Chapter 36

Qi Jing had no choice but to come over. He sat down in the chair and finished his milk, but he still kept turning to watch the TV in the living room, completely absorbed.

“Will a lot of people get hurt?”

Bo Chengyan pulled a tissue from the box, tilted Qi Jing’s chin up, and carefully wiped his mouth twice. “Yes.”

This was hardly good news.

Natural disasters struck without discrimination. Wealth couldn’t hold back a downpour, stand against a tsunami, or raise the dead.

“I’ll donate some money. It’ll be okay.”

Human society had a remarkable ability to bounce back. Given enough time, it would heal and regain its former shape.

Qi Jing tilted his head back. “I’ll donate too.”

Bo Chengyan’s brows furrowed slightly. “Do you even have money left?”

Upstairs in the bedroom.

The youth pulled out his box of ornaments, along with several designer wristwatches. With utmost seriousness, he said, “We can sell these.”

Bo Chengyan fell silent for a moment before reminding him, “I bought those for you.”

“Can’t we sell them?”

Of course they could.

What was stopping them?

Bo Chengyan simply lowered his gaze and said offhandedly, “One will do.”

“No need for the rest.”

Kindness was a virtue worth cultivating, but it shouldn’t tip into naivety.

After all, too much of a good thing could backfire.

Qi Jing had no real idea what any of it was worth. Would one be enough?

“It’ll be enough.”

“Sell it to me.”

The youth froze, clearly baffled by the twisted logic.

Yet Bo Chengyan’s face remained impassive. Calmly, he added, “It doesn’t matter who you sell it to. Sell it to me, Little Jing, and I’ll pay top dollar.”

Qi Jing’s heart thudded wildly. Hadn’t this stuff been a gift from Bo Chengyan to begin with? They both knew the truth, and their eyes met briefly.

“Two million work?”

Qi Jing’s voice came out soft. “Yeah… that’s enough.”

Bo Chengyan spoke evenly. “I’ll handle the donation for you, but it’ll be registered in your name. Sound good?”

To him, donating seemed like no big deal.

Qi Jing felt a warm fullness blooming in his chest—a deep sense of security. His dangling legs swung lightly, and he nodded.

The next instant, Bo Chengyan reached out and slipped the ornament back into Qi Jing’s little box. “Here, a gift from me.”

Right back where it started.

A handful of words, and the deal was done—sold and regifted.

Qi Jing stared in a daze, reaching out instinctively for Bo Chengyan’s hand. But his arm was guided instead, sliding past the elbow until Bo Chengyan scooped him up.

He settled Qi Jing on the table.

The window wasn’t latched properly, letting in a cool post-rain breeze that cleared the mind and soothed the soul.

“You’re really…” the youth stammered breathlessly.

Bo Chengyan stayed utterly composed. “I don’t need you selling your things to help strangers.”

Qi Jing’s nape was cradled in one hand, his chin nudged gently by fingertips, leaving him no choice but to meet that steady gaze.

“But I’d still be spending your money.”

“My money is your money.”

There was no inflection in Bo Chengyan’s voice. The words were trite, sure, but sometimes plain speak cut through the noise best.

Qi Jing was free to spend his allowance or use his belongings however he wished. No more hesitation over the fact that they’d come from Bo Chengyan.

That realization alone was progress.

But selling? Unnecessary.

Bo Chengyan aimed to stamp out any budding insecurities before they took root. They hadn’t been apart, so everything they had was shared.

“I’ve never made any money…”

“You’re still young—you haven’t entered the real world yet. Go ask your classmates; most students don’t work.”

Qi Jing blinked in confusion and shook his head. “Some of them have part-time jobs.”

He said it with earnest conviction, as if laying out a genuine puzzle.

In most normal families, kids took their parents’ sacrifices for granted. Raising a child was a duty, after all—nothing more to it.

Yet societal norms encouraged gratitude from children and fulfillment for parents in return. It was a two-way street.

Qi Jing lacked that frame of reference from a typical home. Things had only gotten better for him after crossing paths with Bo Chengyan.

Trust didn’t come overnight; it built drop by drop.

Sometimes, he couldn’t fathom why he deserved all this.

He wasn’t anything special.

“There are all kinds of part-time gigs. If it’s just trading sweat for cash, it’s hardly worth it. A job isn’t the same as a career.”

“In this world, plenty of people work just to get by. A career, though—that’s where you build skills, earn pay, and channel both societal and personal value.”

“I don’t want you picking up a part-time job in college. It wouldn’t be worth your time.”

Qi Jing listened, lost in the fog of it all. He started to bite his lip on reflex, but Bo Chengyan spotted it immediately, prying his teeth apart and tugging down his lower lip.

“Mm…”

A tiny, aggrieved whimper escaped him.

But he knew better than to keep biting, so he held his tongue.

Qi Jing peered up at him. “So after I graduate, I can get a job?”

“You can.”

Excitement sparked in Qi Jing’s eyes. “And earn my own money?”

“Exactly.”

Bo Chengyan had him hemmed in against the table—a airtight encirclement—but Qi Jing didn’t notice, too thrilled to care. “That sounds perfect.”

“Then I can buy you things.”

He said it with dead seriousness.

~~~

996 had shown up that afternoon. It had taken a quick trip to Macau to gauge the plot’s timeline.

【Little Jing…】

The blue slime circled the room several times.

【Where is he?】

Qi Jing was downstairs, waiting for updates. Jiang Xiuyuan had finally made it to the hotel, all thanks to the local rescue teams who found him fast.

The place was downright luxurious, though.

Jiang Xiuyuan was on a video call, his face still ashen but his voice steady. “You’re right. I need to get my money back. Why should they blow cash I earned selling myself and still look down on me?”

Back then, he’d truly wanted to die.

The rickety old building had swayed on the brink of collapse, floodwaters steadily climbing under the table.

Life could be so absurd.

At the clubhouse, he’d only ever poured drinks. No long-term clients—just the occasional hookup for cash.

When he felt like it. Simple as that.

But then he’d crossed paths with Chen Zhuo right when family trouble hit.

One step at a time, he’d tumbled into the abyss, no way out.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was always the last one.

Why hadn’t his parents told him?

Did they think he was some money machine? Selling out hurt. Sponsors choked him, hurled insults. Dignity had to go down the drain.

His spirits were still low.

“Yeah! You’ve got to keep living and take it all back.”

Qi Jing spoke with utter sincerity, but a faint smile crossed Jiang Xiuyuan’s face on the screen.

“I’ll keep living, don’t worry…”

They exchanged a few more brief words. Since the hotel looked so nice, he asked where it was.

Jiang Xiuyuan raised his hand to show him, the phone screen swiveling with the motion—until it suddenly went black.

Call ended.

Hates Broccoli: What happened?

111: Bad signal.

Qi Jing frowned. Things must really be rough in Z Province if even the hotel’s network was spotty.

“Little Jing, come have some sweet soup.”

Auntie called from nearby. The youth answered and hurried over, settling at the table with a small bowl.

Red dates and tremella swam in sweet broth.

996 drifted down slowly.

【Found you.】

【Aah—】

It landed square on the sandpot lid. Searing heat blistered a ring of its “skin,” and it tumbled away with pitiful whimpers, rolling right onto Qi Jing.

Auntie noticed nothing amiss. She just watched as the youth bolted from the table in a panic. “I-I need to wash my hands.”

She shook her head. Hadn’t he just done that?

Padding the lid with a soft cloth, she scooped a few chunks of pear into Qi Jing’s bowl.

Her expression was warm and gentle.

Under the faucet, 996 lay limp and gasping, its beady eyes glitching into static.

【How is this happening? Aren’t you a system? Why can you even get hurt?】

【Waaah…】

The blue slime got flooded with water, then shaken out upside down. Qi Jing wrapped it in a towel, his brows knitting together.

【I went for an upgrade. The Main System tweaked my senses to stop me from snacking.】

Now sweets tasted bitter.

Bitters got worse.

Hot drinks scalded; cold ones froze.

Qi Jing dabbed it dry and asked, 【Where were you?】

【Macau. Bo Chengyan’s personal storyline is in play—his data’s about to spike big time.】

【Do I need to do anything?】

996 got its head toweled off. 【Not for now. Seems like you’re stabilizing things just by being near him.】

Qi Jing paused, curiosity piqued. 【What’s the storyline?】

“Little Jing.”

The bathroom door flew open without warning. The youth went rigid, snapping his gaze up.

He clutched the towel in his hands, the pose looking downright peculiar.

996 held its breath.

Bo Chengyan was dressed simply. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and strode over, seizing Qi Jing’s wrist. The towel unfurled in an instant.

The blue jelly plopped down with a gurgle, landing precisely in the trash bin.

“Ah…”

Qi Jing flinched on instinct, but the next moment, his chin was firmly pinched. “What are you looking at?”

The air grew thick with tension.

“Nothing there.”

996 couldn’t help thinking: This kid was hopeless at lying. Guilt shone plain as day on his face, all stuffy and obvious.

Bo Chengyan lowered his gaze and stared for a moment before he began to gently wipe Qi Jing’s fingers. In a mild tone, he said, “Count to three.”

It was a baffling request.

“One, two, three,” Qi Jing replied seriously.

“Say it in your mind,” Bo Chengyan instructed.

Qi Jing’s waist was tugged forward—the motion somewhat forceful. In his daze, a soft murmur sounded by his ear:

“Good boy.”

“Have you counted?”

One, two, three.

“I have.”

Bo Chengyan paused, as though he’d suddenly noticed something off. He lowered his eyes to stare intently at Qi Jing.

He hadn’t heard a thing.

Qi Jing had no clue what was going on until Bo Chengyan gave his wrist a gentle pull, drawing his entire body flush against the other’s.

The young man swallowed hard.

Tense with nerves.

Qi Jing instinctively averted his gaze—there was still that 996 here, after all, and he felt a bit shy—but Bo Chengyan pinched his chin and turned his face back.

“Mm.”

Bo Chengyan carefully scrutinized the subtle shifts in Qi Jing’s micro-expressions.

When Qi Jing’s eyes darted away and fixed on the corner, Bo Chengyan drew him into his arms and glanced toward the only likely spot.

The trash can.

996’s hands were prying at the lid, peering inside with rapt attention. The moment it locked eyes with Bo Chengyan, its beady eyes widened in shock.

A scorched patch marred its rear, leaving its buttock less than perfectly round.

Bo Chengyan’s gaze grew peculiar. He furrowed his brow slightly.

—A ghost in the trash can?