“Are you saying you can hear it sometimes, but not other times?” Lin Se lifted Bo Chengyan’s wrist, grabbed the prescription from the nearby printer, and told his assistant to go fetch the medicine.
This matter wasn’t over yet.
The young man narrowed his eyes and thought about it seriously for a moment. “Bo, you haven’t been possessed by a demon, have you?”
Bo Chengyan looked at him expressionlessly, a trace of speechless resignation flickering in his deep eyes.
“Can you hear me cursing you right now?”
Lin Se waved his hands hurriedly before the other man could snap. “No cursing, no cursing. Fine, fine, it’s just your little lovers’ quarrel.”
“Maybe Cupid put a curse on you.”
Bo Chengyan frowned and said coldly, “Don’t put it that way. He’s still young. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for him.”
Lin Se wondered if his friend was really that upright and proper, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Bo, didn’t you say you don’t like women?”
“So you’re raising him like a son?”
This was a great topic. One of humanity’s ultimate philosophical questions revolved around procreating offspring, and people would go to absurd lengths for the sake of mating.
Things like women who didn’t have children being incomplete…
Lin Se firmly believed this was a narrative constructed by men, designed to poison innocent girls.
In this modern era, women had made great strides in knowledge and awareness, but the ethics of reproduction remained a sharp point of conflict.
Lin Se had spent a long time in the country. Besides running his clinic in the neighborhood and outwitting that vicious mother-in-law, he had also delved deeply into Little Red Book, actively engaging in all those family drama posts.
He was as sharp as a seasoned online troll.
Bo Chengyan withdrew his hand, making no effort to hide the truth. “That could be part of it.”
Lin Se was shocked. “What do you mean, ‘that could be part of it’?”
He felt this mindset was abnormal and was about to launch into a lengthy lecture when the other man continued, “I brought him out of those remote mountains because I pitied him.”
“But there were plenty of pitiful kids like that there.”
Bo Chengyan lowered his eyelids, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of the chair. His voice was low and steady. “I only took him because his looks stood out so strikingly.”
“So it seems I do have some of humanity’s baser instincts.”
Lin Se pondered for a moment before responding in plain terms, “If it were me, I’d take the good-looking one too. Human nature.”
“…”
Lin Se turned to him again. “But what’s troubling you? You’ve always handled everything with ease. Why have you been coming to see me so often lately?”
His friend supposedly had at least three mistresses back in the old family home in Macau. Even in college, he had calmly dealt with his own mother’s suicide and returned to school to finish his studies, conversing with others as peacefully as ever.
How strong was a person’s mentality to be like that?
Lin Se wasn’t sure. He only knew the man kept no one close. Even his dislike for women was just outsider speculation—the reality was unclear.
“Has your little Baby run into trouble?”
That was the only direction Lin Se could think of.
Bo Chengyan was reluctant to admit it, frowning as he asked, “His friends seem to be leading him astray, taking him to shady places. Should I cut off their contact?”
“Also, he’s in his senior year of high school now. He should have a target university in mind, but he only wants to go to a public undergrad program. He’s even considering student loans.”
“He thinks I’ll abandon him.”
Lin Se was stunned for a moment before blurting out, “Bo, you sound like a typical East Asian parent.”
But before he could probe further, the man’s phone rang with its specially set vibration tone. Bo Chengyan glanced at it with a frown, stood up, and answered the call.
Lin Se was intensely curious, watching from his swivel chair. In a flash, he understood—his friend had minored in education. This was a consultation.
How intriguing.
He actually cared about someone.
But just two seconds later, Bo Chengyan hurriedly prepared to leave, his expression darkening.
Lin Se asked curiously, “What happened? Your medicated patch isn’t ready yet. Want to wait?”
“Forget it. I’m heading to the school.”
Lin Se sat up straight, his expression surprised. “Did Baby get into trouble?”
No one answered. The man left quickly.
The assistant brought over the medicated patch. Lin Se took it, glanced at the clock on the wall.
Seven thirty.
“I want to go too…”
~~~
Qi Jing was helped into the infirmary by the teacher. His face was pale as he propped himself up on the examination bed, sitting silently.
The disciplinary director was outside talking to that Qin Sheng guy, but Qi Jing couldn’t make out the words, nor did he want to.
His ankle throbbed with waves of soreness.
Followed by sharp stabs of pain.
Qi Jing feared he might be crippled. He felt utterly dejected—a disabled goldfinch would be discarded even more easily.
He still hadn’t found Ruan Heng.
Everything was awful.
Until the door opened.
Qi Jing didn’t know how pitiful he looked right now. He was still in his school uniform, with wall dust smeared on his nose from who knows when, his hair disheveled, and his eyes red-rimmed.
He hadn’t cried.
His face was just very pale.
Bo Chengyan’s gaze swept over and immediately fixed on the swollen ankle, the skin scraped raw and slowly oozing blood.
The fair calf hung over the edge of the bed, the pant leg rolled up to keep the fabric from sticking to the wound.
Qi Jing had expected Auntie to come, not Bo Chengyan. Before he could even look up to speak—
The man knelt down on one knee. Qi Jing lowered his head to look at him.
“Mr. Bo…”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
The ankle was gently lifted, and Bo Chengyan frowned as he examined the injury.
Qi Jing nodded. “It hurts a lot.”
The disciplinary director stepped in from outside. Only then did Bo Chengyan stand, using his other hand to gently stroke Qi Jing’s face, his fingers brushing the boy’s eye corner to wipe away the hint of tears.
Qi Jing recalled what he’d learned at the clubhouse and instinctively pressed against the man’s palm, but Bo Chengyan merely wiped the tears and pulled away—no prolonged contact.
“We’ve looked into it. It was just some roughhousing among classmates. The student’s right outside. How would you like to handle it?”
It was still evening self-study time; the hallway wasn’t crowded.
Bo Chengyan asked, “What’s his name?”
“Qin Sheng,” the director replied.
Qi Jing thought there would be more talk, but there wasn’t. Bo Chengyan simply asked the name, then lifted him into his arms—cradling him face-to-face against his chest, carefully angling to avoid the injured foot.
“Let’s go to the hospital.”
Bo Chengyan paused, considering. “Want me to carry you on my back? This is a school.”
He kept Qi Jing’s personal information completely protected. Even now, he was appearing only as his brother.
Perhaps out of an adult’s keen sensitivity, he still asked.
Qi Jing blinked, confused. “You can’t carry me at school?”
His question was so innocent.
Bo Chengyan said nothing more. He held the boy with one arm and walked out, not avoiding the other student. As they passed, he gave Qin Sheng a frowning glance.
Qin Sheng slouched casually, but ever since Qi Jing’s “family” had emerged, a prickling numbness had crept up his back.
He thought he was tall, but the man still looked down at him.
Dressed in a sharp suit.
A man of the world gazing at campus kids like ants at play.
Bo Chengyan only glanced twice before carrying him downstairs, one careful step at a time.
[Why didn’t you teach him a lesson? So angry.]
Qi Jing’s arms were around the man’s shoulders, chin resting there, his gaze trailing behind as he slowly counted the steps.
“To the hospital first. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It hurts.”
The man walked steadily, even down the stairs, creating a gentle rocking sensation, like being cradled as a child.
Qi Jing didn’t notice the quiet dependence budding within him. He wasn’t aggrieved anymore and slowly closed his eyes.
The car was already in the schoolyard, right below the building. Bo Chengyan opened the door with one hand and carefully placed him inside.
“You won’t be lame. It’s fine.”
Qi Jing looked up at him, his curious gaze direct and open.
[How does he know what I’m thinking?]
They arrived at the hospital at eight thirty.
The ER doctor examined it and frowned. “Fell again? Poor kid.”
After a brief rundown of the situation, the doctor had no real solution, just sighed. “Some high schoolers are real little beasts. Be careful at school from now on—stay away from them.”
Qi Jing nodded, looking down at his ankle, now wrapped in bandages and secured.
“It’s nothing serious, but rest it for three days. No walking around.”
Qi Jing examined his foot; it didn’t seem to hurt as much now. He pursed his lips and turned to look at Bo Chengyan.
He noticed the man staring at his phone.
Confused, he wondered: What is he looking at?
Bo Chengyan’s expression soured as he pocketed the phone. It was footage from the tuned-in surveillance—barely half an hour had passed, and the key clip had already been extracted and sent over.
He bent down and scooped Qi Jing up again, saying nothing as he headed out. Qi Jing asked, “No wheelchair?”
Bo Chengyan’s face had been grim, but he fell silent for a moment before explaining, “The car’s right outside. Borrowing a wheelchair means we’d have to return it. We can use one at home.”
He seemed to precisely anticipate the boy’s thoughts.
“Okay.”
They got home around eight.
Auntie had prepared a delicious meal, but Qi Jing only managed to eat a small bowl before he lost his appetite. He always got that way after mealtime.
Bo Chengyan frowned and rose to his feet. He grabbed a spoon, clearly intending to feed Qi Jing himself, but Qi Jing still remembered the last time all too vividly. He quickly shook his head.
“Little Jing.”
Qi Jing stammered out an explanation. “N-no feeding. I’ll eat it myself.”
Truth be told, the last time had left a lingering reaction from being held by the neck. He couldn’t quite identify the uneasy feeling it stirred in him. He just knew that being soothed with neck rubs on one side while his lips were pried open to accept the food on the other…
He hadn’t been able to move an inch.
It was terrifying.
Qi Jing ended up holding the bowl himself and eating on his own. He barely managed to finish it, but in the process, he accidentally choked and broke into a coughing fit.
A shadow fell over him once more. Instinctively, Qi Jing leaned back, and then his lips were wiped twice with a tissue.
But only twice.
His visitor seemed to pause for a moment before releasing Qi Jing’s chin. Instead, he handed the tissue over to him.
“Wipe it yourself.”
Qi Jing didn’t quite understand the gesture, but he followed suit. At least the coughing stopped—though his ears turned bright red.
He glanced over at Bo Chengyan.
“What are you looking at me for?” The man’s voice was deep and low as he asked casually.
Qi Jing simply replied, “I’ve finished eating.”
In truth, most of their conversations were pretty straightforward.
It was only recently that they’d started interacting more.
Qi Jing watched as Bo Chengyan stood up, his gaze following along. With his head tilted back, from the other man’s perspective, he looked a little…
“I’ll get the wheelchair for you.”
Qi Jing felt puzzled, since he had already reached out his arms.
“Can’t you just pick me up?”
