Chapter 101: Film Emperor (21)

Tong Jianxu spent some time recuperating at home, and his complexion finally started to look better.

He ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner at fixed times and in measured portions, strictly following the nutritionist’s guidance.

In the past, the period right after a shoot was always the most frustrating time for his agent, Feng Yu.

That was when Film Emperor Tong often couldn’t quickly detach from the character he had portrayed. He would continue to carry certain traits of the role.

It was manageable if the character was cheerful and optimistic, but unfortunately, most of Tong Jianxu’s roles were steeped in suffering, with tragic backstories or endings.

He needed time to break away from the character, and during that process, he would become withdrawn, depressed, neurotic, often accompanied by headaches.

For a long time, he abused painkillers, sleeping pills, and antidepressants.

If Feng Yu stayed on top of him about eating and drinking, he wouldn’t resist—but he’d remain passive. And if Feng Yu tried to keep him on a healthy sleep schedule—early to bed, early to rise—he’d be entirely uncooperative.

Tong Jianxu used to have insomnia almost every night and was nearly impossible to wake in the morning.

But all of that was in the past now.

Because now, he had a kid to take care of. He couldn’t afford to immerse himself in his own little world anymore.

The moment he started drifting into that world, his kid’s iron fists would jolt him right back out.

The kid got sleepy early at night and woke up early in the morning. If Tong Jianxu didn’t wake up with her, she would rudely wake him herself.

This included, but was not limited to: shouting “Daddy” in his ear, shaking him, pinching the flesh of his arm, squeezing his nose until he couldn’t breathe, yanking his hair, and using his body as a trampoline.

The only kind of person who could keep sleeping through that would be a coma patient.

Woken up early every day, Film Emperor Tong had to play with the kid, and by the end of the day he’d be completely wiped out. If he still went to bed late, he’d be even more exhausted the next day. Naturally, he started going to bed earlier.

Just like that, the child effortlessly synced her dad’s previously unhealthy schedule with her own.

Feng Yu had managed Tong Jianxu for so long, and this was the first time she’d ever seen him working out in the courtyard in the early morning.

With a wooden sword in hand, Tong was seriously practicing his moves in the yard. His child stood beside him, shouting excitedly and even doing sound effects for him—every time he thrust his sword, she’d let out a sharp “Ha!”

To avoid being constantly pestered, Tong Jianxu came up with some ideas. He bought toys to keep his daughter entertained.

One of them was a blind-box-style vegetable planting kit—starting from seeds and growing them into vegetables. It was supposed to improve a child’s motor skills, nurture a love for nature, and let them experience the joy of growing things.

Tong Jianxu thought it was a great idea and bought over thirty kits in one go—enough to simulate a small veggie plot and give the kid plenty to fuss over.

Once the stuff arrived, the child happily filled little pots with soil and, under his guidance, planted the seeds and watered them.

But after planting just three pots, she stopped.

Tong Jianxu asked, “Why’d you stop? Gonna plant the rest tomorrow?”

Qian shook her head. “The rest are for Daddy to plant.”

She pointed at herself and held up three fingers. “I’m three years old, so I plant three. Daddy plants thirty-three.”

Tong Jianxu: “Huh?”

Under his daughter’s supervision, he ended up planting the rest of the vegetables. Not only did he have to water them daily, but he also had to crouch beside the pots with her every day to identify the plants and answer her constant questions.

Like:

“Daddy, what’s this one called? And that one? What about the one over there?”

“Daddy, why does this leaf look different from the one next to it?”

“Daddy, have you eaten this vegetable before? Is it sweet?”

“Daddy, why is the back of this leaf red?”

“Daddy, what are these spots on the leaf?”

Not wanting to lose face in front of his daughter, he had to frantically study up—reading gardening guides and watching planting tutorials every day. Only then could he barely handle her barrage of tricky questions.

To be fair, gardening did have a healing effect. Whenever he saw those lush green sprouts growing strong, his mood would improve.

Once the plants started sprouting leaves, he and Qian would water them together and fantasize about eating their harvest in the future.

But the plants, exposed to the elements, inevitably ran into some minor issues—like bugs.

And once the bugs appeared, if he didn’t spot them for a couple of days, they’d grow like crazy. Often by the time he noticed, several leaves would already be chewed through, and the bug would be fat and plump.

One day, Tong Jianxu was lying on the couch scrolling through his phone, while the child played outside. A short while later, she ran in and sat by his feet, playing beside him.

She had a squishy little thing in her hand, which she pressed against his foot and started inching forward, imitating the sound of a little train.

“Toot toot toot! Vroom vroom vroom! Crawling forward!”

She played for quite a while, going from his foot to his arm.

Tong Jianxu glanced at her hand—and finally saw what she was holding.

A fat caterpillar with yellow-green patterns.

Kids at two or three aren’t afraid of bugs. They’ll just grab them with their bare hands.

Seeing the bug still wriggling in her little hand, Tong Jianxu’s face turned the same shade of green as the caterpillar.

Later that day, while talking to Zaiye, Tong mentioned the incident—and Zaiye laughed like a madman.

“You think kids are easy to raise? Qian might even drop the bug into your water cup.”

Zaiye “kindly” warned him.

Tong Jianxu immediately objected, “No way. Qian wouldn’t do something that naughty.”

Zaiye let out a dry chuckle. “Maybe not now, but wait till she’s six—she’ll be a real menace.”

But when the conversation reached this point, both of them fell silent.

Last time, Qian hadn’t even made it to seven.

The two of them had been in contact for a while now, ever since Tong Jianxu first asked Zaiye about the Qian from the past.

He had shown Zaiye a surveillance video compilation—Qian playing by herself, then suddenly standing up and swatting at the air. It happened multiple times, and twice her face had even shown a distinct, inexplicable fury.

Zaiye, now in his thirties and no longer the student he once was, could sense something was off.

They exchanged some unspoken understandings and had been discussing things about the child ever since.

“I found some of the old surveillance footage from home and the company. It’s been too long, so I couldn’t recover all of it—just part,” Zaiye said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “I watched some, and it really did show the same kind of behavior as before… I didn’t think much of it back then, just assumed it was a kid playing.”

Tong Jianshu said, “Send it all to me. I’ll go through it.”

Zaiye replied, “Alright. I’ve been swamped lately anyway. You pick out what’s important and send it to me.”

Maybe it was because they were both pitiful dads who had been through the shared trauma of child-rearing, but their relationship had softened quite a bit—almost like comrades-in-arms.

As long as they didn’t get into boasting about their kids or arguing over how well-behaved they were, the two could talk like normal people.

After receiving the footage, Tong Jianshu would watch some of it in his spare time, away from his daughter.

The surveillance showed a little girl who looked nothing like Qian, but was just as adorable.

She had many of the same habits and gestures, and even similar preferences.

Rather than sit on the couch, she preferred the floor, leaning against the sofa until she gradually slumped down and eventually lay flat.

She loved running her fingers through the long fibers of the carpet, brushing them all in one direction.

When lying on the carpet, she liked to stretch out her arms and legs into a star shape, wiggling them back and forth.

She liked brightly colored stools and enjoyed diving into piles of toys to hide herself.

She liked to chew on spoons, making loud snapping noises, and always insisted on using the little yellow duck cup to drink water.

…

After watching a portion of the videos, Tong Jianshu took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then looked over at Qian in the living room.

She was lying on the carpet, flailing her arms and legs, creating fan-shaped patterns in the fibers.

Tong Jianshu walked over and picked her up.

“During the New Year holiday, how about Daddy takes you on a trip?”

“Okay! Where are we going?”

“Hmm, let’s go mountain climbing.”

Tong Jianshu had done some research and learned that Yunxiang Temple in the neighboring J City was said to be especially spiritual. He planned to take Qian there to pay his respects.

He hadn’t been one to believe in these things before, but thinking about the oddities surrounding his daughter, he decided it was worth a try.

A bit of peace of mind, and a chance to clear his head.

He didn’t let his agent know about this “grasping at straws” plan, and he intended to visit Yunxiang Temple quietly.

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, Tong Jianshu geared up and took Qian out.

Before heading to J City, they first stopped by the headquarters of Wild Games.

Zaiye was already waiting there in his car. Tong Jianshu got in with Qian in his arms and smiled at Assistant Zhang, who was sitting inside.

“Assistant Zhang, you’re coming too? Not going home for the New Year?”

“It’s fine. I only have an older brother who’s busy with a case and won’t be home either. I’m technically on the clock for this trip—triple pay from the boss. Don’t worry about it.”

Workaholic Assistant Zhang had spent last year’s New Year’s Eve working overtime at the company.

From the driver’s seat, Zaiye said, “Since we’ll be staying overnight, it’ll be more convenient for Assistant Zhang to help with Qian.”

They would arrive in J City that day and head to Yunxiang Temple the next morning, staying in a hotel overnight. If there were delays, they might need to stay another night.

By the time they reached J City, it was already late. The four checked into a hotel.

The award-winning actor disguised himself under layers of heavy clothing, scarf, hat, and mask—his hair hidden and face concealed, topped off with a pair of goofy, out-of-style glasses.

Qian was bundled up just as thickly, mostly because her dad was worried she’d get cold.

With her hat and scarf wrapped tight, only her big round eyes peeked out, darting around curiously. She often pulled the scarf over her eyes to play “You can’t see me” with any adult who looked at her.

Even Assistant Zhang had to wear a mask to hide her face.

Only Zaiye wore a coat without covering his face.

The next morning, the four kept up the same outfits as they headed to Yunxiang Temple.

At six in the morning, Tong Jianshu was stunned as he looked at the swarming sea of people crowding the mountain path leading to the temple.

“Why are there so many people?”

Zaiye frowned as he saw the masses of elderly folks climbing the mountain.

Assistant Zhang, scrolling through her phone, showed the name “Yunxiang Temple” on the screen.

“Apparently there’ll be even more tomorrow, on New Year’s Day.”

“No choice, let’s go up,” Tong Jianshu said as he adjusted his mask and scarf, pulled Qian’s hat more snugly, and joined the mountain-climbing crowd.

Most of the people were elderly folks from nearby, still full of vigor. Tong Jianshu struggled to shield Qian from rogue elbows while also trying to prevent his own hat and mask from being tugged off—yet still couldn’t push past them.

Zaiye, seeing Qian nearly get hit from the back, finally lost patience and said, “Give Qian to me!”

But taking her didn’t help much. He barely managed two steps in the chaos. It wasn’t that he couldn’t push through—it was just that the people pressing in were all elderly, and he was afraid if he exerted force, a few might collapse on the spot.

At that moment, Assistant Zhang stepped up. “Let me carry the child.”

She took Qian in her arms, found a gap in the crowd, and moved forward, shouting, “Stop pushing me! You’re squishing my kid!”

After repeating this a few times, the people around noticed her and the child, easing off a little. Someone even called out, “Don’t push! You’ll hurt the kid!”

Another voice said, “Young lady, bring the child this way, there’s space here!”

With Qian in her arms, Assistant Zhang climbed several steps ahead. Meanwhile, Tong Jianshu and Zaiye, who had fallen behind, tried to catch up—but the gap was quickly closed by the relentless wave of elderly climbers.

“Hey, young man, you’re so tall! Stop shoving us old folks!”

“Yeah, yeah, we can’t take it. Move back!”

“Hey, hey, let your auntie through, my legs aren’t good.”

…

An award-winning actor and the CEO of Wild Games, pushed to the back by an army of elderly hikers, could only watch helplessly as Assistant Zhang and the child disappeared further up the trail.