Assistant Bai Really Does Have a Three Year Old Child - Chapter 2

Bai Tan was worried that his mother might be driving and it would be inconvenient for her to answer the phone, so he sent a message:

Mom, is the traffic heavy on the road? It’s okay, take your time, and stay safe.

He put down his phone and took a long, slow breath, his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for it to light up.

On the wall, the hands of the clock completed a full circle.

It was already an hour past their scheduled meeting time.

Bai Tan called over a server, intending to ask her to remake a hot coconut latte for him.

Just as he opened his mouth, the phone screen suddenly flickered to life.

He quickly said to the server, “Sorry, please remake a hot coconut latte,” while his other hand snatched up the phone at lightning speed.

It was a message from his mother.

Sorry, Xiao Tan. I was so busy today that I didn’t have time to check my phone, and I forgot it was your birthday. I really can’t make it today. Let’s do it next year…I’ll definitely give you a proper celebration then.

Bai Tan slowly set the phone back down and said to the server, “Never mind, you don’t have to make it.”

As a professional web novelist, Bai Tan often used the term “heart-chilling” when describing a character’s inner thoughts.

Today, he felt that sensation firsthand.

It was like a chill radiating from his very bones, melting into his blood and curdling its warmth, causing his circulation to turn sluggish.

He gazed out the window at the sudden torrential downpour. Amidst the startled screams of unprepared passersby, his heart felt like a pool of icy, stagnant water.

On his last birthday before his parents divorced, his mother had said the same thing.

She was always busy.

Bai Tan stood up and left the cafe.

Without an umbrella, he could only walk back slowly along the eaves of the storefronts, seeking meager shelter from the wind and rain. The narrow eaves were no match for the driving storm, and half of his shoulder was soon soaked through.

Commotion up ahead caught his attention.

A long line had formed at the entrance of the Cultural Center. It was composed almost entirely of girls, with only a stray boy or two mixed in. They were chatting excitedly; the heavy rain hadn’t dampened their spirits in the slightest.

Bai Tan was naturally quiet and not one to seek out crowds, but since he had to follow the eaves to avoid the rain, he inevitably had to pass through the throng.

Out of curiosity, he cast a glance inside the Cultural Center.

In the pouring rain, he should have hurried home, but that one casual glance made his feet feel as though they were stuck to the ground with superglue. He couldn’t move.

Inside the venue, the long queue continued. At the very front of the line sat a long table covered in vibrant bouquets of flowers.

Behind the table sat a very young girl, smiling as she greeted every fan who came up to ask for an autograph.

Standing beside the girl were a man and a woman. They were slightly older, yet they looked spirited and distinguished.

The woman with the graceful silhouette looked incredibly familiar.

Her almond eyes were like misty rain, and her red lips like cherry pearls; every gesture she made was the epitome of elegance and charm.

Even though sixteen years had passed, one could still recognize her at a single glance.

Standing in the crowd, Bai Tan silently watched the harmonious family of three. The rain falling from the roof formed a thin mist that clouded his vision, making the scene look blurred and hazy.

The sound of the rain couldn’t drown out the enthusiastic discussions of the crowd.

“Oh my god, our Wanwan is simply the chosen one! Not only does she write great novels, but she’s also so beautiful!”

“Her dad is a great literary master! And her mom is a famous designer she specifically came to her daughter’s book signing to show her support.”

Bai Tan lowered his eyes.

Yes, Mom is indeed very busy.

He looked up again at the woman who had a smile on her lips a smile of pride, a supreme pride for her daughter who had achieved great fame at only eighteen.

The harmonious family of three was like an indestructible bronze wall; it allowed no one else to intervene.

Bai Tan felt like a rat in the gutter, looking at someone else’s family warmth with a heart full of jealousy.

But all he could do was be jealous.

Luck, talent, cultural literacy, writing skill he didn’t possess a single trait of a “genius-tier” author. Over the years, he had devoted himself to his craft, yet his best result was still ranked more than a hundred places behind Wanwan.

Bai Tan rubbed the bridge of his aching nose, took one last look at the woman inside, squeezed through the crowd, and walked away with long strides.

After returning home, Bai Tan sat at his desk for a long time. It wasn’t until the rain stopped and the sky turned dark that he finally stood up, went to the bathroom to wash away the dampness, changed into clean clothes, and sat back down in front of his computer to open the website.

Out of habit, he clicked into the comments section. It was still overflowing with malicious remarks.

Just by reading your writing, I can tell your math is terrible. There’s zero logic, you have no regard for reality, and you just write behind closed doors. You’d be better off finding a job to make some money; take a walk around the world like Wanwan to broaden your horizons and see what life actually is.

Lol, an ‘invisible’ author actually dares to try and compete with Wanwan. This kind of thing takes talent, and you… well, just forget it.

How did the sales ranking for this ‘copycat dog’ drop again

You haven’t updated for several days. What’s the matter? Is it because Wanwan is busy with her signing event and can’t update, so you don’t know what to write anymore?

I’m not a fan of Wanwan, but I still suggest the author go out and experience life. Don’t just write nonsense.

Came here for the reputation, but I can only last until this chapter. Author, let’s never meet again.

Bai Tan had originally planned to finish the last few chapters and give his characters a perfect ending after celebrating his birthday with his mother.

But writers are easily influenced by their emotions. His mind was filled with the insolent comments and the memory of that cold cup of coffee. He sat before the computer for half an hour, typed a single word, and then deleted it.

He desperately wanted to write a hit novel even just one as long as it could rank ahead of Wanwan.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as he wished. His “class limitations” dictated that this was the best he could ever do.

Bai Tan wanted to turn off the computer and get some rest early. Having spent half the day in the rain, his nose was a bit stuffed up; he might be catching a cold.

Just as he moved the mouse to the “X” in the top right corner, a little red dot suddenly popped up on his private messages.

After a moment of hesitation, he clicked it.

It was a string of numbers for an account with no ID; it looked like it had been registered recently.

There was only one sentence:

I particularly like this saying: Just because you’re born, does it mean you have to be loved? [Mouse emoji]

The IP location showed Jinhai City.

He didn’t even need to verify it to know who sent the message.

Xiao Wan, pen name Wanwan the daughter his mother had after remarrying, and currently the top-ranked “God-tier” author on the website.

Ever since the two children became aware of each other’s existence, this wasn’t the first time Xiao Wan had registered a “smurf” account to say such things to Bai Tan.

Even though he had never appeared in front of his mother and hadn’t pestered her once in all these years, Xiao Wan clearly didn’t like him in fact, she seemed to loathe him.

Consequently, among the many innocent authors attacked by Wanwan’s fans, he was the one being cursed at most fiercely.

And the mouse emoji at the end of Xiao Wan’s private message was deeply meaningful.

A rat in the gutter can only peer gloomily at the harmony and warmth of someone else’s family. It can only engage in “Dong Shi mimicking a knit” (clumsy imitation), attempting to write the same genres she has written in hopes of producing a hit just to prove himselflonging for his mother’s gaze to rest on him for even a brief moment.

The result was only humilitation.

Bai Tan developed a fever.

In the heat of midsummer, he was covered with a thick quilt, yet waves of coldness kept surging from within him.

In a daze, he reached out to grab the fever medicine on the desk, but his hand touched a book instead.

He opened his sore eyes to take a look.

It was The Yearling by American author Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. On the title page was a comment by the writer Eileen Chang:

This is not just a story about a child. Anyone who encounters setbacks can draw new courage from here.

In his blurred and hazy vision, the word “courage” appeared exceptionally clear.

In his chaotic thoughts, Bai Tan remembered the protagonist, Jody, who lost his most beloved fawn. He also lost the trust and satisfaction of being completely relied upon by another living being. Thus, when the fawn disappeared, his childhood ended as well.

This fawn represents anything or anyone in anyone’s life; hardship and parting urge growth. And today, he had finally said a complete goodbye to the “fawn” in his heart.

But at the end of The Yearling, Jody made a promise to his father:

Whether it was a boy or a girl, or even his own child, he would never love them as he loved that fawn. He was destined to be lonely for the rest of his life. But as a man, he had to take up the burden of life and keep moving forward.

Bai Tan propped up his burning, heavy body with his elbows on the bed. He grabbed the fever medicine and swallowed it.

The next day, Bai Tan woke up feeling much lighter. He checked his temperature and found it had returned to normal.

He continued taking cold medicine while giving the house a thorough cleaning. He meticulously tended to every flower on the balcony. After breaking a bit of a sweat, his nasal congestion improved as well.

As usual, Bai Tan dressed himself elegantly, even though he wasn’t leaving the house. This was a habit he had picked up from his mother’s influence since childhood.

Later, he made himself some wontons. The wontons made from egg-flour wrappers were translucent, faintly revealing the filling inside. They were large, plump, and brimming with fresh fragrance.

This excellent cooking skill was a result of the experience he had accumulated living alone since high school.

His father was originally a local official upright and honest. He often wore clothes with patches, and occasionally people would mock him, saying it was just for show, while in reality, he must have embezzled a lot.

Only Bai Tan knew that his father was truly poor. He had never taken so much as a needle or a thread from the people. Even now, he still wore the trousers he had worn at his wedding.

Later, his father volunteered to go to a poverty-stricken mountainous area five provinces away to help with construction. That was also why his mother divorced him, saying he didn’t care about his family and didn’t even have a decent set of clothes, always looking destitute.

Once he finished helping one village and the people there became prosperous, his father would move on to another place, setting out once again on his long and arduous journey of poverty alleviation.

His mother had her career in her heart, his father had the people in his heart, and Bai Tan had only himself.

After finishing the wontons, Bai Tan couldn’t take a shower since he was still ill, but he still washed his face and changed his clothes, making himself neat and clean.

He sat in front of the computer and stopped looking at those malicious comments. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he wrote the conclusion to his serialized novel.

Ding—

His phone chimed.

A WeChat message came from someone labeled “Teacher Mei”:

Xiao Tan, I’ve received the sample copies for the reprinted translation of The Yearling. Shall I mail one to you?

Teacher Mei was an English translator. He and Bai Tan had met at a second-hand market.

Because both were wordsmiths, they both had a high demand for keyboards. Bai Tan was an honest person; he never overcharged for second-hand items and would always clean them thoroughly before sending them, often including small gifts. Over time, the two became well-acquainted, added each other as friends, and often chatted about writing and keyboards.

Bai Tan replied:

Thank you, Teacher Mei. But I have one more favor to ask.

Teacher Mei: Go ahead! I’ll help if I can, and if I can’t, I’ll try my best to help anyway! [Excited]

Bai Tan smiled. After a moment, the smile faded slightly:

Could you ask your colleagues if they know a male artist named Huo Yang?

Teacher Mei: ?

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