Chapter 62

Chapter 62

"Cishu? Cishu?"

"Hm?" Wen Cishu jolted back to awareness, his gaze refocusing.

Wen Minghui studied his son's expression carefully, a little worried.

"If you're not up for it, you can skip the outing."

The older couple seldom came to Rongcheng and were planning to visit the temple.

Wen Cishu had offered to accompany them, along with Bao Yiming.

But he’d been spacey all morning.

His mind kept drifting back to last night—and this morning…

In his drowsiness, Wen Cishu had felt Bao Tingyuan holding him close, kissing him breathlessly, the feverish heat of those kisses wrapping tightly around him like a summer breeze.

Though he’d been half-conscious at the time, now that he thought back carefully, Bao Tingyuan hadn’t seemed physically affected.

Over the years, they had slept in separate rooms, so Wen Cishu was completely in the dark about his husband’s condition. But during their honeymoon phase ten years ago, right after they got married, he still vaguely remembered.

—Bao Tingyuan definitely didn’t have *that* kind of problem. Otherwise, little monkey wouldn’t exist.

It was as if two voices were arguing inside Wen Cishu’s head.

One called it ridiculous to even wonder about Bao Tingyuan like this.

The other grew increasingly uneasy, his mind racing down that path.

The original book had mentioned a hidden ailment—one Bao Tingyuan never revealed to anyone before his death.

Was "mild separation anxiety" just a polite brush-off?

Wen Cishu’s thoughts were a mess, making it easy for him to drift off. Now, seeing his father’s concern, he took a deep breath and pushed the chaotic thoughts aside.

"No, I’m fine. Maybe I was just too excited yesterday and didn’t sleep well. I’ll crash for a bit when we’re back this afternoon."

He stood up from the sofa. "Let’s go." Then he turned and asked, "Where’s Yi Ming?"

His parents shared a look, even more concerned now.

Because Bao Yiming was sitting right on the other side of the sofa.

Silently, he raised his hand and, like his grandparents, started fretting over his little dad too.

"Little Dad, maybe I should stay home with you to rest?"

Wen Cishu froze, then quickly reassured them under his parents’ anxious gazes. "Ah, come on, I’m totally fine. I’m a grown man—don’t baby me."

The four of them set out, with Aunt Zhong and Uncle Xu in tow, plus bodyguards and drivers—three cars in total.

As they left, Uncle Xu sent a message to inform the eldest young master.

Just as Wen Cishu got into the car, he received a WeChat message from Bao Tingyuan.

Bao Tingyuan: "I’ve asked Uncle Xu to arrange lunch out. Sound good?"

Wen Cishu didn’t mind.

The old couple had come last-minute and would have to leave tomorrow.

Zhu Qianya was a literature professor at a liberal arts college, specializing in foreign literature. With the new semester approaching, she was swamped with schoolwork.

Wen Minghui ran his own business—his schedule might look free, but it was only because their eldest son was holding down the fort at the company. He’d also be busy for several days after returning.

Wen Cishu: "How about you?"

Since the last incident, Uncle Xu had hired another chef specifically to prepare meals near the company, planning the menu a week in advance and letting Wen Cishu glance over it.

He instantly recalled the message without thinking.

After sending it, he immediately understood his own feelings—he wanted to see Bao Tingyuan.

"How much time do you have at noon today?"

Bao Tingyuan: "About an hour."

Wen Cishu typed carefully: "I was thinking, since my parents rarely visit, we might not see them again till New Year’s. How about we book a restaurant near the company, and you join us for lunch? Sound good?"

"Yi Ming is also here."

Bao Tingyuan: "Mhm."

Wen Cishu let out a relieved sigh, his hand holding the phone dropping onto his lap. Only then did he notice the little monkey beside him giving him a weird look.

He quickly drew his son in and asked warmly, "What's wrong, baby?"

Bao Yiming pointed at the phone, his face full of confusion: "Papa, who are you messaging? Why do you look so serious?"

It was understandable if Daddy always looked stern, but Papa absolutely couldn’t become like that.

Just the idea alone scared him.

Wen Cishu gave his cheek a playful pinch and smiled: "It’s your Daddy. We’re talking about lunch."

"Lunch?"

Zhu Qianya turned to look at her son. "We can just eat the temple’s vegetarian fare. No need to fuss—it’s too much hassle."

"Vegetarian fare?"

Wen Cishu suddenly remembered to ask, "Mom, which temple are we going to again?"

"Yongning Chan Temple."

Zhu Qianya looked suspiciously at her grandson beside her. "Yi Ming, hasn’t your Papa been there?"

"Don’t think so."

Bao Yiming tilted his head, putting on his cute act for his grandma, blinking cutely.

"At New Year’s, it’s always just me and Daddy who go to burn incense."

"Wait…" Wen Cishu was stunned. "Your Daddy goes to temples to burn incense?"

"This is…"

Bao Tingyuan, a Chinese-French mixed-race man, bringing a little mixed-race kid to pay respects at the temple during the New Year?

How does that sound even more surreal than what he had imagined?

Wen Cishu couldn't picture Bao Tingyuan—who grew up in France, calm and rational—stepping into a temple.

Wen Minghui was also surprised: "We mentioned Yongning Temple so many times just now, Cishu. Didn’t you hear anything at all?"

"I was distracted."

Wen Cishu quietly lowered his head: "Then I’ll message Tingyuan now to see if he has time to join us for lunch at the temple."

Wen Minghui said, "Hasn’t Tingyuan been at home for days without going to the company? If he’s busy, no need to make him come. Let him focus on work."

Zhu Qianya nodded: "Right."

Wen Cishu huffed: Huh, their golden boy doesn’t know how to care about others, yet they still insist on dragging him out for lunch.

He quickly sent a message to Bao Tingyuan to inform him of the new arrangement.

Bao Tingyuan: "I’ll be there an hour later."

Though Wen Cishu was very curious about what a strange sight it would be to see Bao Tingyuan stepping into a temple, he also worried he might actually be busy.

"My parents said you’re busy—you don’t have to come with us."

Bao Tingyuan: "I want to see you."

Wen Cishu melted into the leather seat, fighting a smile as he stared at those words on his phone screen.

Undeniably, Chinese is the most beautiful writing system in the world, bar none!

Since Bao Tingyuan had said that, he naturally didn’t hold back and responded enthusiastically:

"Me too. See you then!"

After replying, Wen Cishu turned his head and saw the little monkey staring at him again, his eyes shining with knowing "wisdom."

"Why do you keep watching me like that? Isn’t Papa your best friend?"

Bao Yiming leaned closer into his father’s arm and sniffed: "Of course my best friend is Papa, but Papa’s best friend seems to be Daddy."

The two elders overheard from afar and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Wen Cishu laughed and ruffled his hair before smoothing it back.

After all, he was the perfect blend of both fathers’ genes—he looked more handsome every day.

He leaned over and gave him a kiss on the head.

"Then let’s not be best friends. You’re Daddy’s one and only little one."

Bao Yiming: Hmph!

His imaginary tail wagged wildly.

-

Yongning Zen Temple.

Bao Tingyuan had sent his assistant ahead to arrange things. The abbot was away attending a Buddhist gathering today, so another monk from the temple greeted them.

Yongning Temple wasn’t very big, with an ancient tree in the center that had recently grown lush and verdant, its thick canopy blocking out the sun, casting cool shadows below.

Wen Cishu held Little Monkey’s hand, carefully asking him about his previous visit.

Bao Yiming clearly described the route they took upon entering and added pointedly, “Big Daddy would go to the side hall to pray to the Bodhisattva and made me pray too.”

He said it like it was obvious, but it left Wen Cishu quite astonished.

Without thinking, he looked at the bamboo-bead bracelet on his wrist, seeming to understand why Bao Tingyuan had insisted he wear it often. Sometimes, when Bao Tingyuan held his wrist, he would lightly touch it, to make sure it was still there.

After Bao Yiming followed his grandfather to another area, Wen Cishu quietly asked his mother,

“Mom, did you and Dad already know that Tingyuan often visits temples?”

Zhu Qianya figured Tingyuan either never mentioned it, or had brought it up once, but Wen Cishu was in such a bad place back then, he didn’t even notice.

She looked at her son, who kept spacing out, and lowered her voice, “Have you really forgotten everything?”

“Huh?”

Wen Cishu stepped closer. “Mom, don’t speak in riddles. Just tell me plainly, okay?”

Zhu Qianya sighed and began recounting slowly, “When you unexpectedly became pregnant with Yi Ming, we were freaking out—we thought the Bao family just wanted an heir, so we confronted Tingyuan. Your father and brother were furious. They’d handed you over to the Bao family in good faith, only for you to suddenly announce you were having a child. They almost got into a fight. Later, we found out it was you who refused to give up the baby, even threatening Tingyuan and forbidding him from getting close. When we talked to you alone, hoping you’d reconsider, you threatened suicide too.”

With no other choice, Tingyuan had to gather doctors from home and abroad, keeping them on standby. The doctors’ reports were… not good. They told us to prepare for the worst. As for Yongning Temple, which Tingyuan coincidentally ended up donating to—Li Yun was the one who later told us, right around the time you had Yi Ming. I think he was desperate, so he turned to praying to the Bodhisattva.”

Wen Cishu was utterly stunned.

His memories of that time were hazy, with no recollection of “threatening suicide.”

If he really tried to trace it back, it seemed that after their honeymoon with Bao Tingyuan, he had lost control of his own consciousness.

He still had some impression of their intimate moments during the honeymoon, but after that—nothing.

It was like blacking out from drinking, a complete blank.

Suddenly, Wen Cishu realized with horror that he had been like a tool arbitrarily chosen by the original author to serve as the “villain’s birth parent,” his consciousness entirely sealed away.

Everything had revolved around the singular goal of “giving birth to the villain.” Whenever he sensed anyone—no matter who—trying to harm the child in his womb, he would fight back with his life.

Wen Cishu felt a chill run down his spine:

Clearly, had the original author not had other plans, he probably would’ve died immediately after delivering the “villain.”

Seeing his expression, Zhu Qianya realized he truly didn’t remember and patted the back of his hand reassuringly. “Maybe it’s better you forgot. Nothing worth remembering anyway. I’m sure Tingyuan never brought it up because he didn’t want you to recall it.”

She lightly smacked her lips twice. “If anything, I shouldn’t have said anything today.”

Forgetting all the pain—in a way, that’s a weird kind of blessing.

“Mom, don’t say that.”

Wen Cishu pulled her into a tight hug. “All these years, I must’ve put you through so much, huh?”

Zhu Qianya studied her son’s handsome features and smiled. “That’s all behind us now. Just stay healthy—that’s all we care about.”

Later, Wen Cishu joined his parents in praying to the temple’s Bodhisattva before being escorted by a monk to a private guest room.

Standing by the vermilion windowsill of the room, Wen Cishu stared at the old tree in the courtyard.

It being a weekday, most visitors to the temple were middle-aged or elderly devotees, many toting the temple’s reusable cloth bags filled with fresh fruit and flowers.

At the sound of a familiar voice, Wen Cishu turned to look.

Bao Tingyuan stood beneath the temple’s eaves, dressed in a tailored black suit, his tall, slender frame striking against the muted surroundings. Above his black mask, a pair of sharp, thick brows drew immediate attention; behind the glasses, his green eyes held the deep, calm hue of ancient trees—inscrutable.

A figure so incongruous within the temple grounds, yet undeniably real.

Wen Cishu was struck by a pang of wistfulness—what trials could have driven a man raised abroad to this point?

His heart clenched faintly.

Bao Tingyuan’s gaze drifted over him, taking in the sight of that poised, jade-like presence.

He found himself surprised—Wen Cishu’s quiet elegance seemed to harmonize effortlessly with the temple’s meditative stillness.

“Papa?!” Bao Yiming leaned out from the window. “Hurry up, we’re having vegetarian food!”

Wen Cishu shook off his reverie, watching as Bao Tingyuan approached. His eyes softened into a slight smile, wordlessly beckoning him toward the room.

As Bao Tingyuan passed the window, Wen Cishu quickly reached out, brushing his hand with a fleeting, affectionate press before letting go and entering through the main door.

Wen Minghui called out cheerily, “Tingyuan’s here! Come on, let’s eat. Today’s temple food smells amazing.”

Bao Tingyuan removed his mask and tucked it into his suit pocket.

Wen Cishu bit back a smile at the small gesture.

Even the icy CEO Bao had to stow away his mask like anyone else.

Hmm?” Bao Tingyuan arched a brow in silent inquiry.

As he drew closer, he popped open a suit button.

The small square table was set for four, but Bao Yiming had squeezed in anyway. Yet Bao Tingyuan pulled Wen Cishu to sit beside him, nudging their son gently. “Yi Ming, sit properly.”

Bao Yiming had wanted to squeeze next to Little Dad, but Big Dad had claimed the spot first.

“Okay~”

Well, no problem—he hadn’t even seen Little Dad all day yet.

Under the table, Bao Tingyuan took Wen Cishu’s right hand, idly tracing circles with his thumb until Uncle Xu brought the dishes, then released it.

The family lingered around the table, savoring the simple meal while chatting about tomorrow’s plans and bits of household news.

After dinner, Wen Cishu followed Bao Tingyuan to a side hall to pray before the Bodhisattva.

Kneeling on the cushions, Wen Cishu peeked sidelong at the man beside him—eyes closed, head bowed, palms pressed together in devotion.

This was a man who had weathered countless storms, yet remained steadfast, unflappable—a rock.

For a moment, Wen Cishu’s heart swelled with tangled, conflicting emotions. He shut his eyes tightly and poured his heart into the prayer:

“Please, bless him with peace and happiness in this lifetime.”