Chapter 88

Chapter 88

At dawn, Wen Cishu had a wildly surreal and unsettling dream.

In a sprawling, dim bedroom, a single vivid rose, almost too delicate, lay on an enormous bed.

A python slowly slithered up the tender green stem, coiling around the flower bit by bit.

The serpent flicked its crimson tongue, lapping at the dewdrops on the petals again and again.

At that moment, the rose seemed to come alive, quivering—fragile, almost bashful.

Wen Cishu felt as though he was hovering near the ceiling of the room, looking down at everything unfolding below.

In the dream, he sensed a suffocating grip—as if the serpent wasn’t entwining the rose, but his own body. His slender legs shifted slightly, his twisting form couldn’t tell if it was defiance or invitation.

What puzzled him was that despite the python’s mysterious and dangerous presence, he didn’t feel the slightest fear—instead, he even reached out to embrace it.

The python in the dream lifted its head, revealing luminous green slitted eyes.

"Ah!"

Wen Cishu jolted awake abruptly, staring at the empty ceiling.

The room spun, as if he were still trapped in that feverish dreamscape of desire.

He raised his arm, resting the back of his hand against his forehead, squinting as he took a deep breath.

His entire body was feverish. He kicked off the blanket, baring his lean calves.

Pale light seeped into the room—clearly, it was well into the morning.

He was alone in the bed.

Before falling asleep the previous night, Bo Tingyuan had mentioned that he would leave for the office on time this morning.

Wen Cishu slowly shifted to Bo Tingyuan’s side of the bed, nuzzling into the pillow where the other man had lain, trying to calm his hammering pulse and ragged breathing.

He closed his eyes slowly, but the image of the serpent entwined with the rose and the memory of Bo Tingyuan lost to lust late at night kept overlapping and merging in his mind.

After witnessing that scene last night, he had crept back to bed while Bo Tingyuan remained unaware, unable to calm down for a long time.

Initially, he had even worried that Bo Tingyuan might return to bed and realize he was awake—yet, by the time he fell asleep again, Bo Tingyuan still hadn’t emerged from the dressing room.

The overwhelming sight of Bo Tingyuan’s unmistakable erection had seared itself into Wen Cishu’s mind.

Even now, the memory made him frown slightly, dragging him back to those few clumsy nights after their honeymoon.

At the time, neither of them had any experience—there was no skill, only fumbling urgency.

Wen Cishu hadn’t even dared to look as clearly as he had last night.

He usually avoided dwelling on the intimate details of those heated, half-remembered moments. Now, just recalling them made him pull the blanket over his head in shame, like a child hiding under covers.

A thought struck him—what about this morning?

Had Bo Tingyuan pulled him close like usual?

But he must have slept too soundly in the latter half of the night—now, he had not a single memory of it.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

"Second Master?"

Wen Cishu threw back the covers and invited Aunt Zhong in.

Aunt Zhong had come to wake him at the latest possible time, worried he might oversleep and feel uncomfortable with an empty stomach.

Wen Cishu sluggishly dragged himself out of bed, looking down for his slippers, and asked, "Where's Yi Ming?"

"On the tennis court."

Aunt Zhong glanced at his shoulders and back—after being sick for days, his entire frame had noticeably thinned.

The bit of weight he'd gained back had nearly reverted to his bedridden state.

It pained her to see, so she changed the subject, recounting how Bao Yiming had cried his eyes out the day Wen Cishu fainted.

After listening, Wen Cishu thought to himself that while children must grow up and mature, it was better for them to experience such things as little as possible.

"Aunt Zhong, I'll take it easy for a while and won’t go out. Don’t fret over me."

Aunt Zhong nodded and helped him to the bathroom.

When Wen Cishu was about to return to his own dressing room to change, Aunt Zhong said, "I've moved quite a few of your clothes to the eldest master's side."

"Ah?" Wen Cishu responded blankly, sounding a bit dazed.

Aunt Zhong naturally didn’t understand his reaction. "Should I not have moved them?"

"No, no."

Wen Cishu put on a calm front as he walked toward Bao Tingyuan’s walk-in closet. Seeing she intended to follow, he said, "Aunt Zhong, could you go downstairs to prepare breakfast first? I’ll come right after changing."

Aunt Zhong, noting his normal complexion with no signs of fainting, left the room first.

Feeling like a guilty thief, Wen Cishu approached the walk-in closet and pushed the door open.

His eyes immediately fell upon the stately black leather sofa and the slender, elegant vintage floor lamp.

The scene from last night seemed to replay before him.

Embarrassed, Wen Cishu hurriedly grabbed his clothes. When his gaze landed on Bao Tingyuan’s dark gray loungewear, his slender fingers automatically pulled it down.

Later, as he removed his pajamas and prepared to change, he suddenly heard things.

The silent room seemed to echo with Bao Tingyuan’s low, controlled panting—his face covered, head thrown back, lost in pleasure.

Standing with his back to the sofa, Wen Cishu’s back burned. He hastily pulled on the oversized garment and made a quick escape.

Shamefully, he wondered—how could he ever enter this room again?!

-

The sunroom.

When Bao Yiming came in, he saw his Little Dad just starting breakfast.

He bounded over to the table, leaned on the chair, and bent over, his eyes scanning his Little Dad’s outfit in confusion. "Little Dad, why are you secretly wearing Big Dad’s clothes?"

"Ahem..."

Although Wen Cishu knew everyone could tell, he didn’t expect the little imp to call him out directly. "I picked the wrong one. I’ll change later."

"Oh." Bao Yiming sat next to his little dad, quietly turning to poke at his kids' smartwatch.

Wen Cishu was pouring him juice and pushed it toward him, asking with concern, "Are you hungry? Should I ask Grandma Zhong to get you something to eat?"

As soon as he finished speaking, a voice came through the smartwatch.

"Yi Ming?"

"Huh?" Wen Cishu looked at the watch in confusion.

Bao Yiming giggled mischievously and said, "Big Dad ~ Little Dad is wearing your clothes today."

Wen Cishu: "?"

He often questioned whether this kid was actually his own.

On the other end of the call, Bao Tingyuan’s tone was calm and indifferent. "Mhm, I know."

Wen Cishu: "..."

With that tone, anyone would think they were discussing work matters.

Bao Tingyuan continued, "Yi Ming, I won’t be home today. Remember to keep Little Dad company on a walk in the garden."

"Mm!" Bao Yiming happily agreed.

Wen Cishu took a sip of warm milk, his expression cold while his mind raced:

Bao Tingyuan, are you just going to ignore me?!

"Cishu."

Wen Cishu jumped at the chance. "Mm, I’m here. Did Big Dad need something?"

Bao Tingyuan’s voice softened. "I’ll try to get back early."

"Oh." Wen Cishu replied flatly, yet his heart leapt at such a simple sentence.

After the call ended, Bao Yiming happily started on the white sesame egg pancake Grandma Zhong had brought—savory and delicious. His eyebrows wiggled excitedly as he tried to make Little Dad laugh.

Wen Cishu mussed his hair and said softly, "Yi Ming, how about inviting Xingxing over to play?"

Bao Yiming paused for a second before grinning ear to ear.

Little Dad hadn’t forgotten.

"Hmm~ Maybe in a few days~ I’m busy keeping Little Dad company every day now~ My schedule’s totally full, y’know~"

Wen Cishu chuckled and tweaked the tip of his ear.

-

Around three in the afternoon.

Wen Cishu was lying back getting his hair washed, the wall-mounted TV playing a Zhu Wei song.

Since Xingxing was in contact with Yi Ming, she had learned about Wen Cishu wasn’t feeling well, and soon Chu Han and the others all found out. They sent their concern through WeChat.

With his eyes closed, Wen Cishu thought—this variety show had truly been a wild ride.

After washing his long hair, Aunt Zhong helped him sit up on the sofa.

He lazily yawned, then noticed the fingers massaging his scalp belonged to someone else—it was Bao Tingyuan.

Wen Cishu quickly realized he was using his fingers to dry his hair!

There was nothing particularly unusual about this act itself, but the strangeness came from his own racing thoughts.

Wen Cishu tensed up completely. His lips, growing dry, parted slightly, wanting to break the silence but unsure what to say.

Should he turn with a silly grin: "Hi? You're off work?"

Broad hands smoothed through his silk-like hair as Bao Tingyuan patiently aimed the hairdryer at the damp strands, drying each section carefully.

After about ten minutes, the hairdryer was turned off.

Wen Cishu tensed abruptly.

Then, both hands settled on his shoulders, kneading lightly.

Bao Tingyuan’s deep voice, like a warm afternoon tide, flooded his ears.

"Not planning to talk to me?"

Wen Cishu hesitated before tilting his head up slowly.

When he met those dark green eyes, he instantly fell into a dizzying whirl of emotions.

His lips parted slightly, baring a flash of white teeth, yet no words came out.

Bao Tingyuan’s downward gaze lingered on his soft lips.

Just being watched like this made Wen Cishu’s fingers, resting on the armrest, curl slightly, his skin prickling.

—What exactly was Bao Tingyuan doing? Was this some kind of tease?!

Behind his glasses, Bao Tingyuan blinked, quickly reining in the impulse to kiss him.

"Get up. Let’s go for a stroll in the garden."

Hearing such calm and rational words, Wen Cishu was oddly let down.

As he was helped up, his gaze swept over Bao Tingyuan’s shirt collar.

On the black shirt, each dark pearl button was done up perfectly, right up to his Adam’s apple.

Wen Cishu seemed to catch the scent of the raw intensity simmering beneath Bao Tingyuan’s buttoned-up appearance.