RBNR Ch70: A little bit

The child was only three years old, an Omega boy who still could not speak when he first arrived on Ayla. He had lived among the refugees before recently being placed in an imperial capital child welfare home.

Qin Bao accompanied Feng Chengyu to Shu Helan’s home in the capital for the first time. It was a spacious two-story loft apartment decorated in an industrial aesthetic, filled with exposed concrete, piping, and red brick, completely fitting Shu Helan’s personal style.

The moment they arrived, Shu Helan brought the boy out of the nursery.

The toddler had naturally curly dark hair, deep-toned skin, and wide, round eyes. He had been playing games with the nanny, clutching mecha cards in his small hands.

“Hi.” Qin Bao had no idea how to entertain children, nor did he know what language the boy spoke, managing only a dry, awkward syllable.

The little boy shifted his gaze to Feng Chengyu beside him, reaching out his small arms: “President, hold me.”

“Hello, Xiya.” Feng Chengyu took the child from Shu Helan’s arms. “Not President. It’s Uncle Feng.”

The boy refused to listen, calling out in a childish lisp: “Vice President.”

“The kid likes the title, so what’s the harm in playing Vice President for a bit?” Shu Helan teased playfully. “Credit goes to the people of Feilu for knowing how to repay kindness; they spend all day showing the kids your photo so they recognize your face.”

Feng Chengyu holding a child looked surprisingly natural. “I’ll make time to visit them again.”

“You definitely should,” Shu Helan said. “When you resigned, they said you were critically injured. The good, simple people of Feilu are worried sick about you.”

Feng Chengyu smiled faintly. “Understood.”

While the two Alphas watched the toddler, An Qingyan was in the kitchen studying recipes. Neither he nor Shu Helan usually cooked; taking it up on short notice, they had simply bought semi-prepared ingredients to heat up.

An Qingyan asked, “Why the sudden pivot to a costume drama?”

“Look who’s talking. The sudden ones are you two. Talk about lightning speed,” Qin Bao replied. “The last time I heard about you two, you were on the verge of breaking up, and now you’re legally married with a child.”

An Qingyan glanced at him. “If it weren’t for Xiya, do you think I would have signed those papers? Who knows how many people have slept in that bed upstairs.”

Qin Bao: “…”

An Qingyan cleared his throat. “Of course, I’m not claiming my own record was any cleaner. I know all of that was before we met, but it still leaves a sour taste. Fights will happen, so we might as well bicker our way through life together.”

Qin Bao asked, “When’s the wedding?”

An Qingyan replied, “No wedding. Marriage isn’t something to celebrate anyway.”

Qin Bao: “…”

An Qingyan laughed. “Not talking about you two. Xiao Bao, I genuinely envy your kind of bond, being each other’s first and only from start to finish. If I had luck like that, I would have gladly married young too.”

Qin Bao thought to himself that if An Qingyan knew about his Pheromone Rejection Disorder and the forced contract marriage, he probably wouldn’t feel so envious. Still, Qin Bao considered himself exceedingly lucky that the person was Feng Chengyu.

Seeing him staring at Feng Chengyu’s back, An Qingyan murmured, “I heard about Feng Chengyu stepping down…”

He meant the true reason behind it, which Shu Helan had likely shared with him.

Qin Bao nodded.

An Qingyan said, “How should I put it? You win some, you lose some. Uncle Qin’s name is cleared now, and Feng Chengyu is safe and sound. The two of you living out the rest of your lives in peace is actually wonderful. Would you rather stay trapped like before, on edge every day dreading another assassination attempt? Bao, what’s done is done. Don’t carry such a heavy mental burden.”

An Qingyan cut straight to the bone.

Qin Bao understood the logic, yet keeping his emotions untroubled was nearly impossible.

Looking away, Qin Bao said softly, “Don’t you think Feng Chengyu was born to stand in that kind of position?”

Feng Chengyu was a natural-born statesman, visionary, and leader. He shouldn’t be left in the shadows like this.

An Qingyan ruffled his hair. “You’re young, so focus on happier things. You can’t change the situation right now anyway, so you might as well let nature take its course. While your husband has free time these next few years, have a couple of kids to keep you company.”

“What are you talking about!” Qin Bao’s face flushed scarlet instantly, thrown off track. “If you’re so free, go have more kids yourself!”

Later that evening, An Qingyan shared several photos on Flow, featuring his home-cooked dishes, the toddler’s small hand holding toddler cutlery, and his hand clasped tightly with Shu Helan’s, both wearing wedding bands.

An Qingyan V: A new life journey officially begins. Please take good care of me moving forward. [Image] [Image]

His sudden announcement of marriage and adoption shook the internet, prompting bewildered fans and casual netizens to pour in with congratulations.

Qin Bao switched to his main account to quote and repost.

Qin Bao V: [Bouquet] [Bouquet]

Qin Bao rarely reposted others’ content and barely interacted online, typically maintaining a cool, detached persona. Reposting An Qingyan’s update spoke volumes about his inner excitement.

Aside from a handful of trolls leaving snide remarks, most comments were warm wishes, with many joking around:

[Seeing An Qingyan get married, I thought I was half-asleep. Seeing that he adopted a kid, okay, I confirm I’m dreaming.]

[Our Bao loves charity, and his friends are just as kind! Talented people truly flock together! [Joy]]

[The little guy’s chubby little dark hands are so cute. I’m already imagining Bao having a baby of his own one day.]

[Wake up, everyone! Your Bao is only twenty-two! Not even married, not even a shadow of a partner!]

[Instead of marriage, BB should probably find a boyfriend first. [Smoking] Let me get in line right here.]

[Count me in, +1 for the queue.]

[My Bao is taping the finale of Direct to the Dream today, right? He joins the film set right after! Yay!]

The moment filming wrapped on the show, Qin Bao rushed toward the film studio base, not even pausing to wash out the temporary light hair dye used for the broadcast.

Imperial Wind had long concluded promotional stills and had been rolling cameras for three days; he was the last cast member to arrive. Joining the production meant two to three months on location. Feng Chengyu had offered to drive him personally, but Qin Bao turned him down.

“Better not. Lu-ge said the area is crawling with set leakers and paparazzi,” he said. “It’d be terrible if you got caught on camera.”

Sensing his underlying restlessness, Feng Chengyu pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair: “Don’t be nervous.”

Qin Bao’s palms were sweating. “What do I have to be nervous about? It’s not my first acting gig.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Feng Chengyu smiled gently. “Once you see him, no matter what happens, call me.”

“Him” could only mean Xu Tangzhou.

Qin Bao slipped out of his embrace: “What does this have to do with him? He’s just an irrelevant stranger, ancient history.” Just then, Lu-ge’s car pulled up. “I’m heading out.”

With his luggage loaded, Qin Bao hesitated before getting in. Seeing Feng Chengyu standing with hands in his pockets, he felt too shy to say anything sentimental in front of Xiao Xu and the team, reluctantly pulling the car door shut.

Feng Chengyu was right: he was nervous.

Four years without contact. How would Xu Tangzhou react upon seeing him? After commissioning coordinated hit pieces against him, didn’t Xu Tangzhou feel any guilt? Or was there some unspeakable hardship behind it?

Driving up to the hotel chartered by the production, Qin Bao’s heart thumped frantically against his ribs. Yet aside from crew members waiting outside, not a soul was around, and Xu Tangzhou was nowhere to be seen.

Normally, Xiao Xu accompanying him upstairs would suffice, but Lu-ge insisted on helping him settle in, undoubtedly under Feng Chengyu’s instructions.

With a limited budget, the studio hotel couldn’t compare to five-star luxury suites, but it was clean, comfortable, and well-equipped.

Lu-ge checked the room, snapped a few photos to send to a certain someone, and left satisfied.

Once Xiao Xu settled into her own room, she brought over toiletries. Qin Bao washed the temporary dye from his hair, changed into casual clothes, and prepared to report to the production office to lock in the next day’s schedule.

The elevator reached the floor and the doors slid open.

For a split second, time felt frozen.

Long-delayed reunions were always unpredictable.

Xu Tangzhou stood right outside the elevator doors, slender phoenix eyes and thin lips, noticeably taller than before.

Qin Bao: “…”

A female assistant accompanied Xu Tangzhou, her face plastered with shock, clearly not expecting to run into Qin Bao here. Xu Tangzhou appeared far calmer than his assistant, revealing barely a flicker of surprise before his expression flattened completely, treating Qin Bao like a total stranger.

A bizarre silence fell.

Qin Bao’s throat tightened as he said coldly, “Excuse me.”

The two stepped aside, allowing Qin Bao to stride out, Xiao Xu hurrying behind him.

Neither of them looked back.

The crew greeted Qin Bao warmly to handle handovers, though everyone seemed slightly peculiar. Only after returning to his room did Xiao Xu realize: “Bao Ge, you forgot your scent patch today!”

Being much shorter than him and accustomed to Qin Bao managing it himself, she hadn’t noticed earlier.

Qin Bao touched his nape on reflex: “…”

He had been distracted since arriving, forgetting to apply a patch after his shower.

Xiao Xu grew frantic: “Will they start rumors?! Especially that Xu Tangzhou, if he saw it, will he spread gossip?”

Xu Tangzhou knew about him and Feng Chengyu, but after so many years, there was no guarantee he could tell whether the mark belonged to Feng Chengyu. Besides, since Xu Tangzhou hadn’t weaponized the marriage in those smear articles, he likely wouldn’t bring it up now.

Qin Bao calmed down first: “Let them talk. What’s seen is seen, and it’s not like they know whose mark it is. I’ll remember to wear one tomorrow, and you remind me too.”

“Okay!” Xiao Xu nodded vigorously. “Adding it to my reminders right now!”

The night passed without incident, and nobody leaked news of the permanent mark.

Early the next morning, Qin Bao finished hair and makeup, took a few promotional stills, and the production posted them on their official Flow account.

Xu Tangzhou played the third male lead, Song Yao. His promotional photos had already generated significant buzz alongside the rest of the cast. The moment Qin Bao’s styling as male lead Yan Xingyuan went live, online debates erupted over who fit the character better and who had the superior period look, igniting a fierce war between both fanbases.

When Feng Chengyu called, Qin Bao insisted stubbornly, “Don’t worry, he and I are just coworkers. If they want to market it like this and pit us against each other, let them. I’m just focusing on my acting.”

Feng Chengyu: “Truly?”

Qin Bao: “Hmph, realer than real.”

Yet that very evening, Qin Bao faced his first scene opposite Xu Tangzhou. The second their eyes met, he couldn’t stay in character, triggering repeated outtakes.

Xu Tangzhou’s character, Song Yao, had to sprint up and down a mountain trail three or four times. The director finally called a pause: “You two just met, so lacking chemistry is normal. Let’s run lines a few times before shooting again.”

Qin Bao had never experienced such repeated blunders on a first take, feeling deeply frustrated. Seeing Xu Tangzhou’s impassive expression, he snapped, “If you’re impatient, shoot your coverage first and bring in a stand-in. I’ll act opposite the double.”

The scene didn’t require both of them in the same frame simultaneously.

Xu Tangzhou said, “I’m not impatient.”

The scene finally wrapped. Qin Bao had to treat Xu Tangzhou like an absolute stranger to deliver his lines properly. When cameras cut, Xu Tangzhou said nothing, but his assistant hurried over looking protective and sharp-tongued: “Pushing yourself when you’re sick. If some people can’t act, why waste everyone’s time?”

Qin Bao froze. He had only noticed sweat beading on Xu Tangzhou’s forehead and nose, assuming it came from running the trail repeatedly. He was actually sick?

A prickle of guilt surfaced. Wrapping up for the day, he spotted Xu Tangzhou mobbed by a crowd of fans. The young assistant appeared inexperienced, yielding helplessly before the crowd as if terrified of offending them, completely disregarding Xu Tangzhou’s physical condition.

Qin Bao was about to drive off, but called an abrupt halt.

Xiao Xu was baffled: “Bao Ge?”

Qin Bao pushed the door open, strode over, parted the crowd, and told the fans, “Xu Tangzhou is sick. Let him head back and rest.”

The fans paused in surprise before firing off questions.

Wasting no time, Qin Bao pulled Xu Tangzhou through the crowd, pushed him into his vehicle, and turned to criticize the assistant sharply: “If you were my assistant, you would have been fired long ago.”

With that, he turned and marched back to his car, fuming in silence.

Xiao Xu knew him inside out. Without a word, she poured warm water for him to soothe his nerves.

Qin Bao was thoroughly annoyed. Where had Xu Tangzhou found such an assistant? If Xu Tangzhou was sick, why didn’t she inform the crew? Surrounded by crowds after work, she didn’t know how to turn people away either. Did she know how to take care of someone at all?

That night, the hashtag #QinBaoXuTangzhou# trended on Flow.

[They seem pretty close, doesn’t look like rivals at all.]

[Heh, just superficial industry friends.]

[Bao was so manly today, total best-friend energy [Drooling]]

[So cute when he’s fierce, I’m starting to see the appeal.]

[Zhouzhou was sick?! And it baited out Qin Bao!]

Seeing the online chatter, Qin Bao regretted stepping in. The guy ignored him and constantly smeared him; why bother playing hero? If Xu Tangzhou had been held up by fans for a few extra minutes, it wouldn’t have killed him anyway.

Following that incident, Qin Bao barely exchanged a word with Xu Tangzhou on set.

Xiao Xu, however, brought back explosive gossip: Xu Tangzhou was reportedly involved with pop sensation Ling Che, who had slipped into the hotel and stayed overnight in Xu Tangzhou’s room.

“Really?” Qin Bao was skeptical. “Don’t spread baseless rumors.”

“I know,” Xiao Xu replied, aware of his distaste for behind-the-back chatter. “I didn’t gossip with outsiders; I overheard the makeup artists and assistants talking about it.”

Sure enough, Ling Che was spotted at the film base shortly after, and #LingCheVisitsXuTangzhou# hit the trending charts.

Qin Bao had filmed a music video with Ling Che and remembered him as aloof and caustic. What kind of taste did Xu Tangzhou have, falling for someone after a single variety show? Or was it purely publicity?

After all, Ling Che needed an Omega romance to clear his image, and Xu Tangzhou needed visibility. Both belonged to the same agency, making coordinated publicity quite plausible.

From that vantage point, Xu Tangzhou truly had changed.

The weather turned warm. Lu-ge came to visit Qin Bao, relieved to hear the cast and crew were taking good care of him.

Meanwhile, the rotating Dysprosium-X mining moratorium spearheaded by Feng Chengyu took its next successful step: following Feilu, Planet Beiye was designated as the next moratorium zone.

Political analysts noted that Council progress would likely stall here. The Council President had previously given Feng Chengyu free rein, but held little personal enthusiasm for the cause. With Feng Chengyu’s departure, a third moratorium zone remained far out of reach, a development both analysts lamented.

Commentator A asked, “Once Councilor Feng recovers, is a return to office possible?”

Commentator B replied, “Highly probable. The investigation into the Yatan ambush has concluded, with State Security successfully apprehending the insurgents. Given Director Feng’s standing, once his recovery progresses, there will certainly be movement.”

Commentator A added cautiously, “As for the true extent of Councilor Feng’s condition, whether his health can bear the strain, and his personal willingness, those are things outside observers cannot foresee.”

Commentator B: “Indeed. With this year’s electoral campaigns beginning to stir, though Councilor Feng isn’t running, public support for him remains exceptionally high.”

After wrapping up for the night, Qin Bao settled in for his routine call with Feng Chengyu.

The moment the call connected, Qin Bao switched off the television.

The room fell quiet. Feng Chengyu brought up the trending topic: “Heard Xu Tangzhou fell ill and you stepped in to rescue him?”

Qin Bao muttered, “The tabloids write nonsense, and you actually believe them.”

Feng Chengyu said, “Fans posted video clips.”

Qin Bao: “…”

Caught red-handed, Qin Bao grew defensively flustered: “Are you trying to mock me for being foolish?”

“Not at all. I told you, I’m on your side,” Feng Chengyu replied. “He still matters to you, doesn’t he?”

Qin Bao: “…No. I just saw him looking unwell on my way past and meddled for a second, that’s all.”

Feng Chengyu asked, “Will you meddle again next time?”

Qin Bao frowned, answering firmly, “Of course not. Let’s drop it.”

“Alright,” Feng Chengyu chuckled softly, shifting the topic. “I asked Lu-ge to order chilled desserts for the set tomorrow. Just say they’re on you.”

Qin Bao had treated crews before, but hadn’t expected Feng Chengyu to arrange it: “…I’m not really close with most of them yet.”

He wanted to say thank you, but felt it sounded too distant.

“It doesn’t matter if you aren’t close. Maintaining smooth working rapport is enough,” Feng Chengyu said. “This is your first television production, which differs from film sets. I heard everyone takes good care of you, so consider it a gesture of gratitude.”

Qin Bao teased sourly, “Spoken like a true former politician. You certainly know how to win people over.”

Feng Chengyu laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. If winning people over helps you, consider it putting my skills to good use.”

Their calls stretched long each night, exchanging trivial details without ever wanting to hang up.

After a brief pause, Feng Chengyu murmured softly, “Xiao Bao, I miss you so much.”

Qin Bao’s ears burned hot, his fingertips curling inward: “…Oh.”

Seeing no reply, Feng Chengyu wasn’t upset, asking instead, “What about you? Do you miss me?”

Several of Feng Chengyu’s coats lay piled on the bed, quietly swiped by Qin Bao.

Back then, Feng Chengyu had puzzled over why jackets hung in the entryway kept vanishing. Qin Bao had packed them into his luggage one by one without uttering a peep.

The fabrics were rumpled from being clutched close each night, needing that lingering scent to settle his sleep.

Feeling thoroughly exposed, Qin Bao sprang to his feet, pacing several laps around the room, scratching his head like an agitated monkey where Feng Chengyu couldn’t see.

Feng Chengyu chuckled, “Understood. You miss me a little bit.”

“Yeah,” Qin Bao mumbled, his prickly shell cracking as he admitted boldly to Feng Chengyu, “Just a tiny bit.”