Page 2

The commotion drew the attention of those on the first floor.

The elevator doors opened, and Wen Cishu slowly stepped out, supporting himself on Auntie Zhong, his long brows faintly knitted above his pale face.

Several people who rarely saw Mr. Wen froze, as though they were watching the lead character make his entrance in a movie.

Uncle Xu, the Bo family's butler, asked in surprise, "Sir, why have you come downstairs?"

Only then did Bo Yiming notice that his Little Dad had come down.

He had just jumped onto the coffee table and looked over with a grin. "Little Dad, isn't the rap I just learned super good? #￥%...&*(&...￥%..."

Bo Yiming had inherited some mixed-race genes from his French-Chinese Big Dad, which, combined with Wen Cishu's East Asian genes, had given him black hair and amber eyes from birth.

As a little boy, he had been an incredibly sweet, adorable baby.

Who could have known that, before they knew it, he would grow into a brat even dogs would shun?

Wen Cishu looked up slightly at the nine-year-old brat, his brows faintly furrowed, unconsciously revealing a trace of worry.

Seeing that Little Dad had to tilt his head to look at him, Bo Yiming dutifully jumped down. "Little Dad? I want to go into show business. They say I'll be really famous with looks like mine!"

Little Dad had always granted his every wish, so he said this as though it were a matter of course, as if he could enter the industry and become a star tomorrow.

"What?"

Wen Cishu was still unsettled. He had received too much information today, and his thoughts kept drifting uncontrollably. Hearing this out of the blue, he didn't immediately register it.

"I want to enter a talent show! My classmate said there's a company recruiting boy trainees from nine to fifteen."

The restless little monkey couldn't stay still and jumped onto the sofa again.

Uncle Xu was so frightened that he reached out to catch him, his voice trembling like a chief eunuch in an ancient imperial court.

"My little lord! Don't fall!"

The housekeepers thought of how this red sandalwood coffee table had been a wedding gift from Old Master Bo.

Along with the entire set of expensive Chinese-style tables, chairs, and couches, every inch of that sandalwood was worth its weight in gold.

Seeing his lawless behavior, Wen Cishu stopped him in a stern tone for the first time. "Bo Yiming, get down."

Auntie Zhong and Uncle Xu couldn't help looking at him in confusion when they heard his tone.

Bo Yiming twisted his waist and swayed his hips, showing off his newly learned dance without the slightest fear.

"Little Dad, tell me if my dancing looks good first."

The moment Wen Cishu thought of how he would someday engage in things like "forcible possession" and "imprisonment

and abusive romance

," he wished he could stuff an entire criminal code into his brain first.

He struggled to suppress his palpitations and spoke slowly and softly. "Yiming, at your age, you need to focus on studying first."

Bo Yiming's eyes slowly widened. "Little Dad, you don't support me?"

He stamped his feet, but the solid, expensive sofa didn't budge;

nor did his Little Dad's handsome face show the slightest wavering.

He grew more anxious and shouted, "I don't care! I'm entering the talent show!"

Hearing the commotion, Uncle Xu raised a hand, first dismissing the housekeepers, drivers, bodyguards, and the others.

Bo Yiming darted between the Chinese-style sofas. "I'm going to be a top-tier idol! Little Dad, don't stand in my way! No one is allowed to!"

Wen Cishu couldn't catch his breath, and his heart began to feel uncomfortable again.

He looked around and, finding nothing suitable at hand, gave instructions in a thread of a voice. "Uncle Xu, fetch a frying pan. And get two bodyguards."

His phoenix eyes glanced at the lawless, boundlessly energetic little monkey, and he added, "Make that four bodyguards."

Bo Yiming stood on the couch, looking down at the gentle Little Dad who had always granted his every wish, his face full of surprise. "Little Dad? You've misunderstood. I'm entering a talent show, not getting into a fight. You don't need bodyguards."

"Huh?"

Uncle Xu stared in shock at Mr. Wen, who was breathing unevenly and looked ready to collapse, thinking he must have misheard.

"Go get it." Wen Cishu let out a heavy breath, his tone unmistakably commanding.

"Yes, of course."

Uncle Xu personally ran to the distant kitchen, his mind in turmoil the whole way.

Why did Mr. Wen suddenly want to "hit" the young master?

A housekeeper ran in after him and whispered, "Get a smaller one. I don't think he can bear to really hit the young master."

The Bo family had no tradition of hitting children.

Besides, because of his health, Wen Cishu especially doted on his only child, indulging and coaxing him in everything. He had never uttered a single word of reprimand, much less hit him.

The butler naturally knew this.

But his concern was something else, and he sighed. "How would he have the strength to lift a heavy pan?"

"That's true, too."

The housekeeper beat him to it, going into the kitchen first and handing him the smallest milk pan she could find.

In the living room.

The little monkey had realized that Little Dad intended to hit him and sprang onto the stairs.

"Little Dad? You're going to hit me? I'm your one and only little son! I'm so cute!"

Cute?

Wen Cishu almost laughed in anger.

Bo Yiming had been born into a pot of honey, growing up cherished and adored by the elders of both the Wen and Bo families.

He was more than confident; he was downright narcissistic.

He weakly raised a hand, pointed at the little monkey, and told the four bodyguards, "Sorry for the trouble, gentlemen. Hold him down."

The bodyguards exchanged looks.

Wen Cishu narrowed his long eyes. "Am I not allowed to give you orders?"

Seeing this, the lead bodyguard in a suit glanced at the young master, who wasn't yet ten, and hesitated awkwardly. "Sir, this..."

Wen Cishu said evenly, "I'll take responsibility if anything happens."

With that, as though unable to suppress it, he turned his pale face aside, covered his lips, and coughed softly.

The bodyguards had no choice but to steel themselves and head upstairs.

Bo Yiming let out a shriek and bolted for the second floor.

The brat was indeed agile, moving like a crazed rabbit, and, having grown up spoiled, he was utterly fearless.

But the four bodyguards were highly skilled, tall, and burly. Like eagles catching a chick, they soon had the brat under control.

They didn't dare touch the young master directly, worried they might hurt him somehow.

One of them cleverly fetched a sofa throw. After pinning down the young master's flailing limbs, they wrapped it around him several times and carried him downstairs.

Nine-year-old Bo Yiming writhed wildly, howling up at the ceiling. "I'm the future heir of the Bo family! I'm not a thief!"

The little monkey was pinned onto the sofa. Unable to break free, he shouted, "Help! Grandma Zhong, Grandpa Xu! Save me!"

Auntie Zhong couldn't bear it and bent down, about to speak.

Wen Cishu raised his eyes toward the butler, who was advancing at a turtle's pace, and asked unhurriedly, "Uncle Xu, what's wrong with your legs? Have you suddenly lost the ability to walk?"

"Thank you for your concern, sir. My arthritis was acting up. It's fine now."

Embarrassed, Uncle Xu resumed his normal gait and came forward to hand over the little milk pan.

Auntie Zhong hurriedly laid a clean white handkerchief over the handle.

Wen Cishu gripped the handle and lowered his eyes to the little white porcelain pan.

He couldn't help laughing in anger for a second time.

The milk pan's flat bottom was only as big as his palm.

Not even an adult's fist would fit through its tiny opening.

"Grandpa Xu!"

Seeing his savior, Bo Yiming thrashed all over.

But wrapped in the white blanket, he looked just like a cocoon wriggling madly.

"Call my Big Dad! Little Dad's gone crazy!"

Uncle Xu was just about to retreat when he saw Mr. Wen slowly glance his way.

Those eyes were especially deep and dark, endowed with an innate air of cool nobility. Usually dulled by illness and fatigue, they rarely looked so focused and piercing.

Uncle Xu didn't dare move either and could only earnestly persuade him. "Young master, what's so good about talent shows? Of course you should study hard. He loves you so much. He doesn't really mean to hit you. Just give in a little."

He winked in a hint, urging the young master to say something pleasing.

Bo Yiming received the "suggestion" but chose not to listen.

"No! This is my dream!"

Wen Cishu tightened his grip on the little pan and reminded the bodyguards, "Hold him steady."

Cold sweat was breaking out on the bodyguards' backs. They could only hold the young master's legs down through the blanket.

Although Bo Yiming struggled, he didn't kick at Little Dad.

One summer when he was little, he had accidentally slapped Little Dad's arm.

A red handprint had immediately risen on Little Dad's skin, even the marks of his tiny fingers distinctly visible.

Although none of the adults had blamed him at the time, it had still left a profound shock on his young mind. From then on, he had instinctively been careful never to hurt Little Dad.

Before swinging the little pan, Wen Cishu steadied his breathing. Once his body was steady, he brought it down on Bo Yiming's little bottom.

"Aaah, aaah, aaah-"

Bo Yiming was already screaming himself hoarse before he had even been hit.

When the little pan actually struck his bottom, it didn't hurt, but it was far too humiliating.

As the Bo family's young master, how could he suffer such a great humiliation? Not even from Little Dad. He began writhing even more violently.

The living room descended into chaos.

Now no one could believe it. Mr. Wen was acting completely out of character today, actually bringing himself to hit his treasured little son.

Just then, someone reported quietly, "Sir, the eldest young master is back."

The eldest young master was what the Bo household called its head, Bo Tingyuan.

The tall, long-legged man strode into the living room with a cold air.

It was none other than Bo Yiming's Big Dad, Bo Tingyuan.

Being of mixed heritage, Bo Tingyuan had more pronounced features than his son Bo Yiming, with a sharply defined face and an exceptionally tall, straight figure.

Most notably, he had a pair of dark green eyes.

A pair of rimless glasses rested on his high nose. The deep, dark green gaze refracted through the clear lenses always gave an impression of extraordinary coldness and sharpness, an inscrutable mystery.

At this moment, what met Bo Tingyuan's green eyes was his husband Wen Cishu, who had always been in poor health, swinging a little pan down onto their son's little bottom.

Wen Cishu's black hair fell like a waterfall, a thin sheen of sweat beaded his temples, and even the hand lifting the pan was trembling.

Bo Yiming raised his head and looked toward his immensely tall father standing against the light. As though he had seen a hero come to save him, he shouted for help.