More often than not, fate was utterly impossible to resist.
No matter how hard you worked to live, it paled in comparison to the advantages others were simply born with. Side by side, it made you feel like nothing more than a joke.
Jiang Xiuyuan sometimes wondered if heaven had deliberately created poor people just to set off the elegance of the rich.
His old family home lay in ruins, long abandoned. He sat at a weathered table, puddles of water gathering beneath it.
Outside, the sky hung heavy and overcast, rain pouring in sheets.
Truth be told, it was a death trap of a building—one careless moment, and the whole thing would come crashing down.
The young man huddled under a threadbare quilt, staring at his phone. At times like this, he felt deeply conflicted. After all, without any government aid, how could the village even have a signal?
Wretched souls were a dime a dozen. He wasn’t anything special.
Was he just being overly dramatic?
His parents hadn’t lived here in ages. They were cozied up in the city with his youngest brother, in a warm, spotless new house. On rainy days like this, they could watch TV together, share meals, chat away…
Jiang Xiuyuan’s phone battery clung to twenty percent. His reactions had slowed, his mind prone to wandering as he stared at the screen, waiting for a message.
It was pure instinct—a primal urge to survive.
He just hoped someone would reply.
~~~
Bo Chengyan frowned down at his phone, his palm slick with moisture. He glanced lower and saw Qi Jing’s cheek pressed against it.
The boy’s lashes were faintly damp, his sleep peaceful and undisturbed, the thermometer listing crookedly in his mouth.
Qi Jing was a good kid.
Truth be told, Bo Chengyan’s impression of that Jiang Xiuyuan was faint. He felt nothing for people scraping by in dens of vice and revelry. Everyone had their own destiny.
He had no desire to interfere.
But Qi Jing was still a fledgling, untested by the wider world. If someone close to him suffered a crushing blow from society, would it affect the boy?
For better or worse?
Qi Jing was always his top priority.
The scales had emptied, now tipping decisively in one direction.
Rain drummed against the windows.
Bo Chengyan scooped the boy up and settled him on his lap. He woke Qi Jing gently, who blinked in a daze as Bo Chengyan held him by the waist and tilted the phone screen toward him.
“Mm…”
“Huh?”
Qi Jing snapped fully awake in a panic, floundering for what to do. He craned his neck and looked up.
[What should I say? His family… they lied to him. I… I…]
“First, confirm he’s safe.”
Qi Jing steadied at once, lowering his head to type.
Bo Chengyan lifted him to the edge of the bed and rose to take a call on the balcony. The voice on the other end was wildly unsteady.
“My sister in Macau… yeah, I played dirty, but the old man didn’t get turned by Chen Jiangqiao!”
“Why are you messing with the guy I look after? I’ve never gone after Qi Jing! You call that fair?”
Chen Zhuo squeezed his eyes shut, everything spiraling out of control. Still, he’d gotten it all out in one furious rush.
The other man gave no response.
It was maddening.
Sure, he’d started out driven by a petty, envious streak.
Whatever Bo Chengyan had, Chen Zhuo wanted it too.
But this was a person. Chen Zhuo didn’t fancy himself some cold-blooded monster.
“You got anyone near him? He’s got depression. I kept him from going out.”
Bo Chengyan replied evenly, “So?”
“…”
“You want me to spell it out? Get a kick out of watching me twist? I don’t want him croaking back home.”
Chen Zhuo sounded thoroughly irritated, agitation simmering beneath. The highway was gridlocked, rain hammering the windshield.
Emotions were messy, tangled things.
Chen Zhuo had tried raising cats and dogs before, but the little creatures always seemed to reject him outright. They’d fall ill after a short while and pass early.
Even alive, they’d kept their distance.
As an adult, he’d watched his sister charm every pet she met and felt a stab of pointless envy. Whenever he reached out, though, he’d get bitten.
No big shock.
That was when Chen Zhuo decided: he’d find one already trained, one tough enough to stick around.
And now? Total chaos.
Bo Chengyan merely glanced down. “You’re on the highway?”
Noise crackled from the line—horns blaring nonstop.
The probing cut straight to the bone.
Chen Zhuo knew when to concede. He just couldn’t fathom why heaven smiled on Bo Chengyan like this—seizing the Bo Family in two short years, not a single branch daring to twitch.
The people around him… ha, had even one bolted?
It felt like giving up.
“Yeah.”
~~~
Qi Jing fired off the message and immediately set out to find Bo Chengyan, padding barefoot toward the balcony.
The other man hung up and turned just as Qi Jing arrived, scooping him up with one arm.
“Put on some shoes.”
Qi Jing found himself back at the bed’s edge, Bo Chengyan pinching his calf. He was still half-asleep, foggy-headed.
Gazing up at Bo Chengyan, Qi Jing suddenly remembered something.
“Why’d you go to Great Cool Mountain back then?”
Bo Chengyan’s movements stilled.
Truth be told, he wasn’t sure.
He had no real answer.
“Sleep first.”
Qi Jing tugged at his own ankle but couldn’t budge it—the grip was firm.
“Mm…”
“Let go.”
Only then did Bo Chengyan release him. He leaned down, gathered Qi Jing into the middle of the bed, and asked, “Did I hurt you?”
Qi Jing clutched his arm and peered up. The overarching shadow couldn’t dim the faint gleam in those eyes.
“Yeah.”
Certain as could be.
Bo Chengyan frowned at the boy’s ankle, where a ring of red had bloomed. His expression calm, he began to rub it gently.
His mind blank.
There were times he simply didn’t care to revisit the past. He was an adult, after all. Kidnapping a minor out of nowhere—no explanation could whitewash that.
It was reprehensible.
Qi Jing wasn’t medicine.
Not some salve for his wounds.
He was a person.
“I don’t remember much about Great Cool Mountain. Was it raining then too?”
The boy tilted his head up to ask.
“Yes.”
“What were you doing there?”
“Foundation disaster relief.”
Qi Jing stuck to the fringes, asking sidelong questions.
Until—
“Why’d you take me with you?” Qi Jing asked curiously.
Self-absolution came easy in solitude. But confronted by the person himself, every excuse rang hollow.
Their meeting hadn’t been innocent.
Bo Chengyan had seen Qi Jing as a tool.
Beautiful, mentally unformed, easy to control and exploit.
A litany of sins.
“You were running a fever.”
Bo Chengyan skirted the question. He could dissect his past motives with Lin Se, but facing Qi Jing squarely? Not yet.
Qi Jing really didn’t remember anything from two years back. He’d been locked in the woodshed for ages, his parents doling out scraps. Most days, he drifted in delirium. Only after Brocade River Villas did he start recovering.
His birthday was April 26—the date Bo Chengyan had registered when handling his paperwork, marking their first encounter.
Qi Jing blinked as something clicked. “Your phone?”
Bo Chengyan passed it over without much thought. “Still hurt?”
The boy’s shoulders were narrow and fragile. He powered it on, eyes downcast, ignoring the question.
Bo Chengyan’s brow creased faintly. He swept Qi Jing up by the waist once more and guided his hand to unlock the screen. “Looking for something? That call I took on the balcony?”
“With Chen Zhuo.”
Qi Jing hadn’t yet grasped the idea of “checking up.” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to mention it, mumbling instead, “0628?”
Bo Chengyan replied, “Yeah. The day I brought you home.”
[But there’s such a long gap. Birthday’s in early April… and we didn’t get here until late June?]
“I took you back to Macau in between to handle some business. Don’t you remember?”
His tone stayed even as he pinched the boy’s fingers, rubbing them lightly.
Two years ago—
The kid in the car had been perpetually exhausted, dozing off right after meals. At first, the assistant handled the feedings; later, when his mood lifted, Bo Chengyan did it himself.
Fifteen years old—junior high age—with long bangs that made him look a little like a girl.
A psychologist had examined him and noted a mild speech impediment, though the details were murky. “Has he been locked up before? He seems sensitive to light.”
“This kid’s a black household. Villagers say that family picked him up off the street, but now their house is washed out too…”
Put plainly, no one wanted him.
Resources were stretched thin in the disaster zone. Every household needed what little there was—no one had room for him, especially since he seemed tough to connect with.
Dumping him on the relief troops wasn’t feasible, and the local Red Cross was a disorganized mess.
Bo Chengyan’s features softened. “Mm… what’s his name?”
The doctor hesitated, unsure herself. But right then—
“Little Jing.”
The boy mumbled, “I’m Little Jing.”
It was hard to pin down the feeling—like a stray kitten finally nuzzling your palm, or some deeper stir.
He’d only spoken, after all.
…
Qi Jing retained little of those days, so he had no clue when his household registration had been squared away. Macau caught him off guard.
“I’ve been there before?”
“You were tough to manage back then.”
Qi Jing didn’t quite get the phrasing. He echoed softly, “Tough to manage?”
Bo Chengyan let the topic drop, easing the boy onto the bed. “All right, time to sleep. Haven’t you got a whole week off?”
Qi Jing shifted to the side and took hold of his hand. “Wait until I’m asleep before you go.”
They still hadn’t shared a bed.
Bo Chengyan still felt a moral steel needle piercing through his spine, but the pain wasn’t fatal.
On the contrary, there was a subtle pleasure in it.
He still held the power in his hands. In a way, he was wicked.
Qi Jing needed freedom, but that freedom had its boundaries.
The foundation of his calm restraint was the sufficiently stable status quo.
The moment there was any deviation…
He would pull out that steel needle himself.
Outside, the wind suddenly picked up, and rain battered the windows.
Bo Chengyan leaned against the headboard, reaching out to let the other hold his hand, all to help him sleep soundly.
~~~
The next day.
Owing to the continuous storms, some infrastructure in the Capital City urgently needed repairs. Relevant industries had switched to remote work, and restoration efforts were proceeding in an orderly fashion.
Qi Jing held a banana pastry in his hand as he turned on the television early. The news was still reporting nonstop on the disaster situation in Z Province.
In some urban areas, trees lining both sides of the roads had been uprooted. The subway system was largely damaged. Worse still, in the countryside, some houses had been washed away entirely.
He couldn’t help feeling anxious.
Qi Jing checked his phone. A night had passed with no messages.
He had no idea how things were going…
Maybe the signal in the disaster area was bad?
“Mm, route social donations through official channels. Publicity is fine too, but keep it moderate—just enough to set an example as a model enterprise.”
Bo Chengyan came downstairs while talking on the phone. He glanced up at Qi Jing, then swept his gaze over the dining table. There was still half a glass of milk undrunk.
“Get the employee subsidies paid out as soon as possible… Don’t deduct full attendance.”
“That’s all for now.”
Tap tap.
Bo Chengyan frowned slightly and tapped the dining table twice with his knuckles.
Qi Jing was still watching the television. He turned his head, crumbs from the banana pastry still clinging to his lips.
“Come and eat.”
