Rong Wangzhi was asking about buff prices, but 250 replied that there were no prices; all buffs were arranged by the main system through calculations. There’s no pricing, and they’ve never heard of cheats.

Rong Wangzhi: [Useless.]

250: …

250: [Can I interview you about your thought process, host? How did you get to this point? I’m really curious, really want to know!]

Rong Wangzhi: [Mute.]

Meanwhile, Cheng Leyan was grieving the loss of his abs, trapped in deep sorrow. 419 urged in his mind: [Get a grip, host! These buffs can be used repeatedly. Though it seems random, there are patterns. My previous host often used the same buff for a lifetime. If you work hard, anything is possible!]

Cheng Leyan, uninterested in the empty promises, replied listlessly: [Oh.]

419 played his trump card: [Think of the villa you’re about to get, host! What’s with this lack of motivation now!]

Cheng Leyan: [Alright.]

He wasn’t sure of Rong Wangzhi’s current condition, whether he could hear him or not, but he had to report his task to his boss. So he told the vegetative husband about meeting Fang Yin.

As soon as he finished, the phone rang.

It was Xiang Jingzhou, that drama king, apologizing for the earlier mess and saying his mom was so upset her chest hurt, she had to go to the hospital and was still on an IV.

Cheng Leyan: Huh? Is that supposed to be a good thing? Let me know about more good things like that next time!

Cheng Leyan’s few words led to Xiang’s mom scolding Xiang Jingzhou for ages, and he still had recordings of it. He sent them over, hoping these scumbags would tear each other apart.

After some meaningless small talk with Xiang Jingzhou and hanging up, he couldn’t help but curse: “Stupid sword guy! Fooling people for love was bad enough, but for money?! Once I get my money back, I’ll make sure you regret it!”

Rong Wangzhi finally stopped fretting over abs, focusing on listening to Cheng Leyan curse the sword guy. After the whole ordeal, he had a vague understanding: it seemed like when Cheng Leyan was younger, he was conned out of money by this jerk—a weak, helpless, pitiable Cheng Leyan, now humbly trying to get his money back at the right moment.

Cheng Leyan was very capable and kind-hearted, but a bit too naive, easily deceived.

Rong Wangzhi had several ways to help, but the main problem was how to communicate.

System 250 interjected speechlessly: [But Host, I didn’t see any weakness or helplessness in him. Did we hear different things? He was full of energy while cursing!]

Rong Wangzhi: [System, Cheng Leyan is much better at getting things done than you. Ever heard of someone at the bottom trash-talking the top performer to win favor?]

System 250: …silently remained quiet.

Cheng Leyan lamented his lost muscles a bit more, then began massaging Rong Wangzhi’s whole body.

He said earnestly, “Hubby, wake up soon.”

And give me that villa, please.

Rong Wangzhi stayed motionless, as if he were asleep.

*

In the following days, Cheng Leyan observed for a few days, mainly monitoring the caregivers’ work. Both caregivers were diligent, turning him every two hours like clockwork, massaging, patting his back, moving joints, and performing basic rehab actions like standing up in bed.

A nurse also came regularly for hot compresses and acupuncture, all in orderly fashion. Rong Wangzhi was well cared for.

Cheng Leyan’s “luck boost” routine became a daily affair too.

Every morning, he read various silly news and motivational snippets to Rong Wangzhi, hoping to inspire his spirit.

He also sat with Zhuozhuo to tap an electronic wooden fish for cyber virtues. But per hubby’s request, he stopped the sutra chanting, turning wooden fish tapping into pure “dong dong dong” sounds, which was oddly stress-relieving.

At night, their parent-child reading time continued by Rong Wangzhi’s bedside on the blanket. He read picture books with Zhuozhuo and dabbled in “Criminal Law,” nipping any future legal issues in the bud.

Gradually, both he and Zhuozhuo got used to staying by Rong Wangzhi’s bed even during the day. That large, thick blanket became their little territory, playing with blocks and toys there.

During free time, Cheng Leyan often gave Rong Wangzhi massages or wiped him down himself.

Somehow, something worked. Two weeks later, upon a routine checkup at the hospital, the results were surprisingly positive.

Doctors noted that his brain activity was abnormally active—a good sign—and offered an optimistic prognosis for the first time: Mr. Rong has a very good chance of waking up.

Mama Rong was moved to tears on the spot.

She decided on the spot not to wait for the three-month probation, immediately giving Cheng Leyan a 20% salary increase.

Cheng Leyan was moved to tears right alongside.

A few days later, it was time for Rong’s Grandma’s birthday banquet.

The banquet was set for Sunday, so Mama Rong sent a car on Saturday afternoon, suggesting a small gathering tonight as there would be many people tomorrow.

Rong Wangzhi was also wheeled in. Mama Rong’s words were: “You two are married, how can you be apart? Boosting luck needs to be continuous, so continue boosting! Boost it!”

Cheng Leyan: “…Boost, boost, boost, my Chinese dragon?”

The Rong Family Old Residence was so big that it took five minutes driving from the front gate to the main house door. Cheng Leyan was dazzled; it felt like a park.

Passionately raving in his mind: [System Father, so this is the life of capitalism. Too extravagant, too wasteful, too much! Why can’t there be a spot for me among such wealthy people!]

System: …

Added the label “rich family son-in-law” to host.

Cheng Leyan initially thought he’d get to see Rong Papa and Mama Rong at dinner, perfect for discussing Rong Wangzhi’s will, but unexpectedly, the dinner only included Mama Rong, Rong’s Grandma, him, and Zhuozhuo.

Rong Papa wasn’t there, and Rong Papa’s brother, the whole Second Family, was absent too.

Was this… about him? Did they think their absence would intimidate him or something? Cheng Leyan found it amusing. Even rich families are this childish?

Mama Rong remained calm: “They have things going on, just ignore them.”

Rong’s Grandma was equally nonchalant: “Yep, fewer people means less fuss. Zhuozhuo, come to great-grandma’s side! Oh dear, has Zhuozhuo gained weight? I think Wangzhi seems fatter too; they both look healthier. Xiao Cheng, good job. Nian Nian, let’s increase Xiao Cheng’s allowance! My treat!”

Mama Rong: “Mom, no need. I was already planning to increase his pay by 20%. Let’s make it 30% now, with an added annual 14th-month salary.”

Cheng Leyan beamed with delight: “Oh Grandma, Mama, you’re both too kind! Here, Mama, let me pour you some drink. Grandma, no drink for you, just this barley tea—it lowers blood sugar.”

Such enthusiasm.

He was naturally good at livening up the atmosphere, and it worked on Mama Rong and Rong’s Grandma, making dinner a delight for all.

After dinner, Cheng Leyan returned to settle Rong Wangzhi in.

Rong Wangzhi had a designated room at the old residence, in the same building as Rong Papa and Mama Rong. He stayed on the top floor—a suite with an attached kid’s room. He used it whenever he brought Zhuozhuo here. The caregivers stayed in a different building’s guest rooms. He planned to stay with Rong Wangzhi that night to better care for him.

Of course, the big bed was for Sugar Daddy. He had a single bed moved into the bedroom.

After tidying up, Zhuozhuo expressed he could play on his own, so Cheng Leyan went to report his recent work to Mama Rong.

Meanwhile, Mama Rong briefed him a bit about Rong Family’s structure.

Rong Wangzhi and Mama Rong were from the Main House. Rong Wangzhi’s dad had a younger brother, making up the Second House.

The Second House also had an only child, named Rong Lizhi, who wasn’t married and often worked overseas. His son, four years old, stayed locally. Nowadays, everyone lived in the old residence, in different buildings.

Mama Rong made it clear: “Zhuozhuo holds 3% of Rong’s shares, left to him by the Old Master, which Second House has been eyeing for long. Tomorrow, with more people at home, keep an eye on Zhuozhuo.”

Cheng Leyan nodded: “Got it, Mom.”

After their talk, he went downstairs to find Zhuozhuo.

The elevator had barely stopped; the doors hadn’t opened yet when he heard a child yelling, “Give it to me, it’s mine!”

That noise could burst eardrums.

Alarmed, Cheng Leyan hurried out the elevator, finding a slightly older boy tugging a toy from Zhuozhuo’s hands with force.

It was the Pikachu toy they got from a KFC kid’s meal.

Cheng Leyan was stingy with himself but generous with Zhuozhuo, who now had loads of toys. However, his favorite was always that Pikachu, which he carried everywhere.

Zhuozhuo’s eyes were red, tears threatening to spill, yet he clung tightly to the Pikachu.

Babysitters hovered around, advising, “Young Master Zihan, don’t snatch,” but didn’t move an inch.

The boy was older, stronger, and close to winning the tug-of-war. Cheng Leyan’s blood pressure spiked as he raised his voice: “Your brother is still playing with it; don’t snatch his toy!”

He quickly rushed over, grabbing the Pikachu and giving it back to Zhuozhuo.

The hornet’s nest was stirred. While Zhuozhuo stayed composed, the other child plopped on the floor, wailing and kicking with endless screaming.

The wails were like magic attacks; Cheng Leyan’s head buzzed.

This was the child of the Rong Family’s Second House, cousin to Zhuozhuo, named Rong Zihan.

Yes, “Zihan.” Even the name suggested what kind of child he was.

He played a role in “Imprisoned Love” as basically a clownish, incompetence spoiled brat. When Zhuozhuo began showing interest in the main character Shou, this guy tried interfering, only to be slapped down.

Didn’t expect him to be a brat from a young age!

A babysitter tried to soothe him but faced wild kicks from the brat, unable to pick him up.

The babysitter looked helpless, didn’t greet Cheng Leyan, and instead turned to Zhuozhuo: “What do we do, making Young Master Zihan cry? Young Master Zhuozhuo, you’re sensible. Maybe give your toy to your brother. Kids should learn to share.”

Zhuozhuo, rattled, clung to his toy, looking up at Cheng Leyan.

Cheng Leyan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, firmly standing in front, saying, “Don’t talk to the child. Talk to me. This toy belongs to our Zhuozhuo. He still wants to play, doesn’t want to share. Teach your Young Master Zihan manners, not telling other kids to yield.”

At those words, Zhuozhuo visibly relaxed, but Zihan on the floor threw a bigger tantrum, increasing his volume till her eardrums ached.

Cheng Leyan was speechless. But he had a method to handle such kids; he suddenly feigned surprise, pointing towards the elevator, gasping: “What’s that!?”

This distraction tactic works every time. Sure enough, the brat’s attention wavered, stopping his cries, dumbly focusing where he pointed.

Cheng Leyan continued, feigning shock: “It’s Santa Claus!? Oh! Santa said, naughty kids get no gifts this year! Alright, Santa, Zhuozhuo isn’t a naughty kid.”

With that, he picked up Zhuozhuo, heading towards the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, amplified cries echoed outside, almost lifting the roof.

Thankfully, he was going up, out of sight, out of mind.

This brat isn’t disciplined at home; plenty will teach him later.

Back in the room, Zhuozhuo was still a bit down.

Cheng Leyan lowered his voice, gently asking, “Baby, are you upset because your brother tried to take your toy?”

Zhuozhuo hesitated but nodded.

He thought for a moment, taking Cheng Leyan’s phone, typing quietly: [Wouldn’t it be better to let him have it? Shouldn’t we learn to share?]

To improve his speech, Cheng Leyan usually discouraged Zhuozhuo from using typing to communicate. This time, it showed Zhuozhuo had real concerns.

Looking into the little one’s eyes, he earnestly said: “Baby, remember, your things are always yours. If you don’t want to share, then don’t share—you don’t need to act obedient and sensible for adult praise. No need to be a ‘good kid’ to please adults this way. If someone throws a tantrum, it’s their issue, not yours. Don’t shoulder these consequences.”

Cheng Leyan himself had a people-pleasing tendency but didn’t want Zhuozhuo to be like him.

The little guy seemed uncertain but nodded.

Cheng Leyan hugged him: “Baby, if anyone tries taking your toy again, be brave and say, ‘It’s mine!’ Stepdad’s got your back!”

This time, the little one nodded firmly again.

“Mine,” he remembered.

Kids quarreling was just a minor incident, but it involved other Rong Family members, so Cheng Leyan texted Mama Rong to report it.

Mama Rong was extremely upset, sending a barrage of 59-second voice messages scolding the Second House, then transferred him 10,000 yuan, praising his action of retrieving the toy.

Cheng Leyan: ?????

Is making money always this easy for rich folks?!

Mama Rong said she would go scold the Second House right away. Later, once Zhuozhuo slept, the old residence’s butler knocked on the door, saying Young Master Zihan was waiting downstairs to apologize in person.

Seems Mama Rong’s influence at home is substantial!

Cheng Leyan followed the butler downstairs and saw the tutor holding little Zihan waiting.

The brat who’d thrown a tantrum was now docile, head down, well-behaved. He sniffled, approaching Cheng Leyan, bowing, muttering: “Sorry.”

No way would Cheng Leyan seriously hold a grudge against a four-year-old: “No worries. But I can’t forgive you on Zhuozhuo’s behalf; apologize to him tomorrow, alright?”

Zihan then offered him a straw-punched carton of Wangzai milk, timidly asking: “I’m apologizing to you first, so…can you forgive me?”

Cheng Leyan accepted the milk: “Sure, I forgive you.”

Zihan sniffled again, looking up with those pleading eyes: “Could you have a sip?”

Amused, Cheng Leyan took a few sips of Wangzai milk: “Alright, I’ve had some.”

Zihan finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Quite earnest, it seemed the child was redeemable. Thinking so, Cheng Leyan returned upstairs. Then, after washing up, he planned to play with his phone a bit before sleeping.

But midway through his shower, things felt off.

He was hot, really hot. His entire body felt heated, his mind dizzy.

He shut off the water, haphazardly drying off, reaching out to the system: [System Father, what’s happening? I feel weird.]

419: [Hold on, Host. Your heart rate is abnormal; I’m checking.]

His mind was too chaotic to catch the system’s words.

He felt as if drunk, too hot, vision blurred, unable to walk straight. Without clothes, he collapsed onto the bed.

A certain reaction was too conspicuous.

Crap, did I eat something I shouldn’t have? But I didn’t eat or drink anything today.

He strained to keep his mind working, but his consciousness was getting more confused.

Reaching toward the side, he attempted to cover himself with a blanket.

Instead, he touched something else.

In a haze, Cheng Leyan muttered: “Crazy, who put sugarcane on my bed?”