Chapter 54: My Hands… Have Long Ceased To Be…

Lin Jianxi squatted on the ground.

He was crumbling from the exposure of his secret, his heart aching from Jiang Yan’s betrayal.

He desperately tried to convince himself that Qin Mu’s words were lies.

Perhaps it was intuition.

He knew Qin Mu’s words were true.

But he refused to believe them.

The moment he did, he wouldn’t even want to go on living.

He had sacrificed so much, toyed with in turn by Qin Mu and Xiao Ze, all just to track down Jiang Yan and ensure his safety.

And the answer he got in return? Jiang Yan was a high-ranking member of the South Faction, reveling in the boundless decadence of its elite with the special medicine Lin Jianxi himself had developed.

Meanwhile, he had been skulking in the shadows, hurt time and again.

All his efforts reduced to a cruel joke.

Don’t believe it.

You can’t believe it.

Lin Jianxi, it’s all fake fake fake fake fake fake fake fake——！！！！！

Did you hear me? All fake fake fake fake！！！！

Lin Jianxi shot up from the ground, fixing Qin Mu with a stare.

Qin Mu arched a brow. “What are you doing?”

The lights blazed on suddenly.

Qin Mu froze for a moment, unnerved by the eerie, near-mad calm in his eyes.

It wasn’t despair or pleading. It was ice-cold precision laced with something dangerously alluring.

“Qin Mu.” Lin Jianxi’s voice was unnaturally steady.

He stepped forward, hooked an arm around Qin Mu’s neck, and pulled him down into a kiss.

He poured every technique he knew into it.

The room filled with nothing but wet, ragged breaths and the occasional sharp click of teeth.

Qin Mu frowned and shoved him back. “You…”

“You said you like me best when I’m a mess but still won’t break.” Lin Jianxi’s lips twisted in a smirk. “Am I messy enough now? Do you like it?”

Qin Mu’s eyes narrowed. He sensed something was deeply wrong and reached instinctively for Lin Jianxi’s wrist, but Lin Jianxi slipped away with effortless grace.

“Want to fuck?”

He advanced another step, heedless of his rumpled clothes or the glaring marks mottling his skin.

The secrets he’d once hidden were laid utterly bare before Qin Mu. Lin Jianxi’s heart hammered, but his emotions remained eerily flat. He couldn’t say why.

Maybe nothing in this world mattered anymore.

Not even himself.

Just a broken toy, body shattered, dignity in ruins.

“…” Qin Mu said nothing.

Lin Jianxi turned away from him and walked to the bed. With his back to Qin Mu, he began buttoning his shirt one deliberate button at a time, straightening his collar, concealing the wreckage beneath crisp fabric once more.

His fingers didn’t shake. Not even a little.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” Qin Mu said.

…

~~~

When it was over, Lin Jianxi lay beneath Qin Mu, falling back on the old habit of trading intimacy for favors.

He tilted his head up and brushed a kiss against the corner of Qin Mu’s mouth. “Give me a pack of smokes.”

A cold cigarette pack pressed against his cheek. Lin Jianxi fished out five cigarettes, retreated to the foot of the bed, and smoked them one by one.

Qin Mu chuckled. “What are you, a little hamster hoarding for winter?”

“Xiao Ze won’t let me. Been holding out too long—can’t take it anymore.” Lin Jianxi blew out a smoke ring. “Want another round?”

“…”

“For the sake of your health,” Qin Mu said, “no.”

“Oh.” Lin Jianxi stubbed out his cigarette. “Then I’m off.”

“Where to? I’m not touching you tonight. Sleep here.”

Lin Jianxi leaned in close, cigarette dangling from his lips, a smile playing on his face. “Got the next client lined up.”

“…………”

Qin Mu’s expression darkened in an instant.

Those predatory eyes, always glinting with amusement or hunger, now boiled over with unmistakable fury.

Lin Jianxi’s wrist was seized in a vise grip.

“Next client?” Qin Mu’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “Lin Jianxi, what the hell do you take me for? What do you take yourself for?”

He felt no pain.

His body was utterly numb.

He glanced at his wrist, then met Qin Mu’s gaze, his tone utterly even. “We each get what we want, don’t we?”

“…”

Lin Jianxi took a drag and chuckled softly. “Or do you want to mix it up? Tell me—I know all the tricks.”

The words were cheap and self-loathing, like a cold rasp scraping at his tattered heart—and jabbing straight into Qin Mu’s.

Lin Jianxi knew exactly what had set Qin Mu off.

Because Qin Mu had seen who he’d once been.

Moonlight in the laboratory, pristine in his immaculate white coat, every motion an elegant work of art.

The heart of the team. Jiang Yan’s cherished treasure. The genius everyone revered.

Eyes bright and intent, carrying a sheltered purity and pride untouched by the world’s filth.

Lin Jianxi dropped his gaze to his captured hand and flexed his fingers experimentally.

“These hands are good for more than that now. Want to see?”

With his free hand, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, pausing for one last drag.

“I’ve picked up a few skills these years, Qin Mu.” Smoke curled from his lips into Qin Mu’s face, veiling his features in ethereal haze. “My hands aren’t just for lab work anymore.”

He leaned in closer, smile widening with exaggerated flair. “They can do so much more.”

“Heh, has Professor Lin cracked already?” Qin Mu released his wrist and gripped his chin instead. “You have any idea what you look like right now?”

Lin Jianxi looked up obediently, his eyes still strikingly beautiful. He curved his lips into a fawning smile.

“Don’t you like it?”

His voice was soft, breath laced with tobacco and the lingering musk of spent desire.

“…”

Qin Mu’s hand shook.

Lin Jianxi stopped fighting. He abandoned the last scraps of his pride and sagged against Qin Mu, offering up his weight.

Like a boneless doll, soft and pliant.

Ready to be twisted into any shape, marked by any hand.

This utter surrender choked Qin Mu worse than any outburst, stirring a flicker of real panic.

Qin Mu’s hand eased its grip on his chin, his thumb unconsciously stroking that delicate yet icy skin.

Lin Jianxi nipped gently at the side of Qin Mu’s neck with his teeth.

It was one of Lin Jianxi’s little habits during sex. Yesterday, it would have thrilled Qin Mu, but today he went rigid, unsure how to respond.

“Just go,” Qin Mu said, deflating.

At those words, Lin Jianxi rose without a hint of reluctance.

He staggered for a moment before steadying himself. His face remained expressionless as he bent down silently to gather the clothes scattered across the floor.

Piece by piece, he dressed with agonizing slowness.

Still elegant. Still composed.

He straightened his collar, smoothed out the wrinkles, fastened his cufflinks…

Fastened his cufflinks…

Fastened… Lin Jianxi stared at his trembling hands, a bitter thought bubbling up unbidden.

Who are you putting on this show for?

He couldn’t even button a damn cufflink.

Qin Mu couldn’t watch any longer. He stepped forward to help with the buttons, and Lin Jianxi stood obediently still, unmoving.

When Qin Mu’s fingers brushed the button at his collar, Lin Jianxi bowed his head and pressed a kiss to the back of Qin Mu’s hand.

“Thanks.”

It was payment, rendered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

…

Qin Mu said nothing. He finished fastening the buttons and stepped back.

Lin Jianxi made his way to the door and placed his hand on the knob without turning around.

“Cigarettes,” he murmured, his voice so faint it was barely audible. “Could you spare another pack? I’m dressed now. Tomorrow, I’ll—”

“Shut up.”

A pack of smokes was thrust into his hand. Qin Mu snatched the lighter from the nightstand with evident irritation and shoved it roughly into the pocket of Lin Jianxi’s overcoat.

“…Thanks.”

Lin Jianxi pulled open the door and walked out.

The corridor stretched empty and frigid, the thick carpet muffling his footsteps into an oppressive silence.

He walked step by step, with no sense of where it all might end.

As if there were no end at all.

When his legs finally gave out, he stopped. He fished the fresh pack from his pocket, drew out a cigarette, and lit it.

The afterglow of sex still lingered on his body.

Lin Jianxi hadn’t meant to provoke Qin Mu.

He was simply stating the truth.

He did have another appointment to rush off to.

Leaning against the wall, Lin Jianxi tilted his head back and watched the gray smoke rings drift lazily upward. His vision began to blur.

He stood there in silence, smoking one cigarette after another.

~~~

“Success!”

Cheers erupted amid a spray of champagne foam.

In the midst of the clamor, Jiang Yan ruffled his hair.

“Jianxi, let’s give him a name.”

“We finally have a child.”

The eyes behind Jiang Yan’s gold-rimmed glasses crinkled with joy, brimming with a love that outshone the lights themselves.

That day, hope bloomed like sunlight, filling every corner of the laboratory.

The air carried the scent of coffee and boundless possibility.

~~~

His throat burned, parched and raw.

It wasn’t until the cigarette butt scorched his fingertip that he jolted back to awareness.

The first thought in Lin Jianxi’s mind was this:

—Did I truly do wrong?

He had always treated his subordinates fairly, teaching them skills and dismissing those whose performance fell short.

Yet Qin Mu hated him.

To Jiang Yan, he had poured out every ounce of his emotion, lavishing all his warmth on the man—accompanying him through experiments, indulging his stubbornness.

Yet Jiang Yan had quietly risen to a high position in the South Faction, even seeming willing to share him with Qin Mu and Arlo.

As for Xiao Ze…

He did feel guilt toward Xiao Ze, so he was making amends.

But it changed nothing.

He was merely trading his body for fleeting warmth.

He mastered the world’s most cutting-edge techniques, wielded the finest operational skills, but none of it brought him solace—only disaster.

Ever since adulthood, every scrap of warmth had come at the price of his body.

Lin Jianxi gazed down at his reddened fingertips in silence for a few seconds. Then, in a near-masochistic act, he ground the glowing ember against the back of his hand.

A faint sizzle.

The acrid whiff of singed flesh.

Agonizing pain flared instantly.

What a failure.

Lin Jianxi, you’re such a failure.

Expressionless, he stared at the fresh red welt on the back of his hand.

After a moment, he tugged his sleeve down to cover it.

Then he pressed on.

The darkness deepened.

He had no idea where he was going—or where he even could go.

For all the vastness of the world, there seemed to be no place left for him.

Lin Jianxi walked on slowly, a thought echoing in his mind.

Except in bed.

Only in bed was he ever loved.

“Go home, Jianxi. Staying up late isn’t good for you. If the data won’t compute, it’s your brain telling you to rest, hm?”

In his memories, no matter how late the hour or how deep the night, there was always someone to hold him, coax him, extend a hand, and lead him home.

But now, there were no lights. No hand. No home.

Just him—and that pack of cigarettes, cold and biting as a knife, in his pocket.

~~~