Assistant Bai Really Does Have a Three Year Old Child - Chapter 1

Clink.

The ice cubes in the coffee cup gradually melted, sinking into the light brown liquid and colliding with other cubes to make a crisp, sharp sound.

This was Bai Tan’s third cup of coffee today.

Like a bitter medicinal liquid, it jolted his chaotic brain; his body was signaling him to sleep for the umpteenth time.

But he couldn’t sleep.

Bai Tan looked once again at the words “Received Comments” on the computer screen. His hand gripping the mouse felt slightly numb, moving somewhat beyond his control.

He still clicked the plus sign next to it.

With this dead logic, you really have no business being in this channel. Just find a factory job and stop writing. Writing anything is just a waste of the computer’s lifespan.

Replying to above: If he had logic, he wouldn’t be constantly leeching off Wan Wan. Just because Wan Wan has a good temper doesn’t mean you can bully an honest person.

The idioms “Dong Shi imitating a knit” and “parroting others” were practically invented for you. They fit you too perfectly.]

Pity you only learned a bit of the surface level. No, you didn’t even learn the surface.

Wan Wan’s new book has sold its film and television rights again. We welcome your “valuable guidance” when it hits theaters. (Squinting Smile Emoji)

Bai Tan scrolled down a few more pages. It was an overwhelming deluge of malicious comments.

This wasn’t the first time he had received such vitriol, nor was he the only author on the site to experience it.

Perhaps the weather was too hot and the website’s product manager had lost their mind, because they had introduced a new feature that everyone loathed: History Reading.

By simply clicking on a personal profile, anyone could see a user’s reading history exactly what books they had read at what time, down to the specific chapter.

Once this feature launched, authors were filled with grievances, and the once-peaceful site turned into a massive breeding ground for “plagiarism hunting.”

Bai Tan had “collided” with the same theme as the site’s top-ranked superstar author.

Even though it was the “Entertainment Circle” trope a genre that had been written to death and his reading progress on her book was 0% (at most, he had clicked in to see the blurb), the heavy label of “copycat” was pinned on him nonetheless.

Beep beep.

His site-friend poked him in a QQ chat window:

Stop reading the comments. Go to sleep early. You haven’t slept for two days; be careful not to drop dead.

Bai Tan took a slow, deep breath and replied:

Yeah, I’m going to sleep now.

Friend: Don’t take it to heart. It’s fine. The entertainment circle genre wasn’t created by “Mother of Tropes” Wan Wan. Her fans are just unreasonable. They haven’t even finished school but they love playing “Internet Police.” They’ll wake up once they get hit with a lawyer’s letter.

Bai Tan: Yeah, thanks for the concern. I’m not letting it get to me.

He took one last look at the collection count of that viral entertainment circle novel.

On a website with only a million registered users, the author Wan Wan’s novel had reached nearly two million collections. Audio, film, and manhua rights had all been sold. It went without saying she was earning a fortune.

Although his friend comforted him by saying “the fans are unreasonable and call anyone writing about the entertainment circle a copycat,” only Bai Tan knew the truth the entertainment circle story he was currently finishing was indeed inspired by the idea only after Wan Wan started writing hers.

When Wan Wan wrote workplace fiction, he, a full-time writer since graduation, followed suit.

When Wan Wan wrote about the entertainment circle, he, who couldn’t even remember the faces of real-life celebrities, followed suit as well.

His friend had once asked him why he didn’t avoid Wan Wan’s themes when every other author had learned to stay away. His answer was:

Doing what I know I shouldn’t is my final bit of sincerity.

His friend didn’t understand, so they dropped the subject.

Bai Tan turned off the computer, poured out the unfinished coffee, showered, changed into pajamas, and went to bed.

He wanted to scroll through videos on his phone to find inspiration, but the big data algorithms were pushing Wan Wan’s new book everywhere.

This girl, only eighteen years old, had become a “God” with a single book. Readers had long forgotten the myths created by the old-school legends who had worked hard for over a decade. Now, it was Wan Wan’s era.

Not to mention a “transparent” nobody like Bai Tan, whose best result was only a few tens of thousands of collections. He had long been drowned in the spit of Wan Wan’s fans.

The more he looked, the more restless his heart became.

Unable to sleep, Bai Tan got up, changed clothes, and went out.

Outside a 24-hour dessert shop, the night breeze blew away the humid summer heat. Bai Tan sat at a vintage-style small round table with a small can of beer in front of him.

The bustling Jinhai City always made it impossible to distinguish day from night. Even though it was already 10:00 PM, the lights were still bright.

He took a sip of the beer. Even though it was a sweet lychee cocktail, it felt inexplicably bitter and hard to swallow.

On the commercial plaza opposite him, a few fashionably dressed girls stood before a giant LED screen, taking selfies with their phones, their laughter ringing like silver bells.

On the screen was a face Bai Tan rarely recognized:

In a luxury watch advertisement, there was a face that was profound but not sharp. Serenity and depth were gathered within a meticulous suit. A solid, well-defined wrist complemented the diamond-encrusted watch, and beneath the smooth lines of his arms, veins were faintly visible.

Bai Tan stared at that face for a long time before slowly looking away.

In recent years, the male artist Huo Yang had almost monopolized the trending searches. Whenever people mentioned him, the most common phrase was “God is chasing him to feed him.” He was similar to the author Wan Wan both had become legends with a single work, peaking at debut and sitting firmly at the top of the charts ever since.

In stark contrast to these talented players was someone like Bai Tan someone with no literary foundation, a mismatched major, and even a reading disorder. He tried to read a few classics to improve his cultivation, but they always made him sleepy.

The only thing he had left was likely that stubborn streak of refusing to lose.

The light reflected from the bright screen formed a small halo in Bai Tan’s light-colored pupils; when he lowered his eyes, it vanished, hidden by his long lashes.

“Mama, can you really buy me the Belle princess cake tomorrow?”

A soft, childish voice suddenly came from nearby, sounding filled with joy.

Bai Tan abruptly looked over.

A girl in a snow-white dress, about four or five years old, was tiny. She held her hand high to grasp her mother’s, walking with a waddling, stumbling gait to keep up.

The young woman beside her shortened her strides to match her daughter’s pace, leaning down to make it easier for the girl to hold her hand.

“Of course. Tomorrow is our baby’s birthday. Five years ago on this day, both of us used all our strength just to meet. It is certainly a day worth celebrating.”

The mother and daughter walked into the dessert shop.

Bai Tan watched their warm figures and smiled.

He finished the last sip of the cocktail, crushed the can, and handed it to an elderly woman picking up trash nearby.

As if the alcohol had bolstered his cowardice, and as the slightly tipsy warm wind hit him, Bai Tan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He pulled up his phone contacts and pressed the number that had remained at the very top for all these years, but which he had never dialed once.

The dial tone and his heartbeat fell into a strangely matching rhythm. Bai Tan suddenly felt his heart beating a little too fast.

“Hello? Who is this, please?”

Once the call connected, a deep male voice rang out.

Bai Tan’s heart skipped a beat. He slowly straightened his body.

“Is this Ms. Lin Zhiwei’s phone, please?”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Yes. I am her husband. She is currently in the shower. If you have something to say, just tell me, and I will relay it.”

Bai Tan gripped his phone tightly. His throat felt blocked, and his breathing became labored.

“Hello?” Seeing that he didn’t speak for a long time, the man sounded somewhat impatient. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait a moment.” Bai Tan called out to him, his grip on the phone tightening further. “Uncle, I am Bai Tan. I want to speak with my mother privately for a few moments.”

The other end fell into a sudden silence.

Bai Tan took a trembling, deep breath. The long wait felt like his heart had been tossed into a frying pan and repeatedly seared.

“Bai Tan, I have always believed you are a good child who understands right from wrong. If you truly love your mother, then do not disturb her again, alright?” The man’s tone was gentle, yet every word was like a sharp blade.

The phrase “If you truly love your mother, do not disturb her” felt bizarre when the words were combined.

In the dessert shop, the mother and daughter who had ordered the cake came out chatting and laughing.

Watching them, the corners of Bai Tan’s lips hooked into a light laugh.

“Fine. Thank you for the advice, Uncle. Sorry for bothering you. Goodbye.”

“Why do you have my phone? Who was that?” Just as he was about to hang up, a familiar female voice suddenly came from the other end, sounding as if it were coming from far away.

Bai Tan’s hand, which was about to press the end button, stopped abruptly.

After a burst of static, a clear, bright female voice sounded:

“Hello? Who is this, please?”

Bai Tan remained silent, the sentence “If you truly love your mother, do not disturb her” echoing in his mind.

At that moment, the voices of the mother and daughter nearby drifted over again:

“Thank you, Mama. You’re so good to me, even ordering a Belle cake for me.”

“Silly girl, of course. Is there any mother in the world who doesn’t love her own child?”

Bai Tan’s eyes gradually widened, his heart racing because of that sentence.

After a long time, he slowly spoke: “Mom, it’s me.”

Lin Zhiwei also seemed stunned on the other end. Only after a long while did a reply come, carrying a hint of a smile:

“Xiao Tan? Long time no see. Have you been doing well lately? What made you suddenly think to call me?”

Bai Tan closed his eyes, pouring all his courage into his words:

“I’m doing very well. I called to ask… my birthday is coming up soon. On that day, can we meet?”

“Of course. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have almost forgotten. How about I order a cake for you on your birthday?”

A voice he hadn’t heard in sixteen years was as gentle as ever.

During this exchange, she didn’t show any hesitation.

The joy of seeing his mother again after sixteen years diluted some of the depression caused by the malicious comments.

Bai Tan flashed a smile: “Thank you, Mom. I’ll see you then.”

The humid summer brought continuous rain.

Bai Tan turned the air conditioner down to 18°C. The biting cold air blew away the water vapor floating in the heatwave.

In an oval-shaped European-style vanity mirror, a fair and exquisite face was reflected.

A white shirt with a mother-of-pearl luster fit him well. The hem was tucked into deep brown high-waisted trousers, outlining a straight and slender waist with soft, beautiful lines.

A vanity mirror seemed redundant for a man.

The brilliant diamonds and pearls in the jewelry box seemed even more redundant.

Yet Bai Tan sat before the mirror, carefully selecting and putting on a necklace—a diamond butterfly surrounded by laurel leaves, exuding a classical and elegant aura.

His grandmother had once criticized him:

“A boy should have a boy’s spirit. You’ve been lead astray by your mother, fiddling with these trinkets every day. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

Bai Tan didn’t feel embarrassed.

In fact, almost all of his meager royalties were spent on these pieces of jewelry.

The jewelry was designed by his mother. Even if he didn’t usually wear them, he would take them out from time to time to clean them and cherish them carefully.

Ready to go, Bai Tan took his phone and sent a message to his mother:

Mom, I’m heading over first. See you soon. (Heart Emoji)

He then stood under the air conditioner to blow away the light sweat on his body, making himself look as fresh as possible, before heading out with light steps.

The sky was gloomy, and dark clouds surged lazily at the horizon.

Bai Tan arrived at the cafe they had agreed upon. A waitress approached with a menu, asking with a smile how many people.

Bai Tan’s lips carried a shallow smile, his curved eyes like the bright moon in the sky:

“Two. Two lattes. One with less sugar; my mother is very mindful of her figure.”

The waitress didn’t even ask, but he spoke a few more words as if intentionally showing off his beautiful mother.

The waitress looked at his bright, attractive smile and couldn’t help but steal a few more glances.

It was only logical; they say a son takes after his mother. One didn’t even need to look to know that the lady arriving soon would have a breathtakingly beautiful face.

Bai Tan looked toward the door frequently, then mocked himself for being impatient. There was still half an hour until the time he had agreed upon with his mother.

He called the waitress over again, saying the coffee should be served later. He was afraid if it were served too early, it would cool down and his mother would find the taste unpleasant.

While waiting, he constantly rubbed the butterfly necklace at his neck, wondering what if his mother sang “Happy Birthday” to him in front of so many people. That would be a bit embarrassing.

Time passed minute by minute. Bai Tan looked toward the door for the umpteenth time. The heart that had been resting securely in his chest seemed to float upward bit by bit, all the way to his throat.

He hadn’t seen her in sixteen years; he didn’t know what his mother looked like now.

When he was a child, before his parents divorced, he often heard the neighbors mention that his mother was a famous beauty in the neighborhood. They said his father must have earned a blessing in a past life to marry such a stunning woman.

More than a decade had passed. She might have aged a bit, but since she loved beauty so much, time probably hadn’t left very obvious marks on her.

The appointed time arrived.

Bai Tan sat up straight and looked at the entrance. The cafe door was pushed open.

Thump-thump, thump-thump!

His heart skipped to a strange rhythm.

A bald head poked in through the door.

A pot-bellied middle-aged man shouted loudly, “Two grape cold brews to go.”

Bai Tan slowly let out a breath.

It wasn’t his mother.

His shoulders slumped.

But he quickly comforted himself: His mother was a famous jewelry designer and a famously busy person. She had a lot to handle every day. Plus, the weather was bad today and it was the weekend; it was normal to run into traffic.

He would wait a bit longer.

The waitress came over to ask when the coffee should be made.

Bai Tan checked the time. It was already five minutes past the appointed time.

She should be arriving soon.

“Make it now, please. Sorry for the trouble.”

The steaming lattes were served. Under the draft of the indoor air conditioning, the steam gradually dissipated.

A thin skin began to form on the surface of the coffee.

Half an hour passed.

The cafe door opened and closed several times. Bai Tan’s heart rose and fell along with it. After repeating this several times, the smile on his face gradually faded.

Support Assistant Bai Really Does Have a Three Year Old Child