Min Zhuozhou smiled faintly at the sound of the voice, his tone tinged with a hint of teasing. “Mr. Pei, are you missing me?”
Pei Che didn’t answer “yes” or “no,” only asking, “Are you coming back tomorrow?”
“Mm-hmm,” Min Zhuozhou hummed. This short-cycle variety show recording was indeed much easier, posing no excessive strain on his body.
Pei Che asked, “Are you busy?”
Min Zhuozhou replied, “I just finished filming.”
After a few mundane questions, Pei Che fell silent. He rarely initiated conversation, and even now, he couldn’t quite figure out why he had called Min Zhuozhou for no reason. Perhaps it was simply that, returning to an empty house, he felt a slight void in his heart.
Min Zhuozhou listened quietly to the steady, rhythmic sound of breathing on the other end. His heart, which had been filmed and disturbed by all sorts of people and things all day, finally settled. He rested his fingers on the railing and gazed into the distance, where a starry sky met a vast expanse of forest. The wind swept through like waves. It was truly… a night of exquisite atmosphere.
The night breeze made Min Zhuozhou squint slightly, his gaze flickering softly beneath his long, thick lashes. He listened quietly to the sound of the other man’s breathing over the line, his voice laced with languor. “I’m heading back tomorrow. If you’re busy, I’ll hang up now.”
“Alright.”
The phone seemed to gather and amplify every sound, invisibly magnifying the emotions from the other end. When Pei Che’s cool, clear voice reached Min Zhuozhou’s ear, it seemed to carry a hint of faint displeasure.
A smile played on Min Zhuozhou’s lips as he kept the line open. A sudden itch tickled the tip of his nose, and he found himself missing the scent of mint cigarettes.
After a moment of silence, Pei Che asked, “Why haven’t you hung up yet?”
“Because if I do,” Min Zhuozhou replied gently, “Mr. Pei will get angry.”
Pei Che gave a noncommittal snort before pressing, “What time are you returning tomorrow?”
“Around six in the evening.” Min Zhuozhou arched an eyebrow. “Is Mr. Pei planning to pick me up?”
Pei Che had already scheduled an appointment with a doctor tomorrow to check on the blood clot in Ji Subai’s brain, but they hadn’t finalized the time. He frowned and told Min Zhuozhou, “I’m not sure if I’ll be free. Call me when you’re almost finished.”
Min Zhuozhou had only asked in passing. He held no real expectations that President Pei, a man with a mountain of responsibilities, would travel halfway across the city to the suburbs just to pick him and Min Hua up. The sheer earnestness in the other man’s tone made him chuckle. “Go on with your work. Don’t force yourself.”
“I’ll do my best to make it,” Pei Che replied calmly.
“Alright,” Min Zhuozhou agreed readily. “I’ll call you when we’re about to finish.”
After a moment’s thought, he added, “I’ll have a little one with me. Would Mr. Pei mind?”
“Not at all.”
Pei Che recalled the child’s soft, high-pitched voice. He found it hard to imagine how this man, as stunning and sharp as a rose, would get along with a soft, fluffy human cub. A rare spark of curiosity stirred in a hidden, tender corner of his heart. “I haven’t met Min Hua yet,” he said.
Min Zhuozhou didn’t want Min Hua to have too much contact with the Pei family, so he kept the comment brief and teasing. “In that case, you’d better prepare a big red envelope for the little one.”
Pei Che gave a soft “Mm” and actually seemed to be thinking it over. “What does he usually like?”
Min Zhuozhou leaned his arms on the railing, looking out over the entire Forest Zoo built into the mountainside. “Small animals, I guess. The fluffy kind,” he answered casually.
Pei Che understood. He figured kids generally liked that sort of thing. After a moment’s silence, he asked, “So, what do you usually like?”
Min Zhuozhou chuckled again. “I’m not a child.”
On the other end of the line, Pei Che sat on his living room sofa, his gaze sweeping across the room. Every inch of this space bore the lingering scent and traces Min Zhuozhou had left behind over the past five years. Yet, the man had cunningly blurred his true likes and dislikes. Now, on a whim, Pei Che realized he couldn’t figure him out at all.
Wealth, status, reputation, even affection- Min Zhuozhou seemed to have a taste of it all, yet he always maintained the air of a detached observer, unfazed by the world’s temptations.
Pei Che asked, “Who says only kids can have hobbies?”
“Thinking about it, I don’t seem to have any particular interests,” Min Zhuozhou said, feigning contemplation. The elegant corners of his eyes suddenly curved, and he lowered his voice in a half-serious, half-joking, yet unmistakably flirtatious tone. “But who knows… maybe I’m particularly fond of Mr. Pei?”
This kind of playboy-style, subtle flirting was Min Zhuozhou’s signature move. Pei Che tightened his grip on the phone, not believing a single word. “Bullshit.”
Min Zhuozhou beamed, his captivating voice artfully weaving a sense of “just out of reach” into every word. “I really like you, Mr. Pei. I missed you, too, just as much as you missed me tonight.”
“Who said I missed you?” Pei Che’s voice dropped an octave, like a large cat whose tail had been stepped on. “I’m hanging up.”
“Alright,” Min Zhuozhou drawled, his tone laced with feigned regret. “It seems I’m the only one suffering from unrequited love in this long, lonely night.”
Pei Che remained motionless, completely helpless against this side of Min Zhuozhou. The man’s outward emotions were always a little too performative, drawing people in only to leave them suspended like feathers in the air, unable to find any solid ground.
After a few more words, they hung up. Min Zhuozhou stood alone on the cabin’s terrace, the phone’s screen illuminating his face and highlighting the elegant curve of his lips.
Lost in thought for a long moment, he stared at the call log still open on his screen and murmured softly to himself:
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Pei.”
The next morning, the production team arranged a group activity for the six pairs of celebrity guests.
The morning session was the “Garden Treasure Hunt,” where the children would search the park for their favorite animals and draw portraits of them. The afternoon featured the “Friends from Afar” activity, allowing the children to adopt a small animal and become its “Cloud Feeder.”
After yesterday’s trial broadcast, the livestream had stabilized at a high viewership. Numerous trending topics on the hot search list were related to this new baby variety show. The producer arrived early to inspect the set, beaming with a grin that showed all his teeth.
Min Zhuozhou remained unaware of how many trending topics he had personally generated for the show. He had always avoided paying attention to such things, a rare individual in the industry who lived with a clear and open heart. He ignored the data and the public’s narrative; no matter how many netizens criticized or condemned him, he stood firm, guarding his own gentle nature.
Min Zhuozhou’s original intention in joining Children’s Hearts Towards the Future was to help Min Hua make more friends. Now that this goal was being met, he appeared completely relaxed. The morning sunlight bathed his forehead, and an intense, breathtaking beauty overflowed from the perfect harmony of his features and bone structure, striking and vivid.
Wang Wenhe had appeared out of nowhere, squeezing himself into the huddle of children to show Min Zhuozhou the animal drawing he’d been working on. His handsome face radiated youthful energy as he spoke with exuberant cheer:
“Min-ge, look! I drew this.”
Wang Wenhe’s obvious fondness for Min Zhuozhou sent the bullet chat into a frenzy, with “shipping” fans swooning over the pair.
The two men, completely oblivious to the fact that they’d been paired up as a “couple,” continued their interaction. Min Zhuozhou naturally took the drawing, “admired” it for a moment, and then handed it back with a beaming smile. His critique was concise: “Pretty abstract.”
The other guests, amused by their interaction, crowded around to see the drawing. They passed the abstract piece from hand to hand until Jin Mo finally asked the question that struck at the very soul of the matter:
“Is this a prehistoric animal? A mammal or a reptile?”
“It’s a capybara… a capybara!!”
Wang Wenhe was exasperated, feeling insulted by the young girl. He let out a few exaggerated whimpers and leaned against Min-ge’s shoulder in a dramatic display of grievance.
Min Zhuozhou patted his hair soothingly. He turned the “masterpiece” this way and that, but still couldn’t recognize it as the internet-famous creature, the Capybara.
The camera, dedicated to following Wang Wenhe, gave a close-up of this earth-shattering masterpiece. The bullet comments flooded with “Hahahahahahahaha,” with viewers strongly demanding this as merchandise, vowing it would absolutely sell out. Wang Wenhe, now pacified, immediately puffed out his chest and turned over a new leaf, bringing a lot of joy to the baby variety show with his antics.
The next day’s tasks were relatively easy, and both the celebrity guests and the children got along more naturally. The production team organized some small games for the kids, and at the final moment, they brought out today’s highlight:
Each child could “cloud-adopt” a small animal and become their Friend from Afar.
This was the “closing elevation” phase that all current variety shows emphasized. After all, focusing solely on zoo content would make the overall tone of the show relatively monotonous. Therefore, it was necessary to introduce a series of socially valuable topics such as “children,” “nature,” “coexistence,” and “respect” to give the program more educational significance.
Although this was a common “viral” tactic used by all variety shows, Min Zhuozhou genuinely liked this segment.
For the celebrity guests, a single episode at the zoo was merely a brief return to nature. When adults re-enter the hustle and bustle of their daily lives, they are likely to cast such memories aside. But once a closer bond is forged between children and their furry friends, this fleeting moment naturally stretches into an infinite arc.
Staring is not the same as appreciating. Captivity is not the same as protection. A superficial, passing kind of love is not love at all, and a brief harmony is not true equality. The mutual respect between humans and nature is an eternal theme that cannot be hastily resolved in a single episode. Perhaps the best ending would be for these children, in some moment of their adult lives, to remember they have a group of Friends from Afar.
The production team had chosen “cloud adoption” animals for the children, all of them in need of rescue. There was a leopard cub born via C-section after a difficult birth, a blesbok with a missing leg, and an elderly, blind black bear grandmother. The Acting Zoo Director encouraged the children to accept that “not all animals live in their cutest stage,” while using the simplest language possible to tell them the animals’ stories.
The scene became intensely emotional.
Ming Yan and Anqi were the first to cry. Then, as if by contagion, all the little ones’ moods plummeted. This heavy atmosphere lingered until the Acting Zoo Director announced the end of the first recording session. Faced with parting, the children’s spirits hit rock bottom.
Seeing this, Gu Chou straightforwardly suggested they all go out for a meal together that evening. Min Zhuozhou, remembering he still needed to contact Pei Che, said he had something to do and would leave first. Just as he spoke, Ji Subai also calmly added that she had plans for the night.
After the other guests had left, Min Zhuozhou held Min Hua’s hand and sat on a small swing near the exit of Forest Park, watching the zoo return to its usual tranquility.
Min Hua’s little legs swayed back and forth with the swing. “Little Uncle, aren’t we leaving?”
“Wait a bit, I need to make a call.”
Min Zhuozhou pulled out two lollipops from somewhere, unwrapped one and handed it to the little one, and put the other in his own mouth. His voice, muffled by the candy, seemed to carry its sweet aroma. “But we might have to wait a while. If you’re tired, we can find a place to rest first.”
Min Hua obediently sucked on the lollipop and shook his head. “This is fine.”
“Good boy.”
Min Zhuozhou reached out and patted the little one’s head. He took out his phone, stared at the contact list for a long moment, and finally dialed Pei Che’s number.
The call connected, then immediately hung up. A mechanical voice announced that the line was busy. Min Zhuozhou wasn’t surprised; he hadn’t truly expected the perpetually busy Young Master Pei to answer anyway. He switched to a ride-hailing app, intending to coordinate with the driver he had already contacted yesterday to pick him up from the suburbs.
“Teacher Min, are you waiting for a ride?”
A familiar voice suddenly reached Min Zhuozhou’s ears. He looked up slightly and saw Ji Subai walking over with Xi Nan. A faint smile touched Ji Subai’s lips, and his eyes were as gentle as a spring, shimmering with a shy, secret joy.
Min Zhuozhou raised an eyebrow slightly, idly swinging on the swing. Lollipops in his mouth, he sized up the approaching Ji Subai, then smiled and greeted him, “Teacher Ji, are you waiting for someone too?”
Ji Subai lifted his phone a bit sheepishly, his reproachful tone tinged with a secret sense of gloating. “I was too busy during the recording. I only just managed to get a ride. This place is so remote; it’s really hard to get away without someone to pick us up.”
Min Zhuozhou’s hand tightened imperceptibly around his phone. He remained outwardly calm, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Throughout the entire episode, Ji Subai’s interactions with him were few and far between. He could tell she was deliberately avoiding appearing in the same shot, a guilty display, as if she were both hiding from him and unwilling to be compared to him.
Now that the first episode’s filming had wrapped, the online buzz surrounding the two of them had far from subsided. Her sudden, almost forced attempt to strike up a conversation with Min Zhuozhou suggested she had finally found some leverage to use in their comparison.
Sure enough, Ji Subai’s performative smile deepened as she asked softly, “Teacher Min, would you like to know who’s here to pick me up?”
Min Zhuozhou’s expression remained unchanged as he countered her move. “Teacher Ji has friends all over the world, so I’m sure you’ll never be short of help…”
Before he could finish, a loud, flamboyant whistle cut him off.
Both of them looked up to see a charming, dashing man approaching from a distance.
He seemed to be draped in the most expensive silk canvas, the rich, vivid hues of a Western oil painting, the colors of dusk, spreading evenly across his figure.
He stopped just a few steps from the swing, stylishly removed his sunglasses, and made a perfectly gentlemanly gesture of invitation.
“President Min, you’ve worked hard. I’m here to take you home.”
In an instant, everyone’s gaze shifted to Min Zhuozhou. His brow twitched, and he narrowed his eyes slightly at the man before him.