Chapter 40

Chapter 40

"Pop—Pop—"

On the tennis court of the Bao family mansion, a bright yellow ball soared through the air with powerful strikes.

Bao Yiming swung his racket vigorously, his movements agile and full of energy.

When he spotted Dad Wen approaching in the utility cart, he couldn't help but call for a pause and ran over with his racket in hand.

Today, Bao Yiming was accompanied by a female coach, a former pro player from world-class tennis tournaments. She waved at Wen Cishu.

Wen Cishu smiled back.

Bao Yiming leaned against the metal railing of the white utility cart.

The handsome nine-year-old boy beamed brightly: "Dad Wen, have you had breakfast yet?"

Wen Cishu noticed the glistening sweat on his forehead and took out a handkerchief to wipe it. "Yes, I have. You didn’t wake me up this morning, so I overslept."

"Heh heh~ Dad Bao told me when he left for work!"

After one side of his face was wiped, Bao Yiming immediately turned the other cheek to make it easier for his little dad.

He mimicked his big dad’s tone, deliberately lowering his voice and pursing his lips: "Yi Ming, your Dad Wen must be tired from being out all day yesterday. Let him sleep a bit longer."

"Dad Bao doesn’t sound like that at all."

Wen Cishu chuckled as he folded the handkerchief and passed it to Auntie Zhong.

"Oh, by the way, Dad Wen," Bao Yiming reminded him, "the production team will be coming this afternoon. Don’t forget!"

Season 3 included exclusive home footage, and the show's social media had been releasing promotional photos of each parent-child duo since Monday.

Today was the Bao family’s turn for filming, with the official release scheduled for 8 AM tomorrow.

Naturally, Wen Cishu hadn’t forgotten, especially since shooting at home meant no need to travel.

"Of course I didn’t forget. Aunt Zhong has already prepared the outfits."

The theme, previously discussed and agreed upon with the show’s team, was a simple, formal look—different from the live broadcast's casual style—mainly chosen because the four kids rarely had the chance to wear suits.

Wen Cishu had already seen photos of the other three guests in the group chat: Xiao Qi, Rong Rong, and Xing Xing, all looking adorably sweet in their little suits, creating a fun contrast.

Though Bao Yiming occasionally wore formal attire in daily life, this was his first time doing so for an official shoot, and Wen Cishu was looking forward to it.

Bao Yiming grumbled, "I wonder which episode Dad Bao will join us in."

"I think it’s Season 4."

Wen Cishu glanced at the coach drinking water in the distance and urged, "Yi Ming, get back to your game. Don’t keep the coach waiting too long."

"Okay!" Before running off, Bao Yiming stretched out his hand to poke his little dad’s cheek, giggling as he dashed away. "Gotcha, Dad Wen~~"

The boy bounced excitedly into the air, full of joy.

Wen Cishu shook his head with a fond smile—what a silly, adorable kid.

Unlike someone in his thirties still sneaking kisses.

He leaned against the railing of the compact car, spacing out, his hair tousled by the wind, swirling around his face.

—Would Bao Tingyuan think of him while at work?

-

Afternoon.

The production crew arrived at the Bao family mansion as scheduled.

Last time, the prelude was filmed directly at the equestrian club, but today marked their first official visit to the home.

When the company van entered the urban park, they realized the Bao family mansion was actually hidden deep within the greenery—a classical garden estate with timeless elegance.

Once within the estate's grounds, no one could believe this was someone's home.

From the outside, it looked like a secluded, historic celebrity mansion nestled within a tranquil park.

The security was incredibly tight throughout the estate; their van had to go through two security checkpoints just to enter.

Led to a designated guest parking area, the staff spotted the father and son, with Bao Yiming waving at them.

Behind them stood Uncle Xu and Albert.

The photographer was flattered: "Did they come out just to wait for us?"

An assistant rolled down the window, smiling and waving. Upon hopping out, she handed a gift to the energetic kid: "Ming Zai, we made this ourselves. Hope you and your pops will like it!"

"Thank you, sis!" Bao Yiming clutched the beautifully wrapped box. "What is it? Can I take a peek?"

The assistant chuckled, "Of course."

Wen Cishu first invited them to the lounge in the guest house.

As they passed through the peaceful, exquisite Chinese courtyard, everyone couldn’t help but marvel—this was way fancier than those overhyped billion-dollar mansions you see online, practically one-of-a-kind.

Upon entering the lounge, the first-time visitors were awestruck by the luxurious yet tasteful, grand but not showy decor.

The high ceilings, spaces flooded with natural light, and tasteful blend of Eastern and Western furnishings made it hard to believe this was someone’s everyday living space.

The assistant mused to herself that every breath felt expensive.

Upon asking, they learned this was merely the guest house, not even the main residence, which blew their minds even more.

All four were dying to ask the father and son to take them on a tour of the main residence to witness its grandeur.

Bao Yiming enthusiastically invited everyone to sit while the staff served tea.

He eagerly opened the gift box to find a carefully put-together photo album of highlights from the first two episodes.

"Wow, Dad, look—it's our photos!"

Flipping through the pages, they saw natural moments and camera angles they’d never seen before.

"Do Xiao Qi, Rong Rong, and Xing Xing have theirs too?" Bao Yiming asked the assistant curiously.

"Yeah," the assistant replied, as she lifted the fragrant cup of tea.

Meanwhile, Wen Cishu went over the shooting locations with the photographer—previously discussed over WeChat were the study, lounge, and the courtyard garden with its pond in the guest house.

The staff scouted the location and considered that since the outfits each family would wear for this shoot were formal, a purely traditional Chinese courtyard setting might create a style clash. In the end, they chose a study room decorated in a blend of Chinese and Western styles.

Everyone moved to the study to begin preparations.

Albert had two rolling clothing racks brought in, each holding the father and son’s formal attire.

“Mr. Bao and young master have already made their selections. Please make the final decisions.”

The metal racks displayed the garments hanging effortlessly, with sleeves and shoulder lines falling in perfect natural lines—clear signs of custom-made, high-end tailoring.

After discussing with the stylist and photographer, the final looks for father and son were confirmed.

As for accessories, those were also provided by the family.

Though the production team regularly worked with celebrities, they’d never imagined Ming Zai and his father’s means would far surpass anything they’d imagined before.

They could hardly imagine how much buzz the preview photos would generate once released.

-

Wen Cishu and Bao Yiming went to separate rooms to change.

He rarely wore Western formalwear.

First, he disliked the hassle of too many buttons; second, he thought Western suits felt constricting, like they trapped the wearer.

Sitting on the dressing sofa in the walk-in closet, he slipped on a white shirt and started buttoning it up slowly.

It occurred to him that Bao Tingyuan had to layer shirts, vests, and suits every morning—proof of his patience.

If it were him, he’d have a meltdown over having to wake up to such a routine.

Neatly arranged nearby were shirt garters, a belt, and cufflinks.

He didn’t plan to use most of them—after all, they’d be hidden under the suit—but the pair of small round emerald cufflinks was undeniably exquisite and charming.

In the gentle sunlight, they made him think irresistibly of Bao Tingyuan’s green eyes.

Wen Cishu decided to wear them.

Just as he reached for the cufflinks, a knock sounded at the door, accompanied by a deep, pleasant voice.

“May I come in?”

Bao Tingyuan?

Wen Cishu quickly stepped forward and opened the door. The moment he saw him, his eyes automatically dropped to his lips before forcing himself to look up into his calm gaze.

“Why are you home?”

Bao Tingyuan, in contrast, let his eyes travel from Wen Cishu’s brow down to his mouth, noticing in passing the long, straight legs visible beneath the white shirt.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Yi Ming is already dressed.”

“That fast?” Wen Cishu had to turn back and reach for the suit pants.

Spotting the ready shirt garters, Bao Tingyuan picked them up. “Let me help.”

When Wen Cishu realized what he was holding, his mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t object.

“Sure.”

Bao Tingyuan sank into the suede sofa, caught his wrist, and drew him between his knees, hoisting Wen Cishu's left leg over his thigh.

His movements were so natural and effortless, completely innocent—done purely for the convenience of attaching the shirt garters, with no hidden meaning at all.

But Wen Cishu froze instantly, his balance faltering as he placed a hand on Bao Tingyuan’s right shoulder.

The silent kiss from last night—the fleeting, delicate touch of lips—flashed through his mind, and his fingers involuntarily gripped the fabric of Bao Tingyuan’s suit.

He had no memory of how he had fallen asleep beside Bao Tingyuan afterward.

Bao Tingyuan quickly undid the clasp of the shirt garter but moved slowly as it wrapped around Wen Cishu’s smooth thigh.

His warm fingertips, knuckles, or the back of his hand barely brushed against the silk-like, snow-white skin.

Drenched in the pale golden sunlight streaming into the room, Wen Cishu briefly closed his eyes, forgetting about the upcoming shoot, his breathing growing heavier.

Even after Bao Tingyuan had helped him into robes in the bathroom before, why was he still unable to stay calm with just this much contact?

Was it his own issue?

Just as Wen Cishu was about to speak, a faint *click* sounded—the metal clasp of the shirt garter snapped shut.

The pure black elastic band fit snugly around his thigh, the edges pressing into his skin, smooth and creamy like butter.

A dark glint flashed in Bao Tingyuan’s green eyes behind the cold lenses.

His Adam’s apple moved uncontrollably, his shirt suddenly feeling stiflingly tight.

Wen Cishu, seeing him still, gaze lowered, asked, “What’s wrong?”

The moment he spoke, he felt Bao Tingyuan’s fingers slip under the elastic, his hand engulfing his thigh.

His body swayed slightly, leaning into him.

Bao Tingyuan’s other arm tightened around his back, drawing him in, then slowly tilted his head up to meet Wen Cishu’s flustered, alluring gaze.

“Too tight?”

His voice was deeply sensual.

Pressed against him, Wen Cishu placed his other hand on Bao Tingyuan’s broad shoulder, their eyes locked as he felt the heat of that firm grip on his thigh.

His pulse stayed even, though his chest rose slightly.

“Just right.”

Only when he spoke did he realize how dry his throat was—so dry he craved a large glass of ice water.

“Really?” Bao Tingyuan watched him, fingers tracing the elastic from front to side, catching Wen Cishu’s slight lip bite.

*Knock knock.*

“Sir, the crew wants to know if the first shoot can begin in ten minutes?”

Under Bao Tingyuan’s gaze, Wen Cishu’s ears buzzed, fighting to collect himself—but Bao Tingyuan answered first.

“Have them start with the young master. Sir will join in fifteen.”

The voice outside replied, “Understood, Young Master Bao.” “I…” Wen Cishu pressed his lips together, trying to pull away from the grip on his waist, only to be pulled back again.

He braced his hands on his shoulders, giving him a slight glare. "Don’t hold everyone up~"

His voice was too light, too soft, too tender—delicate like newly bloomed petals, utterly flirtatious.

"Don’t move." Bao Tingyuan withdrew his hand from the side of his thigh and reached for another shirt stay.

Wen Cishu pulled his long leg back and stood firmly on the ground.

This time, Bao Tingyuan didn’t reach out to assist. He lifted his gaze and said, "The other side."

Wen Cishu avoided his eyes, abruptly turning his face away as he lifted his right leg on his own.

He really wanted to take off Bao Tingyuan’s glasses and see what lay hidden in those deep green, pool-like eyes.

Once the other side was clipped in place, Bao Tingyuan adjusted the height and angle, securing the shirt hem neatly so that it lay perfectly smooth.

As Wen Cishu reached for his trousers, Bao Tingyuan pressed a hand to his waist, guiding him to sit on his lap.

Bao Tingyuan took the trousers and helped him into them.

Cool, heavy fabric slid swiftly up his calves, slick as a serpent coiling around his ankle, winding tight around his long legs before cinching at his narrow waist.

Wen Cishu remembered the people waiting outside and pushed him away forcefully. "I can do it myself."

He all but scrambled to his feet, deliberately walking over to the dressing mirror to adjust his clothes.

Unbeknownst to him, in the depths of the mirror, the handsome, mature man leaned back on the sofa, his gaze locked intently on him—from his back to his face, then to his eyes.

The moment their eyes met, Wen Cishu felt as if set ablaze, his entire body burning.

He would rather Bao Tingyuan pay attention to his body than stare into his eyes like this—as if to drown and consume him whole.

Slipping quickly into his vest and suit jacket, Wen Cishu almost parted his dry lips multiple times, ready to demand: *Why did you kiss me yesterday? How many times have you kissed me before? Besides kissing, have you… have you done anything else?*

But the moment his gaze met Bao Tingyuan’s, his racing thoughts instantly stilled, leaving only one sentence: "I’m going to take photos with Yi Ming. Do you want to come? Unless you’re too busy with work—"

Bao Tingyuan admired his rare full Western suit, recalling the wedding years ago when he had looked as noble, handsome, and elegant as a prince.

Fate had briefly stolen his lover away, but now he had returned to him once more.

Beneath Wen Cishu’s nervous, hopeful stare, Bao Tingyuan, still seated on the sofa, held out his hand.

Dazedly, Wen Cishu extended his hand toward him, letting it settle gently into his palm.

Bao Tingyuan brought his fingers to his lips. "It would be my pleasure."