Chapter 59

Chapter 59

"Happy birthday," he murmured.

"Mm?" Wen Cishu stirred drowsily, hearing the voice close to his ear. Strong arms tightened around his waist, gently drawing him closer.

The warmth of his breath against Wen Cishu’s skin made him instinctively press nearer.

His body had grown increasingly drawn to this kind of physical closeness lately.

In the next moment, his lips received a feather-light kiss before the soft press of a tongue parted them open.

"Mm?"

Wen Cishu blinked his sleepy eyes open.

Before fully waking, his arms had already wrapped around the man leaning over him.

The slick, teasing glide of lips and tongue felt like careful savoring, yet unlike when he was fully conscious, he felt no shame—just a slow, syrupy warmth that made him crave more, pressing closer into the embrace.

Midway through this lingering, intimate kiss, Wen Cishu’s hand slid under Bao Tingyuan’s pajama hem, resting on his waist.

Suddenly, Bao Tingyuan jerked his head back, dark brows furrowed, jade-green eyes burning with fierce conflict.

Deprived of his touch, Wen Cishu tilted his head up in protest, seeking his lips again.

But when they met this time, Bao Tingyuan’s kiss was no longer tender—it turned fierce, almost frantic, his breathing ragged.

Dawn was always the riskiest hour, when desire flared most intensely.

"Ah—"

Lost in the scorching heat between them, Wen Cishu helplessly parted his lips, fine brows furrowing slightly as his grip on Bao Tingyuan’s firm waist tightened.

Unaware, the moment their skin touched, the desire coiled deep within Bao Tingyuan’s flesh surged into something tangible—arms coiling around him like a snake, veins taut along his neck, a tongue plundering and claiming the sweet wetness of Wen Cishu’s lips with unrestrained hunger.

Still half-asleep, Wen Cishu let out soft whimpers, surrendering to the sensation, his heartbeat oddly steadier than usual.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Bao Tingyuan finally lifted his head, the tension in his gaze easing as he gazed calmly at the warm, enchanting face nestled against him.

He knew with painful clarity that the desires he had long suppressed with reason and medication were swelling at an alarming rate.

Leaning down again, he brushed his lips against Wen Cishu’s, whispering "Joyeux anniversaire" over and over in French.

-

"Papa?"

A little head popped around the folding screen, calling softly, "Papa?"

"Hmm?" Wen Cishu stirred faintly, turning slightly to see Bao Yiming giggling as he playfully wedged his neck between the panels.

From a distance, it looked like a fluffy head peering through the gap.

Wen Cishu lifted a hand. "Come here."

Bao Yiming bounded over happily, flouncing onto the edge of the bed. "Papa, happy birthday!"

Back when his papa was sick, he would hole up in his room all day, not even stepping out for his birthday.

Back then, when Bao Yiming wished him a happy birthday, he would only stare blankly, hardly responding at all.

So this time, when Bo Yi Ming heard from his dad that they were going to throw a big birthday celebration for his little dad at home, he felt a twinge of worry.

"Thank you, Yi Ming." Wen Cishu placed his hand on his son's head, leaned up slightly, and kissed his forehead. "Morning kiss."

"Hehe~" Bo Yi Ming happily scrambled onto the bed's edge and cuddled up to his little dad.

He asked curiously, "Little Dad, did Big Dad tell you this morning? Am I the first?"

At his reminder, Wen Cishu had a hazy recollection of their dawn kiss. His lips seemed to still carry a lingering taste of their secret intimacy.

"Uh... yeah, Big Dad told me this morning."

Then, remembering last night's conversation, his thoughts suddenly sharpened.

"Where is your big dad?"

Bo Yi Ming: "He's downstairs talking to Grandpa and Grandma."

Wen Cishu asked, "Isn’t he going to the company today?"

"Today is Little Dad’s birthday, of course Big Dad can’t go to the company." Bo Yi Ming’s childish tone was brimming with conviction.

Wen Cishu chuckled and shifted to pull him into a hug, but the sensible child pushed his arm away and instead wrapped his arms around his waist, carefully avoiding putting pressure on his arm.

That he could have such an obedient baby in this life was nothing short of miraculous.

"Oh right!" Bo Yi Ming suddenly lifted his face from his little dad’s embrace, wearing the look of someone who'd uncovered an earth-shattering secret. "Big Dad is actually wearing a white shirt!"

"Huh?" Wen Cishu blinked in surprise. "A white shirt?"

"I think it’s the one you bought yesterday, but I’m not sure. I didn’t look closely." Bo Yi Ming popped up to tug on his little dad’s wrist. "Little Dad, get up and go see for yourself. It looks totally weird though."

"How could that be?"

Wen Cishu levered himself up with one arm, brushing his hair back, and teased, "Your big dad is so handsome and has such a great figure—he could make a potato sack look good. What’s so weird about it?"

"Big Dad!"

Bo Yi Ming called out toward the door.

"Huh?" Wen Cishu slowly turned his head.

The door was tightly shut—Bao Tingyuan was nowhere in sight.

"Hahaha!" Bo Yi Ming cackled while hopping off the bed. "Little Dad, I’m going to tell Big Dad what you said. He'll be over the moon when he hears."

Wen Cishu ducked his head to hunt for his slippers:

Ugh, he was revoking that compliment!

Little menace! Definitely Bao Tingyuan's bad influence!

While brushing his teeth in front of the mirror, Wen Cishu mused to himself—Bao Tingyuan was actually wearing the white shirt he bought? He tried picturing how it fit him...

His mind wandered back to their morning kiss, recalling how he'd refused to let go of that trim waist...

"Cough, cough—"

Wen Cishu hastily spat out minty foam and swished water furiously.

According to what Bo Tingyuan said yesterday about *"mild separation anxiety,"* maybe he’d like being hugged like this?

*Uh…*

Wen Cishu glanced at his reflection in the mirror and quickly dismissed his wandering thoughts, sternly reminding himself: Since he now knew about Bo Tingyuan’s private struggle, he should support his recovery properly and not let the condition worsen.

Of course, his own health was important too.

His reflection earnestly advised, *"Wen Cishu, you’ve got to work hard to exercise, got it?"*

Standing by the sink, Wen Cishu nodded firmly, water droplets sparkling on his face in the sunrise as they fell. *"Yeah, I know."*

-

Wen Cishu and Bo Yiming stepped out of the old-fashioned elevator, greeted by an auntie who smiled and said, *"Happy birthday, sir."*

Wen Cishu smiled and nodded. *"Thank you."*

The other staff members passing by offered their blessings.

When Nanny Zhong arrived, Wen Cishu quickly lowered his voice. *"Nanny Zhong, could you help me prepare some lucky red envelopes?"*

He had completely forgotten about it.

*"You think we’d leave this to you?"* Nanny Zhong replied. *"It’s all been handled ages ago."*

Wen Cishu instinctively asked, *"Uncle Xu?"*

Nanny Zhong laughed. *"The Bao family’s eldest. He does it every year."*

Wen Cishu was surprised. *"Every year? How come I didn’t know?"*

*"You never cared to listen!"* Nanny Zhong said. *"If I tried to tell you, you’d say I was nagging."*

Wen Cishu took the reprimand meekly. *"I won’t be like that from now on."*

After a pause, he curved his eyes and grinned. *"I’m only this healthy because Nanny Zhong spoils me."*

Nanny Zhong dramatically waved her hand in the air. *"Oh dear, today’s your birthday—quit sweet-talking, or my ears can’t take it!"*

Wen Cishu chuckled. *"Where are my parents?"*

Nanny Zhong pointed toward the garden opposite the flower hall. *"They just finished breakfast and are checking on the potatoes."*

They were the ones Bo Yiming and Wen Cishu had planted last time, and sprouts from two potato chunks had already broken through the soil.

Bo Yiming asked curiously, *"Where’s Dad?"*

Nanny Zhong, about to head to the kitchen to arrange breakfast, quickly raised her hand and mimed holding an old telephone receiver by her ear.

Bo Yiming was puzzled. *"Huh?"*

Wen Cishu laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him toward the dining room. *"Dummy, it means he’s on the phone. Haven’t you seen the old-fashioned telephone at Great-Grandpa’s house?"*

Bo Yiming glanced at Nanny Zhong’s spry figure and muttered softly, *"Ever since Grandma and Grandpa came, I can’t understand half of what Nanny Zhong says. This morning, I even heard her talking to Grandma, saying something fierce like *zongsang pei*."*

*"Hey baby,"* Wen Cishu looked at him, *"you promised us you wouldn’t eavesdrop on adults’ conversations."*

Bo Yiming hurried to pull out a chair by the small round table and gestured for his little daddy to sit.

*"I wasn’t sneaking around! They were right in front of me. Plus, it was all gibberish anyway."*

He asked in confusion, "*Dad*, what does *zongsangpei* mean?"

"Not a nice thing to say," Wen Cishu explained, his gaze drifting outward.

The three adults in the garden were all huddled around that tiny patch of ground.

Given their scholarly vibe, the scene looked just like agricultural experts inspecting farmland.

"But what does it really mean?" Bao Yiming pressed anxiously. "Should I go tell Grandma Zhong *zongsangpei*?"

"Don't!" Wen Cishu quickly turned his attention back. "It's a curse word: means 'beast.'"

"Ah?" Bao Yiming finally caught on. "Then I won’t say it."

Just then, footsteps approached.

Both father and son turned toward the sound.

Bao Tingyuan entered slowly, dressed in a white shirt layered under a perfectly tailored black waistcoat—

the one Wen Cishu had picked out the day before.

The elegant Italian-style collar curved gracefully around Bao Tingyuan’s prominent Adam’s apple, skimming the contours of his neck.

The black waistcoat and white shirt draped over his tall, imposing frame looked like snow-capped peaks against dark mountain ranges—steady and composed.

Wen Cishu’s gaze skimmed over his eyes, then lingered on those thin lips.

The more he tried not to notice, the more it consumed his thoughts.

Their eyes met across the room, locked in silent understanding.

Bao Yiming glanced between them. *Great, I don’t exist.*

Taking the hint, he sprang up, one foot already angled toward the door, and rattled off, "*Dad*, just now *Dad* said your face is handsome, your figure is great, and you look good in *everything!*"

Before the words even finished, he darted out the door.

Wen Cishu: "...” *Little snitch.*

As he lowered his gaze, Bao Tingyuan pulled out a chair and sat down.

He took Wen Cishu’s hand, gently squeezing his fingertips.

Wen Cishu watched the larger hand envelop his own, warmth flooding his chest as last night’s words resurfaced.

He lifted his gaze slightly, following the sunlight into those deep jade-green eyes, and asked softly, "Why the white one? Didn’t you like the black shirt?"

Bao Tingyuan studied his shimmering, tender eyes, his lips parting as if contemplating something.

Wen Cishu thought he detected the intent to kiss in that gaze and, remembering they were in the conservatory, lightly brushed his palm as a reminder.

Bao Tingyuan absentmindedly twisted the ring on Wen Cishu’s finger, his tone indifferent. "I want to see you in the black shirt."

Wen Cishu froze.

The ring brushed repeatedly against the delicate skin at the base of his finger—like a signal or a hint, rippling through his memory of that day when Bao Tingyuan had inexplicably asked him to wear his pajamas. So...

Was Bao Tingyuan into *that*?

Under the bright morning sun, the thought made Wen Cishu feel slightly ashamed, his gaze drifting away.

He instinctively tried to pull his left hand back, only for Bo Tingyuan's palm to instantly grip and lock it in place, creating a quiet struggle between them.

"You..." he muttered. "I need to eat breakfast."

Just then, Aunt Zhong came in carrying the morning meal. Bo Tingyuan freed up his other hand to help, saying matter-of-factly, "I'll have breakfast with you."

After Aunt Zhong left, Wen Cishu still couldn't retrieve his hand, so he lifted his foot and kicked Bo Tingyuan lightly. "Then just feed me, why don’t you?"

Bo Tingyuan pushed his frameless glasses up, his eyes glinting with playful mockery, and drawled in French, feigning nonchalance, "Is that your way of inviting me?"

"..." Wen Cishu turned red, sputtering, "As if I'd invite you!"