Chapter 23 Part 3

In his sleep, Zhu Ran let out a long sigh, feeling an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and peace. It was as if he’d returned to infancy, cradled in the arms of an ideal mother.

Zhu Ran greedily drew closer, and from that intimacy blossomed an unusual affection.

He twisted restlessly, unable to see the man’s face clearly, only sensing how strong and solid the man’s forearm was. The man’s palm was broad, his fingers thick and dexterous, inching into Zhu Ran’s vulnerable heart, offering comfort—then ruthlessly invading and destroying him without mercy.

Zhu Ran felt an unprecedented shame and longing. He knew it wasn’t normal, yet he couldn’t stop himself from a rational standpoint.

At that moment, he heard the man whisper in his ear, “What others think doesn’t matter, not even your closest parents. As long as you feel it’s right, you can boldly do it.”

Zhu Ran’s body tensed, his skin heating and burning under the man’s palm…

He grabbed the man’s hand to make him stop, only to see the emerald glow of a watch on the man’s wrist, its cold surface bumping against his thigh.

Zhu Ran let out a silent scream, feeling his bones turn to mush and shatter.

Meteors fell like fireworks, dense and scattered across the pitch-black night sky.

…

Light flickered across his retinas, and Zhu Ran jolted awake from his dream, only to be yanked back by the seatbelt.

The sunlight was blinding. The sedan moved quietly through the morning rush-hour streets. On Zhu Ran’s other side, Huo Boyan sat with one leg crossed over the other, working on his tablet. His long fingers moved deftly, the emerald watch face glinting in the sun.

“Awake?” Noticing his gaze, the man beside him looked up with a gentle smile. “Did you sleep well? We’re almost there.”

Zhu Ran: “…”

He didn’t dare respond.

Zhu Ran desperately buried his face in his palms, thinking, Have I gone mad? Why else would I dream something like that…

Fortunately, Huo Boyan didn’t press further, giving Zhu Ran a brief moment to catch his breath.

The car passed familiar roads. A few more minutes, and they’d reach his aunt’s place.

Those short few minutes felt like torture to Zhu Ran, especially after that dream. He couldn’t bring himself to lift his head in front of Huo Boyan.

He stared down at the small patch of fabric on his shirtfront. There was a milky white stain on the hem of his T-shirt, slightly stiff to the touch, carrying a faint musky scent.

Wait, what is this? It can’t be that, can it?!

Zhu Ran’s pupils dilated in shock, but he quickly refuted the thought. No, definitely not!

What happened in the dream didn’t happen in reality! And even if it did in reality, it wouldn’t end up on my T-shirt! If it were that obvious, Huo Boyan would’ve noticed ages ago!

Wait, does Huo Boyan know I had that kind of dream? Did I do anything weird in the car while dreaming?

Zhu Ran stared blankly at Huo Boyan, cold sweat breaking out instantly.

“What’s wrong?” Huo Boyan looked up again, noticing his gaze. The man’s smile was gentle, as if he had no idea of the turmoil in Zhu Ran’s heart.

Clutching the soiled hem in his palm, Zhu Ran probed cautiously, “I was asleep earlier… I didn’t talk in my sleep, did I?”

Huo Boyan adjusted his glasses and gazed at him quietly for several seconds, until the phoenix flower trees by the roadside were left behind. Then he shook his head. “No.”

He told Zhu Ran, “You were very quiet while sleeping.”

Zhu Ran slowly exhaled, his whole body relaxing. “That’s good.”

Thank goodness Huo Boyan hadn’t noticed. If he knew about that dream, Zhu Ran would pack up and run that very night.

Zhu Ran unclenched his hands and examined the stain on his T-shirt again. Upon closer inspection, it clearly wasn’t what he’d feared. It was too thin, and the smell was off—it must’ve been the milk he’d spilled the night before.

Confirming this, Zhu Ran fully relaxed.

The car pulled up in front of the familiar building. Zhu Ran got out and turned back to say goodbye to Huo Boyan.

Huo Boyan nodded with a smile. “Get some good rest.”

Zhu Ran turned to leave, but when he reached the door and saw the car still parked by the roadside, he suddenly doubled back and knocked on Huo Boyan’s window.

Huo Boyan was on the phone, with the privacy screen up, so Zhu Ran had no idea what was happening inside.

Chen Jiaming: “Boss, my men reported back—Zhu Ran’s father has had contact with Huo Zhixiao. What do you think…”

“Hold on,” Huo Boyan lowered the window and looked up at Zhu Ran. “Why’d you come back? Something else?”

Zhu Ran stared at Huo Boyan blankly for a moment, then gently shook his head. He seemed hesitant but finally steeled himself and spoke rapidly, “Thanks for keeping me company last night. Drive safe on the way back, and message me when you get home.”

Huo Boyan paused, then smiled. “Got it.”

Zhu Ran didn’t linger, practically jogging into the house.

The car pulled forward. The smile had vanished from Huo Boyan’s face as he said to Chen Jiaming on the phone, “Hold off for now. Beef up the manpower around Zhu Ran.”

“Understood.”

Huo Boyan hung up and glanced at the now-empty seat beside him.

Half an hour ago, Zhu Ran had been lying there asleep, dreaming of who-knows-what, and started crying.

At first, Huo Boyan ignored it, but Zhu Ran’s crying was too heartbreaking.

It wasn’t the loud wailing of a child. Zhu Ran cried with restraint, even in his sleep suppressing his emotions, not daring to let the tears fall freely.

Huo Boyan sighed and finally reached out, lightly stroking Zhu Ran’s head. He only meant to soothe him a little, but Zhu Ran grabbed his hand and never let go.

The car passed Shallow Water Bay Road. Huo Boyan leaned back against the leather seat, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing heavily at his collar. Then he draped a still-damp handkerchief over his face and took a deep breath.