Chapter 25

[The misty forest was even more... than the little unicorn had imagined.]

His usually cool voice was now low and gentle.

In his distinctive cadence, the syllables suddenly seemed to take on a special rhythm, like the white foam at the edge of the sea, washing gently into Wen Cishu's ears, wave after wave.

"Wait a second." Wen Cishu hurried to stop him.

Why had he suddenly started just like that?

He wasn't ready yet!

"Hmm?" Watching him suddenly scoot upward, Bo Tingyuan naturally lifted an arm around him and drew him closer. "Is this the wrong section?"

"No." Beneath the covers, Wen Cishu quietly shifted his long legs again, nestling them against his. As Bo Tingyuan's fingers brushed the hair away from his face, he blinked up at him. "All right, go ahead."

But Bo Tingyuan seemed not to hear. He gazed down at his gentle, lovely face, only resuming the story half a minute later.

Breathing in the familiar scent of agarwood, Wen Cishu let his eyelids droop halfway.

The little monkey's passionate voice made Wen Cishu feel as if he had become the little unicorn in the story, startling at every adventure and danger, utterly engrossed.

Bo Tingyuan's unhurried storytelling, however, was thoroughly beguiling. It made one think he was the story's author, even faintly conveying the creator's love and care for the adorable unicorn, filling the listener with warmth and hope.

French was an exceptionally romantic language to begin with. Read aloud by Bo Tingyuan, it was even more enchanting.

Wen Cishu pressed down the corners of his mouth, which had begun to lift.

I really ought to haul the little monkey over here and make him listen properly to Big Daddy reading a French fairy tale!

For the next ten-odd minutes, the only sounds in the room were Bo Tingyuan's voice and the faint rustle of turning pages.

Wen Cishu listened with his eyes closed, but a subtle restlessness stirred inside him.

Never mind sleeping. He now felt like a pool of water churned into turmoil by a tornado.

Because a finger rested against the side of his face.

As the unicorn's adventure unfolded, it kept stroking back and forth with intimate affection.

From his chin to his cheek, then to his earlobe. Two fingers even pinched the soft, plump lobe, gently rubbing it over and over.

Wen Cishu abruptly opened his eyes, thinking restlessly:

You're supposed to be reading me to sleep, not giving me insomnia, okay!

Bo Tingyuan set down the book and turned toward him. "Hmm?"

Feeling the warmth drawing closer, Wen Cishu curved his exquisite phoenix eyes and said softly, "I was looking through a book of French poetry a few days ago, and some of the grammar was beyond me. Since you're here, why don't you read it to me so I can learn?"

Bo Tingyuan pulled up his covers and suggested, "It's a little late today. How about the day after tomorrow?"

Wen Cishu quickly slipped out a finger, his lustrous, pink-white fingertip poking the index finger Bo Tingyuan had resting on the edge of the covers. He murmured pleadingly, "I don't think it's even nine yet."

From this angle, Bo Tingyuan's dark green eyes held a stern authority. He looked extremely difficult to persuade.

Wen Cishu's dark eyes shifted as he looked away, but his finger hooked around Bo Tingyuan's long index finger. His voice was as soft as a mosquito's hum. "Can you read it today? Daddy~"

Anticipation and nerves left him apprehensive, and he even held his breath.

Bo Tingyuan gazed at his lowered eyelids. His long, thick lashes interlaced one by one, like tiny hooks tugging and scratching at his heart.

There were captivating glimmers in those ink-black eyes, too, making him unable to bear refusing him coldly.

Half a minute later, he spoke. "Where's the book? I'll get it."

Suppressing his delight, Wen Cishu propped himself up slightly. "On the bookshelf. Rene Char's poetry collection."

"Lie still." Bo Tingyuan answered his raised voice without turning around.

"Oh." Wen Cishu obediently lay back down. At the thought of Bo Tingyuan reading Rene Char's poetry in that sexy voice in just a few minutes, even the lamplight reflected in his eyes became dazzling starlight.

But as soon as Bo Tingyuan picked up the book and walked back, he composed himself.

Bo Tingyuan leaned back and opened it to the bookmarked page. "This one?"

"Yes."

Intense anticipation filled Wen Cishu's heart like soft cream. Before he had tasted anything, he was already floating on clouds of sweetness.

This time, he volunteered, "I'm ready. Go ahead."

[Je n'entrerai pas dans votre coeur...]①

Wen Cishu was acutely aware of his ears slowly growing burning hot under Bo Tingyuan's deep, sexy cadence.

It was even more potent than being rubbed and pinched directly, almost as though Bo Tingyuan were breathing into his ear.

Amid that inexplicable torment, Wen Cishu clutched the covers.

He pulled them up little by little until they covered the top of his head.

To his great embarrassment, his entire body was burning up, and he desperately wanted to scream.

At the line "before no trace of the night could be found," Bo Tingyuan's voice abruptly stopped.

The air instantly grew gentle and quiet.

Wen Cishu thought, He doesn't think I've fallen asleep, does he?

He was just about to speak when a pair of strong arms suddenly embraced him, lifting him, covers and all, onto Bo Tingyuan's waist.

"Hmm?" At the unexpected movement, Wen Cishu's arms unconsciously climbed around his shoulders.

With his back against the headboard, Bo Tingyuan slowly bent his long legs, bringing him a little closer.

His fingers rested against Wen Cishu's face, his thumb brushing away the strands of hair at the corner of his lips. "Does your lower back still hurt?"

Now straddling his waist with his knees spread, Wen Cishu's pupils dilated slightly.

Although this was also how his lower back had been massaged on the sofa earlier...

"...It's much better."

Wen Cishu pressed down slightly with his knees, trying to lift himself a little.

"Mm. Then I'll keep reading."

Bo Tingyuan's green eyes turned to the poetry collection, and his right palm slid from Wen Cishu's shoulder to his waist, slowly kneading.

His touch made Wen Cishu's waist go weak, and he sank back down just after lifting himself. Hearing no change in Bo Tingyuan's voice, he dared not read too much into it.

But Bo Tingyuan's voice drew closer and closer. Before he knew it, the left arm holding the book had completely encircled him, and those lips were against his ear.

His face as pink as cherry blossoms, Wen Cishu simply leaned against his shoulder, hiding his burning face in embarrassment.

His pajamas were countless times thinner and softer than his earlier clothes. Bo Tingyuan's palm might as well have been resting directly on his soft waist.

As he read the poem, the tip of his nose lightly brushed Wen Cishu's temple.

The tender, silky skin carried a sweet fragrance.

Wen Cishu's mouth went dry, and his breathing grew heavier.

By now, Bo Tingyuan's lips were pressed fully against his ear as he slowly read: [Je t'aime et tu vis en moi.]②

Hot, damp breath surged forcefully from between those thin lips into Wen Cishu's ear. He briefly closed his eyes as though unable to bear it, collapsing against his shoulder like a drooping willow. His black hair slipped loose over the crook of Bo Tingyuan's arm, spilling down like black moonlight.

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

Hearing that racing heartbeat, Bo Tingyuan furrowed his thick brows and quickly put down the book. He laid a palm over the back of Wen Cishu's heart, stroking slowly. "Take deep breaths."

Wen Cishu steadied his heartbeat, inexplicably embarrassed.

He was the one who had asked him to read, yet he couldn't handle listening.

"No, I'm fine."

Bo Tingyuan kept his palm against his back, feeling the vibrations in his chest until his breathing evened out.

He lay down with Wen Cishu in his arms and arranged the covers. "Go to sleep."

Wen Cishu took that to mean he was going back to his own side. He pressed his dry lips together. "Mm." Slowly, he closed his eyes.

But Bo Tingyuan's scent remained. He did not leave immediately, merely gazing deeply at that face of enduring beauty.

A long while later,

Wen Cishu heard his deep voice slowly say: [I won't leave tonight.]

Then he felt Bo Tingyuan gently press a rose-colored kiss to his temple.

Chapter 25

Early the next morning.

In the second-floor hallway, an agile figure raced to the bedroom door, quietly pushed it open a crack, and peered inside.

"Little Daddy?"

Bo Yiming called softly but received no response.

He cautiously pushed the door open and tiptoed inside, slowly making his way across the carpet to the bed.

In the dim light, Bo Yiming froze, staring blankly at his two daddies embracing on the bed.

Huh?

Why was Big Daddy here too?

And under his own blanket?!

Two-thirds of Wen Cishu's face was buried against Bo Tingyuan's chest, the exposed sliver resembling a crescent moon.

The back of his neck rested on one of Bo Tingyuan's arms.

Bo Tingyuan's other arm lay across Wen Cishu's body, holding him close to his chest.

Seeing such a scene for the first time, Bo Yiming's amber eyes filled with shock.

Anxiously, he bent down and gently pushed Big Daddy's shoulder. "Big Daddy? Wake up."

Then he lifted Big Daddy's arm, trying to make him let go, only for Big Daddy to hold him even tighter.

Naturally, all that commotion woke both daddies.

When he realized what was happening, Wen Cishu had only half his face showing. The instant he opened his eyes, eight hundred exclamation marks flashed through his unfocused black eyes.

"Uh..."

Bo Tingyuan woke too, opening his green eyes to look at his son. "Yiming, what is it?"

Bo Yiming said angrily, "Big Daddy, your arm is so heavy! You're crushing Little Daddy! Let go!"

Wen Cishu: ...Just let me faint on the spot, okay.

Bo Tingyuan lifted his arm and settled Wen Cishu back down in his embrace, saying quietly, "It's still early. Sleep a little longer."

His morning voice was slightly husky and sounded warm.

Wen Cishu rubbed his ear against the covers and immediately pretended to sleep, closing his eyes:

I'll leave the little monkey to Big Daddy. Little Daddy's playing dead for now.