Chapter 33

His voice rose with delight at the end, and he was utterly thrilled.

Bo Tingyuan looked at his bright, handsome younger son and added sternly, "If you think you aren't capable of handling this yourself yet, then-"

Before he could finish, Bo Yiming interrupted in protest. "Of course I am! I'm already nine."

Albert looked out the window regretfully.

He couldn't blame the young master. He was only nine, after all. How could he recognize President Bo's reverse psychology?

Just then, the car stopped in the hotel's quiet underground parking area.

Bo Tingyuan said briefly, "All right. Your little dad and I will switch cars. Have a good talk with Uncle Albert."

He rose with Wen Cishu in his arms, quickly stepped out of the minivan, and got into the matte silver-gray Rolls-Royce that had been waiting for some time.

Bo Yiming was eager to study the agreement, so naturally he had no objections.

Besides, his two dads had private matters to attend to. Switching cars made perfect sense.

No matter how he looked at it, Bo Yiming quickly accepted the situation.

He turned to Albert instead. "Uncle, let's get started. I'll need a lot of help from you."

The two sat together.

Albert buckled him in and began with a brief introduction to the farm.

Their car drove off first.

Then the silver-gray Rolls-Royce slowly followed.

In the back seat.

After hearing what he had said to the little monkey, Wen Cishu naturally assumed they had something to discuss.

"Did something important happen while we were away these past two days?" Something their son couldn't know about?

Bo Tingyuan looked at him, his brow creasing almost imperceptibly.

After carrying him into the car, he had let go too quickly.

He raised a hand to brush aside the curtain of long black hair hanging over Wen Cishu's nape. "Where's the allergic reaction? Did the ointment work?"

"Oh." Following the touch of his fingertips, Wen Cishu obligingly turned away. "Right here, on the back of my neck."

A redness showed through from beneath his jade-white skin.

As he moved, his slender back stretched out, the line of his spine faintly visible as it extended beneath his collar.

Wen Cishu was about to explain how the ointment had worked when he heard Bo Tingyuan address the driver.

"Master Liu, drive a little slower."

Master Liu answered without looking back, "All right."

Then the partition between the front and back seats slowly rose until it blocked them off completely.

As Wen Cishu was puzzling over this, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist and lifted him sideways onto Bo Tingyuan's lap. He immediately felt the warmth of his chest.

The deep, woody scent he had noticed before was very faint, and Wen Cishu inadvertently took a deep breath of it.

Meeting Bo Tingyuan's green eyes at close range, he blinked his phoenix eyes. "Hm?"

Bo Tingyuan took out the ointment. "Doctor Lin said it needs to be reapplied every two hours."

"No wonder it's starting to itch again."

Wen Cishu reached for it.

"I'll do it." Bo Tingyuan held the ointment in front of him and said mildly, "Unscrew it."

They were so close that the words were spoken almost against Wen Cishu's ear.

His deep, captivating voice was so powerfully beguiling that Wen Cishu naturally raised his hand and opened the cap.

Holding the ointment, Bo Tingyuan reached around his slender neck and pressed the rollerball lightly against the delicate, reddened skin.

At once, he felt the person in his arms draw his shoulders in slightly.

He lifted the ointment away and asked softly, "Does it hurt?"

Wen Cishu was leaning against his chest, his gaze falling just above the edge of his black shirt-on the prominent Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke.

He shook his head slightly and said softly, "Maybe the rollerball's too cold."

Earlier, he hadn't used the rollerball himself. He had squeezed some out and applied it with his fingers.

"Mm." Bo Tingyuan slowed his movements.

Realizing he seemed to have spent too long looking at some strange places, Wen Cishu shifted his gaze to the sunset scenery outside the window.

As the area being covered gradually expanded, he obligingly lowered his head to expose more skin.

Only when the rollerball moved back and forth along a certain vertebra did Wen Cishu belatedly ask, "Is it worse there?"

Instantly, the sensation of the rollerball vanished from his skin.

Bo Tingyuan withdrew his hand. "Done."

"Oh." Wen Cishu straightened a little and childishly spread his palm in front of him, smiling. "The cap!"

His eyes curved, his expression extraordinarily gentle as he smiled.

Bo Tingyuan drew him closer, his high nose bridge almost touching the side of his face, the tip of his nose brushing lightly over his soft earlobe.

In that intimate gesture, Wen Cishu sensed a little of a particular kind of dependence. Thinking that he might not have slept well last night, he took the ointment from his hand and slowly screwed the cap back on.

Then he watched Bo Tingyuan slowly take the ointment back and slip it into his suit pocket, as though putting away something important.

Resting a hand on his arm, Wen Cishu stroked it gently and asked softly, "Did you... not sleep well yesterday?"

Although Bo Tingyuan showed no sign of fatigue, he still felt concerned.

Bo Tingyuan's lips moved slightly beside his ear. The explanation reached his tongue, only to turn into a deep, quiet "Mm."

That single "mm" seemed to conceal exhaustion and a little unguarded honesty, softening Wen Cishu's heart until he raised his arms to embrace him.

This wasn't a suitable time to catch up on sleep, either.

As the tip of his nose brushed lightly over his earlobe again, Wen Cishu said gently, "Then go to bed early tonight."

The moment the words left his mouth, he remembered what had happened the night before last and awkwardly pressed his lower lip inward.

His previously relaxed body unconsciously grew tense, especially every inch of him touching Bo Tingyuan.

Accompanied by the warm, humid breath of speech, Wen Cishu heard him speak in his usual calm voice.

It was as brief a sentence as could be, yet it made Wen Cishu's fingertips curl involuntarily as he instinctively gripped his suit.

[Tonight, I want to hear you tell a story.]

Chapter 33

As the second episode concluded successfully, the show's official Weibo immediately posted the photos Wen Cishu had taken during filming with Rongrong's instant camera.

Most of the photos featured the four little ones, with a group picture of all eight guests right in the center.

Amid the many compliments and reluctant farewells, one comment received enough likes to rise to the top.

Hot-Blooded Mingzai Is Super Invincible: [Why didn't you release the preview for episode three on Friday? Why tell us now? Do you have no heart? Can you sleep at night?]

Little Ones Are Supermen V: [Previewing episode three during episode two makes perfect sense.]

Hot-Blooded Mingzai Is Super Invincible: [You even dare reply? Brothers and sisters, get them!]

Thousands of comments instantly poured in, all sharpening their knives for the production team.

The production team immediately followed up with a photo, instantly reversing the tide of "public opinion."

The photo had been taken against the light, but that did nothing to diminish its beauty. Instead, outlined in light and shadow, its subject displayed a uniquely elegant, aristocratic charm.

The subject was none other than Wen Cishu, sitting by the teahouse window with a brush in hand, writing.

[Wow! A new angle of our handsome man in period costume (suddenly I can't bring myself to curse, damn it.]

[A sentence from the textbook brought to life. He really is "over eight chi tall, with exceptionally beautiful features."]

[Mommy's smile on the show these past two days was so gentle, with this divine quality like a bodhisattva lowering their gaze. You definitely have photos, right? Please post a few more.]

[Mingzai's little dad made me realize for the first time that someone really can "have a kind face."]

Fortunately, besides the production team, the other three celebrity guests all posted nine-photo grids.

Zhu Wei posted over a dozen photos in one go, including five or six of Rongrong with Wen Cishu.

[I'm bouncing between their Weibos, frantically saving pictures.]

[Me too... It's because Mingzai and my wife don't have Weibo accounts, sob.]

[Thank you, Sister Wei. Here's a picture of Princess Rongrong!]

This fan posted a screenshot from the livestream of the two older boys carefully helping Rongrong down the stairs.

Zhu Wei, who was browsing Weibo, immediately thanked them and added the picture to her post.

[Rongrong loves it~ Thank you~ [red heart]]

[Little Sister Rong is so lucky, with two handsome older boys escorting her~]

[When the four little ones went off to complete their tasks, they really looked like siblings. It warmed my corpse right up.]

[Five whole days until episode three. Turning into a corpse on the spot ==]

The Bo family mansion.

The family had dinner early, after which Bo Yiming pestered his big dad with questions about the farm contract.

Father and son entered the study for a serious discussion.

In the flower room on the ground floor.

Wen Cishu sat on the sofa facing the garden, working with Uncle Xu to decide which dishes to send as gifts to the other three guests' homes in a day's time.

Recalling their lunches over the past two days, he said leisurely, "We definitely need braised wheat gluten and white-cut chicken."

"All right." Stylus in hand, Uncle Xu marked up the tablet, dragging four-delight braised wheat gluten and Zhanjiang white-cut chicken into the appetizer section. "Shall we include smoked fish? It's just in season."

"Yes."

Wen Cishu picked up his teacup and blew on the steam. Remembering that Rongrong had seemed quite fond of the wagyu rice at lunch, he said, "Prepare two extra portions of wagyu for the rice, for Teacher Zhu's family. And an extra portion of the small clear-stewed lion's head meatballs for Teacher Zhou's family."

Like Bo Yiming, Xiao Qi liked eating the little lion's head meatballs in a single bite. His cheeks bulged as he ate, which was rather cute.

Uncle Xu noted down all the quantities.

"Would those steamed matsutake dumplings from a few days ago travel well?"

Wen Cishu thought they had tasted good: fresh and savory, with wrappers that were just chewy enough.

Bo Tingyuan and Bo Yiming had each eaten an extra one that day, too.

"They would," Uncle Xu said. "We can make them fresh that day."

Wen Cishu leaned lazily back in his chair, his arm propped on the armrest, his gaze drifting toward the indistinct clusters of flowers in the garden.

"I'll leave the rest to you, Uncle Xu."