Chapter 40

Qi Jing returned to his room, but he still couldn’t settle his nerves. Unease churned within him.

It was going to hurt.

He’d wanted to go find 996, but the last time, it had mentioned some kind of electrical short and gone in for repairs.

Left alone in his room, Qi Jing searched a few sketchy websites. The videos this time were low-quality—nothing like the clean, professional stuff on Huang Ze’s hard drive.

The titles were marked in crude, oversized letters.

They were all plain Chinese characters, but strung together, it took Qi Jing ages to figure out what they meant.

His face burned hot.

He told himself he was grown up now—he shouldn’t be acting like such an embarrassment.

The young man peered at them seriously once more.

Then he slapped a hand over his face.

In a society with such conservative sex education, repression was inevitable. The videos on those shady sites were wildly over the top, striking a bizarre contrast.

There was still a long way to go before decent physiological education caught on.

Qi Jing couldn’t take any more of it. He shut off his phone, feeling like every inch of him had turned yellow from the inside out. But then he glanced at the wall clock.

It was five o’clock.

The teen furrowed his brow. Why hadn’t he come back yet?

He was late.

~~~

The two people in the lounge had already been vetted. There was no legal spousal relationship—just a fling that had lasted a short while.

Back then, they had been young scions from prominent city families, sneaking around for fun. Not even their parents had known.

They’d had a child and raised him for a few days.

Then, in 2006, the baby had mysteriously vanished. For over a decade, they’d never once bothered to look for him. This was their first attempt—and a dramatic one at that.

It made for quite the tearjerker story.

“Why didn’t you get married back then? Why have a child at all?” Bo Chengyan lowered his gaze to the documents.

It was the information they’d planned to send to the television station.

They’d even included a detail about a birthmark.

Unfortunately, there was no such mark on the back of Qi Jing’s neck.

“This… marriage doesn’t come cheap,” the woman said. “We just want our child back. He’s an adult now—you have no guardianship rights. Of course we can take him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man chimed in. “He’s our kid, not yours.”

Bo Chengyan had no time for small talk. He set the documents on the table, crossed his legs, and asked, “How much did they offer you?”

“Do I need to spell it out?”

“How much could some kid from the younger generation give you? The Bo Family—inside and out—is under my control. Coming to me will get you far more.”

There wasn’t much to analyze. A young couple having a child as teenagers without marrying? It screamed elopement gone wrong.

They’d thought love could conquer all.

Only to learn that dirty dishes and petty squabbles conquered them instead.

The only true victim was the child—dragged into the world without any preparation.

“What do you mean by that?” The man across from him had a gaunt face that suggested an intellectual background, but his expression was pure greed.

The woman’s file said she ran a clothing store, but with rents skyrocketing and e-commerce eating her lunch, she was hemorrhaging money.

They were desperate for cash.

Bo Chengyan’s eyes darkened. Who had given them the nerve to try snatching someone from his side?

That one night of irresponsible sex, maybe?

Filthy.

“One million?”

The couple exchanged a glance and put on airs. “We’re mostly concerned about our child having a good life… but this much is fine…”

“Two million.”

Bo Chengyan watched them coolly, noting the shifting expressions on their faces.

As expected, they weren’t satisfied.

“Three million.”

The station staff nearby were stunned.

But reality was often more absurd than any soap opera.

Still not enough.

Bo Chengyan rubbed his thumb over his fingertip. “Four million.”

They agreed.

Flushing with embarrassment, the pair stammered, “And the check?”

“It’s at the door. Go get it.”

The man’s tone remained steady as his elegant, bony fingers picked up the file again.

He glanced over it casually.

The staff kept their eyes averted politely—the first time they’d witnessed a scene like this. Smoothly, one of them opened the door.

The couple shared another look, thinking they’d hit the jackpot. Visions of their luxurious future danced in their heads as they stepped toward the exit.

“Hello, are you Mr. and Mrs. XX? You’re wanted for questioning on suspicion of extortion and credit fraud. Please come with us.” The officers flashed their badges with professional efficiency.

Chaos erupted, but the television station building was quiet. Only the two suspects’ hysterical screams echoed.

Chen Zhuo slipped past the officers and strode inside.

“A bit surprised,” he said. “Not giving them a single cent, huh? I figured you’d just throw money at it.”

Bo Chengyan paid him no mind. Truth be told, it wasn’t a big deal—he’d looked into it back in Capital City.

Born in ’06, the child had been sold off for a thousand bucks that very year. Then came the nationwide crackdown on trafficking. The seller had been hauled home and offloaded the kid to some poor villager in his own hometown.

One person’s entire life, upended on a whim.

“I’m a businessman, not a philanthropist.”

“Have you even asked Qi Jing? What if he wants to meet his birth parents?” Chen Zhuo leaned against the doorframe, probing despite himself.

Bo Chengyan merely glanced up at him.

“You’re pretty pleased they’re such trash parents, aren’t you?”

“And if I am?”

Bo Chengyan leaned back against the sofa, hands clasped, his gaze cool and detached.

They were cut from the same cloth, after all.

No point in testing him.

Irritated, Chen Zhuo said, “How do you always come out on top like this?”

“It’s not fair…”

“Help a guy out.”

Arms crossed, Chen Zhuo raised his brows and murmured, “Could you get your Baby to chat more with Jiang Xiuyuan? Just a couple days?”

“The Jiang Family situation’s a mess.”

Bo Chengyan’s expression didn’t change as he met his eyes.

“I made the guy sick—can’t just abandon him. I’ve got a conscience, at least.”

“Plus, you know that one-million thing with Qi Jing? He’s branded me a cheapskate now.”

“I give him a grand, and he wires a grand straight home. Not a penny left over.”

He went on and on.

It sounded like griping, but it was really just venting—an excuse to let it out.

Chen Zhuo seemed to realize he’d lost his cool and tried to salvage some dignity. Eyes downcast, he said, “He used to like you. I was just messing around. But you’ve gone all pure romance on him, and now I’m…”

Bo Chengyan rose and approached, frowning at his wristwatch. Half past five.

He was overdue.

“You’re heading out?”

“Yeah.”

But as he turned to leave…

The man paused, locking eyes with Chen Zhuo. In a flat tone, he said:

“Chen Zhuo, when are you going to stop doing things in my name?”

He had cut straight to the heart of it.

There were always people like that in society—using the bandwagon effect as a shield. Whenever they faced a choice, their excuses always dragged in someone else.

They dressed it up as “because of so-and-so.”

But the truth was the opposite. They weren’t swayed by anyone; they just did whatever their heart desired.

A casual attitude masked their real intentions.

Once the man was gone, Chen Zhuo felt a surge of irritation. He went to shove his hands in his pockets but remembered the cut on his palm hadn’t healed.

The pain kept him doubled over for a good while.

But after a moment, he laughed.

~~~

“You’re late.”

Qi Jing had already showered and changed into pajamas. He stood in the doorway, looking up.

Bo Chengyan’s tailored suit hugged his frame perfectly, his hair impeccably neat. His presence was overwhelmingly commanding.

And yet, at that moment…

“I haven’t eaten yet.”

Bo Chengyan scooped him up effortlessly, settling Qi Jing securely on his forearm.

“My fault.”

The size difference was hard to put into words.

Qi Jing had been sulking, but now he couldn’t get down. He’d tried kicking his legs a bit, only for Bo Chengyan to catch them with one hand.

“Shall we head to the dining room for dinner?”

Qi Jing wasn’t really listening. He’d just realized… why was it that Bo Chengyan could hold him like this?

Bo Chengyan set him down on the bed and straightened his sleeve. “What would you like to eat?”

“Why didn’t my bones grow?”

“I’m already tall. I’m one seventy-nine.”

Bo Chengyan blinked, still processing, as Qi Jing slid off the bed. He stood on the floor, looking up with obvious grievance. “I’m not as tall as you.”

“Are you really one eighty-seven?”

“You feel taller than me by a whole ruler.”

“I’ve been eating properly lately. I’m not too skinny anymore. So why…”

Qi Jing’s first real aesthetic inspiration had come from Bo Chengyan. He’d caught the first hints from the photos Lin Se had shown him.

At first, he’d tried modeling himself after the other “goldfinches” at the banquet.

But eventually, he’d been drawn to the man right beside him.

He wanted to be the same.

Bo Chengyan guessed the root of it without much effort. He scooped Qi Jing up again and gently carried him back to the bed’s edge.

“Not everyone has to be the same.”

“Differences in build are common between ethnic groups.”

Qi Jing mumbled, “But my calves look as thick as your forearms.”

He said it bluntly.

The teen had no idea that some people out there had fetishes for slimness—and worse.

“Little Jing.”

Qi Jing looked up with a small hum, his eyes clear and guileless.

“The mainstream in society is heterosexual relationships, where big differences in body size are common in their circles. It’s nothing worth fussing over.”

“But why, when it comes to same-sex couples, does it suddenly become such a big deal?”

Bo Chengyan reached out and took hold of the young man’s wrist, his thumb gently rubbing over the delicate bone as he subtly coaxed Qi Jing into voicing his thoughts.

“I’m a guy.”

“With straight relationships… I wouldn’t be anxious about it. I’m already pretty tall.”

The youth frowned faintly, tossing the words out casually, but his wrist was suddenly gripped more tightly.

“Why?”

Bo Chengyan’s voice remained calm. “Has being gay put some kind of burden on you?”

Qi Jing didn’t realize he was being watched so intently. He simply lowered his eyelids a fraction and shook his head.

“In the gay world, someone like you… looks good.”

It was a straightforward notion: in a relationship between a guy and a girl, one needed to be beautiful and the other handsome. Between two guys, they both had to be handsome. And for two girls, they both needed to be beautiful.

Qi Jing hadn’t truly immersed himself in gay circles before, so he had no real grasp of the aesthetic standards partners held in gay or lesbian communities.

What he often saw in videos were men with impressive, muscular builds.

Naturally, that shaped his own preferences.

Bo Chengyan’s brow creased slightly. In a warm tone, he said, “Why do you think that?”

“Aesthetics are deeply personal. What you find beautiful might not appeal to someone else at all—and vice versa.”

Qi Jing’s expression turned puzzled. Some of the guys in those videos were slim too. He couldn’t help wondering if they felt the same insecurities he did.

After all, he looked like he might shatter if poked too hard.

For a brief moment, Bo Chengyan’s mind went blank. Then he composed himself, still holding the slender wrist as he continued, “Everyone’s bone structure is different. There’s beauty in slenderness, just as there’s beauty in a fuller figure. There’s no need to impose a single standard.”

“Strengthening your body from your natural foundation—that’s what makes it beautiful.”

“Don’t blindly follow trends. And don’t try to please others.”

Qi Jing froze, momentarily lost in thought. Really?

The youth’s eyes sparkled, the question he wanted to ask bubbling right on the tip of his tongue.

But Bo Chengyan beat him to it, asking softly in return, “Is Little Jing really not good-looking?”

Of course not.

With one arm, he scooped the young man up and strolled casually toward the full-length mirror in the entryway, his expression gentle.

Bo Chengyan didn’t mind expending effort on these little trivialities. He was more than happy to be consulted—it felt like a subtle form of reliance.

After all, he’d raised him himself. Anything was fine.

He set Qi Jing down in front of the mirror. The young man’s hand brushed lightly over the fabric of Bo Chengyan’s suit as he turned his head to gaze at their reflection.

The youth was indeed slender, but his skin had been nurtured to a warm, luminous white. Strands of hair draped over his forehead, and his dark eyes gleamed with clarity.

His collarbones stood out prominently beneath the open collar of his shirt.

At first glance, he resembled a living BJD doll.

Especially now that he’d grown taller—his bone proportions had improved even more.

Qi Jing dropped his gaze for a moment, then lifted his eyes to the mirror. “I’m not ugly.”

Bo Chengyan reached out to brush the tips of the young man’s hair, his touch soothing. “Mm.”

“You’re very pretty.”

The media was always eager to snap candid shots of him.

He couldn’t block them all. Even back in high school, he’d had to deal with several gigabytes of photos.

A fleeting memory from the past surfaced.

“Let’s go eat, hm?”

“Mm-hm!”

That seemed to settle it. He’d been successfully coaxed.

~~~

Rescue efforts in Z Province continued steadily, even as construction crews labored diligently on the ground. Meanwhile, glamorous figures in sharp suits held meetings in various high-end venues.

One side focused on rebuilding homes from the ground up.

The other navigated deals over wine and cigars to secure funding.

For ordinary people, the elite weren’t all that significant most of the time—just fodder for casual chit-chat after dinner.

Living a good life was what everyone truly hoped for.

That evening, Qi Jing didn’t have much appetite. When they went out to eat, he only managed a bowl of seafood porridge. But after thinking about his fitness routine, he forced down some extra fish.

They returned to the hotel at nine o’clock.

Qi Jing had already showered earlier, so after washing his face, he climbed into bed on his own. He wrapped himself in the blanket, his eyes bright as he waited.

In his mind, clips from the video he’d watched that afternoon played on an endless loop.

Who knew what he was thinking.