Shi Yuan pushed open the bedroom window and looked outside.
Beyond lay an endless expanse of meadows and fields.
Only then did he realize how well-positioned this bedroom was. From the window, he could take in the entire estate—the stables, kennels, and flower gardens—all visible at a glance.
Kennel staff were out walking the hounds, leading a majestic silver-brown greyhound across the lawn toward the house.
Caitou huffed and puffed as he climbed onto the stool by the window, gripping his father’s sleeve to steady himself. He craned his neck to peer outside and exclaimed with delight, “Big doggy!”
The greyhound, with its keen hearing, immediately noticed the commotion upstairs. It jerked its head around so abruptly that it nearly yanked the leash from the handler’s grasp.
Afraid Caitou might lose his balance and fall, Shi Yuan pulled him close. “Yes, that’s a greyhound. Your Dog Sister is the same breed.”
The greyhound stared up at the father and son, its nose twitching for a moment before suddenly wagging its tail furiously.
The kennel handler was taken aback.
This greyhound, belonging to Master Hawthorne, was as aloof as its owner—usually too proud to wag its tail at anyone, even Hawthorne himself. So why today…?
Shi Yuan chuckled. “Look, Caitou, this big doggy is so friendly, just like your Dog Sister.”
Cuihua, overjoyed to see her handsome godfather and the little one in his belly again, had no outlet for her excitement. She ran in circles on the spot before finally trotting over to a shrub, lifting a hind leg, and relieving herself with a splash.
Shi Yuan laughed again. “Oh, this is your Dog Brother.”
What a coincidence! If not for the difference in gender, he might have thought it was Cuihua—the two dogs looked so alike.
He lifted Caitou down from the stool and turned to fetch the milk bottle. “Time for baby’s milk.”
London, Mayfair Mansion.
Hushuoba, holding Hawthorne’s work phone, knocked elegantly on the door and entered. “Your Grace, a call from the old duke.”
Hawthorne closed his email, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and took the phone.
“Son! Coming home for dinner this weekend? Your father found a Chinese chef. Why not come back now and take a look?” The old duke’s tone was cheerful.
Having just learned of Shi Yuan’s whereabouts after two years, Hawthorne was in no mood. He refused outright. “I have urgent matters now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
The old duke wasn’t worried at all. Foreseeing this, he had already arranged for Shi Yuan and his son to stay at the estate. Whether Hawthorne returned today or tomorrow made no difference.
After hanging up, Hawthorne immediately drove to Cambridge.
Scholarship applicants had filled out basic information forms, so Hawthorne knew where Shi Yuan lived now. He wanted to see him immediately—he couldn’t wait another second.
Two hours later, Hawthorne arrived at Shi Yuan’s residence.
It was a low-rise terraced building. The exterior suggested few occupants, but inside, the corridors were narrow and winding, housing far more people than expected.
Shi Yuan lived on the third floor.
Hawthorne stood outside the door, his hand raised in mid-air, hesitating to knock.
“Who are you looking for?” A stranger’s voice suddenly came from behind.
Hawthorne turned to see a man who had just come up the stairs. The man was tall and burly, with well-defined muscles, as if he had just returned from exercising.
Hawthorne discreetly sized him up from head to toe.
Not as tall, not as fit, and not as handsome as him.
Hawthorne felt a bit more at ease and took the initiative to ask, “Do you live here?”
The other person was taken aback.
What was with this tone, as if he were the master of the house?
He instinctively replied, “I live next door. And you are…?”
So it was a neighbor.
Hawthorne said, “I’m his senior from university. I need to talk to him about something.”
Most of the people renting in this area were students, or families who had moved here for better educational resources, with children and parents applying to local secondary schools.
The neighbor himself was also an alumnus of the same university, currently a graduate student. He stared at Hawthorne for a moment, then suddenly his eyes lit up. “I remember now, I’ve seen you before. Last year’s opening ceremony—you gave a speech as an alumni representative, right?”
With Hawthorne’s striking face, it was hard to forget him after just one meeting.
The neighbor let down his guard and kindly informed him, “You came at a bad time. He’s usually not home on weekends—he takes the kid out to play.”
Takes… what?
Hawthorne wondered if he was hearing things.
“A pet?” he asked.
If it was a pet, that would make sense. Shiyuan had always wanted to raise a dog.
But the neighbor, full of enthusiasm, uttered a chilling sentence: “Not a pet, a child. A two-year-old child.”
Hawthorne shook his head. “You must have mistaken him for someone else. The person I’m looking for is Chinese, and he’s still an undergraduate.”
“No mistake,” the neighbor said, taken aback. “I’m talking about a Chinese person too. He took a two-year break and just came back, studying at Trinity College, right?”
Hawthorne’s heart began to race.
He understood every word individually, but when strung together, each sentence made no sense to him.
Hawthorne pressed on, unwilling to give up. “His own child?”
“He looks just like his dad—definitely his own,” the neighbor said, glancing at him. “Are you okay?”
Hawthorne leaned against the nearby wall and stood there for a moment.
The neighbor checked the time and suggested, “Maybe you should come back tomorrow. He took the child out of town today and won’t be back tonight.”
Hawthorne nodded. He had arrived with stiff determination but left with shaky legs.
Once outside the building, he changed his mind and decided to drive back to Hampshire early.
He remembered there were a few bottles of old wine in the manor’s cellar, stored away by the old widower for a full century. The old man usually couldn’t bear to drink them and was careful to keep them out of Hawthorne’s reach, but tonight was simply unbearable.
Meanwhile, Shi Yuan had just managed to put Caitou to sleep.
Caitou had drunk some milk before bed, so Shi Yuan took the bottle downstairs to the kitchen to wash it.
On the way, he passed the wall of honor displays and paused, taking a closer look.
He had left in a hurry during the day and hadn’t examined it carefully. Now, in the quiet, he realized the sheer weight of all the trophies lining the wall—no less impressive than his senior’s.
What had the old butler said when introducing them?
Swimming, skiing, horse racing, rowing… and yes, sailing.
The master of the house also participated in sailing competitions.
His senior competed every year—maybe the two had even faced off in the same race. Could this mean the master of the house was his senior’s defeated rival?
Shi Yuan scanned the wall until he finally found the sailing trophy, then froze.
How could it be the championship trophy?
He leaned in to check the year and, once he saw it clearly, his breath caught.
It was the same year he had gone to watch the competition.
Shi Yuan stood there, processing the fact that the duke of the house was his senior.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, and quickly pieced everything together.
Hawthorne and his partner had a very good relationship—not only did they have a child, but they had even hired someone specifically to prepare postpartum meals.
His gaze fell once more on the white yacht model.
In a flash of insight, everything clicked into place.
So, two years ago, when Hawthorne invited the entire sect to Portofino, it was to use that yacht to publicly announce his relationship with his partner.
And he had nearly become one of the witnesses to that ceremony.
Shi Yuan let out a long, slow breath.
Thank goodness he had run away quickly back then—he almost became part of their little performance.
But the next moment, his heart tightened sharply again—
Wait, the owner of this estate is Hawthorne. Caicai can’t stay here any longer.
He had no intention of disrupting Hawthorne’s new family. If Caicai’s identity as an illegitimate child were exposed here, they might not even be able to leave when the time came.
Fortunately, Hawthorne hadn’t returned today. First thing tomorrow morning, he would take Caicai and make a run for it.
Not daring to delay, Shi Yuan groped his way downstairs in the dark. Just as he stepped into the kitchen, a sudden commotion came from outside.
It was the old butler’s voice.
Nearing midnight, Hawthorne’s car slowly drove into the estate.
The old butler, fully dressed and moving briskly, hurried to the entrance and respectfully called out, “Young Master.”
Crouched in the corner of the kitchen, Shi Yuan felt a chill run down his spine.
Wasn’t he supposed to return tomorrow?
“Is Father resting?” Hawthorne asked.
“Yes.”
“You should go back to sleep too. I’m heading to the wine cellar.”
The old butler, ever dutiful, had risen as soon as he heard the car outside, but Hawthorne hadn’t intended to disturb him in the first place. The butler gave a slight nod, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to discuss the new chef tomorrow, and turned back to his room.
Hawthorne took off his coat, loosened the button at his collar, and headed straight for the kitchen.
The footsteps grew closer and closer!
Cold sweat dripped down Shi Yuan’s forehead, one drop after another!