Chapter 116

Chapter 116

For the first time ever, Wen Cishu spent the entire day without leaving the room, let alone going downstairs—Bao Tingyuan too.

At first, the housekeepers thought the young master was unwell, but when no doctor was called, they realized it was simply a private day for just the two of them.

From morning onward, two meals were specially delivered upstairs by Uncle Xu and placed in the living room. The tray was then carried into the bedroom by the first young master, leaving Uncle Xu without even a glimpse of the master.

That afternoon, in the bedroom.

Wen Cishu wore a loose black shirt, his dark hair cascading over his shoulders, almost indistinguishable from the fabric. Only one button was fastened, revealing glimpses of dazzlingly pale skin between the open collar.

He slumped lazily on the sofa, his long legs propped on the armrest, a dark green ribbon tied around his slender ankle. As his foot swayed lightly, the dangling ribbon fluttered like a leaf in the wind.

Wen Cishu’s eyes were half-lidded as he gazed sleepily at Bao Tingyuan, who sat behind the desk, sketching.

Earlier that morning, he had mentioned wanting to go out for a walk—Bao Tingyuan remained silent. He suggested eating in the dining room—still no response. One request after another, all shot down.

Finally, he joked, “Well then, how about we just stay locked in the room all day?”

Only then did Bao Tingyuan nod. “That’s a good suggestion.”

Wen Cishu was so annoyed he wanted to hit him with a pillow.

But Bao Tingyuan didn’t just forbid him from leaving the room—he wouldn’t even let him step on the floor when getting out of bed.

Thus, Wen Cishu found himself living an unexpectedly spoiled life, with meals and clothes delivered to him effortlessly.

Now, arching his back in a lazy stretch against the soft pillows, he yawned and teased, “If you draw me ugly, you’re sleeping in Yi Ming’s room tonight.”

The movement caused his shirt to ride up, revealing a strip of his waist.

When Bao Tingyuan didn’t reply, Wen Cishu turned his head and noticed his gaze fixed there. With a smirk, he rested a hand on his waist and rubbed lightly.

Their eyes met, electricity crackling between them.

Seeing Bao Tingyuan shift, Wen Cishu thought he was about to approach and quickly stopped him. “Hey, hey—focus on your drawing.”

But Bao Tingyuan merely picked up his water glass, signaling he had no intention of moving.

Wen Cishu snorted lightly, lifting his ribbon-tied leg to swing it teasingly over the armrest, swaying back and forth.

Just as he was relishing the teasing, the soft click of a camera shutter reached his ears.

Wen Cishu immediately turned his head. “Weren’t you drawing? Why are you using a camera? That’s against the rules.”

Bao Tingyuan studied the captured image on his phone intently, his expression completely engrossed, as if admiring a work of art.

This made Wen Cishu curious. “Let me see?”

Bao Tingyuan put the phone down. “You’ll see when the drawing’s finished.”

Wen Cishu huffed in frustration. He sat up to reach for the phone, but his slippers weren't by the sofa.

Bao Tingyuan stopped him: "Stay put."

Wen Cishu looked at him, then slowly, provocatively, dangled his foot toward the carpet. Seeing Bao Tingyuan frown, he chuckled and pulled it back, holding out a hand demandingly. "Then hurry up and carry me."

Bao Tingyuan stood and walked over, scooping him up.

Wen Cishu rubbed his cheek against Bao Tingyuan's and asked softly, "Bao Tingyuan, are you really not letting me leave the room?"

"Nope."

Bao Tingyuan seemed to have found a way of being together that made him feel more secure than ever before—keeping Wen Cishu within the same space at all times, where a single glance would reveal him, eyes sparkling with laughter.

And if that laughter was because of him, then beyond security, he could even taste the sweetness of happiness.

Bao Tingyuan carried him to the chair by the desk.

Wen Cishu first glanced at the drawing paper on the table—it had been brought over by Uncle Xu from Bao Yiming's room.

His tone was over-the-top: "Wow, you drew me so beautifully! President Bao, seriously pro-level work."

Bao Tingyuan raised an eyebrow.

The sheet of paper on the desk was blank.

He hadn't even touched a pencil yet.

Wen Cishu, despite being the one to crack the joke, was the first to burst into laughter, doubling over against Bao Tingyuan.

Only after Bao Tingyuan pinched his ear did he lift his head to demand, "You've been sitting here forever, and you haven't even started?"

He raised a hand, mimicking a microphone, and asked in a fake reporter voice, "Excuse me, Mr. Artist, is the problem with this model?"

Bao Tingyuan lowered his gaze, admiring the way Wen Cishu's eyes curved with mirth, then kissed his hand. "Of course."

"Ugh~ Now you got me all gross."

Wen Cishu exaggeratedly wiped it on Bao Tingyuan's shirt before cracking up again.

Bao Tingyuan held him on his lap, face-to-face, drinking in every curve of his smile.

The natural curve of his lips, his dark eyes like mountain springs—pure and cool, yet carrying a playful seduction.

Wen Cishu noticed Bao Tingyuan's silent, intense gaze. Without the barrier of glasses, the desire in those green eyes was downright predatory.

His smile faded, instinctively leaning back slightly to avoid it. His lips parted, voice hushed: "No way."

"What?" Bao Tingyuan's voice was equally soft, just a whisper.

Wen Cishu's wet tongue darted out, flicking over his dry lower lip as he reminded him, "That... you'll wear yourself out."

Bao Tingyuan arched a brow, leaning in to take a playful bite of his lip. "Then why were you teasing me just now?"

Wen Cishu went beet red and pushed him away. "I wasn’t! President Bao, you should speak more carefully—don't go making accusations."

Bao Tingyuan took his hand and dragged it to his hips, just as Wen Cishu had done earlier.

"Is this not considered?"

"Of course not!" Wen Cishu swiftly withdrew his hand. Seeing Bo Tingyuan's gaze fixed on him like a hawk eyeing its prey, he tilted his head back and shouted dramatically toward the ceiling, "Hah! What evil spirit dares meddle with my ascetic practice?!"

Perhaps his exaggerated theatrical delivery was too startling—Bo Tingyuan paused momentarily.

Wen Cishu pushed against his shoulders. "Alright, alright, let's go out. We can't keep staying like this."

Deadpan, he patted the blank sketch on the table. "Look, you haven’t sketched a single line of me." Then he pointed at the company documents at the corner of the desk. "And work? You haven’t done any of that either."

Finally, he clapped his hands together and asked, "Boss Bo, in all of Chinese history, excessive indulgence has always led to trouble."

Lately, Bo Tingyuan loved when he spouted this nonsense and played along, "The French had their fair share too."

"Glad you’re aware." Wen Cishu shoved him, but when Bo Tingyuan didn’t budge, he glared in frustration.

Just then, his phone vibrated, saving him.

It was their cute little son calling.

"Yi Ming..."

Wen Cishu drawled, kicking his dangling feet a little, then pointed at the bed to signal Bo Tingyuan to carry him over.

"Where are you? Miss your Xiao-Dad, do you?"

Bo Yiming answered obediently, "Uh-huh~"

But Bo Tingyuan didn’t move. Seizing the moment while Wen Cishu was distracted, he unbuttoned his shirt collar, baring his collarbone and shoulder, then leaned in to plant a kiss there.

Wen Cishu: "..."

"Xiao-Dad? You didn’t take a nap?"

Bo Yiming had deliberately called his Da-Dad’s phone, afraid of disturbing Wen Cishu’s rest.

Realizing this, Wen Cishu praised, "Such a good boy, Yi Ming. I couldn’t nap because your Da-Dad..." (He suddenly remembered he shouldn’t say such things to a child.) "Your Da-Dad had something to discuss with me."

"Huh?" Bo Yiming sounded surprised. "Da-Dad’s so unreasonable—can’t it wait?"

"Tell me about it~" Wen Cishu really wanted to hug the adorable little munchkin.

Doing his best to ignore the man nipping and nuzzling his shoulder, he asked about Bo Yiming’s day.

Naturally, Bo Yiming had had a blast.

"Xiao-Dad, can Xingxing sleep over tonight? We want to sleep in a tent."

Since Wen Cishu had put the call on speaker, Bo Tingyuan could hear their son clearly.

Slowly lifting his head, he said, "I’ll send a tent over."

Wen Cishu: "..."

He made a face, signaling Bo Tingyuan not to be so "excessive."

But the next second, Bo Yiming was already cheering, "Yay! Thanks, Da-Dad~ Then I’ll let you go now, Xiao-Dad. Bye-bye~"

Wen Cishu: "Wait—you’re just gonna say yes?!"

Bao Yiming whined playfully, "Hehe~ I just wanna sleep in the tent~ Bye-bye, daddy~"

The call ended, leaving Wen Cishu speechless. "Too mischievous."

He pressed the phone onto the table, thinking he could use the opportunity of the little rascal coming home to go downstairs.

Bao Tingyuan slipped an arm around his waist. "Yi Ming takes after you—so energetic."

"How so?" Wen Cishu retorted in surprise. "How is he like me? Am I usually this scatterbrained?"

Their eyes met.

Clearly, it was indeed he who was more scatterbrained.

Wen Cishu pursed his lips, planted his foot on the carpet, and pushed him away as he stood up. "Get up! Out of the room!"

Bao Tingyuan, worried he might stumble, steadied his waist and looked up at him.

Wen Cishu rarely saw him from this angle. He had intended to grumble a bit, but the upward glance left him speechless.

From this perspective, Bao Tingyuan actually sparked an urge in him to embrace him.

Though nothing had prompted it.

Wen Cishu frowned slightly, wondering where this urge came from.

But he didn’t dwell on it long—his body acted faster than his mind, bending down to wrap his arms around him.

Bao Tingyuan naturally welcomed the embrace, but noticing his sudden change in expression, asked, "What’s wrong? Don’t want to stay in the room anymore? Want to go out?"

Wen Cishu shook his head, said tenderly, "Bao Tingyuan, I love you." So very much.

The arm around his waist tightened instantly.

Bao Tingyuan murmured in French, "*Je t’aime, pour toujours*."