The sudden question inevitably made the heart skip a beat. But who was Pei Yusheng? He had studied the Good Father Handbook inside and out—this little surprise wasn’t enough to throw him off.
He didn’t flinch; instead, he reached out and ruffled Qi Ji’s soft brown hair in a rewarding gesture. “I wanted to see if you remembered. Looks like you’ve really got it down. No wonder you’re our little treasure—well done.”
Qi Ji felt a flush of embarrassment at the praise, but it quickly turned into joy. His dimples showed at the corners of his mouth, a sweet little smile he couldn’t hide. Pouting a little, he negotiated in a playful voice, “Then… can you reward me with a piece of candy?”
But as soon as the words left his mouth, his smile faded, replaced by that familiar unease. He lowered his head and whispered, “It’s okay if I don’t… Mom said I can’t have candy. It’ll hurt my teeth.”
He’d been saying things like this all week, always phrased as, “Mom said I can’t…,” and Pei Yusheng could hardly imagine anyone refusing him. After all, he always indulged this little one’s requests; sometimes he even anticipated them in advance.
Seeing the boy looking slightly downcast, Pei Yusheng held out his long right hand. In his palm lay a single pink-wrapped strawberry cream candy.
“It’s okay to eat just a little. And since you’ve been such a good boy, you definitely deserve a reward.”
He even lowered his voice, mimicking the kind of tone a real father might use: “Shh… just one, quietly. Mom won’t know. Okay?”
Qi Ji’s beautiful eyes lit up instantly. His emotions were pure, written plainly on his face; seeing him happy could infect anyone with cheer.
“Okay!” he replied with delight.
Pei Yusheng couldn’t resist and immediately handed him another candy, using the excuse that “gummies aren’t really candy” to let the boy indulge a little more.
Qi Ji looked so thrilled, he seemed about to leap forward and hug him—though he didn’t. Pei Yusheng silently lamented the child’s shyness. At his age, he probably hadn’t had many chances to express love so directly to a parent.
Qi Ji kept drawing until after two in the morning. Only once he fell asleep did Pei Yusheng leave the house to handle a few matters that required his personal attention.
The next morning, Zhao’s friend Li Xinjie arrived in S City. As soon as he landed, he was driven to the villa on Hunan Road.
Li Xinjie had already studied Qi Ji’s condition in detail and reviewed the chemical analysis of BS991. But some things required firsthand observation. Upon arrival, he personally conducted a full four- to five-hour examination and testing session. Once finished, he joined Pei Yusheng and Zhao Mingzhen to discuss the results.
Qi Ji had gone back to sleep. Having stayed up late the night before, he was groggy in the morning. At first, Li Xinjie had to ask him the same question three times to get an answer, though he gradually became more responsive. After the examination, Pei Yusheng carried him back to the bedroom to lull him to sleep.
When Pei Yusheng returned, Li Xinjie got straight to the point, offering a clear and simple explanation.
“One effect of BS991 is to amplify the user’s desires. I’ve discussed this with Andy, but we mostly focused on its aphrodisiac effect. Now it’s clear it’s not simply about sexual desire.”
Andy was Zhao Mingzhen’s English name. Li Xinjie was mixed-race, with a high nose, deep-set eyes, and slightly curly brown hair, though he spoke fluent Chinese.
“This effect essentially amplifies the deepest longings of the user’s heart. For this patient, the most urgent desire isn’t sexual—it’s a longing for safety.”
“The drug causes the patient’s need for security to be magnified several times over. Coupled with its influence on visual and neural recognition systems, the patient has created a ‘safety zone’—a virtual space—and placed a ‘father’ figure there to protect him.”
“In his mind, this father is entirely harmless and fully capable of providing security. He projects this figure onto someone within reach, and through their interaction, maintains self-protection and self-comfort.”
Li Xinjie looked at Pei Yusheng.
“Clearly, Mr. Pei is the patient’s chosen substitute protector. The reason isn’t fully clear—perhaps you share traits with this figure, which is why he selected you.”
The speculation brought mixed feelings: part relief at being trusted, part sorrow at being only a stand-in. After all, it was at best a second-choice solution.
Pei Yusheng, however, remained unshaken. Few could affect his emotions so directly, and this was merely a verbal observation. His military training included countless interrogations, making him impervious to such assessments.
In a calm tone, he directly denied the idea: “Apart from gender, I share nothing with his father—appearance, physique, voice, personality, profession—nothing.”
They were completely opposite people.
Li Xinjie raised an eyebrow, intrigued, sizing up this unique client. Only when Pei Yusheng shot him a flat-eyed glance did Li Xinjie continue:
“The other possibility is that you’ve previously given him a sense of security, and the safety signal sent via the wristband caused him to mistake you for the original figure.”
This hypothesis was easy to corroborate. The night Pei Yusheng rescued Qi Ji from the auction, the boy, even in a semi-conscious state, had already sought physical contact with him.
Pei Yusheng didn’t deny it, and Zhao Mingzhen agreed.
“Having someone able to sustain this security figure is beneficial for the patient,” Li Xinjie explained. “It stabilizes the safety zone and protects the patient’s emotions.”
Zhao frowned. “But the safety zone is ultimately virtual. It will vanish eventually—and it must.”
“Yes, exactly,” Li Xinjie confirmed. “The safety zone exists only because of BS991. They interact. Once the drug’s effect fades, the zone disappears. Conversely, to fully resolve the drug’s effect, we must dismantle the safety zone.”
“How do we dismantle it?” Zhao asked.
Li Xinjie snapped his fingers. “The simplest way is to bring in the real person behind the safety figure, pulling the patient out of the fantasy.”
Zhao hesitated, glancing at Pei Yusheng.
“He’s already deceased,” Pei Yusheng said firmly.
Li Xinjie showed no surprise. “Expected. Usually, the safety figure comes from someone deceased. Memories idealize them; only the departed cannot harm the patient, providing absolute security.”
Zhao asked, “Any other methods?”
“The principle is the same: external force is used to pull the patient out of the safety zone, returning him to reality. But if done by someone else, it’s more difficult, takes longer, and requires drug support,” Li Xinjie said.
“Can it be done slowly, to minimize harm to the patient?”
“No,” he shook his head. “We don’t have enough time. Even if the change is gradual, BS991’s effect slowly fades through metabolism. If the patient internally dismantles the zone himself, there are two possible consequences.”
He held up one finger. “One: the same as with external force—the safety zone breaks.”
Then he slowly raised a second finger. “Two: the patient cannot accept the coexistence of reality and fantasy; the mind cannot cope. The outcome is unpredictable.”
“The patient may never distinguish reality from illusion, collapsing under the mental strain.”
Silence fell over the room.
They really had no other choice. In the end, the three of them reached a consensus: they would use the medication to help Qi Ji dismantle his safety zone and pull him out.
They spent quite a long time discussing the specifics. Li Xinjie, despite seeming a bit casual, was highly professional. Even after a long-haul flight, he showed no signs of fatigue and maintained full focus.
The three of them talked for nearly an hour before Pei Yusheng’s phone suddenly buzzed.
“Vrrr—”
Pei Yusheng picked it up and glanced at the screen but didn’t answer.
Zhao Mingzhen noticed that this phone wasn’t one of the usual models Pei Yusheng used and guessed, “Second Master, is this… Qi Ji’s phone?”
Pei Yusheng nodded.
Zhao asked, “Then who’s calling?”
“It’s his younger brother, Qi Mingyu,” Pei Yusheng said. “Mingyu is currently in Argentina participating in a math competition.”
Zhao nodded. This time, he wasn’t particularly surprised by Pei Yusheng’s all-knowing nature. After all, Pei Yusheng had even found videos of Qi Ji’s father; knowing about his younger brother wasn’t shocking.
The call rang for a while, went unanswered, and then automatically disconnected. Soon after, the line rang again.
Zhao, who had been about to continue discussing with Li Xinjie, noticed the phone ringing and asked, “Has Qi Ji’s younger brother not heard from him for a while? If he’s at a competition, won’t this affect his mood?”
Pei Yusheng said nothing, but he didn’t disagree.
He didn’t have to care about Qi Mingyu personally—but this competition was extremely important, one that Qi Ji had risked his own safety to earn money for so his brother could attend. If Mingyu’s performance suffered due to worry about Qi Ji, it would ultimately sadden Qi Ji himself.
Anything that could affect Qi Ji was something Pei Yusheng could not ignore.
The phone rang three more times before finally going silent.
Pei Yusheng chose to consult the professional.
After learning the situation, Li Xinjie carefully inquired about Qi Mingyu and the brothers’ usual interactions. Finally, he nodded: “The call can be taken.”
After all, in addition to managing the drug’s effects, they had to consider the patient’s life once he regained full awareness.
“But the conversation shouldn’t be too long,” Li Xinjie cautioned. “We don’t want the patient to suddenly realize something during the call, perceiving reality in a way that could lead to uncontrollable consequences.”
Pei Yusheng thought for a moment, then nodded, indicating he understood.
They continued discussing for some time before finally concluding the session on this case.
The next day, Zhao Mingzhen and Li Xinjie went to prepare the relevant medications and treatment plan, while Pei Yusheng had left the house in the early hours. It wasn’t until near noon, when Qi Ji finally woke up, that he returned.
When Pei Yusheng reached the second floor, the boy had just awakened. He wasn’t cranky at all—he obediently tilted his head to look at Pei Yusheng, his whole body soft and pliant, like a little milk bun.
At this moment, his gentle personality matched perfectly with his soft hair and delicate ears.
Pei Yusheng handed him the phone. “Your brother’s calling. He’s at the competition and wants to talk to you for a bit.”
Sure enough, a familiar, slightly hoarse young male voice came through: “Hey, bro?”
Qi Ji took the phone. “Mingyu.”
“Bro, I’ve arrived at the competition site. How’s everything at home?” his brother asked.
“I’m fine,” Qi Ji replied. “Just focus on your competition. Don’t worry—just do your best, and everything will be fine.”
When he spoke to Qi Mingyu, there was still a trace of his father’s care and gentleness in his tone—considerate and warm.
They exchanged a few simple words. Pei Yusheng stayed beside him the whole time, and once the call ended, he took the phone back.
Qi Ji lay back on his pillow, letting out a small yawn. He didn’t rush to get up. Over the past few days, with Pei Yusheng’s repeated reassurances, he had finally relaxed a little, daring to stay in bed even while still drowsy.
“Do you want to get up and play next door?” Pei Yusheng asked.
Qi Ji curled further into the blankets. He loved this soft, cloud-like bed. He buried half his face in the covers, leaving only his eyes exposed, blinking up at Pei Yusheng.
“I want to sleep, Daddy…” His voice muffled in the blankets, sounding more like a soft whine. “I’m still a little tired…”
Pei Yusheng chuckled and reached over to gently rub the top of his light-brown head.
He felt a quiet satisfaction that the boy was finally daring to express his feelings freely.
“Then sleep a little longer,” Pei Yusheng said. “Get up when you’re hungry to eat something, okay?”
Qi Ji nodded obediently. “Okay.”
Pei Yusheng tucked the blankets around him carefully, leaving just the tip of his nose exposed to avoid discomfort. His movements were gentle, even softer than when Qi Ji had spoken to Qi Mingyu. In front of the boy, he was completely different from his usual outward persona—his aggressive, commanding presence softened into something tender.
“Sleep, my good boy.”
Though not his usual tone, Pei Yusheng’s voice remained soothing and captivating.
The boy in the bed yawned again but tried hard to open his teary eyes to look at Pei Yusheng.
“And you, Daddy? Aren’t you going to sleep?”
Over the past few days, Qi Ji often asked this. Initially, it was out of fear that Pei Yusheng would leave without him knowing. But recently, the question had changed, tinged with a newfound willingness to express reliance and attachment.
Pei Yusheng sat at the bedside and lowered his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you. Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”
Qi Ji nodded. “Yes.”
Pei Yusheng then went to fetch the beautifully bound book and began reading.
He didn’t read fairy tales for young children. Instead, he read about designers’ works and design concepts—the subjects Qi Ji was genuinely interested in and that could most quickly relax him.
This also subtly confirmed that Qi Ji’s intelligence remained intact; it was his emotional state that had been affected, not his cognitive abilities.
In the softly lit bedroom, the warm voice drifted gently through the room. Thick curtains blocked out the daylight. Under the soothing sound, the boy quickly fell asleep.
Only when the heart-rate monitor indicated Qi Ji had truly slept did Pei Yusheng rise and leave.
Descending the stairs, his presence had shifted noticeably from earlier—now crisp and commanding.
Someone was waiting at the staircase and called out respectfully, “Young Master.”
Pei Yusheng glanced at the quietly busy group in the living room. Expressionless, he asked coldly, “Is everything collected?”
His voice, now back to its normal tone, carried an icy, imposing authority.
“Yes, everything’s collected. All preparations are complete, ready to begin at any moment,” the man replied.
Those in the room also acknowledged Pei Yusheng with respectful nods.
Pei Yusheng walked over and sat on the sofa, draping an arm over the back and giving a slight nod to the waiting man.
The man picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number.
“Beep—beep—”
The wait was long, but finally, the call connected.
“Hello? Bro, is that you?!” Qi Mingyu’s voice came through, slightly breathless, clearly showing his nervous excitement.
The person waiting by the table quickly pressed a confirmation button, and a voice from the small, elegant speaker on the table streamed into the phone.
“Mingyu.”
“Bro, is it really you? Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Qi Mingyu asked anxiously, his voice trembling.
“I’ve been a little busy lately.” The words, carefully edited and modulated, flowed perfectly; even the tones between syllables were seamless. Not just over the phone—no one could have detected anything off, even if they were speaking face to face.
Qi Mingyu didn’t suspect a thing. He hesitated, his voice hoarse and low. “Bro… are you still mad at me?”
The person responsible for playing the recording quickly looked up at Pei Yusheng. The man silently raised three fingers in response.
“….”
The speaker remained silent, emitting only faint, edited breathing sounds.
“Don’t be angry, bro…” Qi Mingyu’s voice softened unusually. The past few days of worry and fear had clearly shaken him. “I’m trying my best in the competition—isn’t that enough? I’ve been here for a few days now, the food and living conditions are fine, and the teachers are taking care of us.”
He drew in a breath, his voice growing even raspier. “It’s just… I couldn’t get in touch with you at all… I was terrified.”
The speaker responded calmly: “Good luck with your competition. Do your best.”
“I know,” Qi Mingyu said, sniffing audibly. Then his voice steadied slightly. “Take care of yourself too. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“By the way, when you were home a few days ago, you didn’t skip meals, did you? There’s stuff in the fridge I left for you—I don’t know if you saw it. Eat a little more so you don’t get sick by the time I get back… And those part-time jobs—you don’t have to go if you can avoid it. Just focus on your design work. I’ll explain everything when I return. Don’t push yourself so hard…”
Even though the living room was filled with people, it was completely silent, except for Qi Mingyu’s voice.
Finally, the speaker responded simply: “Mm, I understand.”
Qi Mingyu continued to fuss, giving a few more instructions, unusually talkative and careful in his tone. But not long after, someone called him from the other end—clearly in a rush. Qi Mingyu had no choice. “I have to join the assembly now. That’s all for now. Remember what I said, okay? Bro, take care of yourself until I get back!”
The cold, mechanical speaker replied: “Goodbye.”
The call ended smoothly. Everyone in the room visibly exhaled in relief; even the operations leader at the head of the group loosened up considerably.
To be safe, they stored the entire conversation in the media archive for future reference.
Only after all the cleanup was complete did someone dare to glance at the boss’s expression.
Pei Yusheng’s face revealed nothing, but at least he didn’t look angry. That was probably a satisfactory outcome.
Once Pei Yusheng gave a nod, everyone packed up their tools and left the villa. Qi Mingyu’s call had been handled successfully.
With Qi Mingyu’s situation taken care of, Pei Yusheng remotely started several video conferences, handling a number of tasks in the study. When Qi Ji woke up midway, he stayed to have a simple home-cooked dinner with him at the rosewood dining table scented with incense-cedar, eating stir-fried shredded potatoes with scrambled eggs on delicately embossed plates.
After dinner, Pei Yusheng spent a while doing crafts with Qi Ji. When the boy grew sleepy, he escorted him back to the bedroom and coaxed him to sleep with a bedtime story.
The heart-rate monitor confirmed Qi Ji was deeply asleep. Based on previous experience, after taking the new medication, he would usually sleep soundly through the night—often more than ten hours straight.
Only then did Pei Yusheng leave the house.
This period was the busiest for him. He couldn’t stay with Qi Ji around the clock, so he had to come back only when the boy was awake and needed company.
Still, after several days of careful adjustment, Pei Yusheng had never missed a single one of Qi Ji’s waking moments. He had been doing his utmost to accompany his little one.
That night was no exception. Pei Yusheng planned to stay out for eight hours, returning before Qi Ji awoke.
But unexpectedly, only five hours later, before dawn, a notification indicated Qi Ji had woken up.
For the past few days, Qi Ji’s heart rate had been continuously monitored to ensure better protection, using the miniature monitoring patches hidden in his wristband. Lately, he had grown more clingy during moments of semi-consciousness, even refusing to sleep alone at times, though he had gradually become more independent.
Pei Yusheng was still receiving the real-time monitoring data. Whenever Qi Ji was about to wake, he would call his name immediately to prevent the boy from worrying about his father’s absence.
This time, however, Qi Ji’s awakening was noticeably different from previous days.
When Pei Yusheng received the alert, he had just finished finalizing a contract late into the night and took a few minutes to step away. He didn’t expect Qi Ji to wake so early. As usual, he opened a video call and called out, “Qi Qi?”
No one answered.
The high-definition cameras captured every corner of the room—yet found no trace of him.
Worse, Pei Yusheng received an alert from the villa’s security system:
The front door had been opened from the inside.