Upstairs, in the bedroom.

Bo Tingyuan gently laid Wen Cishu on the bed, carefully pulling up the blanket. His large, slender hand brushed through the thick black hair, his emerald green eyes behind the glasses watching Wen Cishu’s slightly reddened eyes.

“Is your heart feeling uncomfortable?”

Wen Cishu let out a long breath, “No.”

Though his heartbeat was steady, he was tense, remembering the book’s description, his expression frozen.

In the book, after Wen Cishu died from a heart condition, Bo Tingyuan, who already had some hidden illness, couldn’t accept the reality. He first refused to let anyone near his body.

With the efforts of both the Wen and Bo families, Wen Cishu’s body was finally cremated according to procedure.

That night, Bo Tingyuan took the ashes back to the French estate where they had held their wedding, shutting himself away and becoming a strange, gloomy patient.

Even his own son, Bo Yiming, was kept outside.

In the following two years, Bo Tingyuan developed severe dissociative disorder, living in a fantasy where Wen Cishu was still alive.

One day, when he was clear-headed, he dug a grave on the estate’s lawn, placed a coffin inside, and lay down with the urn.

Bo Yiming sensed something was wrong that day but was too late, witnessing his father take his own life.

Wen Cishu dared not dwell on the tragic scenes, his emotions momentarily stuck.

He slowly lifted his slightly red eyelids, glancing at the person in front of him, confirming he was alive and standing there, then lowered his gaze.

His already prominent double eyelid creases deepened, like a Chinese folding fan opening and closing.

Bo Tingyuan sensed his subtle emotional change but couldn’t fathom the reason.

Wen Cishu opened his mouth, unsure where to start.

Despite ten years together, he didn’t truly understand Bo Tingyuan.

There was always a fog between them.

He used to be trapped in a low mood, unable to think clearly.

Now he understood why.

The original author had only briefly described the parents’ story to portray Bo Yiming.

After all, they were the villain’s family.

Readers didn’t care about their story.

As Wen Cishu pondered, his long lashes cast shadows like phoenix tails on his flawless cheeks, trembling slightly, beautiful enough to kiss.

Bo Tingyuan noticed his unusual “anger” today.

He asked, “What do you want to say?”

Wen Cishu met his deep green eyes, remembering how deeply he loved him, feeling a bit embarrassed.

He quickly changed the subject to their child, “I’m fine, you should check on Yiming. His little bottom must hurt.”

Standing there, Bo Tingyuan saw a hint of red on his porcelain-like ear.

His eyes behind the glasses showed a trace of confusion.

“I’ll go down after the doctor checks. Yiming’s fine.”

Wen Cishu listened to his overly formal Chinese, with a deep, cold voice like water flowing in a deep pool.

Bo Tingyuan’s speech always gave him an impression of being aloof, indifferent, even impatient.

The key was, Bo Tingyuan never spoke much.

Mute?

And he, blind to Bo Tingyuan’s care, like a blind man.

“Love after marriage” was just “blind marriage, mute wedding.”

Wen Cishu silently mocked:

A mute and a blind man, who wouldn’t say they’re a match?

Bo Tingyuan saw his brow furrow, sensing another elusive emotion, and frowned too.

–

Outside the bedroom door.

A Little Monkey exaggeratedly covered his bottom, leaning against the door, softly asking, “Grandma Zhong, is my little dad okay? Why isn’t Uncle Chen here yet?”

Uncle Chen, a regular visiting Western doctor, often came with a Chinese doctor named Lin.

The Bo Family Mansion was in the city center, with the country’s best heart specialist hospital and the Bo Family Private Hospital within three to five kilometers.

The doctors, with assistants, wouldn’t take long to arrive.

Just as Bo Yiming finished speaking, the two doctors arrived.

Uncle Xu asked, “Little Young Master, should Doctor Lin check you—”

Bo Yiming widened his eyes, signaling secrecy.

He only pushed the door open a bit, “Uncles, please check on my little dad. He… he fainted because of me.”

On the bed, Wen Cishu, having caught his breath, said calmly, “Daddy didn’t faint.”

“Oh!” Bo Yiming, not forgetting his sore bottom, avoided his big dad and ran to the other side of the bed, holding his little dad’s hand.

Though the doctors were regular visitors to the Bo Family, every time they entered this bedroom and saw the frail yet exceptionally handsome young man, they felt like stepping into another world, unconsciously softening their steps and voices.

Beside the bed, Bo Tingyuan, in a black shirt and trousers, with cold eyes, gave the doctors immense pressure.

They examined Wen Cishu, first with a stethoscope, then with a pulse check.

Wen Cishu clearly described his symptoms of rapid heartbeat, blackouts, and tinnitus.

He was used to dealing with doctors from a young age, always reporting any discomfort.

Bo Tingyuan listened carefully, saying nothing.

Both doctors said there was no major issue.

Doctor Lin advised, “As mentioned before, practicing Tai Chi occasionally and walking around the courtyard is beneficial.”

Previously, Wen Cishu had a tendency to give up on himself, neglecting exercise.

Now he readily agreed, “Okay.”

Almost everyone noticed the lively sparkle in his phoenix eyes.

The doctors exchanged glances, surprised and excited.

Was Mr. Wen, usually uninterested in everything, showing such a “will to live”?

It was indeed rare.

Doctor Lin reminded him as he left, “Second Young Master, avoid getting upset. Try deep breathing to calm down when things happen.”

Wen Cishu nodded, “Today was an exception, it won’t happen again.”

The doctors left the bedroom.

Only the family of three remained.

Wen Cishu looked at the little one on his left.

Thinking of the book’s plot and how the little one endured pain to care for him, he felt even more compassionate.

“Yiming, does your bottom hurt a lot?”

He tried to sit up, but both the big and little ones stopped him.

Bo Tingyuan gently pressed his shoulder back, his tone almost commanding, “Lie down, don’t move.”

Bo Yiming patted his little dad’s slender arm, “My little bottom’s fine, don’t worry, little dad.”

After being hit, he thought long and hard, realizing if he entered the entertainment industry but his little dad couldn’t see him perform because of illness, what was the point?!

Of course—

The little rascal glanced at his serious, stern big dad.

—He’d definitely write about his big dad spanking him in his diary tonight!

Wen Cishu felt relieved hearing his sensible words, asking, “So, you’re not entering the entertainment industry?”

Bo Yiming pressed his lips together, under his little dad’s gentle gaze, quietly murmuring, “No, I still want to join the talent show.”

Wen Cishu: “…”

Where did this stubborn gene come from?

Inherited from Bo Tingyuan?

Wen Cishu couldn’t help but glance at the person by the bed.

Before Bo Tingyuan could speak, Bo Yiming puffed his cheeks, “Awoo,” and snuggled into his little dad’s arms, pleading, “Mommy~~Mommy~~”

When Bo Yiming first learned to recognize people and speak, he couldn’t distinguish between his two dads.

For a while, he called his gentle, long-haired little dad “mommy.”

Even as he grew, he occasionally acted spoiled.

Wen Cishu’s heart softened, but he saw an arm reaching over his legs.

A large hand firmly grabbed the little rascal’s back, lifting him out.

Bo Yiming flailed his arms and legs, “Big Dad, put me down!”

Among his peers, he wasn’t short, but he couldn’t compete with his big dad’s 1.9-meter height.

Seeing his big dad unmoved, the little guy quickly switched tactics, grabbing his big dad’s shirt, trying to act cute, “Daddy~~”

However, acting cute didn’t work.

Bo Yiming was carried outside the room.

Bo Tingyuan bent down, his hand on the back of his head, softly reminding him, “I’ve told you many times, don’t call your little dad that.”

“Oh…” Bo Yiming was pitiful, almost in tears.

But his little bottom ached, so he nodded, wanting to emphasize the “entertainment project” again, only to see his big dad retreat into the bedroom.

The door slowly closed.

Bo Yiming, angry, squatted on the ground, “Hmph!”

—Clearly, little dad was about to agree.

–

Inside the room.

Wen Cishu watched Bo Tingyuan return, unable to discern his thoughts from his calm face. He had to ask, “Do you agree with him joining some talent show?”

Bo Tingyuan’s voice was calm and steady, “I’ll contact my mother tonight, arrange a boarding school in France, and send him abroad the day after tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Wen Cishu was too shocked, his pupils widening as he stared at him.

That tone, it sounded as easy as throwing out a bag of trash!

Is Bo Yiming even his biological son?

The book didn’t mention any mix-up with the real young master, did it?

Seeing his surprise, Bo Tingyuan bent down, brushing aside the hair falling on his face, “Don’t worry, Yiming won’t suffer abroad.”

Wen Cishu heard this, feeling it was set in stone, leaving no room for objection.

He instinctively blurted out, “No. I don’t want Yiming going abroad now.”

Who knows what might happen?

At least he should watch the child grow up properly, right?

Bo Tingyuan’s deep eyes seemed like icy rivers, cold and hard to read.

Wen Cishu stared at him, equally watched in return.

His mind was a bit chaotic, but he quickly thought of an explanation, “The child is still so young, it’s better to guide than to block, support rather than oppose. Why don’t we oversee it, see if there’s a suitable program for him to try? Maybe… maybe after trying, he’ll give up.”

After saying this, his breathing was slightly heavy.

Bo Tingyuan seemed unmoved.

Wen Cishu recalled how he once convinced his parents to let him travel to France alone, even writing a feasibility report.

His parents read it, silent for half an hour.

Looking at the still silent man, Wen Cishu slightly raised his eyebrows.

Wasn’t Bo Tingyuan supposed to “love” him deeply?

Can’t even agree to this?

Was the original author lying?

Under the immense cold pressure, Wen Cishu feared his opposition and insistence on sending the little guy to France.

His slender fingers instinctively clutched the black shirt’s sleeve, “Did you understand what I meant?” His phoenix eyes blinked quickly, pleading, “Daddy?”

His slightly upturned eyes, brows, and eyes seemed to entangle people.

A few seconds later, Bo Tingyuan’s Adam’s apple subtly moved, like a faint “hmm” from his chest.

“I’ll arrange it.”