Chapter 82: Film Emperor (2)

First floor living room of the small western-style building.

Two adults, one child. Tong Jianxu and Qian each sat on a separate sofa. Feng Yu was standing, unconsciously pacing and rubbing her shoes against the floor.

After listening to her artist’s recounting, Tong Jianxu shook his head with a laugh.

Other than the moment he’d shown surprise when Feng Yu first claimed the child was his daughter, he had maintained a calm and weary expression the whole time.

“Jie, you must be mistaken.”

“I’m mistaken? She’s not your daughter?” Seeing how indifferent he was, Feng Yu started doubting herself.

Tong Jianxu replied with certainty, “She just looks like me, that’s all. Maybe her parents were joking with her, and she saw me on TV and misunderstood.”

“Besides, Jie, you know about my physical condition.”

With his strange body, even family members and doctors would cast odd looks. Let alone outsiders.

He likely wouldn’t have a partner in this life—much less a child.

Upon hearing this, Feng Yu finally relaxed, realizing she’d been worried for nothing.

After all, wouldn’t the person himself know whether he had a child or not? Since Tong Jianxu was so sure, it must’ve been a misunderstanding.

The more she thought about it, the more absurd the whole thing seemed. Feng Yu suddenly burst out laughing, dropped her emergency-mode tension, and sat casually on the sofa. Instead, she started musing about something else: “She’s not your kid but looks so much like you—if the two of you appeared on a show together or something…”

“Jie, let’s not talk about that. You brought someone’s child home—shouldn’t you hurry up and send her back? Her parents must be frantic right now.” Tong Jianxu interrupted his manager’s daydream.

“You’re right!” Feng Yu remembered that part, but now she was stuck.

“I picked her up by the roadside—where am I supposed to take her now?”

She stood up, walked over to Qian, and asked, “Sweetie, Auntie’s not joking with you, okay? What are your mommy and daddy’s names? Where’s your house? I’ll take you home, alright?”

Qian had been quiet the whole time, sitting obediently on the sofa. Her little leather shoes, which she hadn’t had time to take off, swung gently as her eyes moved between the two adults.

When she heard Feng Yu’s question, she lifted her hand and pointed at Tong Jianxu again, repeating for the second time, “Tong Jianxu. Daddy.”

Then she added, with a slight pout, “No home. Can’t go back.”

Tong Jianxu, now suddenly promoted to ‘dad’, exchanged a helpless glance with Feng Yu, who still wasn’t getting answers.

“Let’s go ask security—see if any nearby residents have lost a child. If not, we’ll have to take her to the police station.”

Tong Jianxu said, glancing at the little girl who looked so much like him. As if worried she’d be scared hearing the word ‘police,’ he gave her a reassuring smile.

At thirty-three years old, the Film Emperor still had a pure, almost innocent look when he smiled. His eyes were starkly black and white, the pupils unusually dark for an adult, giving them a striking clarity.

The shape of his eyes flowed naturally, and his lowered lashes cast shadows that made the corners of his eyes appear slightly drooped, softening his age.

His arched brows matched perfectly with his eyes—blending gentleness with a hint of heroic spirit. His overall temperament evoked the image of a treasured sword in a jade case or fresh bamboo under peach blossoms.

And beneath those dazzling eyes, the rest of his facial features were just as exceptional.

In short, any girl who saw the Film Emperor smile at her—whether she liked him or not—would end up blushing.

But Qian was only three. And having seen many ‘dads,’ not a single one unattractive, she was already at the age of “unaware of dad’s beauty.”

So when this new dad smiled at her, she only sighed suddenly, looking more melancholic than the two adults in front of her.

“I’m hungry,” she said.

Kids in a bad mood might not want to eat, but hungry kids couldn’t help it.

Feng Yu had been nagging Tong Jianxu about what could go wrong if they brought the kid to the police. Hearing Qian speak up, she remembered her artist hadn’t eaten breakfast either.

“Alright, I’ll go ask security and grab some food for you two. Too late to cook at home now anyway.”

She walked over to the fridge, opened it, and frowned. “Didn’t Tian Miao stock your fridge? There’s nothing in here to eat or drink.”

Tong Jianxu, used to his manager’s fussing, replied, “Tian Miao’s on leave.”

Pulling out her phone to order food, Feng Yu complained, “On leave again. You need a new assistant. Tian Miao probably won’t last long. And A-Yan’s sudden illness—after surgery, she still has to stay in the hospital for recovery. She’s not coming back for months. I’ve got so much to do, I can’t handle everything. These days it’s so hard to find an assistant who’s capable, low-maintenance, responsible, and tight-lipped.”

After placing the order, Feng Yu turned on the TV with a click, her expression flipping as she put on a cheerful face for the child. “Sweetie, you sit here and watch cartoons, okay? Auntie’s going to find your mommy and daddy.”

Then she told Tong Jianxu, “Keep an eye on her. I’ll bring the food when I’m back.”

With that, she bustled out the door.

Once it was just the two of them in the house, it suddenly quieted down.

After a short silence, the adult, Tong Jianxu, was the first to speak.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Qian replied.

“What’s your name?”

“Qian.”

Tong Jianxu asked gently, “Well then, Qian, can you stay here by yourself for a bit? I want to go upstairs and wash up.”

“Sure, go ahead.” The little one’s tone was as if granting him permission.

Her soft, childish voice and the serious expression on her face really made her strangely adorable.

Tong Jianxu asked again, “Why did you say I’m your daddy? If people misunderstand, it could be a problem.”

For some reason, the Film Emperor felt like the child was looking at him with a touch of pity. As if she were watching a poor, stubborn fool who refused to accept fate.

As he reached the stairs, Tong Jianxu turned back and reminded her, “Sweetie, don’t run around on your own, and don’t break anything, okay?”

Qian shifted to the sofa facing the TV, her eyes fixed on the screen, and sighed. “I know, I’m not that childish.”

A three-year-old letting out a sigh was already funny enough—but the fact that she said she wasn’t childish made it even more hilarious.

Tong Jianxu gripped the stair rail and headed upstairs, laughing as he went.

He came downstairs again not long after. After washing up, the Film Emperor Tong looked even more radiant and had changed into a fresh outfit.

Feng Yu happened to return as well, placing a bunch of shopping bags on the kitchen counter.

“Time was tight, so I had someone send over breakfast. Pick whatever you like,” she called the big and little one over to eat.

There was stomach-soothing porridge, various cold side dishes, delicate soup dumplings, egg pancakes, and the like.

Tong Jianxu had grown up with his grandfather, a teacher, and his grandmother, a traditional opera artist. He was used to Chinese-style breakfasts.

He picked up a bowl of porridge first, but after just one bite, he stopped, silently pushed the bowl aside, and went for the soup dumplings instead.

Feng Yu asked, “What’s wrong? Don’t like it?”

Seeing the little flecks of green vegetable in the porridge, she realized, “Wait, did they put cilantro in there?”

Tong Jianxu ate almost everything, but cilantro? He wouldn’t touch a bit of it.

“This place, seriously—who puts cilantro in porridge without a note? I’m definitely giving them a bad review!”

As she spoke, she noticed the child next to them also pushing away the cilantro-topped porridge, choosing soup dumplings just like Tong Jianxu.

“You don’t eat cilantro either, little one?”

Tong Jianxu rolled a soup dumpling around in his personal vinegar dip and ate it without batting an eye. The pungent acidity made Feng Yu feel her mouth puckering just watching.

She knew well—Tong Jianxu loved vinegar and all things sour.

But the kid next to him? She was also happily eating vinegar-soaked dumplings without the slightest change in expression.

They looked so alike, even their taste buds matched. Was it really possible they weren’t related?

The more Feng Yu looked, the weirder she felt. She couldn’t help but nudge Tong Jianxu. “Look at her.”

Noticing how similar the child’s preferences were to his own, Tong Jianxu smiled at Qian and said, “We have really similar tastes. Must be fate.”

Feng Yu: Fate? Really? That’s what we’re going with?

“Jianxu, I’m serious. Why don’t you do a paternity test with this kid?”

“Sis, you’ve really got the wrong idea. She can’t possibly be my child. I think I’d know if I had a kid, wouldn’t I?”

Tong Jianxu said firmly, then pulled a bottle of milk from the bag and poured half a glass for both himself and Qian.

After one sip, he set it down with a look of dislike. The child next to him did the same—one sip, then a gentle push away. The way her little brows twitched… it was uncannily identical.

Feng Yu clutched her chest. “No, this feeling is too ominous. You have to get a test, just in case!”

Tong Jianxu couldn’t argue her down and finally gave in.

Still, he reminded her, “The most important thing is to find this kid’s home and send her back as soon as possible.”

He was worried the child would be scared or cry in a strange environment, but upon close observation, she was more at ease here than he was.

She finished her food, wiped her mouth and washed her hands, then trotted off to the living room to watch TV—completely quiet and focused the whole time.

She had lunch with them too, didn’t need anyone to feed her.

In the afternoon, the manager had someone deliver loads of supplies to fill the fridge and personally washed fruit, reminding him to eat.

“You’re not filming right now, so bulk up a bit. No idea when Director Fang’s drama will start shooting, and he’s the worst—once filming begins, you’ll lose weight fast again.”

Tong Jianxu didn’t particularly like eating fruit. Usually his assistant would blend it into juice and he’d drink it quickly.

On that point, Qian was different—she actually loved eating fruit.

While Feng Yu wasn’t paying attention, Tong Jianxu casually but kindly gave the entire large bowl of fruit to Qian. She hugged it and went to town, cheeks bulging, finishing it all in no time.

This kid could really eat.

That evening, Tong Jianxu brought up taking the child to the police station again, to find her parents sooner.

But Feng Yu firmly refused. “No. Wait for the paternity test. I pulled some strings to expedite it—we’ll have results tomorrow. If it turns out you really aren’t related, I’ll take her to the station myself.”

Tong Jianxu didn’t understand why his manager acted like they were hiding a guilty secret, like going to the police would expose something.

“Sweetie, are you scared to sleep in this room alone? Want Auntie to keep you company?” Feng Yu asked.

The child coldly rejected her offer. She expertly moved a stool, brushed her teeth, wiped her face, and even combed her own hair—displaying a strong sense of self-discipline.

Though she couldn’t undo her braid, so the manager auntie helped with that in the end.

Late at night, a small lamp still glowed on the third floor of the little villa.

Tong Jianxu couldn’t sleep and went downstairs to get some water.

As he passed the second floor, he glanced into the guest room where Qian was staying. The whole day felt surreal.

He was just about to go down when he heard faint sobbing from the guest room, causing him to change direction and push open the door.

A small nightlight by the bed cast a soft glow over the child’s face, illuminating the tear tracks on her cheeks.

She seemed to be having a sad dream, tears seeping continuously from her tightly shut eyes. Her little face was flushed from crying, and she whimpered softly in her sleep.

Standing at the doorway for a moment, Tong Jianxu stepped inside and bent over the bed. He had no idea what to do, so he gently patted her small shoulder and back, whispering, “It’s okay, don’t be scared, don’t cry…”

He had to find her parents tomorrow—no matter what. If nothing else, he could post on Weibo and get fans to help.

What Tong Jianxu didn’t expect was that the next day would bring not just an unexpected paternity test result—but also a manager on the verge of a breakdown.

“You explain this to me right now. What the hell is going on.”

Staring at the paternity report declaring a father-daughter relationship, Tong Jianxu also desperately wanted someone to explain it to him.

“Why do I have a biological daughter?” he asked his manager, completely bewildered.

The manager roared, “You’re asking me? You’re asking ME?!”