Page 8

Not one of them realized that, when speaking to Wen Cishu, they had all unconsciously lowered their voices, becoming gentler than ever before.

It was not the caution born of wariness or fear, but simply an instinctive respect and protectiveness.

Filming ended just as evening approached, and Wen Cishu asked Albert to arrange a restaurant so he could treat the production crew to dinner.

As soon as everyone got into their vehicles, they could not help chattering all at once.

They truly could not believe this show had landed such a stunning father-and-son pair.

"The kid was already incredibly handsome with those mixed-race looks, but the moment Mr. Wen appeared, you really couldn't keep your eyes off him."

The young assistant chuckled and waved her phone. "I got a photo of him standing under the umbrella, looking ahead. It looks like a movie poster of one of those legendary superstars from the last century."

She showed it to the others, and even the cameramen nodded. "Great candid shot. We're commandeering it. Post it on Weibo as a promotional photo."

"Okay!" Thrilled, the young assistant lowered her head to admire Mr. Wen's captivating profile.

Little Ones Are Supermen had invited four parent-child pairs as guests. Three pairs consisted of people from the entertainment industry and their celebrity kids; only Wen Cishu and Bo Yiming were complete amateurs.

When the show officially released its introductory videos, the children and parents were presented separately.

In the Weibo comments under the children's teaser, netizens mainly discussed which celebrities the children belonged to.

Bo Yiming, with his mixed-race looks, sparked the first wave of heated discussion.

In the video, the nine-year-old boy galloped freely on horseback.

The young boy's movements were agile and effortless, with an innate vitality and free spirit, as though he had been born on the grasslands.

Then the camera drew closer and held on his face.

His slightly youthful face already showed strikingly sculpted features, particularly his high nose bridge and deep-set eyes, which were incredibly eye-catching.

His amber eyes curved in the sunlight, a perfect pair of handsome □□ puppy-dog eyes.

During the interview, he introduced himself clearly and confidently, displaying an easy, outgoing personality.

[This little boy called Yiming is way too handsome! Is he really nine?]

[Holy crap! He could seriously be a child model!]

[Chinese-French, aaaaaah! What an incredible face.]

[He's 150 centimeters now. Will he grow to 180?]

[Oh my god, this kid has such a bright future! He has to enter showbiz. It would be such a waste of those looks not to.]

[Wait, whose kid is this?]

[Please, he's my son. Mine!]

[The show hasn't even aired, and people are already lining up to claim a kid?]

When the parents' teaser came out, netizens quickly discovered that the amateur parent's face had not been shown. There was only an extremely blurry shot from a distance.

[Huh? What's going on with the amateur parent? Why aren't they showing their face?]

[Wow, that looks like a gorgeous long-haired mom with such elegance. Is she the smallest, cutest kid's mom?]

[That can't be right. Judging by the height, they're at least 180 centimeters? A mom that tall?]

[Why is the production team making such a mystery out of this?]

[An amateur has no fans, and nobody's looking forward to seeing them. This... really isn't necessary, is it?]

[Production team, if you're out of ideas, you don't have to force it!]

When the young assistant reported the online feedback, the producer scoffed. "Hmph! How could we let people see a face that magnificent so easily?"

He thumped the table. "They have to pay, okay!"

The young assistant nodded furiously. "By the way, Mr. Wen isn't in good health. His assistant said he'll be bringing a doctor, a four-piece bedding set, and things like that. That should be fine, right?"

The producer grinned, showing a mouthful of porcelain crowns. "What problem could you possibly see with that?"

The young assistant: Judging by the boss's attitude, he probably wouldn't refuse even if Mr. Wen's assistant said they were bringing his entire bed to the shoot.

The night before they left for filming.

Bo Yiming came down with "elementary-school spring outing syndrome." After packing his suitcase with the housekeeper, he ran into his little dad's bedroom.

Wen Cishu had already bathed and was reclining against a high, soft pillow, with a leisure book lying on the covers beside him.

Apart from his school years, when he had left early and returned late, he had spent most of his life at home.

The Wen family could be considered a scholarly household. Wen Cishu could not match the accomplishments of his parents or older brother, but growing up around them, he could at least count himself as someone capable of settling down with a book.

Cupping his cheeks in both hands, Bo Yiming asked, "Little Dad, are you really excited?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he corrected himself. "Oh, no, your heart isn't good. Usually, you can't get too excited."

The most recent bout of "excitement" had probably been when he jumped onto the sofa and coffee table.

Bo Yiming quietly shut up.

Wen Cishu rubbed the back of his neck and was about to speak when the boy suddenly looked up.

"Ah! I forgot to pack something! I'm going to find Grandpa Xu!"

Bo Yiming hopped off the bed and hurriedly put on his slippers.

Wen Cishu could not help asking, "What do you need to bring?"

"I'm not telling you, Little Dad." Bo Yiming raised his eyebrows with a grin. "Go to sleep early, Little Dad. I'll definitely get up on time tomorrow. Don't worry."

With a gentle expression, Wen Cishu watched him like a

torna-

do, whirl out of the room, and smiled helplessly.

He no longer felt like reading either, so he dimmed the lights and straightened the covers, preparing to lie down.

The floor-to-ceiling sliding doors with their carved silk screens parted from the middle with a faint sound.

Wen Cishu turned his face and saw Bo Tingyuan step out.

They shared an enormous suite on the second floor, but had slept separately for years.

Both master bedrooms had their own entrance, while a wall of Chinese-style sliding doors separated the connecting space, allowing easy passage between them.

After awakening, Wen Cishu had learned that Bo Tingyuan slept separately out of concern for his poor health.

"Finished with work?"

Bo Tingyuan had already washed up and changed into a long blue dressing gown, his hands tucked at an angle into its pockets.

He already had broad shoulders and long legs; with a belt tied around his waist, his legs looked even more disproportionately long.

In the dim yellow lamplight, Bo Tingyuan approached Wen Cishu step by step, his thick brows drawn down. For a moment, Wen Cishu thought he was looking at a black-robed clergyman in a film, solemn and ascetic, and his heart gave a jolt.

When the tall man stopped silently beside the bed, Wen Cishu unconsciously pressed his lips together.

He lifted his eyes and asked tentatively, "Do you... not really want Yiming and me to go on the show?"

Bo Tingyuan did not answer immediately. His lowered eyes quietly studied Wen Cishu's eyes, which looked particularly alluring when raised.

Wen Cishu thought that he was always looking down at him from a position of authority, and wondered what he was looking at.

He leaned back almost sulkily. The soft pillow bounced with the movement, and his black hair gleamed with a soft, satin sheen.

Bo Tingyuan suddenly spoke. [What if I said yes?]

His excessively deep, sexy voice made Wen Cishu feel as though warm fingers had rubbed his ears.

To ease that sudden, strange sensation, he deliberately lifted his chin, mustered a smile, and teased, "Well, it's too late now."

But the moment he met Bo Tingyuan's eyes, he noticed that beneath those thick, dark brows, his dark green gaze was sharper and more direct than usual.

Under that intent gaze, Wen Cishu had the mortifying illusion that he was completely naked.

The smile slowly faded from his lips without his noticing.

One reclined while the other stood; one looked up while the other gazed down.

In the dim light, the atmosphere quietly grew intimate.

Wen Cishu could almost see his own reflection in Bo Tingyuan's eyes. Recalling the description in the original novel, he could not help asking softly, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Bo Tingyuan did not speak immediately, and Wen Cishu's mouth suddenly went dry.

His heart suddenly seemed to rise into his throat, a powerful anticipation and impulse welling up from deep within.

A few seconds later, Bo Tingyuan pulled his right hand out of his dressing-gown pocket.

Wen Cishu had thought he was about to say something, only to see a flat, square box in his hand.

His unsettled heart finally sank. He could not help lowering his head and frowning as he muttered, "If you're not going to use your mouth, donate it."

"Hmm?"

Bo Tingyuan sat on the edge of the bed, watching his expression as he opened the box.

Wen Cishu kept feeling that something weighed on his mind, something he was not ready to reveal. Thinking there was no hurry, he said, "Nothing."

He sat up a little straighter.

Bo Tingyuan raised a hand and brushed aside his hanging hair.

The silky strands slipped endlessly through his well-defined fingers, as though trying to keep him there.

Wen Cishu lowered his head to examine the nephrite bracelet in the box. Small sections of bamboo formed a circle, and judging by its quality, the jade was exceptionally rare.

Thinking that prying Bo Tingyuan's mouth open would probably be harder than ascending to heaven, he raised his left hand. "Put it on for me."

Bo Tingyuan supported his hand.

His warm skin was softer than the nephrite, with faint blue veins visible beneath its thin, delicate surface.

The bracelet slowly slipped over his slender, fair hand and was drawn up to his narrow wrist.

"Hiss..."

Wen Cishu could not help knitting his brows. "It's so cold."

With that slight intake of breath, his neck lifted a little, drawing his slender collarbones upward into sexy hollows.

His pajamas shifted too, and the silky, snow-white skin between the lapels took on a soft glow, like warm, fragrant jade.

Bo Tingyuan's eyes darkened, as though cold underground spring water had surged through them.

Focused on the bracelet, Wen Cishu did not notice his expression.

"Where did it come from?"

Bo Tingyuan did not hear a word. His gaze seemed to turn into a dark green snake in an instant, slipping uncontrollably between the soft lapels and coiling around the warm, tender skin...

He abruptly stood. "You have to get up early tomorrow. Get some rest."

Wen Cishu froze, sensing his unusual behavior.

He strained his ears and thought he faintly heard Bo Tingyuan going into the bathroom.