’s stir-fried broccoli.

Same tools, same ingredients, same steps—yet the flavor was totally different.

Wen Cishu self-evaluated, "My dish looks like everything was steamed first, then tossed with sauce."

The master chef said, "For your first time cooking, this is really good already. Take your time, no rush."

Wen Cishu had no choice—he couldn’t just blurt out that he wanted to learn high-heat stir-frying.

Aunt Zhong and Uncle Xu would probably haul him out by both arms.

Just then, Bao Yiming barreled in like a tornado, yelling, "Little Dad, you’ve got a call!"

He handed the phone over, gaping at the two plates of shrimp and broccoli. "Auntie said you were learning to cook—no way!"

Wen Cishu noticed it was a WeChat call from Zhu Wei.

He stepped away, heading from the kitchen door to the garden beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Sister Wei?"

Zhu Wei said, "Yiming’s dad, I have a personal matter I’d like to… ask for your advice on."

"No need to be formal, just tell me," Wen Cishu said, strolling a few steps.

Zhu Wei spilled everything.

Truthfully, Wen Cishu had totally forgotten about it. While she explained the details, he quickly switched to Bao Tingyuan’s WeChat and sent a message:

"Did you take care of Zhu Wei’s thing from the show?"

Wen Cishu wasn’t entirely sure why Zhu Wei was calling, but he hoped to get a clear answer from Bao Tingyuan first.

So he congratulated Zhu Wei, pivoting to gushing about how excited he was for her future concerts.

Fortunately, Bao Tingyuan replied fairly promptly.

"Already handled."

"I forgot to mention it to you."

Wen Cishu: "No problem."

"Thank you!"

On the call, Zhu Wei cautiously asked, "Yiming’s dad, if you’re the one who helped me, you’ve gotta let me know. This is too important to me."

Now that he had a clear answer, Wen Cishu didn’t hide it. "It was Yiming’s big dad who handled it. But Sister Wei, as long as things worked out, there’s no need for special thanks."

"But… how can that be?" Zhu Wei grew emotional. "You’re my savior. No—your whole family is."

Wen Cishu rubbed his ear—it kinda sounded like she was cursing him out.

He replied gently, "Sister Wei, have you been too busy lately and not resting well? You sound a little hoarse. I still wanna catch your concerts with Yiming and his big dad someday. You can’t ruin your voice."

"No, no, I’ll go lie down right now," Zhu Wei said, voice cracking. "Yiming’s dad, I… is there anything I can do for you?"

Wen Cishu could tell this had been eating at her, and now that it was resolved, she was at a loss.

"Just get me tickets to your concert."

Zhu Wei knew he wasn’t the type to seek repayment. After some thought, she said, "Tell you what—I’ll cut you in on my concert profits—otherwise, I’ll feel guilty forever."

Wen Cishu immediately replied, "No way I’m taking your money."

Zhu Wei was well aware he certainly wasn't lacking money, but it still put her in an awkward position.

"But I, Zhu Wei, believe in repaying kindness. I can't just accept such goodwill from you without reason."

Wen Cishu, moved by her voice, couldn't help but share what was on his mind.

"Sister Wei, I've been in poor health since childhood and never had big dreams. I truly admire people with careers and goals, so just keep doing what you're doing—that's all I need."

Zhu Wei asked cautiously, "Yi Ming's dad, I've never asked before... What's the health issue, if you don't mind me asking?"

Wen Cishu chuckled lightly. "Congenital heart disease. But it's better now—I can even go out and join shows, so don’t worry about me."

"But you're so... at peace with it."

Zhu Wei found it hard to imagine how someone who had lived with heart disease since childhood could adapt so well, becoming so philosophical and kind, even showing kindness to everyone.

Wen Cishu, not wanting her to dwell on it, didn’t elaborate and urged her to rest instead.

Zhu Wei steadied her trembling, tearful voice and suddenly shifted her tone, speaking with sudden decisiveness. "Yi Ming’s dad, don't talk like you don’t have dreams or a career. Listen to me for a moment."

"Alright." Wen Cishu straightened slightly, his expression earnest. "I’m listening."

Zhu Wei said firmly, "Here’s what we’ll do—I’ll cut you in on my studio. You won’t need to invest anything. From now on, let’s build something together. How does that sound?"

Wen Cishu was stunned.

Truthfully, in all his years, no one had ever said to him, "Let’s build something together."

He frowned faintly, then smiled, keeping his voice casual. "Sure."

After hanging up, Wen Cishu stood in the garden a while longer, took a deep breath, and slowly turned back toward the kitchen.

"Hm? Where’s my dish?"

Aunt Zhong replied, "Yi Ming took it to the dining room to eat."

Wen Cishu was speechless. "This kid will eat anything."

Aunt Zhong: "He’s always had a good appetite—how else would he get so big?"

That was true.

Wen Cishu thought about how the little rascal had joined the show, going crazy for plain steamed sweet potatoes.

Seemed it wasn’t just because he was growing—he was simply born the opposite of himself, so easy to feed.

Dining room.

Bao Yiming was on a video call with his Big Dad.

He lifted the plate, showing it off from every angle.

"Big Dad, look—this is the first recipe my little dad ever learned!"

"Fresh out of the kitchen!"

"Still hot—you can still see the steam!"

Without giving his big dad a chance to react, he hung up before he could respond.

Wen Cishu, who had just walked into the dining room: "...?"

What's all this?

Feeling like his two dads are getting along too well and trying to wreck the peace, are we?

He took off running, startling Aunt Zhong behind him, who called out, "Slow down a bit."

When Bao Yiming saw his Little Dad appear, he grinned and said, "Little Dad, the shrimp you made is so good—it beats Uncle Zhou's by a mile!"

Wen Cishu’s stern expression melted into a smile in a heartbeat.

"...Really? Are you serious? You actually liked what I cooked?"

"Yep!" Bao Yiming nodded hard and grabbed another big shrimp. "So good!"

Looking at the ended video call, Wen Cishu thought: *You little monkey, you’re really testing your luck right at boarding school’s doorstep.*

As he was thinking, Uncle Xu approached with a troubled look. "Mr. Wen, the oldest son just called me."

"Hmm?"

Wen Cishu turned toward him.

Bao Yiming looked over too. "Grandpa Xu, what did Big Dad say?"

Uncle Xu replied, "He said it’s not safe for you to go into the kitchen anymore, Mr. Wen. He asked us to keep an eye on things."

Wen Cishu ruffled the little monkey’s hair. "Look at the mess you've caused!"

Bao Yiming stared at the dish in front of him with wide eyes, clearly thrilled. "Does that mean I’m the only one who ever got to eat the first—and maybe the last—dish you’ve ever made? No way! I gotta call Big Dad right now!"

Wen Cishu put his head in his hands—he thought: *Ship him off to France. This time, I won’t stand in their way,* he thought.