“Yesterday’s test results are in. They show that little Qi’s hormone levels have returned to normal. The previous medication regimen has been completely effective. With that risk factor eliminated, he’s now ready to receive further treatment. Xin Jie, your therapy can start—what time does your flight arrive tomorrow?”
Dr. Zhao had just returned from the hospital. Back at Pei Yusheng’s villa on Hunan Road, he hadn’t even finished the call yet.
“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”
After confirming his friend’s flight details, Zhao Mingzhen stepped into the living room and immediately saw the second young master, Pei Ershao, sitting on the sofa.
The man was reading, completely absorbed. Zhao Mingzhen had seen his serious demeanor in action before, and since then, he had never doubted his professional ability.
A man like Pei Ershao could turn even moving bricks into a fortune.
But this time, when Dr. Zhao got a closer look at the book in his hands, he couldn’t help but question his eyes.
He had expected something like Thirty Years in Business or a critical financial report—after all, Pei Ershao’s workload these days was well known. Even the professional caregivers brought in were curious about how they’d never seen him rest.
Instead, the book in Pei Ershao’s hands was brightly colored, the title in bold, clear letters: 12 Principles Every Good Father Should Know.
Zhao Mingzhen “…”
A closer look revealed a neat stack of similar books by his side. The titles made the content obvious: Good Kids Need Praise, A Guide for Modern New Fathers, A Father is a Son’s First Brother…
Anyone unaware might think the second young master had recently become a proud father.
Zhao Mingzhen rubbed his nose, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement. Having been involved in the treatment plan from start to finish, he knew exactly what Qi Ji had been through these past days. At the same time, he’d also heard some background about the Pei family.
Pei Ershao’s relationship with his father was famously hostile; this was hardly news. The elder Pei had repeatedly made clear that he didn’t want to be a father. He had even tried to dictate whom Pei Ershao should date, only to be rejected every time, often redirecting those matches to peers or relatives.
Those actions inadvertently resulted in several successful romances, earning the young master gratitude from those families—though it infuriated his father.
Given this history, Zhao Mingzhen never expected Pei Ershao to voluntarily study father–child dynamics.
Lost in thought, he noticed the tablet on the coffee table light up. Pei Yusheng, still reading, glanced at it briefly, then tapped the screen to initiate a call.
“Qi Qi.”
But his voice wasn’t the usual low timbre; it was slightly higher, warmer, more like a gentle middle-aged man.
“Are you awake?” he asked through the tablet.
From the other end came the soft, sleepy rustle of a boy, then a small, hesitant voice: “Dad…”
Pei Yusheng continued, using that altered tone: “What do you want to eat? I can bring it upstairs for you now.”
After a short pause, the boy answered, “I want an egg pancake…”
“Alright, get up first, wash up, and then we’ll eat together,” Pei Yusheng patiently instructed.
“Okay,” the boy obediently replied.
The call ended. Pei Yusheng minimized the video window, muted the microphone, and pressed the call bell again.
This time he used his normal deep voice: “Have someone clear the books off the living room table, and ask Aunt Lin to bring up two egg pancakes right now.”
The instructions were promptly acknowledged. Once that was done, Pei Yusheng looked up and greeted Zhao Mingzhen, who had been standing silently nearby.
“Mingzhen, you’re back. How were yesterday’s test results?”
With his voice now normal, Zhao Mingzhen snapped back to attention. “Ah… oh, the results are fine. Little Qi’s condition is basically stable.”
Still astonished by the earlier shift in Pei Yusheng’s tone, he couldn’t help asking, “Second Young Master, that voice just now was…”
Pei Yusheng noticed his surprise but remained calm. “It wasn’t his father’s actual voice—just a tone imitation.”
For a trained special forces operative, manipulating vocal cords to change one’s voice wasn’t difficult.
Yet to the listener, it was far from ordinary. Zhao stammered, “Is… that to prevent little Qi from suspecting?”
Pei Yusheng didn’t deny it, effectively confirming, then added, “Also to distinguish it from my previous voice.”
After all, he had spent so much time with Qi Ji that even in a drowsy state, some memories remained. Altering the tone made a difference—the contrast between a low bass and a midrange timbre was distinct enough.
Zhao Mingzhen was still puzzled. “But how did you know what his father’s voice sounded like?”
“I’ve watched a few videos of his father, but I’m only imitating the tone now,” Pei Yusheng explained simply.
“I couldn’t mimic the original voice exactly the first time I spoke, and now it wouldn’t be wise to make it too similar—it might confuse him. The tone alone is enough; he won’t notice the precise timbre.”
Even understanding all this, Zhao Mingzhen couldn’t hide his astonishment. He was a doctor who had seen every extreme—patients abandoned, bedridden families with unfilial children, and devoted caregivers. Yet even so, he never imagined someone could go to such lengths for another person.
Following Pei Yusheng’s instructions, the kitchen staff quickly prepared the egg pancakes. Pei Yusheng didn’t linger to chat with Zhao Mingzhen. Carrying two pancakes and a bowl of thin porridge, he went upstairs.
When he arrived, Qi Ji had already left the bedroom, changing from his sleepwear into his painting outfit. He stood by the window, glancing outside, a little tense and unsure upon noticing Pei Yusheng’s approach.
“Dad,” the boy asked cautiously, “did I wake up late again today? It looks so dark outside.”
Pei Yusheng set the trays on the table. Qi Ji’s little suite opened directly into the dining area from his bedroom. Arranging the bowls and utensils, Pei Yusheng shifted his tone and said, “It’s okay to wake up late. With everything going on these past few days, and you being sick, it’s actually better for you to get some extra rest.”
Qi Ji had been drowsy due to the sedative components in the medications he’d been taking. BS991 was tricky to metabolize; even with the original method, it would take at least two months to resolve, not to mention any alternative approaches.
Moreover, the clinical data on this drug was limited, making targeted treatment impossible. The only option was to break it down and address each issue step by step. A few days ago, the doctors first tackled the drug’s aphrodisiac side effects. Although the results were ultimately successful, the process had been far from easy.
The human body’s response system was extremely complex. Pull one string, and the whole body reacts. Even with a thoroughly designed plan, Qi Ji still experienced stress reactions during hormone regulation, necessitating nearly daily immersions in cold baths.
Those days, Pei Yusheng’s presence felt colder than the icy water he endured.
Once the aphrodisiac effect was under control, the focus shifted to treating Qi Ji’s mental state. While his mood seemed much calmer and his daily interactions normal, this was far from his true, fully conscious self. He still lived in a virtual safety zone he had constructed around himself.
The concept of a “safety zone” had been introduced by Li Xinjie, a Harvard Medical School-trained psychiatrist and classmate of Zhao Mingzhen. When Zhao reached out for help, Li Xinjie was tied up with a project and consulted via video a few times before returning to China to continue treatment.
The medications Qi Ji was currently taking included calming agents, which explained his drowsiness and irregular wakefulness. Pei Yusheng had connected Qi Ji’s monitoring bracelet to his own system, ensuring he would receive a notification the moment the boy began waking up.
Qi Ji was comforted by Pei Yusheng’s words and even said, “I feel fine after waking up—I think I’m almost better.”
He added softly, “Then I won’t bother you anymore, Dad.”
“You’re not bothering me,” Pei Yusheng replied, gently ruffling Qi Ji’s hair and slowing his tone to soothe the child who was utterly dependent on him.
“But it hurts me to see you sick, Qi Qi. That’s why I want you to get better as soon as possible.”
Qi Ji, like a cat being petted and then having its chin scratched, felt every ounce of unease melt away under Pei Yusheng’s care. His mood lifted, and the two of them sat down together at the table to eat.
Two egg pancakes were served. Qi Ji’s portion was slightly more generous, with extra sausage and side dishes. After finishing the pancake, he also had a bowl of porridge.
Pei Yusheng praised him, “Good boy, Qi Qi. Eat more—only then will you recover from your cold faster.”
Qi Ji had moderate malnutrition. Dr. Zhao explained it was due to insufficient intake, compounded by poor digestive absorption and high physical and mental expenditure. Though Yun Tu’s dining hall offered plentiful meals, portions were charged individually. Qi Ji could never finish one and hesitated to buy another. Skipping breakfast and often staying up all night further exacerbated the problem, eventually leaving him with multiple health issues.
Once this was understood, Pei Yusheng brought in three nutritionists and enlisted Aunt Lin, the most skilled cook from his mother’s household, to carefully feed Qi Ji.
But the success of this feeding routine also owed a lot to Pei Yusheng’s encouragement. Qi Ji had a poor appetite and initially resisted eating, but Pei Yusheng’s coaxing gradually increased his intake.
Building on his military training in psychology, Pei Yusheng had studied guides like 36 Tricks to Encourage Children. He needed to get Qi Ji to eat more without pushing him to overeat out of fear of displeasing him. It took time and effort, but Qi Ji eventually gained a little over a pound.
Though still under a kilogram in total gain, it was a remarkable victory—harder than any psychological maneuver he had pulled off during his military career.
By the time they finished eating, it was already past ten at night. For Qi Ji, who had just woken, the day was only beginning. Pei Yusheng promised to stay with him, and Qi Ji led him to his art room next to the bedroom—the space Pei Yusheng had specially prepared.
On the right side of the room were two easels. Qi Ji planned to do a sketch that night and wanted his father to join, so he had prepared a second set of drawing tools.
Pei Yusheng had only learned a little about drawing before, mainly to ensure accuracy rather than artistry. But as they started, Qi Ji quickly pointed out flaws even in his father’s grip.
“You’re holding it wrong. It should be like this,” Qi Ji corrected, frowning slightly. “Dad… didn’t you teach me how to hold the pencil? Did you forget?”