Chapter 4

Qi Jing lay on the bed in his bedroom, holding the sullen 996 aloft as he voiced his worries. “What does he mean by that? Is he going to replace me as his goldfinch?”

The main body of 996 resembled a blob of jelly. It jiggled twice from the tug before floating up. It rummaged on the desk for a bag of chips and began crunching away noisily.

The bean-like eyes stuttered briefly, glitching out.

The young man sat up on the bed, utterly baffled. “Won’t you get in trouble doing that?”

“You burned my desk to a crisp last time.”

Qi Jing jabbed it with his slender fingers. 996 glanced around before rolling across the desktop, restoring itself in the process.

【No worries. It hasn’t changed yet, right? If you’re really scared, why not go find the protagonist and push the plot forward early? That way, I can still help you gain your freedom.】

Qi Jing’s hair curled slightly at the ends. He leaned against the headboard, looking thoroughly depressed. He figured being a little bird wasn’t all that great either.

Wasn’t this a boys’ love story?

So why had Bo Chengyan talked to him about “the narrow path” and “the broad path”?

It was all so complicated.

【Alright, I just came to check on you. I’m off.】

Qi Jing stared in confusion at the pile of snack wrappers on the floor and the bean-like eyes, now frozen on a blank white screen. “You came here just to scarf down snacks?”

“Won’t that break you?”

996 immediately looked a bit guilty. 【…It’s all because Qingshi won’t let me eat anymore.】

Qi Jing tilted his head toward it. “Your host?”

He knew about that already.

996 had mentioned before that it had long since retired. It no longer took on missions, devoting itself instead to maintaining stability in the 256th World… or whatever the exact number was.

Qi Jing sat on the edge of the bed and straightened up, curiosity lighting his features. “What kind of person is he?”

996 bobbed upward at once, brimming with smug pride. 【A total knockout!】

【Anyway, I won’t keep chatting. I need to go monitor that rotten protagonist. Off to Harbor City…】

Qi Jing watched it rush away, his own curiosity piqued. He reached out and grabbed a few packs of konjac crisps for it.

“Here, for the road.”

996 gulped them down in one go, stashing them in its belly. The air around it flickered with a brief lag.

Then it vanished.

Qi Jing slumped back against the bed’s edge, brimming with curiosity. This world was so open-minded—men could date men, and women could date women, presumably. And then there was 996, which turned out to be some kind of system.

The young man’s eyes sparkled. Harbor City… He wanted to go see that person too. Was he a transmigrator like Qi Jing?

The next day.

To his surprise, Qi Jing discovered that Bo Chengyan hadn’t left. It seemed he really did intend to take him to the police station.

Was he getting rid of him after all?

Qi Jing dragged himself downstairs via the elevator from the second floor, wilted and drowsy as he slumped into a chair at the dining table.

“Mr. Bo…”

The meal featured his favorites: crispy corn pancakes paired with milk and maple syrup pancakes—all the sorts of things a kid would love.

Bo Chengyan hadn’t touched a bite. He simply frowned at the boy.

Sometimes, he wondered if he was imagining things—a trick of his mind. But after long stretches of silence, that voice would suddenly pipe up.

[Old master, serve the food… I’m hungry.]

Bo Chengyan: “…”

Qi Jing watched him intently, his gaze utterly earnest, as if he really were waiting to be fed.

Bo Chengyan let out an exasperated huff of laughter despite himself.

“Eat your food.”

Only then did Qi Jing start picking at his meal, slow and listless. He yawned widely, his expression downright forlorn.

It was Sunday. Normally, he’d be sleeping in, but these past few days had been full of upheavals. Bo Chengyan had even stayed over two nights in a row.

Qi Jing’s mind was foggy from the early wake-up. He barely registered swallowing his food.

Before long, Bo Chengyan led him into the car. They hadn’t driven even five minutes before Qi Jing’s head lolled sideways in sleep.

Unwittingly, it came to rest against Bo Chengyan’s shoulder.

Bo Chengyan gently righted him. Slowly, Qi Jing slumped the other way, toward the car window.

Thump.

When they arrived, a red bump marred his forehead from the impact. Bo Chengyan eyed it with a furrowed brow for a moment.

He said nothing.

At the police station, they reviewed the household registration issue.

“It’s not possible, Mr. Bo. He’s not yet eighteen, so we can’t change his guardian right now.”

“Besides, an adopter needs to be over thirty-five, and it’s best to include a medical report proving infertility.”

Qi Jing blinked in the chair beside him, curiosity plain on his face. He craned his neck up at the man.

[Infertile?]

Bo Chengyan impassively pinched the boy’s slender neck. His thumb pressed against Qi Jing’s soft cheek, nudging his face forward again.

“Sit properly.”

Back when the Bo Family had been fighting over the inheritance, he’d moved his own household registration out independently, separate from the old estate’s.

That was why, when he’d picked up Qi Jing, he’d casually added the boy to Old Master Bo’s household registry.

He hadn’t really explained it to the kid, though.

No sense inviting trouble.

The Bo Family’s gates always drew countless schemers. Even peripheral branches could spot men or women lurking in the hotels where they worked overtime, every few days.

An endless stream.

Impossible to shoo them all away.

Bo Chengyan himself had no interest in romance or marriage. Qi Jing was the one he’d brought home.

After some thought, it made more sense to migrate the household registration back to his own name.

To legally shut down all that nonsense.

And… any motives to run.

Qi Jing sat obediently in the visitor’s chair, his neck in Bo Chengyan’s grip like a little doll. He still hadn’t grasped the true meaning of the “household migration.”

He thought he was about to get kicked out.

“President Bo, you’re still so young. Why saddle yourself with a son this old?” The staffer across from them seemed to be an old acquaintance, grinning as he asked.

His gaze lingered on the seated teenager for a few seconds.

Qi Jing glanced around the room, dazed for a moment before piping up. “Son? You mean me?”

He had zero wariness.

Sometimes Bo Chengyan realized it wasn’t some intermittent flare-up of his condition. Qi Jing simply didn’t keep secrets in his heart—he blurted everything out.

The staffer: “…Haha.”

In the end, Qi Jing was brought back home. Transferring within the family wasn’t that complicated to begin with. The snag was that Qi Jing had only been on the Bo Family’s registry for two years.

His birthday hadn’t come yet—he was still a minor.

No way to change it.

Bo Chengyan had been too hasty.

He didn’t fully understand why he’d taken this step, but it stemmed from some buried urge to control. After all, Qi Jing was the first person he’d ever tried to keep like a pet.

He could have ignored his absurd feelings, watched coldly from the sidelines, or simply discarded the boy.

His age gave him every advantage to dominate someone utterly.

Someone so innocent of the world.

Until he’d heard Qi Jing happily declare he’d leave for university.

The clash of emotions left him frozen.

He reflected that raising an animal differed from raising a person. You could chain a pet to keep it home; a human required legal measures.

The only legitimate bond he could claim domestically was father and son.

It would realign any misplaced affections.

And let this little thing accompany him through a long, looping life.

Less lonely that way.

Bo Chengyan knew he was profoundly selfish.

But who in the world wasn’t?

Qi Jing had conked out flat in the car on the way back. They’d switched to the nanny van, draping a blanket over the boy.

He slept more soundly this time. They’d detoured to a traditional Chinese medicine clinic to treat the swelling on his forehead—no major issues—and then headed home.

Brocade River Villas arrived soon enough.

Qi Jing was sleeping so deeply that when Bo Chengyan opened the car door and glanced at him, he simply scooped the boy into his arms.

The villa’s climate control hummed steadily. It was nearing noon now, so rather than carrying him upstairs, Bo Chengyan laid him on the chaise longue of the sofa. Auntie fetched a blanket from behind.

The boy slumbered on heavily.

“Will you be staying for lunch, sir?”

“No.”

As the man turned to leave, he paused. “Thanks for your trouble. Make sure he eats plenty.”

When Qi Jing woke, a blanket covered him. His hair was even more tousled from being slept on. He lifted his gaze to see Auntie bustling about.

“Auntie.”

He called out instinctively.

He pushed up from the sofa, his voice a bit hoarse.

Auntie approached and folded the blanket beside him. Qi Jing tried to help, but only succeeded in rumpling the edges.

“How’d I end up lying here?”

Auntie brushed back the hair from Qi Jing’s forehead, spotting the slight swelling. She frowned faintly but said, “Mr. Bo carried you in.”

“Oh.”

Qi Jing recalled the morning’s events, thoroughly puzzled. He asked, “Auntie, does Mr. Bo want to change my household registry? Make me his son?”

The woman froze for a second.

“Does that mean he doesn’t like me?”

It was a tricky question to field.

Qi Jing had come here as such a young child. Auntie looked at him with some distress, watching him profess affection to someone so much older. She couldn’t very well lecture him.

This was the master’s household, after all.

“Liking someone isn’t always romantic…” Auntie tried to explain.

Qi Jing blinked, hitting a blind spot in his knowledge. “But ours is a boys’ love thing.”

“…”

She couldn’t argue with that.

Auntie figured it was for the best anyway. The master household had been empty of company for years. Adopting him as a son would be far more proper and socially acceptable.

The mud slung at the Bo Family from outside was foul enough already.

“Eat this.”

Qi Jing polished off a plate of pasta but left a few florets of broccoli behind. He stared at them for ages.

Finally, after taking his post-meal vitamin, he speared them with his fork and forced them down.

His face scrunched up in disgust as he battled the taste.

“It’s not that you don’t like it? Then don’t eat it if you don’t like it, Little Jing.”

Qi Jing shook his head. “We can’t waste it. You made this specially for me.”

There were no treats like this back in the mountains. Cornbread was especially tough to choke down, but it still filled the belly.

Dad and Mom never saved any food for him. They never cooked for him, either.

Qi Jing felt a hand ruffle his hair. Someone passed him a glass of freshly squeezed juice. “Head upstairs for a nap.”

~~~

“You mean you heard someone else’s thoughts?” Lin Se asked dubiously. He pulled the needles from his hand and pushed up his glasses.

The clinic’s decor was strikingly modern, all crisp white tones accented by an array of traditional Chinese herbs. It was a private practice perched on the twenty-fifth floor of an office tower.

Lin Se had dreamed of becoming one of those legendary wandering divine doctors from ancient tales, roaming the land to heal the sick. Reality had crushed that ambition: two years of depression under the thumb of a soul-sucking megahospital, until he finally quit his cushy post and drifted aimlessly.

His first little clinic folded in under a month.

A nosy auntie even stormed in one day, railing that his acupuncture hurt too much. Lin Se’s comeback? “She’s a nasty old hag, bullying her pregnant daughter-in-law into slaving over meals for her. Outrageous.”

Bo Chengyan took such archaic phrasing in stride. After all, Lin Se had grown up abroad. When family drama blew up and sent him back home, he realized he’d merely traded a dark dungeon for a hell dungeon.

He’d hit rock bottom right there on the street, chugging Wangzai milk—thanks to his severe milk allergy syndrome. It was a desperate bid at suicide by dairy.

Bo Chengyan had pulled him out of the gutter. Lin Se became his personal physician.

“Yes.”

“I can only hear his.”

Lin Se rolled his eyes—or seemed to, at least—before replying gravely, “Oh dear, I have to say it again: this is way beyond my skills. You should talk to the boss. He’ll have answers for you.”