Chapter 57

Chapter 57

On the way home, Bao Yiming leaned on his walking stick, sitting confidently between his two dads.

After tasting the snails, he remarked in a grown-up tone, "I don't think they're particularly delicious."

Wen Cishu asked, "After the show ends, do you want to go to France and try some?"

Across their nine-year-old son, Bao Tingyuan shot him a brief look.

"Sure~ Let Grandma pick the restaurant." Bao Yiming cheerfully considered, then suddenly remembered something more important.

"Papa, I was thinking..." He peeked at his father on the right and lowered his voice, "I want to invite Brother Xingxing to the farm for a day."

Wen Cishu recalled that ever since the first episode of the show ended, he had been begging to have friends over.

Naturally, he had no reason to object and quickly agreed, "Okay."

But Bao Yiming still looked hesitant, clearly wanting to ask for more.

Wen Cishu asked first, "What's wrong?"

Bao Yiming fiddled with his papa's shirt. "Papa~"

Wen Cishu glanced at Bao Tingyuan beside their son and encouraged, "It's okay, tell us."

Bao Yiming muttered, "I want to go to the farm with just Brother Xingxing... just the two of us..."

Before he could finish, Wen Cishu said, "But that might not be safe."

Bao Yiming lowered his head, fidgeting with his papa's shirt.

He wrapped his arms around Wen Cishu's arm and gently shook it, looking up with a pleading look, "Mommy~~~"

Meanwhile, Bao Tingyuan asked, "Haven’t you talked to Brother Xingxing’s parents yet?"

His blunt question made Bao Yiming duck his head, burying his face in his papa's chest with a muffled, "Mm."

"Ouch."

He got a light knock on the head and covered it with his hand.

Wen Cishu quickly rubbed his son’s head, giving Bao Tingyuan a look: *Be gentle!*

Bao Tingyuan straightened their son up.

"Yi Ming, I'm fine with you going to the farm with Brother Xingxing. But since you're both minors, you can't stay overnight alone. If you want all of us parents to agree, you need to discuss it properly and come up with a safe plan that we can approve."

Wen Cishu nodded in agreement, "Exactly, Papa agrees too."

Spotting an opportunity, Bao Yiming didn’t protest but asked, "Dad, then I’ll talk it over with Brother Xingxing. But... if you and Papa agree, can you help us talk to Brother Xingxing’s parents?"

His voice trailed off, losing momentum.

He felt his dad had already guessed his intentions.

Wen Cishu said, "Yi Ming, if the plan is safe, they won’t need convincing—Brother Xingxing’s parents will agree. Don’t you think?"

"That's right," Bao Yiming realized. "Got it."

He tilted his head to lean into Papa’s embrace, but Dad pulled him back by the shoulder toward the right side.

Hmph!

He didn’t care; he was leaning over anyway.

Bao Tingyuan naturally wouldn’t force his son to stay put. He simply watched his smug little expression, as if about to break into a happy wiggle.

Wen Cishu stroked his son’s hair, looking down thoughtfully.

If Little Monkey and Star could build a strong, deep bond during their youth, even if they ended up pursuing the same person later in life, surely it wouldn’t escalate to an all-out war, right?

But given how different the two children’s personalities were, how could they possibly like the same person?

He really couldn’t imagine such a scenario.

-

As soon as the car stopped in the parking area of the Bao family mansion, Bao Yiming mumbled about calling Star to discuss the "new plan."

He followed his dad out from the right side.

After Wen Cishu stepped out from the left, he saw Bao Tingyuan coming around to scoop him up.

Since they were home anyway, he rarely extended his arms slightly to loop around his broad shoulders, giving a small jump.

Bao Tingyuan caught him smoothly, hugging him tight.

Beside the car, the two gazed at each other and smiled.

Witnessing this, Bao Yiming’s mind raced with a million thoughts:

His dad had once told him, “No little brothers or sisters”—was that still valid now?

If Papa wasn’t well, probably not, right?

Of course, even if there really were a younger sibling, he wouldn’t mind. After all, a newborn would be no bigger than a pillow—if it tried to steal his bed, he could just shove it off.

But the little one would definitely cling to Papa, just like the youngest brother Xiao Qi in the show, cuddling up to Papa every second. His Papa was so gentle, he’d never push them away—so what would he do then?

Bao Yiming imagined Papa being hugged by another tiny version of himself, and his mind went blank, retracting his initial “wouldn’t mind.”

"Hey!"

He waved his cane and protested loudly.

"Even if they look exactly like me, it’s not allowed!"

"Huh?" Wen Cishu looked at him in surprise.

Bao Tingyuan asked, "Yi Ming, what are you talking about?"

Bao Yiming backed down, inching closer to his two dads. "It’s just... just... no little siblings, okay?"

Wen Cishu: "?"

What’s gotten into him?

It must be because his two dads were always cuddling, giving the kid ideas.

He quickly patted Bao Tingyuan's arm to be put down, but Bao Tingyuan didn't release him, instead tightening his grip.

Bao Tingyuan knit his thick brows: "Yi Ming, I've told you, there won't be any younger siblings."

Wen Cishu's gaze returned to his brow, noticing he seemed more stern than ever, as if he disliked the topic.

Bao Yiming let out a relieved sigh: "Oh."

Wen Cishu ran a hand through his hair: "Both dads love Yi Ming the most, so don’t worry, okay?"

He pulled playfully at the little monkey’s cheeks, "Smile, or else Dad will start worrying."

"Hehe~" Bao Yiming nodded vigorously.

He turned and skipped ahead, swinging his cane as he went.

Wen Cishu noticed Bao Tingyuan seemed subdued and pointed at the lively boy’s back, whispering, "Look at Yi Ming—doesn’t he look like Sun Wukong with his golden staff?"

The moment he spoke, a broad hand pressed against his back, pulling him flush against Bao Tingyuan’s chest.

His arms looped around Bao Tingyuan’s shoulders and neck, his palm gently massaging the back of his neck as he asked softly, "What’s wrong?"

Bao Tingyuan held him close, inhaling deeply at his temple: "Nothing."

He then headed into the mansion.

Wen Cishu thought wryly: In a way, he was responsible for "bearing," while Bao Tingyuan was responsible for "raising."

Truly the original novel’s token couple.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurd theatricality of life.

Just then, he realized Bao Tingyuan had frozen mid-step. "Hmm?"

Bao Tingyuan resumed walking, and Wen Cishu slowly turned his head, his dark eyes widening instantly: "Dad, Mom—Dad—"

In the antique sofa arranged in a square formation in the living room sat Wen Cishu’s parents and Bao Tingyuan’s father, Li Yun.

Amusingly, Wen Cishu’s parents had Bao Yiming held firmly between them, preventing their grandson from running off to "report."

Blushing, Wen Cishu elbowed Bao Tingyuan to let him down at once.

Remembering the red mark on his neck, he quickly fiddled with his long hair to cover it slightly.

Bao Tingyuan, however, calmly carried him over to the sofa and sat down, facing the elders he hadn’t seen in a long time: "It’s been a while, Mom and Dad."

Wen Cishu sat up properly, smoothing his clothes, like a kid caught sneaking out, managing an awkward smile.

"Mom, Dad, why didn’t you give us a heads-up? We could’ve picked you up from the airport."

His father, Wen Minghui, looked him over, satisfied he looked healthy, before sternly saying, "Cishu, you went on TV to record a show without telling us? Is that acceptable?"

Then, he turned to Bao Tingyuan: "Tingyuan, you’re partly to blame too."

Wen Cishu explained, "Dad, you can’t treat Tingyuan like my guardian. He’s not responsible. I only went out to record the show with Yi Ming because I was well enough, and lately, we’ve been filming at home—it’s not tiring at all."

Zhu Qianya cut in, "Right, until you suddenly felt unwell while recording."

Wen Cishu fell silent.

He was at his wit's end, left with no choice but to stare helplessly at his younger son in the middle.

Bao Yiming raised both hands in surrender: "Two grandfathers, one grandmother, and two dads—I'm just a little kid. Can I skip such a serious conversation?"

His face fell in distress as he cried, "I need to go to the bathroom~ I'm nine years old already; I can't wet my pants!"

Wen Minghui and Zhu Qianya couldn’t stand seeing their grandson in discomfort and quickly let him go: "Go on, go on!"

Wen Cishu watched his son dash off and murmured, "Um, I also—"

"You stay put."

Wen Minghui shot him a stern look.

Wen Cishu sat back down, his hand resting on the sofa grabbed and squeezed tightly by Bao Tingyuan.

Deep down, Wen Minghui and Zhu Qianya were more worried than angry. They had only found out about the show yesterday and had rushed over immediately.

The elderly couple had spent the entire previous night watching the show, feeling that their son seemed healthier and more like his former self.

Ever since he married and became pregnant, they had noticed him sinking into gloom—always withdrawn, sullen, and quiet, his health so poor he was constantly under a doctor’s care.

If not for Bao Tingyuan’s devoted care over the years, they would have taken him back home to raise him themselves.

Overall, the elderly couple wasn’t angry, just a bit upset that their youngest son hadn’t been honest with them.

Wen Cishu meekly apologized: "Mom, Dad, it was my fault for not mentioning this over the phone. I know I was wrong."

Li Yun, who had remained silent until now, diplomatically intervened: "I think Cishu has been in good health lately, and the show is quite light-hearted. Tingyuan has also been keeping a close eye on him—I’m sure they’ve discussed things together."

Bao Tingyuan added, "Mom, Dad, there’s only one episode of the show left. After it wraps up, I’ll make sure Cishu gets plenty of rest."

Wen Minghui nodded, considering the matter closed.

It was already late, and the elderly couple had flown in from the south. Bao Tingyuan had Uncle Xu prepare guest rooms for them while also inviting Li Yun to stay overnight.

"What about Yi Ming? Let him stay with us tonight—it’s been ages since we talked," Wen Minghui suggested. "Li Yun, what do you think?"

"I don’t mind," Li Yun said with a smile.

Wen Minghui and Li Yun had known each other since youth, though living far apart—one in the north, one in the south—they hadn’t kept in touch much.

Only after becoming in-laws ten years ago did their interactions become more frequent.

As they stood up, Wen Cishu gave Bao Tingyuan a warning look, afraid he might try to scoop him up again.

He was beginning to realize that Bao Tingyuan had a spoiled, self-indulgent side—someone who acted without much regard for others’ opinions.

Coincidentally, Li Yun mentioned wanting to have a word with Bao Tingyuan, so father and son headed to the study on the first floor.

Meanwhile, Wen Cishu walked his parents to their guest room, accompanied by Aunt Zhong.

He had a feeling they still had something more to say—another lecture coming.

Sure enough, once inside the room, Wen Minghui looked at his son and said, "At home, does Tingyuan really carry you around like that? How undignified! With so many people watching?"

The sword of Damocles hanging over Wen Cishu’s neck finally fell.

Zhu Qianya couldn't stand it anymore and defended her son.

"You're old and still so fussy? You don’t even live here—if you don’t see it, don’t worry about it."

Aunt Zhong chimed in: "So what if we carry him a little? We’d carry Second Master on our shoulders if we had to!"

"Hah—" Wen Cishu couldn’t hold back a laugh.

"You think this is funny?" Wen Minghui took off his coat and draped it over the sofa.

Wen Cishu bit his lower lip and stayed silent.

Wen Minghui then turned to Aunt Zhong: "And you, Aunt Zhong—if Cishu didn’t tell us about the show, you could’ve said something. Luckily, some of the younger folks at home recognized him on TV. Otherwise, how long were you gonna hide it?"

Wen Cishu interjected, "Dad, it’s not Aunt Zhong’s fault."

Zhu Qianya, looking at her healthy son, was in a good mood and teased cheerfully: "That’s right, this is all Cishu’s fault. Go on, Wen, give your son an earful."

Wen Cishu: "..."

Is she really my mother?!

"Don’t scold Papa!" Bao Yiming came running in with his cane.

Wen Cishu suspected he might have even taken the thing into the bathroom earlier.

Bao Yiming launched into an explanation to his grandparents about his own participation in the show, leaving the two elders frowning.

Before Wen Minghui could speak, Zhu Qianya cut in first: "Yi Ming, at your age, you should focus on studying, understand? Or I’ll move in to tutor you myself!"

Bao Yiming panicked: "...Thank you, Grandma, but that won’t be necessary for now."

He knew his grandmother was a French translator—meticulous and strict. Being under her academic scrutiny would be a living nightmare.

Wen Cishu spoke up: "It’s too late. Mom, Dad, Yi Ming, you all should rest. I’m going to shower and sleep."

He winked at his son and slipped away.

Once he was gone, Zhu Qianya whispered to Wen Minghui: "As long as your younger son is healthy, don’t get worked up over nothing."

Bao Yiming pouted and said earnestly: "Grandpa, did you really scold Papa? Then you were very wrong. No gold star for you today—consider it revoked."

Wen Minghui: "..."

Zhu Qianya grinned at the cute comment.

-

As soon as Wen Cishu left the guest room and passed the stairwell, an arm yanked him into a hug.

He looked up from the familiar chest: "Hmm? What did your dad say to you?"

"Nothing." Bao Tingyuan bent down to lift him, green eyes darkening, belying his calm exterior.

However, Wen Cishu, preoccupied by his parents’ sudden visit, failed to notice the subtle shift.

He looked around nervously: "Hurry, let’s go."

Only when they reached the second-floor hallway did he mumble out what his father had just said.

"So, no PDA in front of Mom and Dad, capisce?"

Bao Tingyuan’s gaze lingered on his flushed neck, his plump lips, then returned to his brow. He responded with a controlled calm: “Mm.”

Wen Cishu also remembered what had just happened. He touched the spot lightly, murmuring to himself, “Does it show too much?”

Luckily, they hadn’t noticed—otherwise, how would he explain?

*“Mom, Dad, just a mosquito bite—believe me?”*

“It’s already very faint.”

Bao Tingyuan’s tone was eerily calm. He pushed open the door with his leg, walked through the living room, and went straight into the bathroom.

“Mm?” Wen Cishu suddenly straightened in his arms, holding his breath nervously. “You—”

The bathroom wasn’t lit, only bathed in silvery moonlight.

Wen Cishu felt him pull him close for a brief moment before setting him down.

Bao Tingyuan kissed his temple gently and said slowly, “You wash up. I need to take care of some work.”

“Okay.”

From the corner of his eye, Wen Cishu noticed his hand tense like he meant to grab his arm—then let go fast.

The veins on the back of his hand were way too visible.

*What’s wrong with him?*

Wen Cishu froze for a second.

After Bao Tingyuan left, he listened for the screen door’s slide, then tiptoed closer.

The screen wasn’t fully closed—it left a narrow gap.

Inside the room, no lights were on except for a shadow cast by the wall lamp.

Hesitating, Wen Cishu still took one step forward.

Through the crack, he saw Bao Tingyuan turn on the floor lamp by the desk, quickly pull something out from the drawer, then lift the glass of water on the table to drink.

As someone who took medication regularly, Wen Cishu knew right away—Bao Tingyuan was taking pills.

He flinched in shock, not wanting to stay. He quietly rushed back to the bathroom and leaned against the door, uneasy.

*What kind of medicine?*

*The medicine for his hidden condition from the novel?*

His hand rested where Bao Tingyuan had touched him earlier.

*Was his tense hand, that almost-touch, because he was hurting? That’s why he ended things so abruptly and went to take his meds?*