Hawthorne suffered from a hangover all night.
He had drunk too much the previous evening. In a daze, he had stumbled to the kitchen looking for something to eat, only to hallucinate and see Shi Yuan.
How could Shi Yuan possibly be here?
When his mind cleared slightly, he found himself alone in the kitchen, surrounded by silence.
Hawthorne, still somewhat rational, knew he couldn’t sleep in the kitchen. He forced himself to stagger back upstairs to his bedroom.
The next morning, the old butler came out to tidy the dining room and was taken aback at the sight of several empty wine bottles on the table.
Had the young master drunk that much last night?
He probably wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon this morning.
The old butler turned to attend to the old duke first. Surprisingly, the old duke had risen unusually early, full of energy and looking eager, ready to play matchmaker for his son and the young chef.
After a moment’s thought, the old butler decided not to mention for now that the young master had finished off the few bottles of reserves in the wine cellar the previous night, lest he suffer collateral damage.
Unexpectedly, the old duke spoke up next: “Today is an important day, Beck. Bring out those bottles of century-old wine from my cellar. We’ll have them at noon.”
Oh dear, is the conflict about to begin?
He closed his eyes briefly and steeled himself to say, “Your Grace, about that wine…”
“Wait,” the old duke suddenly interrupted him. “Not today. I almost forgot—Parsi is moving in today.”
The old butler froze. Hearing that name sent a chill down his spine.
Parsi was a distant relative from a collateral branch of the Cavendish family, brought in to inherit the family’s wealth and title.
Two years ago, when Young Master Hawthorne came out to the family and explicitly stated he would never have children, the family began pressuring the old duke to seriously consider the issue of succession.
The family’s legacy could not end in the hands of an heir without descendants—this was also the fundamental reason the family had vehemently opposed the old duke’s past romance. Although the old duke only had Hawthorne as his son, and the family had no choice but to accept it, Hawthorne was now treading a similar path as his father but would not have the same fortune.
Thus, Parsi appeared, carefully selected by the family as the best candidate to reclaim the control the family had lost.
However, the Cavendish family had clearly underestimated the old duke’s stubbornness.
The old duke’s expression grew even more resolute: “We must do everything possible to quickly bring my son and the young chef together.”
As long as Caïtou could become his grandson in name, given the boy’s uncanny resemblance to Hawthorne as a child, it wouldn’t be difficult to deceive the family.
Outside the manor, a line of black cars slowly drove through the gates.
Parsi had arrived.
Shi Yuan was with Caïtou, leaning against the windowsill to enjoy the view.
Caïtou had wanted to come here as soon as he woke up, saying the grass outside was beautiful. Shi Yuan, who hadn’t slept well the night before and was struggling to stay alert with dark circles under his eyes, stayed close by, watching over him to prevent him from losing his balance and falling.
Caïtou pointed a small finger at the vintage black Bentley slowly coming to a stop downstairs: “Daddy, Grandpa’s car.”
He Jingchuan’s garage housed a collection of antique Bentleys, and Caïtou had seen one before, leaving a deep impression.
Shi Yuan shook his head: “No, it’s not Grandpa’s. It belongs to someone else.”
He watched as the old butler led a line of servants out in an orderly procession, respectfully approaching the car door. The fanfare was significant, suggesting the arrival of an important guest.
The car door opened, and the old butler stepped forward to guide the way. Out stepped a young, beautiful boy with golden hair and blue eyes.
The boy wore an arrogant expression, not even sparing a glance for the old butler. These people were all loyal followers of that duke and his son, so there was no need for him to show them any kindness.
Shi Yuan stared at the boy, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.
Judging by the demeanor, this didn’t seem like a guest here for a visit.
Caitou whispered, “Daddy, this uncle looks really fierce.”
He was so mean to Butler Grandpa.
Just then, as if sensing something, Parsi suddenly looked up, his gaze shooting straight toward the second floor.
Standing upstairs was an Asian beauty, holding a little child in his arms.
The beauty was exceptionally striking, with delicate, slender brows and eyes that seemed to hold a world of emotion. The gentle curve of his lowered gaze was reminiscent of the compassionate Virgin Mary in church murals, gazing down upon the world.
Parsi was momentarily captivated…
Wait!
He suddenly grew alert.
Who was that little child beside the beauty? Why did he look so much like that bastard Hawthorne!
Parsi directly asked the butler.
The butler nodded, answering truthfully, “Young Master Parsi, that is the new chef hired for the estate.”
Parsi sneered silently.
Lies.
Did they think he was blind?
Forget about how a mere chef could be placed in the master bedroom reserved for the lady of the estate. Just looking at that little child, anyone with eyes could tell he was clearly Hawthorne’s illegitimate son.
Well, well. To secure the family fortune, Hawthorne had secretly arranged for a surrogate behind everyone’s back and even hidden the person inside his own estate.
Parsi was furious.
Why was Hawthorne so lucky? Born into billions, openly gay yet still having such a beautiful partner, and worst of all, resorting to surrogacy!
For someone as despicable as Hawthorne, he would show no mercy. He would take everything from Hawthorne for the sake of the family!
Suppressing his anger, Parsi shot a cold glare toward the second floor before turning away. Without looking back, he had his luggage carried in and settled into the estate.
Shi Yuan, caught by that gaze, blinked in confusion.
Had someone offended him?
He lifted Caitou down from the windowsill. “Daddy needs to go to the kitchen to start preparing. Do you want to come with me?”
Caitou nodded, wrapping both arms around Shi Yuan’s shoulders. “Baby wants to go with Daddy.”
Shi Yuan carried Caitou downstairs, just in time to run into the butler and Parsi.
The butler nodded in greeting. “Good morning, Mr. Shi.”
Parsi watched coldly.
Still calling him a little chef? Given the butler’s attitude toward him, wasn’t this treatment no different from that of the lady of the estate?
A mocking smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he brushed past Shi Yuan’s shoulder, deliberately bumping into him.
Sure enough, soft and fragrant.
He knew it! That old scoundrel Hawthorne—how could he possibly keep such a soft, fragrant beauty at home just to work as a chef?
Caught off guard, Shi Yuan freed one hand to grip the railing tightly, while Caitou, startled, clung tightly to his neck.
The butler was so frightened he nearly threw his old bones onto the stairs as a cushion, terrified that the father and son might tumble down together.
“Daddy’s fine,” Shi Yuan reassured, gently patting Caitou’s back. Once his breathing steadied, he frowned and glanced back at Parsi’s retreating figure before asking the butler, “Who is that…?”
As far as he could recall, he had never heard of Hawthorne having any siblings.
The steward composed his expression, carefully choosing his words: “Young Master Percy was arranged by the family side, intended to inherit the estate.” He glanced at Caicai, his tone veiled, “Your presence might have made Young Master Percy feel somewhat threatened. You needn’t pay him any mind.”
The implication was clear—everyone in the entire manor, from top to bottom, stood on Shi Yuan’s side.
Shi Yuan silently sighed to himself.
So this was his senior brother’s previous partner. Already at the stage of inheriting the estate—it seemed a happy event was near.
Although, after senior brother left him, his taste had really declined.
So much so that he wasn’t even qualified to be his rival anymore!
But he understood—in wealthy households, there weren’t many young and attractive single employees like him around. It was easy to bewitch the master of the house. Percy feeling threatened by him was a perfectly normal reaction.
The steward added, “Mr. Shi, are you heading to the kitchen now? The master specifically instructed that you needn’t cook today at noon.”
It would be best never cook again for the rest of your life.
Shi Yuan understood—with Percy’s arrival, the manor would surely prepare a more formal lunch.
So he nodded to the steward and headed back, holding Caicai.
Caicai stared at Shi Yuan, gently touching the area beneath his eyes with a small hand. “Daddy has dark circles. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”
The thought of last night’s kiss made Shi Yuan somewhat awkward. Hawthorne had actually kissed him for a full half hour, leaving him tossing and turning until four or five in the morning before finally falling asleep after returning to his room.
He placed Caicai on the bed and instructed, “Boss Cai, Daddy wants to catch up on some sleep now. Keep Daddy company and lie down for a while, okay?”
Caicai agreed immediately. “Okay, baby will sleep with Daddy.”
This was what made Caicai most worry-free for Shi Yuan—ever since he became sensible, he never caused a fuss.
Shi Yuan locked the window from the inside, hugged Caicai, and lay down on the bed, soon falling into a deep sleep.
Caicai couldn’t sleep. Alone on the bed, he gently moved his fingers, turned his head to the side, and gazed intently at his daddy for a long time.
Daddy was in a bad mood today.
When Daddy was in a bad mood, he liked to sleep in. This was a pattern Caicai had quietly observed—one even Daddy himself didn’t know about.
After a while, the soft sound of a cart came from outside the door. Caicai quietly climbed down from the bed, tiptoed over, and pulled the door open a crack.
It was breakfast delivered by the steward’s orders. As the cart was wheeled in, the little one earnestly made a “shh” gesture and whispered to the attendant, “My daddy is sleeping. Thank you, uncle.”
The attendant nodded softly, tiptoed in with the cart, and then tiptoed back out.
The steward had long since given strict instructions to everyone in the manor—to treat this father and son as if they were the future masters of the estate.
Now, seeing this, it was clear the master’s judgment was indeed sharp. The way this father and son interacted was far more comfortable than with Young Master Percy.
Caicai was just over a year and a half old. His complementary foods still needed Daddy’s personal preparation before he could eat them. Daddy had already fed him milk in the morning, so he stood before the cart, looking at the dazzling array of English breakfast spread out on the table, and obediently didn’t touch a single bite.
But he remembered that Daddy hadn’t eaten anything from morning until now.
Caicai stood on tiptoe, reached for a soft piece of bread from the cart, huffed and puffed as he climbed back onto the bed, leaned close to Shi Yuan’s ear, and whispered, “Daddy, open your mouth.”
Half-asleep, Shi Yuan instinctively complied, and then something soft was slipped into his mouth.
“You’re such a good baby.” Shi Yuan was already used to Caicai’s habit of feeding him while he slept. He patted Caicai’s head, finished the bread with his eyes closed, then turned over and went back to sleep.
Caicai picked out several more breakfast items one by one, feeding them to his father bite by bite. Finally, he tiptoed while holding a cup of fruit and vegetable juice for his dad to take a sip, carefully wiped his father’s mouth with a napkin, and only then let out a long sigh.
“Whew, whew.” Caicai was tired, and his little tummy started rumbling.
Baby was hungry, baby wanted milk too.
But Daddy looked so tired, Caicai didn’t want to disturb him.
He thought for a moment, then quietly climbed out of bed.
Daddy always prepared the bottle in advance and put it in the fridge. Baby could go get it himself.
Parsi had the servants arrange the luggage and walked around the room. There wasn’t much he found unsatisfactory.
Since the family had specifically arranged for him to come, even if the old duke was unwilling deep down, he wouldn’t make things too difficult on the surface.
But he had studied the manor’s layout. The old duke occupied the entire third floor alone. The second floor had two master suites—one was Hawthorne’s bedroom, and the other was the main bedroom where the little chef, the lady of the house, lived.
What he was staying in now was merely a guest room.
Parsi didn’t dwell on this matter. He leaned back into the chair, his gaze casually falling on the lawn outside the window.
After all, the entire manor would be his sooner or later. There was no need to fuss over such details now.
When he became the master in the future, he wouldn’t be as stingy as Hawthorne toward his own wife. What kind of man only gives his wife a second-floor master bedroom?
If he had such a beautiful wife, he’d willingly gift her an entire manor.
It was almost noon, and Parsi decided to go downstairs to the kitchen to find something to eat.
He didn’t expect the old duke and his son to kindly prepare a formal luncheon to welcome him, the one who had come to claim the inheritance. Before arriving, he had specifically brought a specialty cake from his hometown, which had already been placed in the fridge. He’d have that to tide him over.
Just as Parsi reached the kitchen door, he suddenly heard rustling noises inside.
A thief!?
He abruptly stopped, retreated to the dining room, grabbed a knife from the table, and cautiously crept along the wall toward the source of the noise. Then, he suddenly pushed open the kitchen door.
And there he saw a little kid who wasn’t even knee-high to an adult, standing on tiptoe on a stool, his little bottom sticking out as he rummaged through the fridge.
The angle at which the kid had opened the fridge door was perfect—Parsi could see everything inside at a glance.
Where was his cake!?
Hearing the noise behind him, Caicai turned around. A ring of white cream was smeared around his little mouth, and his green eyes looked at Parsi in confusion.
Parsi naturally had no goodwill toward this miniature version of Hawthorne. He reached out, lifted Caicai off the stool, and his voice deepened. “You stole my cake.”
Caicai didn’t understand what he was saying. The little one, who had never been treated so roughly before, immediately struggled and shouted, “Let me down, bad uncle!”
The old butler hurried over at the sound and groaned inwardly at the sight. He quickly took Caicai down.
He looked at Parsi, his decades of professional composure nearly crumbling. Displeasure tinged his tone. “Master Parsi, what are you…”
“He stole my food!” Parsi laughed in anger. “Such an ill-mannered little brat. If no one else disciplines him, I will.”
“What’s all this noise about?”
Suddenly, a slightly impatient voice came from the doorway. Both the butler and Percy stiffened, turning their heads simultaneously.
Hawthorne had been nursing a hangover all night and still hadn’t fully recovered. His head throbbed faintly, and his mood was far from pleasant.
Not wanting anyone to know he had lost control and drunk so much the previous night, he had come down on his own to find something to sober up. He hadn’t expected the kitchen to be in such a state, and the noise only made his headache worse.
The butler, seeing him as a savior, quickly stepped forward. “Young master, you’re awake.”
Hawthorne gave a faint hum and was about to speak when his gaze suddenly fixed on the little kid standing beside the butler.
Caitou looked back at him, his wrinkled brow instantly smoothing out. “It’s the kind uncle!”
The butler paused slightly, turning to introduce him to Hawthorne. “Young master, this is the new chef’s son. Do you know each other?”
Hawthorne had a deep impression of this little kid he had briefly encountered at the airport. He nodded. “He owes me fifty-eight Shanghai dollars.”
So now that your family fortune is about to be taken away, you’re starting to pinch pennies and even extort money from a child, is that it?