Chapter 94: Past – You Can Have Your Own Home

The Chief Assistant had already relayed the information he’d dug up in advance, and along the way, he handed over the neatly compiled profiles of the middle school principals to his boss.

Capital City wasn’t that big, after all.

It was always the same circle of people.

Bo Chengyan glanced down at the documents with lowered eyes and asked idly, “Which one’s closest to home?”

The Chief Assistant took the question seriously, answering with professional precision:

“XX Middle School’s International Department?”

“It’s the most flexible and inclusive in terms of educational resources and course offerings.”

Bo Chengyan considered it for a moment before replying evenly:

“For studying abroad later…”

“That could work, too.”

Academic competition overseas wasn’t as cutthroat, so Qi Jing shouldn’t have any issues.

Probably…

The man leaned back slightly against his chair, his expression faintly neutral.

Would sending him off make him cry?

~~~

By mid-July, Qi Jing’s enrollment paperwork, class roster, and an overview of the school’s facilities had all been delivered to Brocade River Villas.

The boy had been on his best behavior during this time. He sat in his chair at the dining table, craning his neck anxiously to look up at the man.

Bo Chengyan was reviewing this term’s report card. The reading and listening scores weren’t great, but the writing was decent.

Ever since Qi Jing had started walking steadily, his stuttering had improved. He’d asked the boy a few times about his past, only to find that the child himself couldn’t explain it clearly.

In the end, he’d stopped asking.

The blue slime sat in the middle of the dinner plate, its beady eyes blinking.

【This is the Protagonist Top. He’ll raise you all the way through university, so don’t worry.】

Qi Jing had learned about the existence of this thing a few days earlier. He’d absorbed some information and gradually pieced together why he’d suddenly arrived in this “world.”

At first, realizing his role had left him bewildered. But soon after, a sense of reassurance settled in.

That vague, ethereal affection faded away.

In its place grew a tentative closeness, innocent and unformed.

How did one even act like a goldfinch?

Did it require total sincerity?

He wasn’t sure yet.

【You’re still too little for any missions. Our goal is just to get into university.】

【Little Jing, what you need to do now is study hard and smoothly advance to high school!】

In short: study.

Studying was the priority.

Bo Chengyan’s expression softened as he handed the report card to Auntie beside him. “Put this away for now,” he said calmly.

The boy was still gazing up, his eyes following Auntie’s movements for a moment.

But realizing who sat across from him, he quickly snapped his gaze back.

Earnest and attentive.

“Some… some I don’t get.”

Qi Jing’s Mandarin was actually quite good, suggesting he’d received a proper education before—though the interruption had made it hard to pick things back up.

Bo Chengyan extended a hand, and the boy grasped it almost instinctively. His chin tilted up as he was lifted into the man’s arms.

Eyelids drooping.

Quiet and still.

“It’s fine.”

“What don’t you understand?”

Bo Chengyan’s voice was deep, carrying a subtle magnetic quality.

At this point, Qi Jing hadn’t yet begun to change. He still loved being held, especially on the stairs.

Bo Chengyan would carry him up, step by step.

The boy enjoyed watching the stairs recede behind them, counting each one.

“Some words… I don’t know. And the grammar… I don’t get it.”

He spoke haltingly, stealing glances now and then, clearly concerned about the reaction.

Bo Chengyan cleared his entire evening to help. In the bedroom, he watched as the boy worked through practice problems.

He tutored for a while.

Even his phone was switched off.

~~~

Much of the time, Bo Chengyan’s face remained impassive—even as he cradled the boy securely in his arm, his tone stayed level and even.

“If you don’t understand, read it more.”

“Tell your teacher.”

“I’ll be back next week. Show some progress.”

“Alright?”

Qi Jing could only murmur his agreement in a tiny voice. He peeked up at the man several times but didn’t dare ask what would happen if he didn’t improve.

Bo Chengyan was strict.

Everyone obeyed him.

It was a conclusion drawn from simple observation, one that naturally instilled authority.

To ease that faint “fear,” Qi Jing would secretly rest his chin on the man’s shoulder.

Closer.

Even closer.

“We’ll study a bit more tonight.”

The boy’s fluffy hair nearly brushed Bo Chengyan’s chin. The man’s gaze lowered, his fingers twitching slightly in mild confusion.

What was this behavior?

Qi Jing remained blissfully unaware, simply leaning in more earnestly and grasping the man’s fingers.

Intimate and affectionate.

“Mm…”

~~~

Such excessive closeness wasn’t entirely normal, of course.

He was still so young.

Bo Chengyan consulted his psychologist about it.

“…That’s just him acting clingy.”

“Mr. Bo, I have to remind you—he has no parents. The boy’s household registration is now under the Bo Family Old Mansion, under your family’s name…”

“He’s projecting his needs and expectations for parents onto you.”

Even with this clear explanation, Bo Chengyan still believed Qi Jing needed to develop more independence.

The boy’s cognitive abilities were recovering steadily, revealing a strong natural talent.

Specifically, he didn’t resist learning at all.

Qi Jing could even handle eight hours a day of home tutoring without complaint.

He needed to prepare for high school.

Math and English were the main hurdles. At first, Qi Jing struggled, but he improved steadily, his progress forming a stable upward spiral.

After the consultation, Bo Chengyan returned home as usual. The moment Qi Jing saw him, he reached out, refusing to take a single step on his own, his cheeks still flushed from the warm milk he’d drunk.

In the end, Bo Chengyan didn’t refuse. He scooped the boy up by the waist, settling him securely on his forearm.

Back to the bedroom.

~~~

Bo Chengyan sat with his legs crossed, the report card on his knee and the boy standing primly beside him.

There were two A-minuses and a B.

“Very good.”

Progress, at least.

Qi Jing couldn’t help but feel pleased, instinctively leaning closer, his dangling legs swinging lightly.

Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed faintly.

He set the papers aside and looked down at the boy in his lap.

Qi Jing was fifteen now, right in the midst of puberty.

He wasn’t like the other kids in Capital City who’d grown up with normal schooling.

He lacked proper understanding of the internet or social dynamics.

All of that would need gradual teaching.

Perhaps it was Lin Se’s talk of responsibility—or maybe the simple, blank-slate reality of the boy in his arms.

Either way, Bo Chengyan felt a primal urge to take control.

He laid down a few rules.

1. No early romance.

2. No tattoos.

3. Stay away from hip-hop culture…

A scattered handful of them.

Qi Jing recited them in bewilderment, then tried to climb into Bo Chengyan’s lap again, even lifting a leg.

“Baby, you’re a big boy now.”

“We can’t always hold like that.”

“I’m much older than you. It isn’t appropriate.”

It was a clear, unambiguous refusal.

Bo Chengyan sat with his legs crossed, glancing over. Sure enough, the boy’s eyes reddened, tears threatening to spill.

But perhaps he’d taken the earlier words to heart.

He held them back.

Enduring.

A hidden thrill rose in Bo Chengyan’s chest.

He could have just let it go.

Even the most precious flower only needed a few days of careful tending.

No need for so long.

But Qi Jing…

“Come here.”

The man’s voice was warm and refined.

The boy hadn’t been far to begin with, but a misty haze clouded his eyes.

He had an almost obsessive need for hugs.

And it wasn’t unfounded.

Scientifically speaking, embraces were one of the most natural ways for humans to get a dopamine hit.

Hearts pressed close.

As if strength could flow between them.

Bo Chengyan didn’t do much—just reached out and stroked his face. The cheek was so small it covered half his palm.

He wiped away the tear at the corner of an eye.

A gentle motion.

But his words left no room for negotiation.

“Little Jing, be good.”

“Boys can’t always be carried like this.”

It was a hazy awareness of gender.

Old-fashioned. Traditional.

No different from insisting “boys use blue basins, girls use pink ones.”

From start to finish, Bo Chengyan had approached this with a “raising a child” mindset. He came from a traditional family, even if he’d later carved his own difficult path.

He had no intention of preaching otherwise.

The side paths were thorny.

The main road was broader.

Young people often lacked self-judgment; a mere mention could become a dangerous temptation.

Bo Chengyan simply lowered his hand and leaned back in his chair. His nose was straight, his brow prominent, making his features resemble those in a fashion magazine.

Flowers and plants had their steps for nurturing.

Children were the same.

At fifteen, read more books.

Then find something they liked.

Dating?

…

It was a fairly perfect roadmap for child-rearing.

Bo Chengyan hadn’t yet spotted the flaw in his plan.

He hadn’t considered the possibility of Qi Jing leaving.

~~~

Qi Jing couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

The rejections had piled up.

Scattered, but frequent.

On Friday, he simply watched him eat his dinner before leaving.

In the end, Qi Jing hid under the covers in his bedroom and cried. He had never received any love from his original family. Instead, his “wounds” had been forcibly smoothed over by outside forces.

He longed for just one more family member.

Daddy. Mommy.

But there were none.

Qi Jing stared at the homework on his desk without touching it. He felt lost and confused.

His eyes were red-rimmed.

Why had he taken me away?

Just because… it was convenient and we clicked?

The boy bit his lip, his eyes growing misty. If that was the case, he wondered, then why couldn’t there be a hug?

He doesn’t like me.

That was the only explanation Qi Jing could come up with.

Qi Jing’s thinking was indeed a bit slow. He had been shut away for so long that even after getting a phone, he rarely used it. More often, he had to puzzle out the logical connections on his own.

This was a training exercise recommended by the doctor.

Perhaps the more he dwelled on it, the worse he felt.

In the end, he sobbed quietly under the covers.

996 popped up out of nowhere.

Qi Jing jumped in fright, streaks of tears visible on his cheeks.

【What’s wrong? Why are you crying?】

The system had no idea what was happening, but it could detect certain information.

After a short while,

【Do you want a home?】

【Little Jing, after the mission ends, you can have your own home.】

~~~

That night’s secret crying still made its way to Bo Chengyan’s phone.

Even though it was just a text message.

He came back again in the middle of the night.

Bo Chengyan simply pushed open the door. There, at the edge of the bed, was a small lump huddled in the corner—not in the center of the mattress.

He was afraid.

Bo Chengyan gazed down at the bed’s edge. He reached out and gently lifted a corner of the covers, trying to let some air in.

But in that moment,

he froze.

The boy beneath the covers was properly dressed in his pajamas. His cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, and he was curled up tight, his eyelashes still damp.

He had been crying.

Yet his hands were crossed over his chest.

So very childish.

Hugging himself.

And now, sleeping peacefully.