Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Still asleep, Wen Cishu had no idea that the scene of him cradling Little Monkey while telling a story was about to go viral across multiple online platforms.

In the video, the bedtime lighting had been deliberately dimmed, and the tent was filled with adorable, whimsical plush toys.

The long-haired young father was holding the handsome, bright-eyed boy close, slowly reading a story aloud.

The boy’s fingers gently played with his little daddy’s black hair, occasionally glancing up with a face full of happiness to steal a look at the person he loved most.

Even online viewers who had never watched the show could catch a glimpse of real happiness and contentment in those brief few minutes.

When someone asked where the video came from, fans of the program replied:

"It's from the currently airing Chinese-French co-production *The Mixed-Race Boy and His Eastern Beauty Little Daddy (J'apprécie tout ce que tu fais pour moi)*, which mainly tells a touching father-son story. Nearly a million viewers have already given it a 9.8 rating, and it’s sure to become the year’s box office champion—a masterpiece worthy of cinematic history."

"LMAO if I hadn’t seen the show, I’d actually believe this!"

Following the joke, many netizens took screenshots from the video and created various movie posters, making it seem more and more authentic.

By the next morning, some viewers had already started asking in the live stream comments:

"Hello, when is the movie coming out?"

"I really hope mommy and Ming Zai get to see the beautiful posters everyone made! Can the production team help us out?"

"Production team, just let our sweetheart open an account already—we really want to have some sweet interactions with her~"

-

However, when Wen Cishu woke up, he wasn't feeling great—not because the tent was too cramped or because the little monkey had been crowding him during sleep—but because he noticed a dull ache in his stomach.

Wen Cishu wondered if he'd eaten a bit too much grilled meat the night before, causing indigestion.

Considering they were still in the middle of the live broadcast, he kept it to himself, planning to deal with it after filming ended.

At breakfast, he had little appetite, skipping the hot milk and eating very little.

Bao Yiming didn’t notice, and neither did most of the audience.

Just then, Uncle Xu suddenly approached the dining table and turned the camera—which had been focused on the father and son—away, pointing it directly at Bao Yiming.

On screen, Bao Yiming—who was nibbling on a bao—looked up in surprise and mumbled, “Dad?”

“Huh? Who touched the camera? What’s going on?”

“Did Dad come for breakfast too?”

At the table, Bao Tingyuan quickly swept Wen Cishu up into his arms and said to his son, “Yiming, keep eating your breakfast. I’m taking your little daddy to see a doctor.”

“Huh?” Only then did Bao Yiming finally spring up and rush to his little daddy’s side, rising on his toes to examine him closely. “Little Daddy? What’s wrong?”

Wen Cishu stroked the boy’s hair. “Just a little stomachache. It’s not serious.”

He quickly glanced at Bao Tingyuan’s serious expression—his stern look alone was enough to scare the child—and added, “Be good, continue eating and stay with the livestream. Daddy will be back soon.”

“Not happening,” Bao Yiming said matter-of-factly.

As Bao Tingyuan walked out, Bao Yiming quickly returned to the table, rushing toward the camera and speaking directly into it: "My dad is feeling a bit unwell. I'm going to accompany him to see the doctor now."

"Stomach discomfort? Could it be from eating Ming Zai's barbecue yesterday? Oh no..."

"Just like Ming Zai, I didn’t notice at all. Thank goodness Ming Zai’s big daddy was watching the livestream."

"That’s what years of marriage do—daddy noticed even the slightest change (was mom trying to tough it out to avoid affecting the show?)."

In the small reception room on the first floor, Wen Cishu sat in an armchair, flanked by Bao Tingyuan and Bao Yiming.

The two doctors, one specializing in Western medicine and the other in traditional Chinese medicine, checked his pulse and examined him.

Wen Cishu’s stomach had always been carefully cared for. Unless he deliberately skipped meals or starved himself, there were usually no major issues.

Bao Yiming was extremely anxious, convinced it was due to his barbecue the previous day.

Before the doctor could even ask about yesterday’s meal, he spilled everything in one go.

Before Wen Cishu could speak, Bao Tingyuan placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Yi Ming, it’s not your fault."

Wen Cishu also nodded gently at the little monkey, speaking softly, "Don’t worry, the barbecue wasn’t the problem."

"Mmm."

Bao Yiming mumbled with a pout, his voice subdued.

He leaned closer to his big daddy, as if seeking a steady support, his worried eyes fixed on his little daddy.

Wen Cishu rarely saw him make such an upset look—he must have been genuinely concerned.

After a quick consultation between the two doctors, Dr. Lin finally said, "It’s likely due to getting chilled during the meal, combined with eating slightly more than usual and moving less afterward, leading to indigestion before resting."

Since Wen Cishu had been taking heart medication, Dr. Lin prescribed a gentle herbal remedy for this episode.

Dr. Lin also arranged for the hospital to promptly deliver a heating pad/herbal compress to be applied to Wen Cishu’s chest for comfort.

While waiting, Wen Cishu took the little monkey’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Alright, Daddy really is fine. Go eat your breakfast, or you might feel unwell too."

Hearing his little daddy’s soothing words, Bao Yiming was about to say "no."

Bao Tingyuan stepped in just then. "Uncle Xu, please accompany Yi Ming back."

Bao Yiming pouted, let go reluctantly.

"Big Daddy, make sure you take care of Little Daddy, okay?"

"Mm." Bao Tingyuan ruffled his son’s hair. "Go on."

Bao Yiming left, looking back every few steps.

The small reception room grew quiet. Dr. Lin and Aunt Zhong went to the kitchen to prepare a healing millet congee.

Just as Wen Cishu was about to tell Bao Tingyuan to see to his own things, he found himself lifted into his husband’s arms.

Bao Tingyuan sat down on the sofa, sitting Wen Cishu comfortably in his lap.

His gaze swept over Wen Cishu’s face—there were no visible signs of sickness, so his furrowed brows relaxed slightly. He spoke earnestly, "Next time, let me know right away if you feel unwell."

Though his expression was stern, someone unfamiliar with him might mistake it for scolding.

Wen Cishu, seeing no one else around, leaned his cheek against Bo Tingyuan’s chest and murmured softly, “Don’t be mad at me.”

Bo Tingyuan’s palm, resting on his back, brushed aside the black strands at his temple before his thumb gently pinched his earlobe—round as a pearl.

Wen Cishu turned his face slightly, burying it in Bo Tingyuan’s chest.

Not long after, Aunt Zhong entered with the heated herbal pack, saying that Dr. Lin would remain at the estate today and could come right away if needed.

Bo Tingyuan took it, checking the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot, then pressed it gently to Wen Cishu’s chest, slowly massaging him.

Wen Cishu lazed in his arms without moving.

Bo Tingyuan asked Aunt Zhong to bring a light blanket, which he wrapped around Wen Cishu.

Wen Cishu pulled lightly at the corner of the blanket, drawing it over his shoulders.

As their gazes locked, he whispered, “Don’t worry.”

Bo Tingyuan continued working the herbal compress in slow, deliberate circles over Wen Cishu’s stomach. He lowered his eyes, carefully studying every feature—the brows, the eyes, the nose, the cheeks, even the lips—examining him more meticulously than the finest medical scanner.

Held like this, Wen Cishu felt like he weighed nothing. Bo Tingyuan wondered if, overnight, his face had hollowed out and his skin gone even paler.

The more he looked, the more Wen Cishu seemed cloaked in a sickly pallor, as though shrouded in mist.

His wolf-sharp instincts were especially attuned to Wen Cishu’s condition.

Suddenly, memories surfaced—nine years’ worth of nightmares:

Each dream different, yet each ending the same—watching helplessly as the man in his arms wasted away.

Bo Tingyuan furrowed his thick brows again.

Wen Cishu realized he hadn’t been listening at all.

Those green eyes appeared calm, but beneath them, a restless unease simmered.

Under the warm blanket, Wen Cishu darted to cover his hand. “Hmm?”

As if remembering something, Bo Tingyuan flipped his hand over and grabbed his wrist, searching for something.

He steadied himself. “Right, I’m not worried.”

Wen Cishu thought: *That didn't sound right—and neither did his expression.*

*Why is he checking my wrist?*

Just as suspicion stirred, Bo Tingyuan told the maid, “Go tell Aunt Zhong to find the white-jade bamboo bracelet from upstairs.”

The maid nodded, hearing the urgency in his voice, and hurried out.

Wen Cishu’s eyes widened slightly.

*Was he looking for the white-jade bamboo bracelet just now?*

“I left it off after my bath last night. What’s wrong?”

Bo Tingyuan also recalled that before taking a shower, Wen Cishu had placed his phone and bracelet on the nightstand. He must have forgotten them because he wanted to hold him for a while.

His arms slowly tightened, pulling Wen Cishu closer, and he murmured in a deep voice, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, Wen Cishu remembered what Li Yun had once said:

"For Tingyuan, everything in this world is divided into two categories—your health and everything else."

He quickly snuggled closer into Bo Tingyuan's embrace. "You know very well it has nothing to do with Yiming, so it certainly isn't your fault either."

He lifted his gaze, his warm hand emerging from under the blanket to gently cover Bo Tingyuan's cheek, his eyes filled with affection and pity: "You shouldn't bear so much responsibility all on your own. Do you understand?"

As Wen Cishu spoke, his eyes unconsciously turned slightly red.

The burden weighing on Bo Tingyuan was simply too heavy.

Bo Tingyuan naturally noticed Wen Cishu's reddening eyes and immediately asked, "Is your stomach uncomfortable again?"

He slightly adjusted the medicinal pack. "Am I pressing down too hard on you?"

Wen Cishu grasped his hand and shook it lightly. "Don't ask me if I'm hurting; ask yourself if you're tired."

Bo Tingyuan lowered his head and kissed the top of Wen Cishu's hair, his tone deep and resolute, like a promise: "I'm not tired at all."

Wen Cishu hesitated for a moment, then hurriedly pulled the blanket over his eyes a few seconds later.

He absolutely couldn't cry, or else this fool would think something was wrong with his body again.

Luckily, Auntie Zhong walked in just then holding the bracelet.

Bo Tingyuan took the bracelet. The jade had been left unworn for quite some time and was icy cold.

When Wen Cishu reached out to take it, Bo Tingyuan held it tightly in his palm and softly said, "Wait until it warms up a bit before wearing it."

Only after the white jade bamboo joint had warmed from body heat did Bo Tingyuan place it around Wen Cishu's wrist.

Wen Cishu recalled that night before recording the show when Bo Tingyuan had suddenly given him this bracelet.

Previously, even with the most valuable antique jewelry, Bo Tingyuan had never personally put anything on him.

Therefore, this bracelet must carry special significance.

Just as Wen Cishu was about to ask, Auntie Zhong entered again carrying a bowl of medicinal porridge.

"It's cooled down enough now—you can drink it."

Wen Cishu pushed himself up using Bo Tingyuan's arm.

But Bo Tingyuan stopped him.

He personally picked up the bowl, scooped a spoonful, blew on it gently, and then brought it to Wen Cishu's lips: "Still hot?"

"Just right," Wen Cishu took a sip. "Tastes good."

Not wanting Bo Tingyuan to worry, he slowly finished every spoon.

The warm porridge entered his stomach, combined with the warmth of the herbal compress, gradually easing the pain in his abdomen.

Seeing that Bo Tingyuan still wore a cold expression, Wen Cishu raised his hands to encircle his neck and buried his face in his shoulder: "Bo Tingyuan, take me outside to enjoy some sunshine, okay?"

When Bao Tingyuan first heard him say his name, he slipped an arm around his waist.

"Call me again."

"Hmm?" Wen Cishu was slow to respond, as he had spoken unconsciously just moments before.

Now he finally caught on and murmured softly, "No~"

The tension in Bao Tingyuan’s green eyes finally eased, and he lifted him into his arms and carried him out.

As they passed through the hallway, both of them heard noises coming from the living room.

It was Bao Yiming talking to viewers off-screen. Several large boxes sat in front of him, and he was pulling something out from inside.

Wen Cishu barely had time to look before Bao Tingyuan carried him in the opposite direction, toward the sunroom.

He asked curiously, "What is Yi Ming handling?"

In the sunroom, sunlight streamed through the glass windows onto the sofa, making it feel cozy.

Bao Tingyuan stepped into the sunlight.

"They're from France. Some are gifts for Yi Ming, and some are for you."

"There are gifts specifically for me?" Wen Cishu gave him a puzzled look, suddenly curious. "What are they?"

Bao Tingyuan sat down on the sofa, his green eyes fixed intently on him, his tone solemn and serious, "Gifts."

Wen Cishu thought, *Seriously? That tells me nothing.*

He threw him a glare, his eyes darting as he narrowed them toward the garden outside, while under the blanket, his hand pulled Bao Tingyuan’s palm against his chest. "Keep going. I didn’t tell you to stop."

The moment he spoke, a gentle kiss landed on his lips.