He Xing’s phone rang. She glared at Lu Xianqing, each word sharp as teeth: “You behave! When I answer this, don’t say a word, or you’re going to stay with Shen Qing for half a month!”
Lu Xianqing held up his hands in surrender. “…You take it.”
He Xing took a deep breath, forced a smile, and answered the phone. “Wen Li, what’s up?”
On the other end, a graceful, intelligent woman was sipping afternoon tea, her voice soft as water. “Lao Zhou asked me to call. I said we’ve known each other for ages; it’s just a small gathering, no need to make a big deal. But he insisted you must come to discuss the new script.”
He Xing glanced at Lu Xianqing, who ignored her completely, eyes glued to the screen, fixated on that striking young man, almost like a lecherous old man, sending shivers down her scalp. “Is that okay, Wen Li? I’m still outside—can I check with Fourth Brother in a couple of days?”
Wen Li, experienced in the industry, was gentle yet shrewd, not pressing the issue. “Sure, come by when you can. If not, next time is fine too. You focus on your work.”
He Xing exchanged a few polite words before hanging up, sighing, “Talking to smart people is really pleasant.”
Lu Xianqing still stared at the screen, not looking away, muttering, “Don’t get involved with her.”
He Xing was puzzled by his sudden hostility toward Wen Li. Assistant An Ning, who had just woken up, laughed, “He’s still angry. Last time, Qin Sizheng called Wen Li a green tea online, saying she didn’t keep her dignity. Wen Li called Fourth Brother, crying that she had burdened him. If he hadn’t just finished psychological intervention and still had some decency, he would’ve ignored her. Otherwise, she’d be in pieces now. That’s why she didn’t call you directly.”
He Xing realized, lightly chuckling, “Oh, so he can hold back from scolding. Not like you, though. You’re a proper Best Actress now; some face must be kept.”
Lu Xianqing ignored her teasing, tapping the cat’s back with his fingertips, coldly snickering. “Qin Sizheng wasn’t wrong. I almost lost my dignity too. How he got into the team, you don’t know? Really?”
He Xing had no response. Wen Li had entered the project with resources, and because the director was her husband’s teacher, her Best Actress award was precarious. Yet she remained confident, posting thanks publicly, subtly asserting her worth to the committee.
She had pushed back, prompting netizens to dig up old rumors of her giving birth out of wedlock. She had a childhood boyfriend and even flaunted some affection online. Her agency denied it, but rumors persist.
After marrying Director Zhou, she gradually left the industry and only recently returned. Her first film back paired her with Fourth Brother—a costly move.
Fourth Brother didn’t care for industry politics. He acted his own way, never letting directors he couldn’t work with pass. Wen Li had endured her fair share on set.
He Xing pondered, unsure if Lu Xianqing wanted to accept the project. “So she wants to collaborate with you again? Or refuse outright? You don’t lack good scripts. Why hand her the bonus? Zhou isn’t top-tier anyway.”
Lu Xianqing took the medicine An Ning handed him, drank some water to wash down the bitterness. “We’ll see.”
An Ning poured some cat food, but the cat didn’t eat, curling up on Lu Xianqing’s arm, occasionally licking his hand.
“It’s too attached to you. Won’t touch the food, just like your own kid.” An Ning reached to poke it; it bared its teeth, scaring her back. “Fine, fine, won’t touch. You go act, I’ll take you to the set. No conscience!”
He Xing had rescued this cat once, nearly run over on the street, wrapping it in his suit. He Xing had thought it was dead, but it survived despite a lost ear, broken leg, and tail. He gently pressed its neck, voice soft: “Be comfortable, okay?”
He Xing hadn’t understood him then, thinking him a psycho, saying something so gentle for something so terrifying. Later, he hadn’t killed the cat; it licked his finger softly, a tiny “meow,” and he took it to the vet. He named it “Yan Yan,” uncertain if it meant “disgust” or “satisfaction.”
His current attitude toward Qin Sizheng mirrored this cat: repulsed yet obsessed.
He Xing watched Lu Xianqing, who was fixated on the cozy variety show, really on those hands.
In the fifth room, there was a small ice cellar. Qin Sizheng had chipped out a piece with his hands, fingertips reddened from the cold. He habitually warmed them in his mouth. Outside the frame, Lu Xianqing’s eyes reddened; he pinched the cat, which yelped and jumped down. An Ning laughed, falling back, “Your dad’s not kind to you either.”
He Xing looked away, instructing An Ning, “Watch him. Change the dressing on his wrist injury, call Shen Qing if his mood’s off, and don’t let him post anything online. If he can’t resist, give him a dummy account. Keep his identity hidden, understand?”
An Ning nodded. “Don’t worry, Xing Xing, I’ve got experience.”
Lu Xianqing tilted his head, glanced at the two women discussing him, wishing he could cage them, then turned his head back indifferently.
He Xing left. An Ning washed her hands, made a fresh juice, and returned it to Lu Xianqing. She sat at the table, eating while watching the show with him.
Qin Sizheng put the peeled and chopped grape flesh into a bowl, making a simple “fruit smoothie.”
Little Tomato, amazed, rested his chin on the table. “Daddy, you’re amazing.”
Qin Sizheng scooped a spoonful for him. “After this, we need to think about what talent to show tonight. Daddy can teach you boxing, okay?”
Little Tomato made a “hey-ha” sound and threw a punch. “Like Ultraman? I’ll fight monsters, wooah~”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes curved in a smile. “So scary! Tomato Ultraman!”
Afraid he might catch a chill, Qin Sizheng didn’t let Little Tomato eat too much. After a few spoonfuls, he led him out to the grape arbor in the yard to practice boxing.
“Keep your arms straight, punch quickly. If you’re slow, you won’t hit anyone—you’ll get hit instead,” Qin Sizheng instructed, demonstrating first, then guiding him step by step.
Little Tomato was young and unsteady; he wobbled, fell, and his form was often off.
He flushed red with effort, panting a little.
[Why is this kid so clumsy? Ugh, I’m already getting frustrated—this is like helping with homework.]
[Countdown together, see how long Qin Sizheng can stay calm before losing it.]
[Wait—he’s not angry at all! He’s coaxing him gently! Mom, save me, I’m dying! Talk to me softly!]
Patiently, Qin Sizheng held Little Tomato’s arms, guiding him to punch and retract. Gradually, the boy got the hang of it and could practice on his own.
“You’re so smart, Little Tomato.”
Blushing from the compliment, Little Tomato grinned happily.
After a while, Qin Sizheng asked, “Tired? Let’s go take a nap, then practice more this afternoon.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Little Tomato, feeling sleepy, climbed into bed and began yawning. But without much sense of security, he reached for the little teddy bear he had handed in earlier.
Qin Sizheng offered his arm. “Treat Daddy like your teddy bear, okay? Hug me and sleep well.”
Little Tomato smiled sweetly. “Okay!”
Soon, he was asleep. Qin Sizheng lay on his side, afraid to pull his arm away in case the boy woke, and drifted off too.
Little Tomato nestled in his arms, sleeping quietly and sweetly. Qin Sizheng’s own sleep looked soft too, like a teenage dad—clumsy yet caring—caring for a child like his younger self. When the boy cried, he cried with him, fumbling to soothe him. When the boy smiled, he could finally relax.
The two boys slept unaware that a trending topic, #QinSizhengMaleMom#, was quietly climbing on social media.
[I want stories, mommy, food, I’m hungry.]
[Qin Sizheng’s past works are so few, not enough for me. Can someone cut a male-mom montage? I’ll die of hunger.]
[Are there fanfics? Videos work too. I’ll pay! Sell yourself for money, please! The kid’s starving.]
Meanwhile, Si Qianqiu heard from the producers that Qin Sizheng’s room even had an ice cellar and grape vines—supposedly messy?
His own place was clean but empty. He regretted not competing for that house; at least it had grapes.
When Little Strawberry woke up, her hair was messy. She ran over with a flower ribbon. “Daddy, braid my hair.”
Si Qianqiu had no idea how to braid. Seeing the mess, he mentally scolded her for being careless in bed. Why did the production give Qin Sizheng an easy boy and him a troublesome girl?
Though annoyed, he smiled. “Okay, Daddy will braid your hair.”
He thought about braiding, but with no phone to look up tutorials, he tried several times—he really couldn’t do it.
Little Strawberry asked innocently, “Daddy, you don’t know how to braid?”
Si Qianqiu hated admitting he couldn’t, but he had no choice. “Daddy will learn later. Let’s do a ponytail for now, okay?”
Little Strawberry pouted. “But I want braids.”
Si Qianqiu’s expression darkened. He was about to scold her for being stubborn, but then caught sight of Qin Sizheng passing by and had an idea. He called out, “Sizheng!”
Hearing him, Qin Sizheng led Little Tomato back. “What’s up?”
Si Qianqiu smiled helplessly. “Little Strawberry wants braids. I really can’t do it. Can you?”
Qin Sizheng nodded. “Sure.”
Si Qianqiu rolled his eyes inwardly. Fine, show off, I just don’t believe you can braid!
He couldn’t, but he’d drag someone else into it—if no one could braid, no one could blame him.
Qin Sizheng came over, had Little Strawberry hold the ribbon, and stood behind her. His fingers moved deftly, braiding neatly.
“Little Tomato, can you pick some flowers for Daddy?”
Little Tomato dashed off, returning with a small bunch. Qin Sizheng wove them into a flower crown and placed it on Little Strawberry’s head. A little forest fairy had appeared.
Little Strawberry held a mirror, stood on tiptoe, and planted a kiss on Qin Sizheng’s cheek. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Qin Sizheng smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Si Qianqiu stood there dumbfounded. How could he even do this?
The old Qin Sizheng couldn’t even tie his shoelaces properly—how was he suddenly capable of everything?
It must be a coincidence, just a coincidence!
[? Why can Qin Sizheng braid hair too? Am I seeing things?]
[So skilled… maybe he already has kids? Celebrities hiding marriages is common. With his messy private life, anything’s possible.]
[Yes, Qin Sizheng has a child. I’m his kid. He braids my hair, feeds me, holds me to sleep. So gentle.]
[If you just woke up, you wouldn’t be daydreaming. Do the work at night!]
[Doesn’t it seem like Si Qianqiu is targeting Qin Sizheng? But he keeps failing, haha. Good-looking, useless at everything else. Is he here just to highlight Qin Sizheng?]
[Xiao Qinxian can’t talk, can’t braid hair, useless at everything else? I’m female, 18, can’t braid hair either, just short hair. What’s the deal?]
Qin Sizheng led Little Tomato away. Night was falling, and the evening bonfire was about to start.
Xu Jinhan was the only guest on the show who had shown him genuine goodwill. Qin Sizheng planned to join him, but as soon as he reached the doorway, he heard a horse neigh and a person scream.
Qin Sizheng’s senses were razor-sharp to danger. He rushed inside and saw Xu Jinhan lying in the stable, his face pale, while the horse was thrashing wildly.
He had been kicked!
The crew immediately panicked, unsure whether to intervene—they didn’t want to further spook the horse, leaving them frozen.
Chen Yue saw Qin Sizheng frown and assumed he was frightened. She hurriedly said, “I’ll run into the village and get someone to tame the horse!”
Qin Sizheng stopped her. “Is this horse considered a protected animal? Can I hit it?”
Chen Yue didn’t understand but instinctively shook her head. “It’s probably just for riding.”
Before she could finish her sentence, Qin Sizheng shoved Little Tomato into her arms. “Cover his eyes.” Then, he darted forward through the crowd, planted one hand on the railing, and leapt into the stable.
Chen Yue gasped, too shocked to shout, as Qin Sizheng’s right fist smashed toward the horse’s head.
The horse let out a long, panicked whinny. Qin Sizheng planted his stance, unleashing a rapid flurry of more than ten punches. The large horse collapsed.
All of this happened in fewer than… ten… maybe a dozen seconds?
The entire crew was stunned.
This… is allowed?