Chapter 15

The mountain path was rough going, and Qi Jing leaned against the man’s shoulder, carefully holding the umbrella aloft.

But after a moment, Bo Chengyan came to a stop.

Qi Jing’s heart pounded.

“Little Jing, if you keep holding it like that, I can’t see the road.”

The umbrella handle was gripped too high, tilting the canopy too low until it nearly covered Bo Chengyan’s upper body.

Hearing this, Qi Jing hurriedly straightened his posture and pushed the handle upward, finally clearing enough space for a view.

But that also left Bo Chengyan’s side glance completely unobstructed.

“…”

The young man kept his head lowered, his long lashes fluttering. A bit of mud still clung to his cheeks from brushing against the edge of the karst cave, leaving him looking grubby once more.

Qi Jing sneaked a tilt of his head and leaned back against Bo Chengyan’s shoulder like a kitten, staying utterly silent.

As if pretending no one could see him.

On the pitch-black road, someone supported his waist, slowly pressing onward.

Only then did Qi Jing belatedly realize that 996 was gone. He instinctively glanced around, shifting slightly, only for a large hand to press down on his back.

“Don’t move.”

[Okay.]

Bo Chengyan felt a bit more weight settle on his shoulder, accompanied by a puff of warm breath brushing from his neck to his ear.

Phoenix Branch Mountain wasn’t particularly high in elevation; it was just a small tourist spot, complete with a paved ring road around the slopes. The car was parked not far off.

Bo Chengyan pulled open the back door with one hand, bending down to deposit the young man inside. The boy in his arms reacted sluggishly, his hands still clinging to Bo Chengyan’s neck.

“Little Jing, let go.”

The ring road had streetlights that revealed threads of rain and the red-and-green flashes from other fire trucks.

Qi Jing stared at that faintly visible jawline, dazedly releasing his hold—but then he blurted out in a panic, “But it’s raining.”

[I’ll hold the umbrella for you.]

A large hand slid down the umbrella handle. Bo Chengyan pried apart the boy’s wet, cold fingers, seemingly giving them a squeeze before pushing them back.

Bang—

The door shut.

Qi Jing sat there like a drenched little animal, his thoughts sluggish. He’d forgotten the man could simply enter from the other side—no umbrella required.

He stared helplessly at the leather seat, now soaked by his efforts…

The door on the left swung open, letting in a rush of cold air. Bo Chengyan frowned. “Turn the heat up another notch.”

Qi Jing didn’t dare move; he was filthy right now.

“Head back to Brocade River Villas.”

“Raise the partition.”

Qi Jing kept his eyes downcast, feeling unusually out of place. He had no shoes on, and his clothes were caked with mud and sand. He could only try to minimize his footprint as much as possible.

[Don’t want to dirty the car…]

“Come here.”

Qi Jing looked up. Bo Chengyan had shrugged off his jacket, leaving him in just a shirt with slightly damp sleeves. His expression remained calm.

Suddenly, Qi Jing felt a surge of reluctance.

“Mi-Mr. Bo, I’ll stay right here.”

The smart wristband lay casually in the center console, and Qi Jing had never felt so uneasy.

The man’s voice softened a touch. “Little Jing’s right here, is he?”

Bo Chengyan let out a soft tsk before reaching over without further ado. He pulled the boy onto his lap and locked an arm around his waist—like bundling up a child.

“Take off your clothes.”

Qi Jing froze, his cheeks instantly flushing crimson. His legs dangled limply, his breathing growing uneven.

“Little Jing.”

Bo Chengyan frowned one last time, then gave up on explanations. His fingers slipped under the fabric, lifting it upward as he murmured, “Arms up.”

The boy obeyed, revealing pale skin as translucent as fine porcelain.

The soaked clothes clung to his body, practically inviting a cold.

Expression unchanging, Bo Chengyan stripped the garments from the boy in his lap as if handling a doll. Aside from the pink flush on his cheeks, the rest of Qi Jing’s skin felt icy and damp.

Far from a normal temperature.

Whether from the car’s heater or not, Qi Jing did feel rather woozy. His waist was tugged upward again.

The pressure was firm—bound to leave fingerprints…

“My apologies.”

Qi Jing blinked dazedly, struggling to lift his gaze, but a dry overcoat descended, wrapping him up snugly. His forehead burned hot to the touch.

It hadn’t even been that long.

Night had gradually receded.

A pale light dawned in the sky. Inside the car, the boy bundled in the oversized coat slept for two hours against the man’s chest, his cheeks rosy.

He barely stirred upon arrival at Brocade River Villas.

No rain had fallen here.

Qi Jing felt himself being lifted into waiting arms. Bo Chengyan’s voice rumbled through his chest with vibration—tempting Qi Jing to press closer and listen, though the shirt fabric muffled it.

“Make him something light for breakfast, if you would.”

“Just a taste of cake for now—lunch can wait.”

“No need to prepare anything for me, just—”

Qi Jing’s cheek nuzzled into the crook of Bo Chengyan’s neck, skin meeting skin, lips brushing lightly as hot breaths wafted over.

“Mmm…”

Suddenly, Qi Jing couldn’t make out the voices anymore. He wilted and drifted back into a hazy slumber.

Time ticked by.

As expected, fever set in.

It wasn’t until five in the afternoon that he regained some awareness.

The curtains were half-drawn, casting faint light across the room. When Qi Jing stirred, his hand twitched involuntarily—but it was immediately held fast.

Their fingers were interlocked.

Bo Chengyan sat in a chair, apparently catching a brief nap from exhaustion. He lifted his lids to glance over.

“Awake?”

His voice was deep.

Only then did Qi Jing notice the IV needle in the back of his hand, connected to a hanging bottle. Bewilderment clouded his clear eyes.

Bo Chengyan released his hand and rose, leaning down. Qi Jing shrank back a little, but his mouth was gently pried open, and a disinfected thermometer slipped inside.

“Hold it.”

Qi Jing clamped down on the thermometer, unable to resist glancing at the man—but Bo Chengyan had already turned to draw back the curtains and flick on the light.

He settled back into the chair, as if he’d been keeping watch all day.

Qi Jing watched, entranced.

“Why are you staring at me?” His tone was even.

Qi Jing slowly lowered his gaze and looked away, but just then, the door opened. Lin Se entered wearing a white coat.

He glanced at the bed, then bent down with a beaming smile and a wave. “Feeling better, Baby?”

Qi Jing nodded.

His eyes drifted sideways involuntarily before snapping back.

Lin Se approached Bo Chengyan. “Why the scary face? Don’t frighten him.”

Bo Chengyan stood aside to let him remove the needle.

His expression stayed impassive.

But he didn’t deny it.

Qi Jing had never had an IV before. He winced faintly as the needle came out, and Bo Chengyan reached over to steady his hand.

He gazed down at the boy.

After Lin Se cleared away the medical waste, he turned. “Fever should be down by now—it’s evening. Let me check…”

His hand reached for the thermometer still in Qi Jing’s mouth.

Bo Chengyan intercepted it, face blank. “Open up.”

Thirty-six point seven.

Fever broken.

Lin Se arched a brow, eyeing Qi Jing. Who knew the kid could be so disobedient—such a handful.

It had been years since he’d seen Bo Chengyan rein in his emotions like this.

Ha.

“Happy birthday, Baby. You’re an adult now. My gift’s on the table downstairs.” The young man waved cheerfully and sauntered out.

Those were Qi Jing’s first words: “Thank you.” His voice came out muffled.

Bo Chengyan looked down at him.

Soon, the room held only the two of them.

A bandage covered the back of Qi Jing’s hand. Bo Chengyan pressed it gently for about a minute before letting go and tucking it under the covers.

But he didn’t leave.

He remained in the chair.

Watching him.

[What should I say…]

Qi Jing’s pointed chin began inching under the covers. In a daze, he realized his body was spotless—clad in pajamas. He paused.

“You just handed off the smart wristband I gave you to someone else?” Bo Chengyan asked flatly, his tone even.

He wouldn’t bother lecturing a child with pointless words.

But he couldn’t let this go.

Something meant to keep him safe, casually given to a stranger?

Qi Jing grew flustered at once. He pushed up on his arms to sit, but after a full day without food, his wrist slipped, nearly sending his head crashing down.

The chair scraped harshly against the floor—scraaape—

His neck was caught and steadied, cradled effortlessly in the man’s palm. Qi Jing looked up in bewilderment.

“No, it’s not like that. The cave mouth was too high—I couldn’t get out. Only Huang Ze could. And there was no signal down below.” The boy sounded utterly aggrieved.

Dressed in pajamas with his hair mussed into even curlier tufts, Qi Jing clutched the man’s arm and explained with utmost sincerity.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go into the karst cave?”

Qi Jing’s breath hitched. He scrambled for words, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the pressure, but his mind raced elsewhere…

996. How to explain the system.

He’d thought it would be fine.

This was impossible to explain.

The more he thought, the more anxious he got—until the pad of a finger nudged his chin upward. Bo Chengyan’s expression was inscrutable. “What nonsense are you thinking?”

All he heard was static crackling in his ears.

Suddenly inspired, Qi Jing recalled something from the clubhouse. He earnestly pressed his hand to Bo Chengyan’s.

He looked up at him.

Once wasn’t enough—he did it again.

Bo Chengyan released his grip at once. Qi Jing blinked in confusion, but in the next instant, his wrist was yanked back.

“Lin Se has an education degree. I consulted him about this sort of thing. If a teenager keeps making mistakes and I don’t correct him, that’s actually pretty irresponsible of me.”

“The karst cave was empty to begin with. Heavy rain loosens the mud and sand up on the mountain—it can trigger mudslides. If the entrance had been completely buried, you think it’d be easy to find you?”

Qi Jing grew inexplicably tense. His breaths came in short, ragged bursts as Bo Chengyan pried his palm open. Sometime in the last moment, the Discipline Ruler had appeared in the man’s hand.

“I…”

He had no idea how to explain himself. His eyes grew damp.

Bo Chengyan frowned. “Is it no danger at all for the national firefighting teams to climb the mountain looking for you? They’ve got families of their own. Why should they risk heading out on a mission in the dead of a rainy night? You think they get overtime pay or something?”

Qi Jing lost all control in that instant. Speech failed him entirely, and he stared at the other man in a panic.

Bo Chengyan raised the ruler high.

Crack!

Qi Jing’s palm burned like fire. His fingers curled tight.

“Woo…”

His shoulders hunched inward. He squeezed his eyes shut, trembling as tears welled up fast and furious. Sobs wracked him, beyond his power to stop.

But it lasted only a second before Bo Chengyan scooped him up into his arms.

Qi Jing clung to the man’s shoulders and cried as if he’d forgotten who had struck the blow. His wrist draped limply over Bo Chengyan’s back, the red welt glaring on his palm.

It had already started to swell.

Bo Chengyan had no other choice.

No parents. No one to guide him.

He hadn’t even grasped the most basic instinct to seek gain and shun harm. If he kept wandering like this, he’d never mature—like some pitiful fledgling bird.

“…Sorry… wuu, I just wanted to…” Sitting cradled in Bo Chengyan’s lap, Qi Jing struggled for breath. His words tumbled out in broken fragments. “I know I shouldn’t have gone, but… but they threw me a birthday party. They haven’t come back.”

“It’s my… my birthday. I had to take responsibility.”

Bo Chengyan frowned down at him. He could guess what the boy was imitating now—his own talk of “responsibility”?

“No need.”

Qi Jing’s crying cut off abruptly. His eyes went blank with confusion.

“I’ll take responsibility for you.”