Traveling Through the Book and Becoming a Cub Among the Villains - Chapter 8

Mr. Mu paused mid-step, a thought suddenly occurring to him.
“Have Shaoting and Shaoyan come back yet?”

“I don’t think so,” Mu Shaowu replied.

“Otherwise, they wouldn’t be asleep at this hour,” Mr. Mu snorted.

He let out a cold huff, “Find some time to manage your younger brother and sister.”

Mu Shaowu nodded. “Alright.”

After Mr. Mu left, he made calls to both Mu Shaoting and Mu Shaoyan.

Mu Shaoting was lying comfortably in the apartment Mr. Mu had bought for her near her university, reading a novel. When she answered, she said lazily, “I’m not coming back tonight. I was just hanging out near campus. It’s so late now, I can’t be bothered to move.”

Mu Shaoyan’s response wasn’t much different. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m still in the middle of a game. Not going home tonight.”

Mu Shaowu hung up and slowly let out a sigh. Their dad might be stern and gruff, never the patient, gentle kind of parent, but when it came to providing for them, he never held back. Planting trees.

Although his father was a little immature and had little patience in educating them, he never treated them badly in terms of material things.

Almost since high school, he would buy them houses near the school because they would occasionally complain that they lived too far away and the commute was too long and inconvenient.

Therefore, although the old house is large, Mu Shaoyan and Mu Shaoting live near the school all year round, and they can only go home a few times a year. The only one who can accompany his father is his eldest brother. But last year, his brother got married and moved out. Now, most of the time, his father is the only one left in this house.

From this perspective, adopting Ye Qingxi wasn’t just a good thing for him and his grandfather—It was good for them, too. This way, their dad would have someone to keep him company at home,
and he wouldn’t be so lonely.

Mu Shaowu turned his head to look at the sleeping child on the bed.

“Your uncle’s a CEO, your dad’s a top-tier celebrity, your aunt’s the campus beauty, your little uncle’s the school heartthrob… Tsk. Ye Qingxi, how are you ever going to read web novels after this? You’ll open a random feel-good story, only to realize—this? This is supposed to be exciting? You’ve got a better setup in real life. Totally kills the immersion. So hurry up and get better,” Mu Shaowu said, gently touching his cheek.
“Only when you’re healthy can you go enjoy this ridiculously OP life. Honestly, I’m kinda jealous.”

After saying that, Mu Shaowu took his temperature again. Seeing that the fever had gone down, he finally went next door to his own room to shower. He changed into pajamas and returned once more to the guest room where Ye Qingxi lay. Kids, when they’re sick, sometimes they bounce back, and sometimes they relapse in the blink of an eye.

Mu Shaowu was worried that the fever might come back. So he simply decided to sleep next to him, just in case something went wrong, he’d be there to catch it.

He set an alarm to check Ye Qingxi’s condition in the morning, closed his eyes, and ended what had been a long, exhausting night.

By the time Ye Qingxi opened his eyes again, it was already morning.

He blinked in confusion, staring at the unfamiliar scene in front of him. Where was he? Wasn’t he dead?

But then, his mind slowly cleared, and he remembered—Yes, he had died.

But then he transmigrated into a book, into the body of a 5-year-old child with the same name. And not just that—last night, he’d had a fever.

Ye Qingxi thought of this and instinctively lifted his hand to touch his forehead.

“Don’t worry, the fever’s gone.” A groggy, slightly sticky-sounding voice came from behind him.

Startled, Ye Qingxi quickly turned around.

At that exact moment, the bedside lamp clicked on—
light spilling across a face that was almost too striking, too attention-grabbing. It overlapped with the face from the posters he’d seen before.

It was Mu Shaowu.

Right now, Mu Shaowu had his eyes half-closed, looking drowsy and utterly exhausted.

He let out a lazy yawn, rolled his neck to shake off the stiffness, then finally smiled, perked up a little, and said warmly, “Nice to meet you. I’m Mu Shaowu, your future dad.” As he spoke, he reached out his hand.

Ye Qingxi, “…..”

He blinked, puzzled. Why was he here already? Wasn’t he supposed to come back this afternoon—or tonight? Or… had he been out with a fever for an entire day already? Was this the morning of the third day?

Seeing that Ye Qingxi didn’t move, Mu Shaowu figured he was too young to understand that a hand being offered meant he was supposed to shake it. So he reached out himself, gently took Ye Qingxi’s little hand, and gave it a soft shake.

“I didn’t show up at dinner last night—that was my fault. I shouldn’t have made you wait. But I really couldn’t help it. The event was originally scheduled for yesterday morning, and I had planned to head back right after. But the schedule changed at the last minute, and it’s my job—I couldn’t just skip it. Still, the moment it ended, I came straight home. Really—I transferred trains twice on the high-speed rail, just so I could see you sooner.”

Ye Qingxi, …What he meant by that was to explain it to him? But why should he explain it to him? Afraid that he would feel that he didn’t value him? Or are you afraid that he still has a grudge about what happened yesterday?

“By the way, I have prepared a gift for you.”

After Mu Shaowu finished speaking, he got out of bed and took out the latest packaged game console that he had put in his bag.

“Here.” He handed it over with a mysterious look on his face.

Ye Qingxi, “???”

“What?” Ye Qingxi asked him.

“You’ll know if you open it and take a look.”

As Mu Shaowu spoke, he stretched his hand forward again.

Ye Qingxi had no choice but to take it and opened the exquisite packaging. To his surprise, it was a handheld game console.

“Since I rushed back overnight and brought gifts, can you please forgive me?”

Mu Shaowu bent down, smiling, and stared into his eyes.

Ye Qingxi blinked unconsciously when he stared at him like that.

He didn’t blame Mu Shaowu.

In other words, what qualifications does he have to blame Mu Shaowu?

He is not the real Ye Qingxi, and Mu Shaowu is not his biological father.

What happened yesterday was not a big deal.

Even if it’s a big deal, it doesn’t matter.

Even biological fathers don’t necessarily love their children. So what right did he have to expect anything from a man with no blood relation to him—a man who hadn’t even properly met him yet?

Ye Qingxi had already accepted it and never imagined that Mu Shaowu might actually take him seriously. He hadn’t come to this world by choice. He hadn’t come to the Mu family by choice.

Getting transmigrated into a book wasn’t something he had any say in—So all he wanted was to lie low, wait for the “plot death,” and quietly face his second death.

But now…
Mu Shaowu stood in front of him,

Sincerely explaining why he hadn’t shown up last night. Carefully offering a gift he had thoughtfully prepared. Patiently waiting for his forgiveness.

It was something Ye Qingxi had never experienced before.

And for a moment, he panicked.

“…Last night… were you with me the whole time?” Ye Qingxi asked, suddenly remembering something.

His last moment of awareness had been that feeling of helplessness—terrified of being burned into a fool, yet completely powerless to stop it. After that… He had vaguely felt someone near him. Someone helping him cool down, giving him an injection, holding him, staying by his side.

But they had all just been sensations. This body—so small, so weak—had left him with fleeting awareness, but no strength to open his eyes, no ability to see who it was, or to hear clearly who had been speaking. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t know for certain if it had been Mu Shaowu.

Mu Shaowu nodded. “You had a fever. I originally just wanted to come take a look at you when I got back—didn’t want to wake you up. But when I got close, I realized you were sick. It took a while for the doctor to come and give you a shot and bring the fever down. I was afraid it might spike again, so I just stayed and slept beside you. Did I disturb your sleep?”

Ye Qingxi shook his head.

“Good, then,” Mu Shaowu said with a smile.

He nudged Ye Qingxi gently and put on a pitiful expression.

“I mean, I did stay up all night taking care of you. Can’t you forgive me for real now?”

Ye Qingxi listened and shook his head again.

“No,” he said softly. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

Mu Shaowu paused for a moment—then it clicked.

So that’s what it was.

The reason the boy hadn’t said “I forgive you” wasn’t because he hadn’t forgiven him. It was because he had never been mad in the first place.

And since he wasn’t mad, there was no blame to forgive.

What a good-tempered little kid.

Mu Shaowu’s smile grew wide and bright as he pulled Ye Qingxi into a hug.

“So well-behaved—come here, Daddy wants a kiss~”

Ye Qingxi, “???!!!”

Ye Qingxi immediately raised his hand to push Mu Shaowu away,
then jumped off the bed.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my face.”

Mu Shaowu, “???”

He stared after Ye Qingxi’s panicked escape, dumbfounded.

Wait a second, was his kiss really that scary? Weren’t kids supposed to love kisses, hugs, and being lifted high into the air? He’d just been trying to take the chance to get a little closer, and his son ran off? Did Xiao Xi not like him?

Mu Shaowu propped up his chin, deep in thought.

Author’s Notes:

Xiaoxi: Kissing is forbidden.

Mu Dad: I want to kiss, I want to kiss.

Xiaoxi:…