Chapter 65

Chapter 65

The Sunroom.

Wen Cishu sat eating breakfast with Aunt Zhong keeping him company.

He had woken up late today, close to noon.

Bo Tingyuan had left for work early in the morning, and Bo Yiming still hadn’t come home.

Wen Cishu pushed his brunch around listlessly, irritated as he recalled the unexpected incident from last night.

He reached over his shoulder to scratch at his back.

Aunt Zhong had noticed him do it twice already that morning and finally asked, “Is it an allergy again?”

Wen Cishu wasn’t sure—it just felt a little itchy.

He turned slightly, tugging at the collar of his loungewear and asking Aunt Zhong to check.

Half a minute passed, and Aunt Zhong didn’t say anything.

“Hmm?” Wen Cishu pulled his shirt back into place, noticing her odd expression. “What? Was it a bug bite?”

Aunt Zhong took in the Second Master’s clueless face and couldn’t help but recall the energetic appearance of the eldest Bao son that morning.

She said matter-of-factly, “It’s a bite mark.”

“A bite?” Wen Cishu’s eyes shot up, meeting Aunt Zhong’s calm gaze. He flushed, mortified, wishing he could vanish on the spot, but forced himself to stay composed. “Oh.”

Aunt Zhong slid the tablet toward him, her tone indifferent. “I think this Star is quite nice—they balance Yi Ming well, like yin and yang.”

*Wen Cishu: Aunt Zhong! Could you be any less subtle?!*

Still, he quickly seized the lifeline she offered. “Yeah, Star is very level-headed—more mature than her age.”

But as silence settled again, the awkwardness rushed back.

*Bao Tingyuan—honestly!*

Wen Cishu forced himself to focus on the tablet.

On the screen, Bo Yiming and Star were playing in bumper cars.

Just then, Uncle Xu walked in. “Sir, your phone.”

“Thank you.”

Wen Cishu reached out to take it—he’d forgotten to bring it downstairs earlier.

There was a message from Bo Tingyuan asking what he was doing.

Wen Cishu took a quick picture of the dining table.

Moments later, a video notification appeared—a clip recorded from the farm’s nanny cam.

On the screen, Bo Yiming was curled around the blankets, out cold, his back bare.

Star, barely awake, drowsily tugged the blanket over her brother.

In his dream, Bao Yiming seemed to sense it and began kicking his feet at Brother Xingxing.

Wen Cishu was speechless.

Fortunately, Brother Xingxing reacted swiftly, pushing his brother to turn around and pressing against his back to continue sleeping.

Wen Cishu noticed the timestamp at the top of the screen—it was past midnight last night.

So after he had dozed off, Bao Tingyuan not only had time to leave bite marks on his shoulder but also managed to check on their son?

Typical Bao Tingyuan.

On the tablet, Bao Yiming suddenly waved at the camera, mouthing the words: "Little Dad!"

Wen Cishu immediately called: "Yi Ming?"

Bao Yiming, holding his smartwatch, said with a grin, "Little Dad, Brother Xingxing said he wants to play tennis with me, but I forgot to prepare. Can you send the tennis rackets from home?"

Wen Cishu didn’t agree right away. Instead, he asked, "Still not planning to come home today? How much longer do you want to stay at the farm? Xingxing’s mom might get worried too."

"Little Dad~~~" Bao Yiming puffed his cheeks in an exaggerated pout, trying to be cute. "Just until the afternoon. I promise I’ll come home to have dinner with you."

"Alright," Wen Cishu agreed, arranging for Uncle Xu to deliver the rackets.

On the monitor, the two boys instantly started bouncing excitedly.

Watching Brother Xingxing’s lively figure and his own little monkey’s excitement, Wen Cishu couldn’t help but think—if they really became childhood sweethearts, it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

-

In the bathroom of the second-floor bedroom.

Wen Cishu turned sideways to the mirror, pulling his clothes aside to check his shoulder.

A deep red mark, like a bloom beneath his skin.

So Aunt Zhong had been "lying."

It wasn’t a bite mark at all—it was clearly a vivid love bite, and not just one.

As he slowly pulled his clothes further down, along his spine to his lower back, even his chest, abdomen, and the inner side of his arms…

On his pear blossom-like fair skin, it was as if scattered petals in varying shades had been pressed into him.

In the light of day, Wen Cishu felt like he’d stumbled upon something scandalous and instantly pulled his clothes back up hastily to cover himself.

—When had all these been made?

Unfortunately, he’d slept too soundly all night and couldn’t quite recall.

Only the love bites in varying shades seemed to silently reveal that Bao Tingyuan had marked him at different times.

Wen Cishu buttoned up his shirt in frustration.

He fastened every single button—something he never usually did.

The sight of himself dressing in the mirror merged with the memory of putting on that shirt the night before.

He brushed aside the indecent thought but found himself wondering, inexplicably: Where was that shirt?

He quickly walked to the walk-in closet, pushing away unnecessary thoughts as he searched for the shirt.

But there was no sign of it.

Wen Cishu stared at the empty hanger, falling silent:

Had Bao Tingyuan lost it?

His eyes scanned the plush sofa and floor lamp before he turned and strode out.

His steps were unusually large, as if fleeing some venomous beast in the wardrobe.

Wen Cishu walked to the desk, picked up the antique telephone, and dialed Aunt Zhong on the first floor.

After the call connected, he asked, "Aunt Zhong, did anyone enter Yi Ming's father's wardrobe to tidy up this morning?"

"Not that I know of," Aunt Zhong replied. Perceptive as always, she immediately asked, "Is something missing?"

"No," Wen Cishu changed tack as a thought occurred to him. —Only one hanger was empty. Could it mean Bao Tingyuan was wearing that black shirt today?

"Aunt Zhong, what color shirt did you see him wearing this morning?"

Aunt Zhong answered almost without hesitation, "Black, same as always—except for the white one he wore on your birthday."

"Alright." Wen Cishu hung up the phone and sat down in the spacious armchair.

He imagined Bao Tingyuan wearing that shirt, attending meetings with executives or going to formal business negotiations...

Wen Cishu felt his face grow hot.

His gaze slowly lowered, landing precisely on the black metal handle of the drawer.

Distracted by thoughts of Bao Tingyuan, his fingertips unconsciously toyed with the small handle.

Wait—

Didn't Bao Tingyuan keep his medicine in here?

Wen Cishu snatched his hand back as if burned, hastily withdrawing and sitting upright.

—If he knew the specific medication, could he learn more about Bao Tingyuan's condition?

With guilty hesitation, he glanced up at the ceiling, as if checking for surveillance devices in the room.

He psyched himself up, murmuring under his breath, "I'll just take a quick look. Don't be mad."

The drawer's bottom rollers emitted a soft, smooth sound.

However, the neatly arranged contents inside took Wen Cishu completely by surprise.

The beiyun, a book knife, a collection of Rene Char's poems, a vintage dark green ribbon, and a small black velvet jewelry box.

His fingertips couldn't resist touching the ribbon—wasn't this the very one that had blindfolded him on his birthday?

Compelled by curiosity, he gently opened the jewelry box, revealing a slender platinum necklace.

Wen Cishu's gaze immediately flew to the ring on his finger.

If memory served, Bao Tingyuan had worn this necklace constantly until the day he returned the ring.

With a soft "click," the jewelry box clicked shut.

His expression was more complex than ever. He then noticed two identical poetry books.

One had a bent cover, while the other had pages yellowed with age.

Inside the bent one was a card with Wen Cishu’s handwriting. He’d seen it before but hadn’t noticed the crease.

He guessed Bao Tingyuan had accidentally folded it and wanted to replace it with a new copy.

But things didn’t go as planned—the difference between the old and new was too obvious; anyone could tell.

Touched but amused, Wen Cishu picked up both books, only to spot a card tucked beneath them.

The handwriting was entirely in English.

The more Wen Cishu read, the more his heart pounded—his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed.

"...inhibitory medication, side effects... long-term use... use with caution."

For the first time in his life, he worried his English wasn’t good enough. He took out his phone and used an online translator.

After typing in the sentences, the results came back the same.

So, the inhibitory medication for separation anxiety did have serious side effects—effects clearly linked to Bao Tingyuan’s health.

Such a dangerous drug!

No wonder the original book never revealed it to anyone—it clearly involved more than just separation anxiety.

Wen Cishu didn’t hesitate, quickly rifling through the drawer, desperate to find the medication.

But he couldn’t find it.

Clutching the card, he muttered to himself, “Did he take it to the office? Is he still taking it during the day?”

How could he stop the medication?

Wen Cishu felt a sudden wave of anxiety.

-

At the farm,

Bao Yiming ran up to his little dad and tugged him toward the edge of the field. “Little Dad, I want to plant something here with Xingxing, but we haven’t decided yet. Do you have any ideas?”

“Something edible?” Wen Cishu glanced at the two adorable children. “How about planting a tree together? Water it regularly and watch it grow slowly—it would be meaningful.”

Xingxing’s face brightened, and she turned to Yiming, nodding hard. “One with flowers.”

“Sure!”

Bao Yiming immediately agreed. “Little Dad, will you help us pick one later?”

“Mhm.” Wen Cishu was picking them up to take them home.

Today, Xingxing’s father was busy at the hospital, and Chu Han was filming, so he was responsible for bringing Xingxing safely home.

While packing, Bao Yiming unpacked all the toothpaste and toothbrushes Xingxing had prepared.

“Yi Ming?” Wen Cishu asked, puzzled. “Not allowing Xingxing to go home?”

Bao Yiming shook his head: "Just leave them here. We'll be back to play soon."

He placed his own toothbrush cup neatly as well, "I'll leave mine here too."

He tightly hugged Brother Xingxing and winked at his little dad, "This is mine and Xingxing's new home."

The childish, adorable words made Wen Cishu smile faintly.

"Alright, we'll come back to play in a few days."

Xingxing didn't really want to leave either, so he simply put all his clothes back in the wardrobe, leaving him with an empty suitcase.

Wen Cishu couldn't help but chuckle—looks like he’d have to explain this to Chu Han later.

When the car arrived at Xingxing’s apartment building, Xingxing rarely took the initiative to hug Yi Ming: "Goodbye!"

Bao Yiming pulled him into a tight hug, not letting go, and demanded in mock sternness, "You aren’t calling me brother?"

Xingxing, squeezed tightly, mumbled, "Brother Yi Ming."

Bao Yiming gave his back hearty pats.

"Yi Ming, don't pat him so hard."

Wen Cishu quickly grabbed his wrist. "Come on, you carry Xingxing's suitcase."

"Oh!" Bao Yiming bounded out cheerfully. After the bodyguard opened the trunk, he tiptoed to retrieve the empty suitcase.

He deliberately lifted it to confirm it was empty, beaming with satisfaction.

The father and son, along with a bodyguard, went upstairs together, handing Xingxing over to the elderly at home before heading back.

After they left, Xingxing quickly ran to the balcony, peering down from above.

He spotted two black cars and watched as they drove away one after another until they disappeared from sight.

-

That night, Bao Yiming was being extra clingy, lying on his little dad's bed, babbling away like a little songbird.

Wen Cishu lay on his side, listening patiently with a gentle expression.

"After the show ends, let's go to France, and then you'll start school for real. I'll pick you up and drop you off every day, okay?"

Bao Yiming popped his head up suddenly, his face full of delight: "Little Dad will pick me up?"

Imagining the wonderful scene, he nuzzled against his little dad's arm: "Just picking me up after school is enough. Little Dad should sleep more in the mornings."

"Okay~"

Wen Cishu tucked this promise away in his heart, pulling the little boy closer. In a few years, he'd grow into a rebellious teenager, and such warm moments might never come again.

When Bao Tingyuan returned home after work, Wen Cishu whispered, reminding him to be quiet so as not to wake the child.

Bao Yiming was sleeping soundly in his arms.

Bao Tingyuan gazed at the cozy father-son tableau on the bed and undid his tie.

Wen Cishu immediately noticed his black shirt and quickly looked away, as if scalded.

Noticing his expression, Bao Tingyuan lowered his voice: "I'm going to shower."

Wen Cishu instinctively glanced at the room divider and whispered, "Then tonight..."

His gaze wavered before finally lifting slightly to meet Bao Tingyuan's silent stare, biting his lower lip.

Just as he assumed they would rest separately tonight, Bao Tingyuan bent down, pulled his blanket over the child, then slid an arm beneath his knees and lifted him.

Suppressing the sweetness welling up in his heart, Wen Cishu studied Bao Tingyuan's angular profile from up close.

As they approached the screen, Bao Tingyuan managed to free a hand to turn off the bedroom lights, leaving only a nightlight on.

Simultaneously, they both glanced at their son on the bed before locking eyes with each other.

The moment the sliding room divider closed, Bao Tingyuan swiftly sealed his lips with a kiss.

And Wen Cishu, as if accustomed to such moments, reached up to remove his glasses.

After a breath-stealing kiss, Bao Tingyuan carried him to bed, tucked him in, and gently pinched his earlobe. "Wait for me."

Under the weight of that deep gaze, Wen Cishu fiddled with the arm of his glasses and urged softly, "Go wash up."

But Bao Tingyuan didn’t leave. Instead, he cupped Wen Cishu’s delicate chin and glanced at his glistening lips.

"Say you'll wait for me."

His tone was unusually tender yet nearly commanding, making his already deep, magnetic voice all the more mesmerizing.

As if enchanted, Wen Cishu murmured, "Mm, I'll wait for you."

Bao Tingyuan leaned down and pecked his lips.

Wen Cishu longed to hug and kiss him back, but fearing it would delay rest, he pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Be a good boy and hurry."

He had something very important to say, after all.

This elicited a low chuckle from Bao Tingyuan, who gave his cheek a playful pinch before rising.

Wen Cishu reclined against the headboard and put on the oversized frameless glasses that were slightly too big for him.

His eyes followed Bao Tingyuan’s tall figure through the lenses, watching as he leisurely removed his suit jacket and vest.

The muscular contours beneath his shirt exuded raw masculinity.

Just as Wen Cishu thought he’d remove his shirt right there, Bao Tingyuan turned toward the bathroom instead.

"......"

Wen Cishu pushed his glasses up his nose, inwardly scolding himself.

While Bao Tingyuan showered, Wen Cishu practiced his speech again.

He was determined to stand by him through thick and thin, and he wanted Bao Tingyuan to know his stance.

More than that, he yearned for Bao Tingyuan to trust him as deeply as he trusted Bao Tingyuan.

Having fortified his resolve, Wen Cishu psyched himself up.

Yet when Bao Tingyuan appeared in his black robe, Wen Cishu drew back slightly.

The dark robe exuded a commanding presence, making Bao Tingyuan’s already sharp, commanding features appear even more austere and intimidating.

Wen Cishu opened his mouth, only to find himself saying oddly, "There are robes in other colors in the wardrobe, right?"

"Hmm?" Bao Tingyuan stood by the bed, asking, "Don't you like it?"

"...Not exactly. It's just too dark," Wen Cishu muttered, only to see him untie the belt and take off the robe.

His toned physique was revealed so directly that Wen Cishu suddenly found himself at a loss for where to look.

What was Bao Tingyuan doing?

That wasn’t what he meant!

Bao Tingyuan tossed the robe to the foot of the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in, then drew the flustered Wen Cishu, eyes wide, onto his lap.

Realizing he was sitting on Bao Tingyuan’s lower half with only the fabric between them, Wen Cishu panicked, completely flustered.

"Um... shouldn’t we be sleeping?"

Bao Tingyuan lifted his chin, tracing his face with his gaze, and said softly in French, "I missed you so much today."

The flustered Wen Cishu was instantly calmed, staring fixedly at his lips, fighting the urge to kiss him.

No, no.

He had something important to say.

"I want to talk to you," Wen Cishu started awkwardly, trying hard to control his tone.

Bao Tingyuan massaged the side of his neck, his thumb brushing over the slender, seductive collarbone. "Hmm?"

Gathering his courage, Wen Cishu locked eyes with him, carefully choosing his words before quickly blurting out: "I just want you to know, no matter what side effects the separation anxiety medication might have, I... I’ll be with you. You don’t need to feel any psychological pressure."

Bao Tingyuan raised an eyebrow slightly. "Side effects?"

"No, no, I meant adverse reactions."

Wen Cishu couldn’t bear to meet his gaze anymore, afraid he’d be thrown off the bed, so he hastily wrapped his arms around Bao Tingyuan’s waist, saying earnestly, "And as we grow older, it’s the same for everyone... really, it’s not a big deal."

The more he spoke, the more uncertain he felt, especially with Bao Tingyuan’s silence, which left him completely unsure.

Bao Tingyuan’s thick brows furrowed slightly. Seeing Wen Cishu avoiding his eyes, he asked, "Growing older?"

Wen Cishu nodded, muttering reassuringly, "My health isn’t great to begin with, and that... that part isn’t that important anyway..."

That? That part?

Bao Tingyuan’s mind raced, and in an instant, his frown eased. "Not that important?"

Wen Cishu sighed in relief—he got it!

After ten years together, they still had their unspoken understanding.

Then, he felt Bao Tingyuan’s hand massaging his lower back in a way that felt suggestive, and suddenly remembered the fading hickeys from their bath that hadn’t fully gone away. It hit him:

Maybe physically it's hard, but psychologically, he still wants it?

"...No, what I mean is, it is important, but we shouldn’t push it. Nothing could ever come between us."

Bao Tingyuan had already figured out why this sincere promise was made from Wen Cishu’s scattered comments.

He leaned in close, lips brushing against Wen Cishu’s as their breaths mingled warmly, and asked softly, “You’re really giving up just like that?”

“Huh?”

Wen Cishu looked bewildered.

Bao Tingyuan leaned back slightly, his green eyes sparkling with quiet amusement. “This afternoon, I went to the hospital.”

Wen Cishu straightened with attention, his dark eyes shining as he stared intently. “Mm?”

“The doctor suggested gradually stopping the medication.”

Bao Tingyuan studied him intently, as if weighing his words carefully.

“But what about your condition? What happens then?”

Wen Cishu’s anxiety spiked. Seeing Bao Tingyuan remain silent only heightened his urgency, and he urged softly, “Hmm? Say it. Are you planning to hide things from me again? I’m not your—”

Bao Tingyuan teased, “Not my what?”

Suddenly, the term from their last show popped into Wen Cishu’s mind. He promptly corrected himself, declaring confidently, “I’m your other half.”

A faint smile quirked Bao Tingyuan’s lips. “Mm, my other half.”

Frustrated by his evasiveness, Wen Cishu pushed more urgently, “Tell me quickly—what happens after stopping the medication?”

“The doctor said it might require,” Bao Tingyuan looked at him, pausing for half a second before lowering his voice beside Wen Cishu’s ear, “my other half to help with the treatment.”

Warm breath spilled into his ear, sending Wen Cishu’s thoughts scattering. He licked his dry lips. “H-how exactly?”

Bao Tingyuan’s lips grazed his temple. “It’s too late. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

Wen Cishu had no words.

Why leave me hanging like this?