Three low-key black luxury cars slowly made their way to the western suburbs, stopping at the side entrance of Yongning Zen Temple. Outside the temple stood two monks dressed in blue-gray robes. 

A bodyguard opened the rear door of the middle vehicle. Bo Tingyuan, wearing a black mask, stepped out with his long legs. After getting out, he adjusted his suit jacket, clasped his hands together calmly, and nodded slightly to the approaching monks.

One of the monks was the abbot of the temple. Standing on the steps, he looked at the mixed-race man’s thick eyebrows and green eyes, holding prayer beads in return. 

“Hello, Mr. Bo. This way, please.”

Bo Tingyuan and the abbot entered the temple first, followed by several bodyguards. Yongning Zen Temple, with its history spanning hundreds of years, wasn’t large but featured unique wooden architecture. The temple had yellow tiles and red walls, with intricate designs and numerous solemn Buddha statues inside. 

At the entrance of the temple was an osmanthus tree planted during the Southern Song Dynasty. In the center of the courtyard stood a four-legged incense burner, where many local worshippers were holding incense and praying. 

In the side hall, hidden among pine and cypress, the abbot led Bo Tingyuan inside, leaving two bodyguards waiting outside the wooden door. 

Among the worshippers across the corridor, a sharp-eyed young man noticed and asked the middle-aged woman beside him, “Auntie, who is that? Why did he go in alone? Do you know?”

The middle-aged aunt, who visited Yongning Zen Temple monthly, wasn’t surprised. 

“Oh, he’s someone who donates to the temple. He comes often and is very devout.”

The young man was surprised, “Ah? So he’s a rich guy? How much did he donate to go in alone like that?”

The aunt explained the past events. Yongning Zen Temple used to be a dilapidated little temple hidden in a bustling area, with repair costs being a bottomless pit. The government even considered merging it with another temple for management. 

Ten years ago, the Bo Family suddenly donated billions, allowing the temple to be fully preserved. They later spent over a billion on repairing Buddhist scriptures and statues. Without the Bo Family, there wouldn’t be today’s Yongning Zen Temple.

The young man recalled the glimpse he caught earlier. The man with glasses had an extremely defined side profile, towering over those around him. He asked in confusion, “But that guy looks like a foreigner. Are you sure?”

“Not a foreigner, his dad is from around here,” the aunt said. “But his mom seems to be foreign.”

“A mixed-race person being so superstitious?” The young man couldn’t believe it. “I thought foreigners all believed in Jesus.”

“Oh, don’t talk nonsense!” The aunt glared at him, “Yongning Temple is very spiritual. If Buddha hears you, you’ll wet the bed at night.”

The young man, in his twenties, didn’t believe such things. He continued to ask, “Auntie, why is a mixed-race person so devout?”

The aunt lowered her voice, “I heard from others that someone in their family isn’t in good health. Something serious happened ten years ago, so… you get it?”

The young man nodded, “I see. Seems like even rich people turn to superstition when they have no other options.”

The aunt raised her hand to tap his arm, “You’re too chatty. Go wait outside.” She was carrying a bag of offerings to fulfill a vow and hurried to the Guanyin Hall.

—

In the side hall, incense burned in front of the Buddha, with wisps of smoke curling upwards. The abbot was fingering prayer beads, murmuring sutras. 

On a red cushion with gold embroidery, Bo Tingyuan sat with his back straight as bamboo. His hands were clasped, fingers resting on his chin. Behind his glasses, his eyes were closed, his expression reverent and devout. 

On the offering table was a tray made of golden nanmu, lined with black velvet, holding a bamboo-shaped bracelet made of mutton fat jade. Each small bamboo segment was flawless, delicate, and lustrous. 

As the incense burned to the end, the abbot clasped his hands and bowed, “Mr. Bo, please rise.”

Bo Tingyuan slowly opened his eyes, his emerald green pupils like gemstones soaked in icy water, revealing no emotion but exuding extraordinary authority and solemnity. 

The abbot picked up the tray and presented the consecrated white jade bracelet. Bo Tingyuan clasped his hands in salute, “Thank you, Master.” He took the box containing the white jade bamboo bracelet and looked up. 

On the lotus pedestal, the Bodhisattva lowered its gaze, compassionate and serene.

—

In the suburban horse farm, Wen Cishu looked up at the sunlight, arching his eyebrows, his phoenix eyes sparkling with light, his expression calm and gentle. 

He was smiling softly, watching Bo Yiming riding in the distance. A bodyguard held a black umbrella. As the little young master changed direction on horseback, the bodyguard slightly adjusted the umbrella, careful not to block Mr. Wen’s view. 

Today, the program group of “The Baby is Superman” came to shoot the pilot episode. The small team had been eagerly anticipating meeting Wen Cishu and his son. Upon arriving at the agreed location and seeing the two, the staff were surprised to find that Wen Cishu truly looked like someone untouched by the mundane world. 

Moreover, the father and son were escorted by several cars. Among their entourage were assistants and bodyguards, clearly indicating wealth and status. This news reached the production team, sparking curiosity about their background. 

At this moment, the photographer was filming Bo Yiming. An assistant secretly glanced at the man exuding nobility and gentleness. Wen Cishu didn’t ride a horse; he patiently watched his son’s performance from outside the fence. 

He wore a loose mint green mandarin collar shirt with wide sleeves and cream-colored casual linen pants. Under a white Panama hat, his waist-length black hair hung like silk. 

In the gentle sunlight, Wen Cishu appeared incredibly elegant and leisurely, yet every detail was unintentionally exquisite. The assistant was amazed to find that Wen Cishu didn’t even wear a watch, yet he exuded such an air of nobility. 

Looking good is just the surface; how does one exude such an ethereal aura? She felt an unusual sense of reverence, as if looking at him too much would be a desecration. 

The assistant snapped back to reality as her male colleague turned his head. 

The male colleague noticed her unusual expression, “What’s up with you?” 

The assistant looked at his face, not favored by Nuwa, and closed her eyes in despair.

—

The recording team initially thought dealing with non-celebrity guests might be challenging, but the recording process went surprisingly smoothly. 

After watching the recorded footage, Bo Yiming felt every frame was great. He proudly asked, “Little Dad, am I photogenic?” 

Even the photographer couldn’t help but praise, “Yes, Yiming, you have very defined features, high fold depth, you look good from any angle.” 

He glanced at the even more outstanding Mr. Wen, hesitating to speak. 

Instead, the assistant spoke first, in a negotiating tone, “Yiming’s dad, your part is quite short. Would you like to shoot some more? If you don’t want to move, we can film you sitting.” 

“Yes, yes,” the photographer laughed, “the assistant is very considerate.” 

Wen Cishu politely declined, looking at the spirited little guy, explaining, “I’m here for Yiming; he’s the star. Please give him more screen time in the promotional video.” 

Everyone nodded, “Sure, we will!” 

Wen Cishu smiled faintly, “Thank you.” 

No one realized that when they spoke to Wen Cishu, they unconsciously lowered their voices, unprecedentedly gentle. It wasn’t out of fear or caution, but simply a subconscious respect and protection. 

After filming, as evening approached, Wen Cishu asked Albert to arrange a restaurant to treat the program group. 

As soon as everyone got into their cars, they couldn’t help but excitedly discuss. They couldn’t believe the show had encountered such an impressive father-son duo. 

“Originally, the kid was already a very handsome mixed-race face, but with Mr. Wen, he truly steals the spotlight.” 

The assistant chuckled, taking out her phone and showing a photo, “I captured a picture of him standing under the umbrella, looking like a movie poster of a superstar from the last century.” 

She showed it to others, and the photographer nodded, “Great candid shot, let’s use it for promotion on Weibo.” 

“Great!” The assistant was thrilled, carefully admiring Mr. Wen’s captivating profile.

—

“The Baby is Superman” invited four parent-child guest pairs, three from the entertainment industry with their star kids, and only Wen Cishu and Bo Yiming were complete non-celebrities. 

When the program officially released the pilot episode, it was divided into separate segments for the kids and parents. 

In the kids’ pilot episode’s Weibo comment section, the main discussion was guessing the celebrities and their corresponding children. 

Bo Yiming, with his mixed-race looks, sparked the first wave of heated discussion. In the video, the nine-year-old boy rode freely on horseback. The young boy’s figure was agile and graceful, as if born on the prairie, exuding a natural and vibrant energy. 

When the camera zoomed in and focused on his face, his slightly immature features already showed exceptionally defined facial features, especially his high nose bridge and deep-set eyes, very eye-catching. 

His amber eyes curved in the sunlight, a perfect pair of handsome puppy eyes. During the interview, he introduced himself clearly, with a confident and open personality. 

[This kid named Yiming is way too handsome! Is he really nine?] 

[Wow! He could totally be a child model!] 

[Half French, ahhhh! What an amazing face.] 

[He’s 1.5 meters now; he’ll grow to 1.8 meters, right?] 

[Oh my, this kid has a bright future! He must enter the industry; such looks would be wasted otherwise.] 

[Wait, whose kid is this?] 

[Please, he’s my son, mine!] 

[The show hasn’t even aired yet, and people are already lining up to claim him?] 

As the parents’ pilot episode was released, netizens quickly noticed that the non-celebrity parents didn’t show their faces, only a very blurry distant view. 

[Hmm? What’s up with the non-celebrity parents? Why not show their faces?] 

[Wow, seems like a very elegant long-haired beauty mom. Is she the mom of the youngest and cutest kid?] 

[No way, judging by the height, at least 1.8 meters? Such a tall mom?] 

[What’s the program group doing with this mystery?] 

[Non-celebrities don’t have fans, and no one expects them, so… is it necessary?] 

[The program group doesn’t need to force it if there’s nothing to do!] 

When the assistant reported the online feedback, the producer sneered, “Hmph! Such a magnificent face, how can it be seen casually?” 

He knocked on the table, “You have to pay for it!” 

The assistant nodded vigorously. “By the way, Mr. Wen isn’t in good health. The assistant said they’ll bring a doctor and bedding sets. Is that okay?” 

The producer grinned, revealing a set of porcelain teeth, “Do you think there’s a problem with that?” 

Assistant: Judging by the boss’s attitude, even if Mr. Wen’s assistant said they wanted to bring an entire bed to the recording, it wouldn’t be refused.

—

The night before departure for recording. 

Bo Yiming’s “elementary school spring outing syndrome” flared up. After packing the suitcase with Auntie, he ran into Little Dad’s bedroom. 

Wen Cishu had already showered, lying on the high soft pillow, with a leisure book on the side of the bed. 

Throughout his life, except for school days when he left early and returned late, he mostly stayed at home. The Wen Family was considered a scholarly family. Wen Cishu couldn’t match the achievements of his parents and brother, but he could at least settle down and read. 

Bo Yiming propped his chin with his hands and asked, “Little Dad, are you excited?” After blurting it out, he automatically denied it, “Oh no, Little Dad’s heart isn’t good, usually can’t get too excited.” 

The last time he got “excited” was probably when he jumped on the sofa and coffee table. 

Bo Yiming fell silent. 

Wen Cishu rubbed the back of his neck, about to speak, when he suddenly saw him look up. 

“Ah! I forgot to bring something! I’ll go find Grandpa Xu!” 

Bo Yiming jumped off the bed, hurriedly putting on his slippers. 

Wen Cishu couldn’t help but ask, “What do you need to bring?” 

“Not telling Little Dad.” Bo Yiming raised his eyebrows with a smile, “Little Dad, go to bed early. I’ll definitely get up on time tomorrow. Don’t worry.” 

Wen Cishu watched him whirl away like a tornado, smiling helplessly. 

He didn’t feel like reading anymore, dimmed the lights, and prepared to lie down. 

The carved silk screen sliding door was pushed open from the middle, making a slight sound. 

Wen Cishu turned his head, seeing Bo Tingyuan stepping out. 

They both lived in a large suite on the second floor but had been sleeping separately for years. 

Each master bedroom had its own entrance, connected by a Chinese-style sliding door in the middle for convenience. 

Wen Cishu, having awakened, knew that Bo Tingyuan was worried about his health, hence the separate beds. 

“Finished with work?” 

Bo Tingyuan had already washed up, wearing a blue long robe, hands casually in the robe’s pockets. 

He was naturally broad-shouldered and long-legged, and with the robe’s belt tied at his waist, his leg proportions seemed even more exaggerated. 

In the dim evening light, Bo Tingyuan walked towards Wen Cishu with his thick eyebrows, making him feel like he was seeing a religious figure in a black robe, solemn and abstinent, causing his heart to tremble. 

When the tall man silently stopped by the bed, Wen Cishu instinctively pursed his lips. 

He raised his eyes, tentatively asking, “Do you not really want Yiming and me to join the show?” 

Bo Tingyuan didn’t answer immediately, his lowered eyes quietly watching Wen Cishu’s particularly enchanting eyes when raised. 

Wen Cishu thought, he always looked at him with the demeanor of someone in power, not knowing what he was observing. 

He pouted and leaned back, the soft pillow bouncing slightly, his black hair shining with a silky luster. 

Bo Tingyuan suddenly spoke, [What if I say yes?] 

That overly deep and sexy voice made Wen Cishu’s ears feel as if they were being caressed by his warm fingers. 

To alleviate the sudden strange feeling, he deliberately lifted his chin, pulling up a smile, teasing, “Well, it’s too late now.” 

But just as he met Bo Tingyuan’s eyes, he noticed that beneath the thick eyebrows, the dark green pupils were sharper and more direct than usual. 

Under his focused gaze, Wen Cishu felt a shameful illusion of being naked. 

His smile unconsciously slowly faded. 

One lying down, one standing, one looking up, one looking down. 

In the dim light, the atmosphere subtly turned ambiguous. 

Wen Cishu almost saw himself reflected in Bo Tingyuan’s eyes, recalling the book’s description, he couldn’t help but softly ask, “Do you have something to tell me?” 

Bo Tingyuan didn’t speak immediately, and Wen Cishu suddenly felt parched. 

His heart suddenly seemed to rise, generating a strong sense of anticipation and impulse from deep within. 

After a few seconds, Bo Tingyuan’s right hand emerged from his robe pocket. 

Wen Cishu thought he was going to say something, but instead saw the flat square box in his hand. 

His heart, which had been up and down, finally settled, and he couldn’t help but lower his head, frowning slightly, muttering, “If you don’t use your mouth, donate it.” 

“Hmm?” 

Bo Tingyuan sat by the bed, opening the box while watching his expression. 

Wen Cishu always felt he had some unspoken issue, not ready to share, so he thought there was no rush and said, “Nothing.” 

He slightly straightened up. 

Bo Tingyuan reached out to brush aside his falling hair. 

The silky long hair slipped through his distinct fingers, lingering as if reluctant to part. 

Wen Cishu looked down, studying the soft jade bracelet in the box, small bamboo segments forming a circle, the quality was exceptionally rare. 

He thought, prying open Bo Tingyuan’s mouth might be harder than climbing to the heavens, so he raised his left hand, “Put it on for me.” 

Bo Tingyuan supported his hand. 

The warm skin was softer than the jade, the delicate skin faintly showing blue veins. 

The bracelet was slowly slipped over the long, white hand, pulled to the narrow wrist. 

“Hiss…” 

Wen Cishu couldn’t help but wince, his eyebrows furrowing, “It’s so cold.” 

With his slight intake of breath, his neck lifted slightly, pulling the slender collarbone into a sexy hollow. 

His pajamas moved slightly, the skin between the collar dyed with soft light, like warm fragrant jade. 

Bo Tingyuan’s eyes darkened, like a cold underground spring flowing through. 

Wen Cishu, focused on the bracelet, didn’t notice his expression. 

“Where did it come from?” 

Bo Tingyuan didn’t hear his words, his gaze seemingly turning into a dark green snake, uncontrollably slipping into the soft collar, wrapping around the warm skin… 

He suddenly stood up, “You have to get up early tomorrow, rest.” 

Wen Cishu was stunned, sensing his unusual behavior. 

He listened carefully, faintly hearing Bo Tingyuan heading to the bathroom. 

Hmm? Was he in a hurry to use the bathroom?