Chapter 7

After hearing everything, He Wangzhong revealed a profound and inscrutable smile. This was not merely a small step toward family harmony but a significant leap in culinary skill. Even He Renyuan, notoriously picky, could now eat the meals he prepared—no need to speak of his talent.

“Old Qi, help me ask A Yuan what he’s been craving lately,” He Wangzhong said.

The butler recalled the young master eating a tea egg at breakfast. At this moment, the images of both the eldest and the youngest young masters strangely overlapped in his mind. “Lately, he can eat just about anything.”

He Wangzhong mused, “I need to think about what to cook tomorrow.”

Previously, no one would eat He Wangzhong’s cooking. Bai Qingshu’s biological mother, Shu Mei, would privately ask the butler not to report truthfully every time. She called the act of “glancing, tasting a bite, and offering a compliment” a well-intentioned lie full of emotional value.

The butler thought that the chairman’s current mental state matched perfectly with Little Tea’s—one cooks while the other eats. As a middleman, he didn’t profit from the difference; he merely aimed to fulfill the lady’s task, achieving multiple goals at once.

He Wangzhong didn’t cook entirely by himself; a chef provided guidance, ensuring the taste was never too far off. Look at Little Tea—he loved the food.

After the butler’s grandfather finished his call, Little Bai Tea praised the pumpkin soup again, “It’s sweet mushrooms, so delicious.”

The butler’s eyes were full of indulgence: “The baby deserves the finest white truffle in the world.”

Once Little Bai Tea scraped the bottom of his pumpkin porridge bowl clean—just as spotless as his face—the butler smiled warmly and said, “Eat until you’re full, then play a little by yourself. Daddy will be up soon.”

After dinner, the young master was supposed to stay in the study. The household staff’s daily work was considered done.

“All right, Grandpa,” said Little Bai Tea, recently obsessed with a new toy—a large trash bin placed on its side on the floor. He crawled in and out, pushed it around like the green castle in a shopping mall.

The butler sighed again, thinking that if it weren’t for the high chance of the young master discovering the castle at home, it would be better placed in the main hall downstairs.

Downstairs, He Renyuan sorted out a project’s details. Seeing the butler come down, he said, “Take Bai Qingyu to the basement to inventory the tea. Make a list by tomorrow.”

The butler was puzzled but then heard He Renyuan add, “Also, check how deep his knowledge of tea really is.”

“Understood,” the butler replied.

Unknowingly, He Renyuan ended up eating a whole plate of fried rice. Having eaten too much, he decided to swim a thousand meters in the fourth-floor pool. “I’m going upstairs to swim; everyone else should rest.”

The butler’s heart skipped a beat as he watched He Renyuan taking the stairs—he had to pass the third floor. The butler watched nervously.

He Renyuan frowned. “Why haven’t you called Bai Qingyu to start the inventory yet?”

Only after watching the butler lead Bai Qingyu into the basement did He Renyuan ascend the stairs.

He deliberately sent Bai Qingyu away.

He wanted to check the third floor himself—to see exactly how much tea Bai Qingyu was hiding.

As the master of this house, it was not unlawful to inspect the guest rooms on the third floor.

One guest room’s door was ajar. Standing at the doorway to peek inside was not illegal either.

If Bai Qingyu tricked him by pretending to bathe while secretly keeping twenty pounds of tea, he could smell the scent just by standing there.

Little Bai Tea, stretched out on the floor in a star shape waiting for his father, heard unfamiliar footsteps—not Daddy’s, nor the butler’s grandfather’s. Supporting his elbows on the floor like a small carp, he raised his head and pricked up his ears, then quickly crawled into the trash bin to hide at the bottom.

His bright eyes opened wide, not daring to move his pupils, alert as a mouse in a hole watching a prowling cat. He covered his mouth with both palms to avoid making a sound.

He Renyuan knocked politely on the slightly open door.

The boss uncle knocked with manners, and Little Bai Tea almost politely called out “Uncle,” but luckily he kept his mouth covered!

He Renyuan stood at the door. The wooden floor looked no different from the second floor. The room was about fifty to sixty square meters, connected to a large east-facing balcony with sliding doors left open, revealing clothes drying outside.

A rag?

Bai Qingyu was still drying rags on the third floor?

Why were the same worn clothes hanging there? Wasn’t he supposed to buy new clothes with his salary?

The bed had no mattress—what kind of sheet was on it?

By the bedside, a fallen trash bin lay on its side… This kind of bin was typically for property sanitation; He Renyuan never imagined it would appear in a bedroom.

Using such a large trash bin—was it meant to be filled before being pushed downstairs to be emptied? Wouldn’t that be filthy and smelly?

There was no foul odor in the room, only a faint scent of tea drifting from the trash bin’s direction. He Renyuan suddenly had a thought: were the tea leaves used for bathing discarded in this bin?

Two scattered tea leaves lay on the floor; his sharp eyes also spotted a few on the balcony.

The lawyer’s sharp mind deduced Bai Qingyu’s possible motives: upon learning of his preference for a certain tea, but with the matter settled, he could no longer openly retrieve the used tea leaves after bathing. Reluctant to throw them away, he dried them on the balcony by day and collected them back into the bin at night, occasionally taking some to deceive He Renyuan.

This explained the tea leaves on the balcony—they must have fallen while tidying up. The east-facing balcony got good morning sun; tea leaves dried in two days.

He Renyuan was absolutely certain Bai Qingyu had dried tea leaves there.

Storing them in the trash bin was cunning, too—it allowed Bai Qingyu to claim they were meant to be discarded if discovered.

He Renyuan sneered, then turned and left. He planned to find the right moment to obtain testimony and proof of Bai Qingyu retrieving tea leaves from the bin.

He went to the fourth-floor pool. Before tossing his phone on the poolside, He Renyuan sent the butler a message:

[Order work uniforms for everyone in the house.]

The butler, slightly puzzled, wondered why the young master still had the leisure to care about everyone’s attire. Nevertheless, he complied—two sets for spring, summer, and winter each. Not excessive.

*

A pair of chubby little hands gripped the edge of the trash bin, then cautiously peeked out a wary head.

Little Bai Tea covered one eye with a hand, leaving the other eye watching the door.

Phew—the boss uncle had left.

Bai Qingyu sensed the situation immediately—he knew the moment the son hid that He Renyuan had made a surprise visit. But before Bai Qingyu could ask the butler for leave, He Renyuan was already gone, as if glancing casually.

Hopefully, no suspicion lingered.

“Baby, you hid very well.”

Bai Qingyu glanced anxiously at the bedroom door. He wasn’t sure if He Renyuan would strike again. But he didn’t want to close the door. For a child of Little Bai Tea’s height, opening the door was difficult; he preferred to give his son more space to move. For the sensible Little Tea, a closed space was more dangerous than an open one—there must be a way out.

“Daddy, I covered my eyes. Boss uncle can’t see me,” Little Bai Tea said.

“Smart baby.” Bai Qingyu took things as they came. If caught, so be it—he could always compensate with tea leaves.

He tidied the balcony. During the day, Little Bai Tea loved rolling around in the sun there, shedding stray hairs that dried like tea leaves.

He collected them, storing them in a jar.

The next day was Saturday—household staff had the day off, and He Renyuan wasn’t home either.

The butler and others had gone out. Bai Qingyu planned to take Little Bai Tea to visit kindergartens.

Just as they were about to leave, a guest arrived.

Bai Qingyu knew few people in the southern city, but this guest was someone he recognized—He Ying, the one who had introduced him to the job.

He Ying was always dressed professionally, her long hair tied neatly at the back, no bangs, clean and sharp.

She came to her nephew’s house without a gift, but brought a bag of children’s snacks that He Renyuan definitely would not eat.

“For Tea Bao’s snacks.”

“You’re too kind.” Bai Qingyu was flattered. “The young master’s not home today. Should I call him or, uh, the butler?”

Oh, he didn’t have He Renyuan’s contact.

“No rush.” He Ying teased Little Tea, pulling out a lollipop. “Call me Auntie.”

Little Bai Tea obediently said, “Hello, Auntie Sister.”

He hadn’t understood the meaning of “auntie,” so he added “sister” automatically.

He Ying laughed at him, then said to Bai Qingyu, “I’m here to see you. You’ve worked a week now. I’m doing a follow-up to check your job satisfaction. If you’re unhappy, we can adjust.”

They sat on the sofa. He Ying took out a form for Bai Qingyu to fill, likely about job satisfaction.

He answered honestly, giving full marks for the poverty alleviation work.

Of course, if the Tea God knew more about the human world, she’d know a district chief wouldn’t personally conduct follow-ups.

Little Bai Tea stood, holding the coffee table, watching his father write, looking studious.

He Ying recalled years ago, doing homework while three-year-old He Renyuan watched, insisting she was wrong.

She glanced down at Bai Qingyu’s filled-in hometown—He Renyuan had been there—and asked casually, “How many months old is Tea Bao?”

Bai Qingyu hesitated, “Fourteen months,” as per the household register.

“Ten, four, months!” Little Bai Tea ignored his father’s unease and repeated clearly, as if ready for a language class.

He Ying mentally back-calculated the pregnancy, now mid-March, meaning January two years ago.

Two years ago January, He Renyuan seemed to have stayed abroad with a psychiatrist for a month before returning?

He Ying pursed her lips, looking at Little Bai Tea. Though father and son didn’t resemble much, their eye color was identical. How could one child have two fathers? She couldn’t shake her suspicion but had come to accept it.

Yet the world was vast—what if? After all, He Renyuan swore he had lost a memory that theoretically shouldn’t exist.

He Ying asked, “Are you married? If you have a spouse, I can arrange work for both of you. It’s common for couples to work in the same place.”

Bai Qingyu shook his head. “No, I’m a single father.”

Single father? A glimmer of hope.

He Ying grew fonder, reaching out to ruffle Little Bai Tea’s hair, hoping to collect a naturally shed strand for a paternity test.

If Little Bai Tea were related to He Renyuan, she wouldn’t have torn Bai Qingyu and Little Bai Tea apart. She would have provided the child with better living conditions, like the best kindergarten.

Little Bai Tea’s hair was shorter than before, revealing a full forehead and brighter eyes.

He Ying didn’t know the poor little one’s naturally shed hairs had long been plucked by Bai Qingyu to brew tea. She withdrew her hand discreetly, as the child’s hair was sensitive to touch.

Although Bai Qingyu was poor, he cared well for his son, ensuring balanced nutrition and healthy hair.

He Ying said, “I’m going upstairs to the study.”

She entered the password and went into He Renyuan’s second-floor study. There was a row of filing racks, chronologically numbered, recording He Renyuan’s life trajectory. He Ying quickly pulled out a file.

It was dated January two years ago.

She flipped through it rapidly. Unfortunately, according to the records, He Renyuan had no romantic encounters then. The new faces he met daily did not match Bai Qingyu.

She checked the months before and after—filled with dense work.

Well, she was completely resigned. Such a self-absorbed workaholic couldn’t possibly have a child.

He Ying returned the files.