Chapter 33

Chapter 33

As Season 2 wrapped up successfully, the show’s official Weibo account [Weibo] posted photos right away—all shots Wen Cishu took with Rong Rong’s instant camera.

Most photos showed the four little ones, with a group picture of all eight guests in the center.

Amid all the praise and farewell messages, one comment was liked to the top:

Fierce & Invincible Ming Zai: "Why release the teaser for Season 3 now instead of on Friday? Have you no heart? How do you sleep at night?"

Zai Zai the Superman V: "Makes total sense~"

Fierce & Invincible Ming Zai: "You dare reply? Squad, attack!"

Instantly, thousands of comments flooded in, all grabbing their pitchforks for the production team.

The team quickly posted another photo, instantly changing the narrative.

The shot was taken against the light, yet it didn’t diminish its beauty. Instead, the play of light and shadow highlighted the subject’s unique grace and refinement.

The subject was none other than Wen Cishu, seated by a teahouse window, brush in hand as he wrote.

"Wow! A never-before-seen angle of this period-drama handsome man (Suddenly can’t bring myself to curse—damn it)."

"A classic description made real—'over eight feet tall, with dazzling beauty.'"

"Mommy on the show these past two days smiles so gently, like a merciful Bodhisattva. You must have more, right? Please, just a few more photos!"

"Daddy Ming Zai made me realize for the first time that some people truly have 'a kind face.'"

Fortunately, aside from the show’s official account, the other three celebrity guests also posted photo collages (nine-square grids).

Zhu Wei shared over a dozen at once, with five or six being group shots of Rong Rong and Wen Cishu.

"I'm hopping between Weibo accounts like crazy, saving every single photo."

"Same... Why don’t Ming Zai and wifey have Weibo accounts? *sobs*"

"Thanks, Sister Wei! Scored a new pic of Princess Rong Rong!"

This fan posted a livestream screenshot of the two older brothers carefully helping Rong Rong down the stairs.

Zhu Wei, who was scrolling through Weibo, immediately thanked the fan and added the photo to her own post.

"Rong Rong loves it~ Thank you~ [heart]"

"Little Rong is so lucky, escorted by two handsome big brothers~"

"When the four little ones went on their mission, they looked like real siblings—melted my cold, dead heart."

"A whole five days until Season 3... I'll be dust by then =="

-

At the Bao family mansion.

After an early dinner, Bao Yiming badgered his father about the farm contract.

The father and son headed to the study for a serious discussion.

Meanwhile, in the ground-floor sunroom.

Wen Cishu sat on the sofa facing the garden, discussing with Uncle Xu the dishes to be prepared as gifts, which would be delivered separately to the homes of the other three guests the following day.

Recalling the lunches from the past two days, he said leisurely, "We must include braised gluten puffs and white-poached chicken."

"Got it," replied Uncle Xu, using a stylus to mark the dishes—*Shanghai-style* braised gluten puffs and *Zhanjiang-style* poached chicken—under the appetizer section on his tablet. "How about smoked fish? It's in season now."

"Sure."

Wen Cishu picked up his teacup, blowing lightly on the steam. He remembered that Rong Rong had seemed quite fond of the wagyu beef fried rice they'd had for lunch. "Prepare two extra portions of the wagyu beef fried rice for Teacher Zhu's family. Also, add an extra serving of the light-braised mini pork meatballs (*lion's head*) for Teacher Zhou's household."

Xiao Qi, much like Bao Yiming, loved popping the mini lion's head meatballs whole into his mouth, his cheeks puffing cutely with each bite.

Uncle Xu noted down the quantities accordingly.

"Would it be possible to send over the matsutake mushroom steamed dumplings (*Japanese pine mushroom*) from the other day?"

Wen Cishu thought they were quite delicious—savory, with the dumpling wrappers just the right amount of chew. Both Bao Tingyuan and Bao Yiming had each eaten an extra one that day.

"Certainly," Uncle Xu replied. "We can prepare them fresh on the day."

Wen Cishu sank lazily into his chair, resting his arm on the armrest, his gaze drifting toward the shadowy clusters of flowers in the garden.

"For the rest, Uncle Xu, you decide."

"No problem," Uncle Xu assured. "I'll attach the menu later, with notes on how to reheat the dishes and that they're best eaten within two days."

Like Auntie Zhong, he was just as thorough, so Wen Cishu had no complaints.

Wen Cishu had a hectic day and felt a bit sleepy after eating his fill.

He covered his mouth as he yawned.

Auntie Zhong walked in with a thin blanket draped over her arm. "Go upstairs and rest. It's getting late."

Wen Cishu wondered—what was the little monkey discussing with his Dad that took so long?

Was Bao Tingyuan serious about what he'd said in the car?

As he stood up, Auntie Zhong draped the blanket over him. "Is your rash still itchy?"

Earlier, after arriving home, Dr. Lin had taken his pulse and examined the allergic reaction.

Auntie Zhong had been there too. The moment she saw the reddened skin, she was beside herself with worry, carefully noting down Dr. Lin's list of foods to avoid, fearing the allergy might get worse.

"Much better. I'll just apply the ointment again after my shower tonight."

Wen Cishu stepped into the elevator, gazed at the railing, and suddenly remembered something.

"Auntie Zhong, when you were at the hotel yesterday, did you notice if Yi Ming's dad got proper rest?"

Recalling the scene when she delivered desserts last night, Auntie Zhong relayed the details truthfully.

Wen Cishu frowned slightly. Pacing back and forth?! He muttered to himself, "Same old habits."

Auntie Zhong, thinking he was asking her, replied naturally, "It must've been because he missed you so bad he couldn't sleep, eh."

"What?"

Wen Cishu looked at her in surprise. In his urgency, he rarely switched to her Shanghainese dialect, softly retorting with a suppressed smile: “How can you say that?”¹

He said this with a faint grin, instinctively masking his embarrassment.

The elevator came to a stop. Aunt Zhong threw up her hands, smiling as she countered, “Which word was wrong? None! Even the punctuation was perfect.”

She hadn’t spoken to the Second Master for an entire day and night, and now she had every intention of teasing him into a better mood.

Stepping into the hallway, Wen Cishu’s phoenix eyes narrowed with laughter. His face lit up with heartfelt joy as he cheerfully replied, “You’re right—you win. Experience beats youth.”

Seeing him beaming, Aunt Zhong felt a warmth spread through her heart.

Over the past half month, she had watched the Second Master come alive again, like the sun slowly rising from darkness above the sea.

For years, she had wondered if his soul had been stolen—why else would he seem like a shadow of himself? But now here he was, chatting and laughing, lively as could be.

-

Fresh out of the shower, Wen Cishu spotted a figure in the distance—the living room.

On the sofa, Bo Yiming was stretched out like a log.

“Yiming?”

Wen Cishu slowly approached.

Because of his skin irritation, Aunt Zhong had specially brought him an extremely soft, loose-fitting off-white sleepshirt.

Perhaps the fabric was too pale, making his steam-flushed skin appear rosy in contrast.

Noticing this, Bo Yiming quickly scrambled up, pointing nervously at the other side of his Papa’s neck. “Papa, are you irritated there too?”

Wen Cishu rubbed his neck. He sat down on the sofa. “No, probably just from the hot water. Did you finish talking with Daddy? How did it go?”

“We finished ages ago. I’ve even taken my shower already.”

Bo Yiming grinned and pulled something from his back pocket, waving it in front of his Papa.

It was Wen Cishu’s ointment.

“How did you get this? Did Daddy give it to you?”

Wen Cishu remembered clearly that Bo Tingyuan had said he’d apply it again before bed—so how had it ended up—in the little monkey’s hands?

Bo Yiming explained, “Earlier, while I was talking to Daddy, Uncle Lin came to discuss some work with him. I heard Mr. Lin mention the ointment should be applied regularly, so when I saw it, I brought it over.”

Wen Cishu figured Bo Tingyuan must have missed work for two days and now had piled-up tasks to handle.

Bo Yiming climbed over the back of the couch, resting his chin on his Papa’s shoulder and nuzzling affectionately. “Papa, let me put the cream on for you.”

“Alright.” Wen Cishu didn’t ask further how he got it, simply lowering his head and brushing his hair aside to expose the reddened patch at his neck.

Bo Yiming’s voice softened at the sight of the angry red area.

“If you hadn’t come with me to the show, Papa wouldn’t have gotten this rash.”

Only then did Wen Cishu realize how deeply the little rascal cared about his well-being.

He turned slightly, gently pinching the child’s cheek, and whispered tenderly, “It’s alright, sweetheart. If Yi Ming blows on it to make it feel better, Papa won’t hurt anymore—it works better than any medicine.”

--- ¹ Translator’s note: The phrase is rendered in Shanghainese dialect, roughly equivalent to "How can you say that?"

"Mmm~" Bao Yiming lowered his head, puffing out his cheeks to blow softly on his little dad’s sore spot, then unscrewed the cap and applied the ointment.

-

The study door opened as Albert walked out carrying a stack of documents.

Once he’d wrapped up his work, Bao Tingyuan stood up and reached for the ointment, only to find it gone from the desk where it had been.

He frowned, his eyes sweeping the room, but there was no sign of it.

After a moment of thought, he remembered his fidgety little son who’d been hopping around even during their conversation.

He walked over and slid open the screen divider, finding his son eagerly fussing over his little dad’s blankets.

Bao Yiming muttered, "Little Dad, you should lie down now."

Hearing the sound of the screen moving, he turned to look at the new arrival. "Big Dad, I already helped Little Dad put on the ointment!"

With that, he hugged a pillow and rolled around. "Wow, nothing beats our bed~ Right, Little Dad?"

Wen Cishu leaned against the soft pillow, his gaze following the approaching man.

"Albert left?"

"Mm." Bao Tingyuan stood by the bedside, his eyes flicking to the storybook on the nightstand.

Just then, a small hand darted out to grab the book right under his nose.

Bao Yiming snuggled close to his little dad, his voice full of affection.

"Little Dad, I didn’t get to tell you a fairy tale yesterday. I’ll make up for it today."

Wen Cishu could only pull the little monkey closer. "Okay~"

Bao Yiming beamed. "Big Dad, go shower so we can all sleep."

"Mm."

Bao Tingyuan said nothing else, giving his son’s hair a rough tousle.

Wen Cishu couldn’t escape the sense that he was being watched, feeling inexplicably guilty. He avoided meeting those unreadable green eyes and instead asked the little monkey softly, "Yi Ming, once your big dad’s done showering, should he come listen to your story too?"

"Sure!"

It wasn’t often that Bao Yiming got to lie between both dads—this was gonna be awesome.

Only then did Wen Cishu lift his gaze. "Then go shower. Yi Ming and I will wait for you."

Bao Tingyuan gave a slight nod, his eyes briefly brushing over the side of Wen Cishu’s neck peeking out from strands of black hair—its snow-white skin tinged pink.

Wen Cishu gazed absently at his retreating figure.

Even with such a tall, dependable back, even in the comfort of their own home, it always felt as if he were adrift in a vast, lonely night.

Without thinking, Wen Cishu tightened his arms around the warm little monkey in his embrace and kissed his forehead.

Bao Yiming, not understanding, thought it was just a goodnight kiss from his little dad and piped up sweetly, "Little Dad, I’m not sleeping yet. The goodnight kiss is later~"

Wen Cishu’s lips quirked into a small smile. "Dad just suddenly wanted to kiss you. The goodnight kiss is later."

Bo Yiming happily threw the book aside and turned around, nuzzling against his little dad and squirming.

“By the way, little dad. When are we going to have the hotpot Mom Rong Rong talked about?”

Wen Cishu tweaked his nose. “How about we go try it ourselves first?”

He was worried about the crowd—coordinating schedules wouldn’t be easy, especially since the three of them were already busy entertainment industry folks.

“Really?” Bo Yiming blinked. “That’s amazing! Let’s go tomorrow!”

Wen Cishu pulled the covers up around him and said in a gentle voice, “Yi Ming, Daddy hasn’t gone to the company for two whole days just to accompany us on the show. Let’s wait until he’s less busy, okay? Dad will arrange it properly—I won’t forget.”

Bo Yiming especially loved it when his little dad spoke to him slowly.

Under his little dad’s tender gaze, he nodded vigorously. “Okay~ I’ll listen to little dad~”

“So well-behaved?” Wen Cishu kissed his tousled hair again.

Bo Yiming closed his eyes and thought—even in the whole wide world, he only had one little dad, so of course he had to be very, very good~

Bo Tingyuan returned to the bedside after his shower.

Wen Cishu turned and lifted the covers beside their little monkey. “Come on, let’s listen to the story together.”

A large hand covered his, stopping him from lifting the blanket.

Wen Cishu looked into Bo Tingyuan’s eyes and clearly felt pressure on his hand.

“Hmm?”

Bo Tingyuan quickly withdrew his hand. “I’ll lie on your side.”

“Oh.” Wen Cishu withdrew his hand under the covers, resting it against his chest and rubbing his pajamas lightly.

Bo Yiming missed out on sleeping between his fathers.

But considering that his big dad might correct his French later, he decided it was safer to have little dad in the middle.

He shifted over without being asked.

Wen Cishu’s bed was actually very large, but it rarely accommodated three people at once—especially since their little monkey wasn’t little anymore.

As Bo Tingyuan walked around the foot of the bed, Wen Cishu also moved toward the center.

The covers lifted, and Wen Cishu felt a brief coolness before Bo Tingyuan’s body warmed his side.

Bo Tingyuan pulled the blanket up to Wen Cishu’s chest and rested his right hand on top. “Yi Ming, go ahead.”

“Okay.” Bo Yiming suddenly felt nervous, like he was being graded, and quickly opened the storybook to begin reading.

Wen Cishu also felt pressure—though unlike the little monkey, his hand was pulled over by Bo Tingyuan and placed against his chest.

He uncurled Wen’s fingers, and their hands laced together.

Being affectionate in front of their son should be perfectly normal, right?

Wen Cishu thought so, but couldn’t help feeling nervous, even sensing that the blanket had suddenly become too warm, almost suffocating.

Then, Bo Tingyuan slid his other hand under the covers and began massaging Wen’s hand.

Wen Cishu seemed to sense his reassurance, calming slightly as he listened to his son read the tale of a unicorn rescuing its friend from the fairy tale book.

He’d been feeling sleepy earlier, but something shifted, and instead of drifting off, he grew more alert.

Bao Yiming, likely exhausted from playing on the show all day, started mumbling as he read, his head nodding little by little.

Wen Cishu slipped his hand out of Bao Tingyuan’s hold and drew the little monkey into his arms. “Yi Ming? Are you sleepy?”

“Mmm~ Little Dad~” Bao Yiming nestled into his father’s chest. “The unicorn is so brave~”

“Yes,” Wen Cishu patted his back gently. “Our Yi Ming is very brave too.”

He kissed his forehead once more—the promised goodnight kiss—not to be missed.

Just as Wen Cishu was about to help the little monkey lie down, he saw Bao Tingyuan pull back the covers.

He turned his head, eyes questioning.

Bao Tingyuan walked to the other side of the bed, pushed up his frameless glasses, tucked their son into the blanket, and lifted him gently. “I’ll take Yi Ming back to his room,” he said softly.

Wen Cishu’s eyes widened slightly, wide with surprise.

Bao Yiming, completely unaware of what was happening, just snuggled deeper into the arms he thought belonged to his gentle little dad, sleeping soundly and peacefully.

Wen Cishu watched silently as Bao Tingyuan carried their son out of the room.

Returning to himself, he lay back on the pillow, his mind wandering slightly. His hand absently traced the spot where Bao Tingyuan had been lying—still warm.

By the time Bao Tingyuan returned, Wen Cishu finally seemed to snap back to attention, lifting his gaze.

When the covers were pulled back again and Bao Tingyuan climbed into bed, Wen Cishu realized there was only one blanket tonight.

Trying to sound casual, Wen Cishu settled in and asked, “Did you listen properly to Yi Ming’s story?”

“No.”

The utterly casual tone made Wen Cishu glance sideways, surprise flickering in his eyes.

He hadn’t even paid attention to their son’s story, yet he sounded so unbothered?

The fleeting thought was quickly replaced by physical awareness.

He felt Bao Tingyuan’s strong leg press against his own—just as it had when the little monkey was still there.

Strangely, though, it felt different now.

After Bao Tingyuan adjusted the blanket, Wen Cishu turned to face him, trying to sound unaffected. “Then… do you still want me to tell you a story?”

Bao Tingyuan took Wen Cishu’s hand and pressed it to his chest, gazing at him with narrow phoenix eyes. “Would you be willing to tell me one?”

Perhaps the mother tongue always carried more emotion than a second language, or perhaps French itself was inherently romantic and special. Or maybe it was Bao Tingyuan’s voice—deep, magnetic—downright sensual in the quiet of the night—that made Wen Cishu feel as though he were sinking into a gentle whirlpool, dizzy with it.

Under Bao Tingyuan’s focused gaze, Wen Cishu momentarily lost his words. His lips went dry as he pressed them together.

His gaze drifted downward, lingering, whether he meant to or not, on Bao Tingyuan’s parted lips for half a second before sliding further to his throat.

Wen Cishu had no way of knowing how openly hungry his gaze had become in that moment.

In an instant, he thought he noticed Bao Tingyuan frown slightly—something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

He quickly looked away, his mind a jumbled mess, thoughts scattered. "I..." What had they been talking about again?

The man beside him shifted, and Wen Cishu's hand tightened instinctively—before his brain could catch up.

*Was he leaving for his room?*

The next second, the room’s lights dimmed.

Only moonlight seeped through the sheer curtains.

Wen Cishu relaxed when Bao Tingyuan didn’t move to leave.

But as Bao Tingyuan lay back down, his hand was slowly lifted, sliding over the curves of his chest before finally resting on his neck.

The moment his fingertips brushed against the slight bob of his throat, Wen Cishu held his breath, his whole body burning up.

Yet he didn’t pull away, letting Bao Tingyuan guide his touch, unable to resist the gentle caress.

In the silent night, Wen Cishu heard his breathing grow heavier, felt the rise and fall of his throat—his own breath growing rough and uneven.

He didn’t know how long passed before he snapped out of it, ears burning, hastily pulling his hand away—only for Bao Tingyuan to seize his wrist in an instant, bringing his hand to his lips.

Wen Cishu’s heart skipped a beat.

He jolted awake, convinced he must have lost his mind, stammering, “J-Just now, that was…”

Bao Tingyuan parted his lips, brushing them softly against Wen Cishu’s palm. “Just now was a very beautiful story.”

Wen Cishu’s fingers lingered on his thin lips, his thoughts hazy and dazed. *What story? That was pure chaos—completely out of control.*