At the “The Baby is Superman” program production team.

The small team responsible for selecting ordinary parent-child pairs had been struggling for half a month without finding guests that satisfied the producer. With filming about to start, everyone was worried. Who would’ve thought that finding an ordinary parent-child pair would be harder than dealing with celebrity guests?

In a team meeting, someone suggested reaching out to parent-child accounts on major social media platforms with smaller followings and no on-camera experience. The producer firmly rejected this, insisting on finding a parent-child pair that would be a standout.

A staff member couldn’t help but complain, “These days, anyone who can ‘stand out’ is already shining brightly on every platform. How could we wait until now?”

At that moment, an assistant at the end of the table raised a hand, “Look at the group chat, there’s a new application.”

In the work group chat, two parent-child photos popped up.

A mixed-race looking boy and a long-haired beauty with classic Eastern charm. The two faces bore some resemblance, but the beauty had more defined features, with arched brows and phoenix eyes, as exquisite as a finely crafted painting.

Such a simple frontal photo exuded a calm and composed aura.

The meeting room erupted in laughter.

“Hah, this AI synthesis technology is pretty good.”

“Yeah, how many classical beauties and mixed-race kids did it take to make this?”

The assistant said, “The information shows this is a father and son, the long-haired one is the child’s dad.”

“Huh?” Someone was puzzled, continuing to study the information, and indeed, it was true.

Then, a lively discussion erupted over the father and son’s stunning looks.

“Is this not Photoshopped?”

“Impossible, even ID photos get Photoshopped these days. I don’t believe it.”

“This looks like siblings, right? Whose dad looks like this?”

As they argued, the assistant noticed the producer staring silently at the photo.

“Boss?”

The producer was a bit excited, “Quickly confirm this father and son’s situation. If everything checks out, book them, fast!”

“Got it!” The assistant hurried to contact the applicant.

Someone said, “When filming the pilot, I want to see them. Do they drink dew and spring water every day to look so ethereal?”

“They don’t even have any internet accounts and aren’t celebrities. If they really join the show, aren’t we hitting the jackpot?”

–

In the morning, in the garden of the Bo Family Mansion.

Wen Cishu, dressed in white exercise clothes, was practicing Tai Chi under a master’s guidance. Aunt Zhong and Bo Yiming followed along.

Though Wen Cishu was practicing the most basic 24 forms and his movements weren’t perfect, the master kept nodding.

—Mr. Wen standing here seemed to have a bit of an ethereal aura.

Today, Bo Yiming was especially well-behaved and sensible, accompanying his little dad for breakfast and exercise early in the morning.

When Albert appeared, Wen Cishu was bending over, holding a warm towel, gently wiping Bo Yiming’s forehead, looking extremely gentle.

He waited nearby.

After the Tai Chi master left, he said, “Mr. Wen, the program team confirmed they want to invite you and the young master to join the show. They need to finalize the filming schedule for the promotional pilot, and they’re in a hurry to set it up.”

“Really? That’s great.” Bo Yiming happily wrapped his arms around his little dad.

Wen Cishu ruffled his hair, also looking pleased.

Bo Yiming couldn’t sit still for long, letting go of his little dad and bouncing around, “Let’s film today then.”

Albert laughed, the young master and his two dads were completely different styles, his liveliness was rare.

“Not that fast. Young Master can think about what daily scenes to film first.”

Wen Cishu said, “Then you should also pick out your clothes.”

“Great!” Bo Yiming had a bunch of cool clothes he wanted to wear on camera. He dashed out of the garden.

Wen Cishu took the warm towel from the aunt, slowly wiping his hands.

His fingers, like jade onions, were slightly pink at the joints, probably from the exercise.

Albert felt self-conscious when alone with Mr. Wen, as if he himself became incredibly coarse.

“Mr. Wen, the program team mentioned there will be a payment.”

“Really?” Wen Cishu said with a smile as he walked out, “This will be my first time earning money.”

Albert was slightly surprised by this.

Then, looking at his slender figure, he immediately understood.

—With Mr. Wen’s health, his parents probably wouldn’t let him go out; after marriage, Mr. Bo wouldn’t let him work either.

Albert explained the general arrangements, stating he would act as Wen Cishu’s assistant to coordinate with the program team.

Wen Cishu had no objections.

Though he didn’t fully understand Bo Tingyuan, he knew he was meticulous and thorough, arranging everything properly, so there was no need to doubt or interfere.

As Albert left, he thought, Mr. Wen was different from before, even his personality had changed from being weak and gloomy to gentle and cheerful.

–

Evening.

Bo Tingyuan returned home from the company. He took off his black suit, handed it to Uncle Xu, and took a warm white towel to wipe his hands.

“How was Mr. Wen today?”

Uncle Xu reported Mr. Wen’s condition truthfully, unable to suppress a smile, “Mr. Wen had a good appetite at lunch, drank half a bowl more of soup.”

Since Mr. Wen’s condition improved, the whole household was delighted.

Not just half a bowl of soup, Uncle Xu wished he could count if Mr. Wen ate two more grains of rice.

Bo Tingyuan glanced at the large, empty living room, asking, “Is he in the room?”

Uncle Xu: “Mr. Wen showered after dinner and went to help the young master pick out clothes.”

“Picking clothes this late?”

Bo Tingyuan turned his face, his green eyes behind the glasses looking towards his son’s bedroom.

The damp towel moistened his fingertips, his brow furrowing slightly.

He put down the towel and walked towards the stairs, “I’ll go take a look.”

Uncle Xu watched him leave, asking, “Eldest Young Master, no late-night snack today?”

“No.”

Usually, if Bo Tingyuan came home late, he’d have a bowl of soup or some snacks, so the kitchen was always prepared.

Uncle Xu watched the tall, upright figure ascend the stairs, pondering: Was the Eldest Young Master displeased again?

–

In Bo Yiming’s wardrobe room.

Wen Cishu leaned on the sofa, holding a soft pillow, watching his son change clothes like a model.

At 1.5 meters tall, trying to be a male model, if not for his handsome looks, he’d really be a posing monkey.

“Little Dad, how about filming me riding a horse?”

“Or rock climbing?”

“Skiing, maybe? But now it can only be indoor skiing.”

A new idea every three minutes.

When the little guy pounced beside him, Wen Cishu ruffled his spiky short hair.

“Take your time deciding on the location, Dad has no opinion. But Dad can’t accompany you skiing, rock climbing, or horseback riding. I’ll just watch from the side, you won’t be sad, right?”

Bo Yiming bent his knees, leaning against his little dad, shaking his head in the soft velvet pajamas, “Of course not.”

Wen Cishu patted the little swirl on his head, “When we get paid, how about a gift from little dad? What do you want?”

Bo Yiming already knew his little dad had never earned money before, making this payment very meaningful. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Wen Cishu sighed, “I’ll have to think too, I need to give gifts to my parents and brother.”

Bo Yiming asked, “Do Grandma and Grandpa know we’re joining the show?” Seeing his little dad nod with a smile, he exaggeratedly asked, “Will they be shocked?”

“Probably.” Wen Cishu laughed happily, hugging his son, yawning, “Hope they won’t be too surprised.”

He naturally had a playful side, now being brought out.

At times, he hoped to be friends with his son, gently guiding his thoughts to avoid future detours.

“What are you talking about?”

Bo Tingyuan’s imposing voice came, and the father and son on the sofa looked over simultaneously.

Bo Yiming was half-kneeling on the carpet, leaning his head on his little dad, happily saying, “Big Dad, Little Dad is thinking about using the program payment for gifts.”

Wen Cishu also looked up at him.

Again, black shirt and trousers, paired with a gray-striped black tie.

The shirt buttoned tightly to the collar, like a figure cast from dark clouds, gloomy and oppressive.

His green eyes behind the glasses were like a mysterious forest under a cloudy night.

Bo Tingyuan restrainedly glanced at the leaning person, then focused on his son, patiently asking, “Gifts for whom?”

Wen Cishu didn’t notice his gaze, only lowered his eyes, sitting up, pushing his long hair behind him.

That extra glance, self-indulgent.

Bo Yiming stood up, “Little Dad said gifts for me, Grandpa, Grandma, and Uncle.”

Bo Tingyuan looked at the person putting on slippers, slowly asking, “Really?”

Wen Cishu slipped on his slippers, standing up, “You two talk, I’m going to rest.”

He tugged at his robe’s collar, but a shadow already approached, bending to pick him up without a word.

Wen Cishu swayed, instinctively placing a hand on his right shoulder, subconsciously looking into his deep green eyes.

But Bo Tingyuan was speaking to his son, “Yiming, tomorrow Albert will send more clothes, you can pick a few then.”

“Okay.” Bo Yiming was worried about not having the right outfits.

Though it was just a pilot shoot, he wanted to make a grand entrance.

Wen Cishu thought, oh, he does remember to be good to his son.

But his body was still weak, and at bedtime, he was unusually tired, unable to resist yawning lightly.

Seeing this, Bo Tingyuan gave another instruction, then carried him out of the room.

The hallway was extremely quiet, the carpet thick, yet you could hear the faint sound of each step.

Perhaps Bo Tingyuan’s arms and embrace were warm and steady, Wen Cishu felt no discomfort, even drowsy from the rhythmic movement.

When he was laid on the bed, Wen Cishu’s eyes were slightly wet from yawning, a cluster of lashes sticking to his skin.

Bo Tingyuan arranged the blanket, propping himself on the headboard, quietly watching the sleepy, flushed face.

Between Wen Cishu’s lowered eyelids, he seemed to see his lips move.

In a sleepy haze, he struggled to stay conscious, softly humming a vague question, “What?”

Bo Tingyuan watched him fall into a deep sleep.

His delicate face, in slumber, unexpectedly alluring.

He raised his hand, his thumb gently sliding from the eyelid to the corner, slowly brushing over the damp lashes, his deep voice softly speaking in French: [Don’t I get a gift?]