Chapter 99: Film Emperor (19)

“You suddenly showed up back then, grabbed my leg and called me ‘Daddy’—did you even ask me?”

Thirty-year-old Zaiye frowned, looking even fiercer than he did in his twenties.

Qian shrank under the covers at the sight of his expression, wriggling to hide herself.

Zaiye reached over and yanked her right back out, exposing her face.

“You didn’t ask me if I wanted to be your dad. Now you just say you’re not my daughter and that’s that?”

“You were my daughter then, and you still are. Even if you turn into an alien or a puppy, you’re still my daughter, got it?”

The fear was gone from Qian’s face. As she listened to his words, her lips quivered—and then she burst into tears, fat teardrops pattering down, soaking two wet spots into her little pillow in an instant.

She cried out loud, stretching her chubby short arms out from under the blanket, sobbing and calling for her daddy.

Zaiye felt a wave of heartache. His eyes turned red as he pulled the child into his arms.

When the child had first appeared, he hadn’t thought much about where she came from.

But after she was gone, he kept wondering—where had she come from? Maybe she wasn’t just an ordinary child.

Only by believing that could he convince himself to hold onto the hope that one day, she might come back to see him.

Over the years, the mystery of Qian’s origins had become solid proof of her being extraordinary—and that belief gave Zaiye immense comfort.

He firmly believed: if she wasn’t an ordinary child, then that death couldn’t have truly taken her away.

As she cried, the child suddenly looked nauseous. Zaiye quickly held her up and patted her back.

He grabbed a tissue to wipe the spit-up at her mouth, as well as the tears and snot bubbles on her face.

Then he pressed another tissue to both sides of her nose. “Blow, hard.”

After blowing her nose, the tip of Qian’s nose was bright red.

Zaiye wiped her face again with a warm towel.

While he went to rinse the towel, Qian crawled out of bed, ran to the corner of the room packed with plush toys, and began dragging a big white goose plush back toward the bed.

Hearing the noise, Zaiye poked his head out—and immediately flared up. This little rascal couldn’t behave for even three minutes?

“Who told you to get out of bed? You’ve got a fever, don’t you know?”

He threw down the towel, took a step forward, picked the kid up like a sandwich, and stuffed her back into bed.

“Stay under the blanket. You’re not even wearing shoes. If you run around again, I’ll take you to the hospital and have the doctor give you two more shots!”

Qian obediently wrapped herself in the covers and said, “I want to sleep with the big white goose.”

Zaiye went to retrieve the plush and placed it beside her on the left.

“I want the big shark too,” said Qian, still stuffy-nosed from crying, her voice nasal and muffled.

“Don’t tilt your head back, the wind will blow right in.” Zaiye brought over the shark—and also grabbed a giant crocodile. The shark was placed on her other side, while the crocodile was arranged around her head, sealing her in like a fortress.

“Happy now?”

Qian blinked. “I don’t want the crocodile. It’s green and ugly.”

Zaiye: “…You just want to go against me, don’t you?”

Qian: “Blegh.” She immediately pretended to gag.

As much as he missed her, in that moment, Zaiye’s nostalgic rose-tinted memories cracked, and he remembered all those times he’d nearly lost it and wanted to discipline the kid.

“Daddy, I missed you so much,” the child suddenly said.

Zaiye’s heart softened instantly. The annoyance melted away.

“Go to sleep. Daddy’s right here with you.”

When she woke up, she still had a slight fever. Zaiye wrapped her in a down jacket and carried her to the kitchen to eat.

The groceries had been bought by Assistant Zhang, and Zaiye made some congee.

It was vegetable congee with a bit of minced meat—it smelled great, and Qian buried her head and polished off a full bowl.

“Don’t eat so much at once. You’ll throw up again if you overdo it,” Zaiye warned her.

Sure enough, after finishing the big bowl, her sickly stomach couldn’t handle it—and she threw it all up.

Zaiye gave her some warm water and prepared to take her to the hospital for an IV drip.

“I don’t wanna get a shot,” Qian said listlessly.

“You won’t get better without one,” Zaiye said, finding the exchange oddly familiar.

Right, back when she was sick and he had to take her for shots, she never cooperated either.

“I’ve already had injections for several days. I don’t need another,” Qian said, hiding her arms.

A few days ago, the Film Emperor Tong had taken her for injections too. She cried and refused, and when she cried, Tong Jianxu cried along with her—until Qian got confused and quieted down, pitifully watching him cry.

“If Qian doesn’t get the shot, she won’t get better. And if she’s not better, Daddy can’t sleep at night.”

“Daddy will get the shot with Qian—Daddy goes first, then Qian, okay?”

She never dared say no to that.

But now, facing the never-cries Dad Zaiye, she had the nerve to rebel again.

“I can take medicine instead. I’ll drink that powdery stuff,” Qian said—meaning that sweet granule cold medicine.

Zaiye didn’t budge. “Fine, I’ll make it for you when we get home.”

Before she could cheer, he added, “After the shot, when we get home.”

Zaiye skillfully held her head, covered her eyes, and stretched out her arm.

“Doctor—quick, do it while she’s not crying!”

While Zaiye held Qian during the IV drip at the hospital, a video call came in from Tong Jianxu.

In the video, Tong Jianxu was in costume, wearing a coat over it. When he saw Qian, he smiled.

“Qian, feeling any better?” On-screen, he didn’t look as sharply thin and severe as in real life. Just chiseled around the cheekbones and jaw.

“Getting an IV, huh? Were you good today? You didn’t cry, right?”

Off-camera, Zaiye snorted. “Do you even have to ask? She definitely cried and kicked up a fuss.”

Tong Jianxu lied without blinking, “No way. Qian’s always been good for shots—never makes a scene. Right, Qian?”

Zaiye couldn’t help laughing angrily. This little rascal really picks her battles, huh? She throws fits only with me?

“If I’m not good, Daddy will cry,” Qian said.

Zaiye and Tong Jianxu both fell silent.

Zaiye almost said “I didn’t”, but he quickly realized something.

“Ahem,” Tong Jianxu smiled. “Qian’s so thoughtful—she doesn’t want to see Daddy cry. Boss, maybe you should try that sometime.”

Zaiye: “……”

Tong Jianxu didn’t talk for long. He chatted with the child for a bit, said he would come pick her up soon, and then ended the call.

After the video ended, Tong Jianxu coughed a few times.

His assistant Tian Miao quickly handed him some fever medicine and a cup of warm water.

Tong Jianxu was taking his medicine when Feng Yu burst in.

“How’s the fever? I’ll go with you to the hospital.”

“No need, it’s just a low-grade fever now. Some medicine will do.” Tong Jianxu’s voice was a bit hoarse.

Filming had been exhausting, and the weather was cold. He had to wear thin costumes for outdoor shoots and had already gotten sick a few days ago.

But back then, he was worried about the child and had to keep up with the filming schedule, so he just took some medicine and pushed through. Feng Yu hadn’t even known he was sick. Today, she heard he passed out right after filming an emotional scene in the morning and rushed over.

“You say it’s fine, but your health doesn’t just belong to you. Fine, if you won’t go to the hospital, at least go back to the hotel this afternoon and get some proper rest. I’ll talk to the director.”

Tong Jianxu held the cup and drank water silently.

Feng Yu knew his personality. He seemed easygoing, but he could be so stubborn at times.

She walked over and softened her tone: “If you don’t get better soon, you’ll delay filming even more. The sooner you recover, the sooner you can bring Qian back. You don’t want her staying with someone else for too long, right? What if she’s already recovered, but you’re still sick?”

“…Alright.”

After persuading him to rest at the hotel, Feng Yu personally went out to buy some light food for him.

After eating and washing up, Tong Jianxu lay in bed. His face, now free of makeup, looked pale and fragile.

The air conditioner hummed in the room, and a soft light glowed by the bedside. Just beyond the door, his agent and Tian Miao were talking in low voices.

Tong Jianxu had a headache, but couldn’t fall asleep.

Beside his pillow was a small yellow duck plushie—it was a game merch item he had bought for Qian. She liked hugging it while sleeping and would sometimes bite and tug on its beak when she was bored.

He grabbed the duck and tucked it under his neck, closing his eyes.

Every little sound around him became amplified. The hotel near the film set didn’t have soundproof windows, so he could hear the noise of the street outside.

After a while, sleep still didn’t come. His mind kept running through upcoming scenes, playing them out frame by frame. Then his thoughts shifted to the child, suddenly spiraling into countless worries, both realistic and impossible. The chaotic thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Tong Jianxu pressed his forehead and got up to find the medicine he hadn’t taken in a while.

After taking the pills and lying back down, he quickly felt a wave of dizziness, as if he were on a small boat drifting with the current. The world swayed gently, his mind couldn’t hold onto any complicated thoughts anymore, and he finally found a moment of peace.

Zhang, the assistant to the boss, had been staying in Ningshui with them for three days and had witnessed firsthand her boss’s parenting abilities.

Washing the child’s face, doing her hair, picking out clothes and shoes, cooking, playing with her… Honestly, it kind of overturned her years-long perception of her boss.

This toy-filled, colorful home had already amazed Zhang once.

She had come to help, but most of the time she wasn’t needed. The boss could handle it all himself. All she had to do was work remotely with other colleagues and take on a bit of his workload.

The only thing he really needed her help with when it came to the kid was supervising bath time.

Qian could bathe herself, but if no one watched her, she’d play in the water forever. Since she’d just barely recovered, Zaiye wouldn’t allow her to play in the water, so he had to ask Zhang to supervise.

Before bath time, Zaiye emphasized: “Ten minutes, then she has to come out. No soaking in the tub the whole time. Don’t let her just play with the duck and forget to wash. Make sure she uses body wash. And don’t let her drink the bathwater.”

Zhang memorized all of it, and the moment she stepped into the bathroom, she started a timer on her phone.

Qian slowly undressed, slowly splashed water, and as soon as she got into the tub, she started rummaging in the cabinets for her duck toys.

After finding the ducks, she grabbed the body wash—not to use on herself, but to lather up the ducks, covering them in bubbles.

Zhang quietly kept track of the time and realized there was no way this would be done in ten minutes.

She took off her watch, rolled up her sleeves, and approached the child playing in the water.

About ten minutes later, just as Zaiye was getting ready to knock on the door and hurry them up, Zhang came out carrying Qian.

A freshly bathed child, and a thoroughly exhausted assistant.

She handed Qian over and said, “Boss, I want a raise.”

Zaiye: “……”

After three days in Ningshui, once Qian fully recovered, Zaiye brought her back to S City.

It was almost the end of the year, and there was a pile of work waiting at the company.

As soon as he walked in carrying Qian, the whole office started buzzing.

“Why did the boss bring a kid to work? Whose kid is that? Don’t tell me it’s his?”

“I don’t dare get close, but I bet she’s cute. Who’s brave enough to snap a photo?”

Gao Jia, the marketing manager, holding a cup of coffee, saw the chatter in the company group chat and curiously went to the office door to peek.

Sure enough, not long after, the boss passed by carrying a child.

She only saw the boss’s back in his suit and the back of the child’s head, but Gao Jia almost instinctively blurted out a name.

“Qian!”

Years ago, she used to see this exact scene often.

As if hearing her voice, the child turned her head, revealing a slightly familiar little face.

Gao Jia: “!”

It was Qian—that Qian!

The daughter of Film Emperor Tong and Assistant Zhang!