Chapter 44

People’s intellect and social awareness mature with age, but they can also erode gradually under external shocks.

Qi Jing’s memories of being locked away were hazy. All that remained were textual recollections and scattered images—no sounds, no faces.

A strange noise buzzed constantly in his ears. The boy couldn’t make sense of it and had no idea where he was.

Mud was everywhere… caking his face and elbows…

Until someone yanked him down.

“Ow! Are you trying to get yourself killed, standing in the middle of the road like that!”

He couldn’t understand.

Qi Jing tilted his head slightly. Where was this place?

It was a sweltering summer day, crowds everywhere—army green uniforms, stretchers.

Wooden planks laid over the mud, vehicles rumbling across them.

He stood there in bewilderment.

Until the vehicle came to a stop.

Qi Jing turned toward the sound. His gaze was direct and unclouded, utterly pure as he looked over.

The old lady’s voice kept growing louder, sometimes clear, sometimes garbled.

“He didn’t mean it. Don’t hold it against him—he’s just a kid…”

Her Mandarin carried a thick local accent.

The car door slid open. It was a long vehicle with a sliding door.

Someone was inside.

Sunlight fell on the person’s wrist. The cuff was pristine, and there was a watch on it.

Qi Jing stared for a long time. Then the wrist shifted outward, revealing more of its pale skin.

It was like ripples spreading across water.

His eyes were drawn upward, toward the person’s face…

But he didn’t get a clear look.

His head throbbed with pain.

A crackling static filled his ears.

Like the whine of an old TV struggling to tune in.

The world spun wildly in an instant. His knees buckled as if drained of strength. Darkness swallowed his vision, and just before consciousness slipped away, the old lady’s voice pierced his eardrums.

“Someone! This child…”

His body drifted in a hazy float.

【Host…】

【H-Host…】

It felt like an endless loop connecting.

Qi Jing’s head ached so fiercely that tears streamed down his face. It was so noisy—terribly noisy—and his eyes rimmed red.

Until a steady voice broke through.

“How old is he?”

The sharp tang of disinfectant filled his nostrils. Another voice replied.

“We’d have to ask the local villagers. I’m just a support doctor—I don’t know.”

Qi Jing’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy. He couldn’t pry them open. Then his jaw was gripped firmly, and his mouth was pried apart.

“We could check his teeth, though… Hmm…”

The resident doctor said, “Not very old. Around thirteen or fourteen, definitely no more than sixteen.”

It hurt.

The pinch hurt.

“He’s uncomfortable. Stop looking.”

A warm, refined voice spoke up.

The doctor released his grip and noticed the finger marks left on the boy’s face. He paused. “Does this kid have hives or something…?”

“His skin is too delicate.”

Qi Jing felt a needle withdrawing from his vein. He let out a small whimper of pain, and the doctor glanced back.

“Little friend? Wake up?”

His eyelids still wouldn’t open.

Some time later, the outside voices seemed muffled, as if cut off. Another person approached.

“President Bo, we’ve asked around. This child seems to be… one that a village couple took in. Their house collapsed in the flood. No one knows if the couple survived—statistics won’t be out for another half year.”

“The villagers say his whole family died.”

Qi Jing didn’t realize he was lying in a car. The air conditioning kept his temperature down, and a thin blanket covered him.

His head hurt less now.

He struggled to open his eyes.

Just then, that steady voice spoke again, calm and even.

“Does no one want him?”

Qi Jing’s reactions were sluggish. The effort to lift his eyelids vanished, drowned in a wave of massive panic.

He could barely breathe.

“Probably. They might send him to the city orphanage, but I’m not sure if they’ll take someone his age.”

The assistant naturally hoped the child would find a good home. President Bo was a good man; if he stepped in, all the follow-up issues could be resolved.

“Should I contact the institutions there now…?”

“No need.”

Bo Chengyan tapped his knee lightly with his fingers. He lowered his gaze to the little boy with his eyes cried red. “If no one wants him…”

~~~

Years slipped by in a flash. Once again, he was in a car.

The boy from back then had shot up, bigger by several sizes, but he still had to nestle in Bo Chengyan’s arms.

Qi Jing remembered some things now. After being taken away, he’d undergone long-term psychological treatment. During that time, he hadn’t been able to walk.

His ankles had been chained for so long that he stumbled and fell at every turn.

Malnourished, terribly thin and small.

So he’d been held like that for ages.

It all made sense. Qi Jing had never experienced the “princess carry” from some idol drama. It had always been the “baby hold,” with hands cradling him.

Only after arriving at Brocade River Villas and receiving treatment did the carrying stop.

Bo Chengyan’s brows furrowed. His palm still gripped the wrist bone of the person in his arms. His jaw was set hard and cold, but his words came out gentle.

“Talk to me, will you?”

“Pay attention to me.”

The questions tumbled out, over and over.

It was like two years ago, when Qi Jing’s face had been clean and innocent. He’d only stared, occasionally uttering a few words.

His most forward gesture had been to hook a finger around yours.

So reserved.

Even gripping back would startle him.

“Okay.”

A muffled voice.

Bo Chengyan could hardly describe the feeling—like a boulder crashing to the ground with sudden relief. He had indeed considered the worst possibilities.

What if all the psychological counseling had been for nothing?

He might be shutting down again.

“Why aren’t you happy?”

Qi Jing felt a gentle tug at his waist, his nape lifted. His chin tilted up slightly, a faint confusion in his eyes.

“Tell me, okay?”

A Sword of Damocles hung over Bo Chengyan’s heart, but he maintained his calm, composed facade as best he could.

“I think… I remember a little.”

Bo Chengyan’s eyes drooped. The arm behind the boy’s waist tensed, muscles taut, veins standing out sharply.

As if a single squeeze could snap that waist in two.

“Mm.”

The original treatment had included hypnosis, designed to make him forget certain painful images and sounds.

Bo Chengyan’s expression remained unchanged. He tamped down his emotions and listened. He didn’t want to know why the boy had forgotten the memory of being brought here by him.

Was it unwillingness?

Too late for that.

Qi Jing raised a hand to brace against the man’s shoulder, his tone unhappy. “Mm… you’re hugging too tight…”

The pressure eased in an instant.

The man’s dark eyes fixed on him, no hesitation. “Sorry.”

Qi Jing blinked, stunned. Sometimes, Bo Chengyan’s politeness struck him as odd—like he was holding something back.

He’d said before not to hold too hard.

But the man still couldn’t quite control it.

The boy wasn’t really thinking much of it. It was just a subtle shift in mood. He was eager to know something else.

“Was I… given to you by someone else?”

His tone was stuffy.

The faint pressure in the air vanished in a heartbeat.

“No.”

Qi Jing’s eyelids drooped. His dangling fingers curled slightly. In deep puzzlement, he said, “No… not?”

The boy’s shoulders were slim. Sitting up straight, he looked earnest, a bit more spirited. “I wasn’t sent over by anyone?”

Parents were the first concrete embodiment of family affection. Qi Jing had forgotten many painful memories—even his little brother’s name back in those mountains—but the words “Dad” and “Mom” lingered.

In traditional East Asian families, regrets spanned all ages, and half of them could be traced back to one’s original family.

Seeing that scene back then, Qi Jing truly hadn’t been able to breathe. He’d been abandoned too many times, and he couldn’t help projecting himself into it.

“My parents here… they didn’t not want me?”

His voice even lifted a little.

The 996 system had never transmitted any information about people in this life. Qi Jing didn’t know he’d transmigrated. In his innocence, he assumed he had family.

But he feared ending up like that girl.

Sent away.

Abandoned.

Unwanted.

In the end, his understanding of parents boiled down to a single word, but it couldn’t fill that profound emptiness.

Bo Chengyan had gripped his wrist bone from start to finish. He sensed the hopeful note in the boy’s voice and realized he’d overestimated his own sense of morality.

Without the slightest hesitation, he told him, “No parents, Little Jing. I’ve told you before.”

“They were gone. They died in the flood.”

“It was me. The moment I saw you, I wanted to take you away.”

Qi Jing’s emotions hadn’t even peaked before they were steered in another direction.

Bo Chengyan realized his actions were spiraling out of control. He couldn’t bear Qi Jing straying from the path he’d planned or encountering people he hadn’t vetted.

The persona he’d so carefully cultivated had become a moral shackle binding him.

Better to snap it outright.

“I could have handed you over to the local social services back then, but I took you anyway.”

“I even pulled some strings. You know that—I couldn’t formally adopt you. We had to go to Macau to register your household.”

Bo Chengyan’s arm encircled the boy’s waist. The blood in his veins quickened. His body was strung taut like a wire. Expressionless, he asked:

“Do you think I’m awful?”

Qi Jing’s arms were wrapped around the man’s shoulders and back. He stared blankly for a moment, then shook his head.

“You’re great.”

The air carried a faint sense of pressure.

As if it was hard to breathe.

“What about afterward? Once you gain full civil capacity and can survive independently in society, will you leave me?”

Qi Jing’s fingers tightened on Bo Chengyan’s shirt. His eyelashes fluttered a few times. “I… haven’t graduated yet…”

“Will you?”

In some ways, this didn’t align with moral standards. No one should demand promises about the future.

It was like shackling someone ahead of time.

Inappropriate.

Yet in intimate relationships, such behavior was all too common.

Unfortunately, most partners never followed through.

~~~

Ling Yue’s Foundation soon received the notification and arranged for the mother and daughter’s follow-up care.

The mother’s congenital heart condition would be treated through their charitable program, and the daughter would be sent to a special school where disabled individuals could learn a trade to make a living in society.

This plan was implemented a day later. Meanwhile, Qi Jing’s low-grade fever hadn’t fully subsided, so he stayed another day in Z Province.

A black car pulled up discreetly at the entrance to the factory. Qi Jing pushed the door open and got out, turning back to the driver. “I’ll be right back. It won’t take long.”

The young man had subtly picked up on something.

If he stayed away too long, the other man would grow a bit sullen.

“I’m heading out.”

It was a simple errand. He wanted to return the raincoat and drop by to see Jiang Xiuyuan, who was probably still volunteering here.

They hadn’t said goodbye yet.

After hurriedly returning the raincoat, he hadn’t even had a chance to ask the staff about Jiang Xiuyuan when a coarse male voice rang out nearby.

“Where’s Jiang Xiuyuan? That ungrateful bastard who killed my parents!”

“Where is he? This time, I’m definitely going to—”

Several security guards grabbed the young man and dragged him back with little effort.

Qi Jing watched intently for a long time until a staff member’s voice reached him. “No idea who that guy was… Spouting nothing but filth, just causing trouble.”

“Do you need anything else?”

The young man shook his head. He had started toward the car, but after a second thought, he turned and headed into the nearby alley.

No particular reason.

The man just looked too much like Jiang Xiuyuan.

Qi Jing arrived too late. By the time he got there, Chen Zhuo was wiping blood from his hands. The atmosphere froze solid.

“You…”

“It’s not.”

Chen Zhuo followed his gaze to his own hand and let out a sigh of exasperation. “It’s my own blood. Jiang Xiuyuan stabbed me. I’m really not the bad guy here.”

Qi Jing just stood there, stunned.

It felt like they had slipped into a question-and-answer routine.

“Why would Jiang Xiuyuan stab you?”

“He just hates me.”

“You didn’t dodge?”

“…”

The young man didn’t forget his original purpose. He still asked, “Is that his brother?”

Chen Zhuo felt like he was having the worst luck imaginable. First he got caught on the phone, now caught in the act of beating someone. Tomorrow, he was heading to a temple to burn some incense and shake off this bad karma.

“Yeah.”

“Then why come here making trouble…”

“Who cares about that? Where’s Bo Chengyan?”

Chen Zhuo instinctively tried to change the subject.

It was a bit of a mess.

But Qi Jing wasn’t a high schooler anymore. He had overheard that line, so he didn’t press further. He simply said, “I heard what that man said. Jiang Xiuyuan’s parents are gone?”

Qi Jing’s fingertips had gone cold.

His grandmother was already deceased. His parents…

“Yeah.”

“Then who…”

Chen Zhuo seemed resigned to it. He walked over, balled up the bloodied tissue, and tossed it into the nearby brush.

“It wasn’t me. You don’t have to look at me like that.”

“He had a fever yesterday. I kept him from coming here to volunteer. Are you looking for him?”

Chen Zhuo leaned his shoulder against the wall and gave a wry smile. “Talk about coincidence.”

Qi Jing’s brows knit with worry.

“Didn’t you leave yesterday? Honestly…”

The story came out bit by bit. It turned out that on the rainy night Jiang Xiuyuan had spent at the old house, his parents had been driving back from the city.

But fate had other plans. Their car skidded off the slope, and they couldn’t be saved.

“Feeling touched?”

Qi Jing snapped back to attention, frowning. He had never encountered anything this convoluted.

Chen Zhuo didn’t hold back. “Not so lucky for them. In the seconds before those parents died, Jiang Xiuyuan’s phone was still buzzing nonstop with abuse from them.”

“Guess what it said?”

Qi Jing’s breathing grew shallow.

He realized it then.

Jiang Xiuyuan truly hadn’t wanted to live anymore back then. He had holed up in the old house, not even wanting to leave.

But that was the peak of the storm.

If he had died at the old place…

The neighbors would have gossiped endlessly about his parents.

Face mattered most in rural society.

Sure, you could use the money from pimping out your son to improve your life. He wasn’t living with you anyway—a gay guy, no heirs. And you had a younger one.

As for making a fuss over this? They wouldn’t even talk to you. Worried it’d affect your job?

Your little brother’s about to get married. What are you stirring up? A funeral? Get back here now.

We raised you this long. What’s a little sacrifice?

…

“They’re dead.”

“I think that’s for the best.”

Qi Jing lowered his eyes, as if grappling with some intractable problem.

“But Jiang Xiuyuan can’t know. I have to get him back to Capital City.”

“If he finds out, someone starved for love like him—won’t he blow that tiny possibility out of proportion? He’ll think maybe his parents cared, maybe they came looking because they were scared something would happen to him.”

“Then he’ll spiral into despair, convinced he got them killed, and take his own life?”

Chen Zhuo’s face was expressionless. “He’s already got depression. It wasn’t from meeting me—I checked. He’d had it before.”

“Though…”

“Bo Chengyan knows. But he doesn’t care about our business.”

“So, please keep this secret.”