Bo Tingyuan’s room was only lit by a wall lamp. 

By the desk, he took off his frameless glasses, habitually pinching the bridge of his nose. As he lowered his gaze, his eyes fell on the drawer below. 

The dim light behind him cast shadows over his long, defined brow bones, and his green eyes were as dark as a deep pool. 

Half a minute later, Bo Tingyuan decided to open the drawer. 

With a slight sound from the drawer’s rollers, a stark white prescription box appeared in the heavy shadows. 

He hadn’t touched it since bringing it back the day before yesterday. 

Bo Tingyuan opened the box, revealing a bottle of medicine and a handwritten card. 

On the card, Doctor Xu had written a note in English. 

[Mr. Bo, I believe we discussed the side effects of the suppressive medication quite clearly during our first consultation. I trust that as a long-term user, you have a mature understanding of this. I hope you will use the medication cautiously. (Wishing you all the best)] 

Doctor Xu’s words were meant to remind Bo Tingyuan, but she wouldn’t have expected that it would immediately bring him back to last Saturday night. 

He was outside the screen, unable to reach him. 

And this special situation would occur again tomorrow night. 

In an instant, the card was shoved back into the box. 

Bo Tingyuan smoothly opened the medicine bottle, took out a pill, and swallowed it with a glass of water from the table. 

In the dim light, he quickly took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the sofa, and unbuttoned his black shirt as he walked towards the bathroom. 

– 

A dozen minutes later, the screen was pushed open with a slight sound. 

Wen Cishu pretended to be calm, leaning against the pillow, about to speak, when he saw Bo Tingyuan walking over in a robe, and was slightly stunned. 

The black and gold robe draped over his sculpted, perfect body, resembling a European medieval monk. 

His expression was sparse, even indifferent, yet it was inexplicably filled with an indescribable allure. 

When Bo Tingyuan reached the bedside and picked up a fairy tale book, Wen Cishu couldn’t help but clutch the edge of the blanket, feeling too shy to know how to start speaking. 

Bo Tingyuan sat by the bed, raised his hand to brush his cheek, his thumb sweeping over his brow, and softly asked, “Are you sleepy already?” 

Wen Cishu felt the warmth of his fingertips, probably because he had just taken a bath. 

He shook his head slightly, his hair brushing against the silk pillow, making a soft rustling sound. 

Feeling the warmth of his body as he approached, Wen Cishu awkwardly brought up Little Monkey. “Did you make some agreement with Yi Ming? Did you promise to go horseback riding with him?” 

“No.” 

Bo Tingyuan pulled up the blanket covering his son, leaning against the pillow. “My mother said she missed him and called him tonight.” 

“Oh…” 

Wen Cishu understood. 

Bo Tingyuan: “Yi Ming said he wants to visit France in a while.” 

Wen Cishu: Is this kid planning to ‘throw himself into the net’ at a boarding school? 

“Does Yi Ming’s grandmother really want him to study in France?” 

“She doesn’t know about it yet, I haven’t mentioned it.” 

Bo Tingyuan reached for the fairy tale book, leisurely flipping it open. 

Wen Cishu relaxed after hearing this, instinctively paying attention to his every move. 

Bo Tingyuan’s right hand turned the pages, while his left hand held the book. 

On his long ring finger, the wedding ring emitted a low-key, gentle glow. 

Unlike Wen Cishu’s ring, Bo Tingyuan’s ring bore the marks of ten years of wear and tear. 

Especially the two circles on the ring, made of different materials, with the gold being softer compared to the hard platinum. 

No matter how much the owner valued and carefully handled it, wearing it daily inevitably left tiny scratches. 

Bo Tingyuan looked at the seemingly distracted person. “Where did Yi Ming leave off? Do you remember?” 

Wen Cishu, following his deep voice, instinctively turned to look at him, but was gently pressed back by his hand. 

“Lie flat.” 

“Oh.” 

Wen Cishu’s hand rested on the edge of the blanket, lifting a finger to poke the fairy tale book, looking up at his gentle green eyes. 

“Yesterday, we just finished the chapter where the Moon Goddess grants the unicorn its powers. In the next chapter, the unicorn, with its powers, sets out to find and save its little friends. There’s a table of contents.” 

This fairy tale book was a gift from Wen Cishu’s mother, and she personally translated it into Chinese. 

Bo Tingyuan flipped to the page according to the table of contents and began reading the story in French. 

[A misty forest, more than the little unicorn imagined…] 

His usually cool voice was now deep and gentle. 

In his unique tone, the syllables seemed to have a special rhythm, like the white foam at the edge of the waves, gently flowing into Wen Cishu’s ears. 

“Wait a minute.” Wen Cishu hurriedly stopped him. 

Why did he suddenly start reading? 

He wasn’t ready yet! 

“Hmm?” Bo Tingyuan looked at him as he scooted up, naturally wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer. “Is this section wrong?” 

“No.” Wen Cishu’s long legs under the blanket quietly moved closer to his, and when his fingers brushed the hair by his face, he blinked at him. “Okay, start now.” 

Bo Tingyuan seemed not to hear, looking down at his gentle and captivating appearance, and only resumed reading the story half a minute later. 

Wen Cishu inhaled the familiar scent of sandalwood, his eyelids slightly drooping. 

Little Monkey’s passionate voice would make Wen Cishu feel as if he had transformed into the little unicorn in the story, fully immersed in the adventures and dangers. 

Bo Tingyuan’s storytelling, however, was full of allure, making one think he was the creator of the story, subtly conveying the creator’s love and care for the adorable unicorn, bringing warmth and hope to the listener. 

French itself is extremely romantic, and when read by Bo Tingyuan, it was even more enchanting. 

Wen Cishu’s slightly upturned lips were pressed back down. 

—He should bring Little Monkey over to listen to Big Daddy’s French fairy tale! 

In the span of ten minutes, the room was filled only with Bo Tingyuan’s voice and the soft sound of turning pages. 

Wen Cishu listened with his eyes closed, feeling a subtle restlessness. 

Forget about sleeping; he felt like a pool of water stirred by a tornado, unable to calm down. 

Because beside his face, a finger was gently caressing. 

As the unicorn in the fairy tale embarked on its adventure, the finger repeatedly and affectionately stroked from his chin to his cheek and then to his earlobe, even pinching the soft, full earlobe gently. 

Wen Cishu suddenly opened his eyes, thinking restlessly: 

You’re supposed to be telling me a story to help me sleep, not to keep me awake! 

Bo Tingyuan put down the book, turned to look at him. “Hmm?” 

Wen Cishu felt the increasing warmth, his delicate phoenix eyes curving as he softly said, “I was flipping through a French poetry book a few days ago, and some of the grammar was beyond me. Since you’re here, why don’t you read it to me, and I’ll learn a bit.” 

Bo Tingyuan pulled up his blanket, suggesting, “It’s a bit late today, how about the day after tomorrow?” 

Wen Cishu quickly reached out a finger, the pinkish-white tip poking at Bo Tingyuan’s index finger resting on the blanket’s edge, pleadingly murmuring, “It’s not even nine yet.” 

From this angle, Bo Tingyuan’s dark green eyes had a serious, authoritative look, making him seem hard to persuade. 

Wen Cishu’s black eyes shifted, moving his gaze away, but his finger hooked around Bo Tingyuan’s long index finger, whispering softly like a mosquito, “Can you read it today? Daddy~” 

He was both expectant and nervous, his heart pounding, holding his breath. 

Bo Tingyuan looked at his lowered eyelids, the long, thick lashes interwoven like little hooks, tugging at his heart. 

The captivating light in his dark eyes made it hard for him to coldly refuse. 

Half a minute later, he spoke, “Where’s the book? I’ll get it.” 

Wen Cishu suppressed his joy, slightly propping himself up. “On the bookshelf, Rene Char’s poetry collection.” 

“Stay put, don’t move.” Bo Tingyuan said without looking back, following the raised voice. 

“Oh.” Wen Cishu obediently lay back down, thinking about how in a few minutes, Bo Tingyuan would be reading Rene Char’s poetry with that sexy voice, the light in his eyes turned into brilliant starlight. 

However, when Bo Tingyuan returned with the book, he immediately composed himself. 

Bo Tingyuan leaned back, opening the page with the bookmark. “This one?” 

“Yes.” 

The strong sense of anticipation filled Wen Cishu’s heart like soft cream, making him feel sweet and on cloud nine even before tasting anything. 

This time he took the initiative to say, “I’m ready, start.” 

[Je n’entrerai pas dans votre coeur…]① 

Wen Cishu was acutely aware that his ears were becoming hot under Bo Tingyuan’s deep, sexy tone. 

More so than when they were directly touched earlier, it was as if Bo Tingyuan was breathing into his ear. 

In the inexplicable discomfort, Wen Cishu clutched the blanket. 

The blanket was slowly pulled up until it covered his head. 

Embarrassingly, at this moment, he felt hot all over, wanting to scream. 

When the poem reached the line “before the night is untraceable,” Bo Tingyuan’s voice abruptly stopped. 

The air suddenly became gentle and quiet. 

Wen Cishu thought: Could he think I’m asleep? 

Just as he was about to speak, he was suddenly embraced by strong arms, the blanket and all, lifted onto his waist. 

“Hmm?” Wen Cishu, facing the sudden movement, found his arms unknowingly wrapped around his shoulders. 

Bo Tingyuan leaned back against the headboard, slowly bending his long legs, pulling him closer. 

His fingers rested on his face, the thumb brushing the hair by his lips. “Does your waist still hurt?” 

At this moment, Wen Cishu was straddling his waist, his pupils slightly dilated. 

Although they had been massaging his waist on the sofa earlier, this was… 

“…Much better.” 

Wen Cishu’s knees pressed slightly, trying to lift himself a bit. 

“Hmm, then I’ll continue reading.” 

Bo Tingyuan’s green eyes turned to the poetry book, his right hand sliding from his shoulder to his waist, slowly massaging. 

Wen Cishu’s waist softened under his touch, the movement he had just made to lift himself fell back down, seeing that his voice remained unchanged, he dared not think too much. 

But Bo Tingyuan’s voice was getting closer, unknowingly, the hand holding the book had completely embraced him, and his lips were already pressed against his ear. 

Wen Cishu’s face turned as pink as cherry blossoms, so he leaned against his shoulder, shamefully hiding his burning face. 

The sleepwear was much thinner and softer than the clothes earlier, making Bo Tingyuan’s palm feel as if it was directly touching the soft waist. 

As he read the poem, his nose gently brushed against Wen Cishu’s temple. 

The tender, smooth skin exuded a sweet fragrance. 

Wen Cishu’s mouth was dry, his breath growing heavier. 

At this moment, Bo Tingyuan’s lips were fully pressed against his ear, slowly reading: [Je t’aime et tu vis en moi.]② 

From his thin lips, the warm breath forcefully entered Wen Cishu’s ear, making him close his eyes as if unable to bear it, like a willow tree leaning against his shoulder, black hair cascading down his arm, spilling like black moonlight. 

His chest rose and fell, his heart pounding like a drum. 

Bo Tingyuan heard the accelerated heartbeat, furrowing his thick brows, quickly putting down the book, his palm covering his back, slowly soothing. “Take a deep breath.” 

Wen Cishu steadied his heartbeat, feeling inexplicably ashamed. 

He had asked him to read, yet couldn’t handle it. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

Bo Tingyuan’s palm remained on his back, feeling the chest’s vibrations until the breath steadied. 

He held him as they lay down, adjusting the blanket. “Sleep.” 

Wen Cishu understood he meant to return to his side. He pressed his dry lips together. “Hmm.” Slowly closing his eyes. 

But Bo Tingyuan’s presence lingered, he didn’t leave immediately, only deeply gazing at the eternally beautiful face. 

For a long time, 

Wen Cishu heard his deep voice slowly say: [Tonight, I won’t leave.] 

Then, he felt Bo Tingyuan gently place a rose-colored kiss on his temple.