Chapter 52

Chapter 52

As Bao Yiming enjoyed a barbecue dinner with his two dads, Zhu Wei was answering audience questions.

When addressing the issue of song copyrights—a topic fans cared about most—she spoke candidly to the camera without holding back: "I met a guardian angel in my life. I never expected them to help me, and they didn’t want a thing in return..."

She pressed her lips together, holding back a wave of emotion.

Though two weeks had passed, Zhu Wei still got choked up whenever she mentioned it.

This was a game-changer for her—it was hard not to be moved.

Zhu Wei glanced at her husband, who had asked the question.

Under his encouraging and comforting gaze, she fumbled, "Anyway, I’m just grateful to my benefactor and also to the show for introducing us... Wait—no, I mean—ugh, anyway, right now I’m seriously preparing for my studio and concert. Thank you all for sticking with me all these years."

She clasped her hands together, giving heartfelt thanks to all the viewers and fans watching.

"Girl, what’s with you? This isn’t some private relationship question—why are you stumbling over your words?"

"Sounds like the show introduced you? So that means one of the other three guests, right?"

With Zhu Wei’s star power and the ongoing attention on the copyright issue, discussions about how her situation was resolved spread beyond the show to platforms like Weibo and various forums.

On entertainment gossip forums, fans were dissecting which of the other three guests on *Zai Zai the Superman* was most likely the "benefactor" Zhu Wei mentioned.

"Count out Zhou Xu—he’s younger than Zhu Wei and doesn’t have major investor backing."

"Chu Han is an actress, but her career’s been middling these past few years. If she could help Zhu Wei settle the copyright issue, she wouldn’t be struggling to land suitable roles herself."

Just as everyone was speculating, tea spilled:

[No need to guess, folks—it’s Ming Zai’s dad. Zhu Wei’s former agency boss slipped up and liked a Weibo post speculating that "the Bao family stepped in."]

"Ming Zai and his dad are so popular but don’t have social media accounts or rumors of signing with agencies. If it’s not some PR stunt, this seems credible."

"No wonder Zhu Wei called it an unexpected benefactor who asked for nothing in return. Seems like it was just being a real one."

At the Bao residence, in Bao Yiming’s bedroom, he had just told his dad to go get ready for bed and was now tidying up the tent.

He didn’t want his dad to sleep uncomfortably.

Suddenly, the stream got swarmed with new viewers—all coming to pray for things:

"[Audience comment] Praying for a new job with a $500K salary."

"[Audience comment] Praying for smooth success."

Regular viewers were confused until they realized Zhu Wei’s story had gotten Ming Zai’s dad trending on Weibo, drawing all these new viewers.

"Yo, people, look carefully—Dad’s not even on screen."

"If Ming Zai knew so many viewers were flooding in, he’d think this was some fan vote."

"Voting? Where can we vote?"

"There's no place to vote—the bullet comments are just memeing—hilarious!"

"Ming Zai, go check on your little dad. He's been in the shower forever! I'm freaking out!"

"I'm already done and waiting for Mommy to read us a bedtime story~"

Earlier on the way back, during their casual chat, Wen Cishu had promised Little Monkey a bedtime story tonight, and the viewers were hyped for it.

-

The bedroom on the second floor of the mansion.

Wen Cishu stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe.

He had originally intended to grab his phone from the bedroom to check the time, but as he walked in, he spotted someone sitting silently in the single armchair.

After they arrived home earlier, Albert, who’d been waiting at home, was there, and Bao Tingyuan had gone to the study to handle work.

The room was dark now, with only faint moonlight streaming through the window.

Dressed in a black shirt, Bao Tingyuan almost blended into the darkness, his expression unreadable, his pale hand draped lazily over the armrest.

At first glance, he looked as eerie as a vampire from medieval European lore.

Bao Tingyuan watched quietly as the other man appeared.

His loosely tied-up hair spilled softly around his neck, and with each slow step, a warm, sweet scent drifted over.

Clearly dressed for comfort, the robe hung loosely—the belt at his slim waist loosely tied, the collar slipping slightly to reveal a swan-like neck and skin as pale and smooth as jade.

As his long legs moved, the overlapping hem of the robe swayed, hinting at something hidden, teasingly sensual.

Wen Cishu remembered that when he returned to the room earlier, the lights in the living area, bedroom, and hallway had all been on—someone must’ve shut them off on purpose.

"Has Albert left?" Wen Cishu headed casually for the bedside, intending to grab his phone.

But as he passed by, his wrist caught.

Fresh from the shower, Wen Cishu’s skin was warm and soft, making Bao Tingyuan’s palm feel oddly cold by comparison.

Just as he was about to speak, Bao Tingyuan nudged his knees apart, yanking him onto his lap.

In the motion, the already loose robe slipped open along Wen Cishu’s thighs, baring his creamy skin.

He tried to reach down to pull it closed, but both wrists were caught and slowly drawn behind his back.

Not only that, but after securing his wrists with one hand, Bao Tingyuan pressed lightly against the small of his back, making Wen Cishu arch slightly and lean into his firm chest.

Though Bao Tingyuan’s suit pants were made of fine fabric, the soft skin of Wen Cishu’s inner thighs was so delicate that even this slight friction felt rough.

Flustered by the pose, Wen Cishu shifted his feet slightly in his soft slippers.

He lowered his gaze, fixating on a focal point—the black collar of Bao Tingyuan’s shirt.

"Yi Ming’s still waiting for me to put him to bed—"

His words cut off abruptly as Bao Tingyuan’s hand rested on his smooth thigh.

Instinctively, like gripping a saddle, Wen Cishu drew his knees inward, only to realize it looked like he was deliberately squeezing Bao Tingyuan’s legs, so he loosened them again.

His fingers, clasped behind his back, twitched slightly as Bao Tingyuan leaned in, his heart pounding wildly.

The room was silent—so silent that Bao Tingyuan could almost hear the quick rhythm of his breath and feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Rubbing his cheek against Wen Cishu’s softly, Bao Tingyuan whispered in a voice like velvet, “Aren’t you going to make it up to me?”

The scorching breath puffing against Wen Cishu’s ear made him wriggle uncomfortably, twisting his narrow waist as he murmured, “My hands hurt.”

Bao Tingyuan released his wrists, gently massaging them before pulling him even closer.

He could keenly feel the soft, nervous fidgeting of the person in his arms—like countless feathers brushing over his heart, stoking an insatiable hunger to claim more.

Wen Cishu, wrapped in his warm embrace, asked quietly, “How… how should I make it up to you? You tell me.”

As soon as he spoke, he noticed Bao Tingyuan’s throat working.

Then, Wen Cishu felt himself slowly pushed back until their noses nearly touched, both pairs of eyes locked on each other through the glasses.

Somehow, under that searing gaze, Wen Cishu instinctively understood.

Lowering his lashes, he slipped his hand out from Bao Tingyuan’s grasp and reached up to remove his glasses.

They had done this very thing just earlier that afternoon, so the gesture was painfully obvious in its intent.

Wen Cishu caught his thirst, dry-swallowing lightly. His long lashes fluttered, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet those eyes directly.

Bao Tingyuan felt every inch of the separation as the glasses were lifted away—as if a burning fuse were being pulled taut, the safe distance between them vanishing with each passing second.

Once the glasses were off, Wen Cishu worriedly wet his dry, thin lips. “I—”

A strong hand pressed into the small of his back, lifting him upward until he had no choice but to face those jade-green eyes.

In the moonlight, they were darkly mesmerizing.

Wen Cishu’s gaze drifted down to his lips—thin, sensual, exuding the allure of a man aged like fine wine.

He darted forward and pecked at those lips, then quickly pulled back, turning his head toward the balcony outside. “Like this?”

Bao Tingyuan tilted his head slightly, nuzzling the smooth curve of his neck, inhaling the warm, soft scent of his skin.

Wen Cishu felt a tickle, along with a hunger he couldn’t voice, closing his eyes to savor the wordless intimacy woven into that delicate touch.

—He actually regretted it. He shouldn’t have stopped at such a fleeting kiss.

That sudden dissatisfaction surprised him with a rare pang of frustration. He scuffed his slipper against the carpet, his voice carrying an unwitting sharpness.

“If I don’t go now, Yi Ming will come looking for me.”

His hands braced against Bao Tingyuan’s biceps, ready to push away and stand—but Bao Tingyuan hooked an arm under his thighs and lifted him effortlessly into his arms.

As the silk robe swayed around him, Wen Cishu blurted out, “I haven’t changed into my pajamas yet. I can’t go over like this.”

“Mm.” Bao Tingyuan cradled him securely, carrying him toward his own bedroom.

Wen Cishu, puzzled but not resisting, swung his dangling legs slightly.

As Bao Tingyuan passed the screen dividing the two bedrooms, one of his slippers fell with a sharp slap.

Wen Cishu felt a surge of electricity run through his body as he pressed a hand onto Bo Tingyuan's shoulder. "Where are you going?"

Before he could react, he was already carried into Bo Tingyuan's dressing room.

Bo Tingyuan tightly wrapped one arm around him and used the other to retrieve a set of dark blue pajamas from the wardrobe.

"Put these on."

Wen Cishu's ears suddenly flushed with heat.

The memory of Bo Tingyuan helping him change into pajamas last time was still vivid in his mind—even though the man had behaved like a perfect gentleman, never letting his gaze waver even slightly, but still...

Were these Bo Tingyuan's own pajamas?

His previously chaotic thoughts abruptly stilled.

"Oh." Wen Cishu quickly took the pajamas, shifting his long legs slightly as he lowered them. "You can put me down now."

Unexpectedly, Bo Tingyuan walked straight toward the foot of the bed, then bent slightly and gently placed him on it.

It was Bo Tingyuan’s bed, and those were his pajamas.

Nothing had happened, yet Wen Cishu's breath inexplicably quickened.

The calm air seemed like dry firewood in a furnace catching flame, crackling softly.

Seeing that Bo Tingyuan remained standing beside the bed without any intention of leaving,

Wen Cishu dared not lift his head, afraid of meeting unfamiliar emotions in the other’s eyes. He could only press his bare feet lightly against the man's knees and slowly push back, whispering, "I can do it myself."

Bo Tingyuan looked at those long, enticing legs before reaching out to grasp his ankle, gently and firmly massaging it.

"I'll go get my glasses."

After he turned and left, Wen Cishu absentmindedly glanced at his own ankle before hurriedly changing clothes.

Apparently, the servants never pre-buttoned Bo Tingyuan's pajamas. When Bo Tingyuan returned wearing his glasses, Wen Cishu was still hastily fastening the buttons with his head bowed.

As Wen Cishu turned his back, Bo Tingyuan stepped closer, grasped the buttons, and began fastening them one by one.

After adjusting the collar, Bo Tingyuan bent down, wrapped both arms around the long legs, and lifted them gently into his waist area. "Done. I’ll take you to Yiming's room."

Wen Cishu didn’t dare look at him, resting his chin lightly against the crook of his neck instead.

As they exited the room, that faint sense of discontent resurfaced again.

Was this guy really that easily satisfied?

Just a light touch and he was content?

Then what about himself?!

Wen Cishu shamefully curled his toes.

Instead of taking the elevator, Bo Tingyuan chose the stairs, walking step by step up to the third floor.

Lost in thought, Wen Cishu naturally didn't notice.

Only when he heard Bo say they had arrived did an unconscious thought surface: The room was surprisingly close.

When Wen Cishu touched down, he noticed that Bao Tingyuan still had his slippers in one hand.

Bao Tingyuan placed the shoes by his feet.

Wen Cishu bent down to put them on and muttered, "Thank you."

Or more accurately, he should have apologized—for his unexplained irritation, toward this considerate and gentle man.

The moment he spoke, his chin was lifted by slender fingers.

Wen Cishu had no choice but to look at him, his eyes darting nervously, carrying an unaware but fierce longing.

Under the corridor lights, Bao Tingyuan looked so tall and bright it was almost blinding.

He examined how his pajamas hung on Wen Cishu and gave a matter-of-fact comment: "The clothes are too big."

Wen Cishu: "..."

He swatted the hand away, muttering while turning away, "Goodnight!"

Bao Tingyuan watched him enter.

-

Inside the tent.

After climbing in, Wen Cishu wrapped his arms around the smiling little monkey over the blanket: "Baby, did you wait long? Daddy's gonna tell you a story."

Bao Yiming eyed his little daddy’s pajamas curiously, tugging at a sleeve: "I haven’t seen these before, little daddy. Are they new?"

Before Wen Cishu could answer, the little monkey piped up: "Hmm, I think I’ve seen big daddy wear them."

Wen Cishu: "..."

He pulled the sleeve back. "Just the same design."

"Oh." Bao Yiming didn't press further, naturally not questioning such a trivial thing.

"Wait... They do seem kind of big. Do husbands really wear each other’s pajamas?"

"Obviously not. With Daddy Ming Zai’s size, there's no way he'd fit in mommy's, so... hehe."

Wen Cishu opened to the unicorn fairy tale, found the part Bao Yiming had read earlier, and continued from there.

His fluent French and gentle tone brought the audience a fun little bedtime twist.

"I thought it was just regular storytime. How did you guys end up with a French story?"

"Mommy's French is *that* good??"

"If his French weren’t good, how could he marry a Chinese-French person and have a quarter-Chinese-French kiddo? Makes perfect sense."

"We love this gentle wife speaking French! Could just hug and kiss him all over!"

Holding the little monkey, Wen Cishu kept reading, until his gaze suddenly fell on the pajama cuffs.

It hit him that every inch of his skin was covered by Bao Tingyuan’s clothes, and without knowing why, his face flushed red.