In the end, he made a special trip back to the hotel by car. Qi Jing knocked on the door of room 1408 and saw Jiang Xiuyuan, who was wearing a mask.
He was still dressed in a black T-shirt, looking every bit like the friendly boy next door.
“Didn’t you leave early yesterday?” The young man’s voice came out muffled as he pinched the edge of his mask a little tighter. “Don’t come in. I’ve caught a cold. It would be awful if I passed it on to you.”
Qi Jing had no choice but to mention his own low-grade fever. For some inexplicable reason, the two of them fell silent for a few seconds.
“You…”
“Leaving today?”
Their voices overlapped perfectly.
It felt just like gazing into a mirror. Both their eyes were gentle and warm, tinged with deep regret.
Each of them was hiding something from the other.
Qi Jing ultimately decided not to tell Jiang Xiuyuan about his parents’ deaths. Perhaps the textbooks were right after all—white lies really did exist.
Jiang Xiuyuan shouldn’t be stuck in this stifling place, where gossip reigned supreme. He belonged in the big city, a more tolerant world where he could truly be himself.
It was just a job change, after all.
Surely that Chen Zhuo could manage at least that much?
Qi Jing lowered his eyelids. Truth be told, he was still a little worried.
But what he didn’t realize was that, in Jiang Xiuyuan’s eyes, he looked entirely different.
The young man was thinking along the same lines: it was best if Qi Jing cut ties with his toxic birth family. President Bo was a good man, and it was far better for him to live a carefree life.
“Will you come back to Capital City?”
“Yeah.”
“Got any plans?”
“I might use all my savings to open a shop. I’ll still have to pay you back your—”
“Could it count as my investment?”
Qi Jing jumped in first, his tone utterly serious.
Jiang Xiuyuan sometimes got it—the Bo Family’s wealth was beyond measure, and with Qi Jing under President Bo’s wing, money was the least of his concerns.
Having navigated the cutthroat world of fame and fortune for years, he knew that harping on money irritated those at the top. Who gave a damn about cash, when it was as common as dirt?
What they craved were emotional connections.
But Jiang Xiuyuan sensed Qi Jing was different. He was his… friend. If he didn’t want the money brought up, could that mean…
“Friends don’t need to keep mentioning it. It hurts the friendship.”
Qi Jing shook his head, his face the picture of innocence.
Suddenly, Jiang Xiuyuan was back in that rainy night, alone and adrift, when a message arrived from thousands of miles away.
A message that meant nothing at the time.
In the quiet hotel corridor, they exchanged a few simple words.
One was leaving early.
The other still had to stay for a while.
But as they waved goodbye, their hearts echoed the same silent wish.
[May Jiang Xiuyuan be happy from now on.]
[Qi Jing deserves a lifetime of happiness.]
~~~
Bo Chengyan waited downstairs for Qi Jing, his expression slightly downcast and laced with faint irritation.
“Isn’t this a stroke of genius? They won’t tell each other a thing. It’s perfectly safe.”
Chen Zhuo laid out his analysis with utmost seriousness, trying to cover for his two earlier slip-ups.
But there was really nothing to dissect.
The mutual secrets were both meant to protect the other.
Qi Jing and Jiang Xiuyuan were kind-hearted to their cores.
That was it.
Bo Chengyan gave no response. He simply glanced down at his wristwatch. Twelve minutes had passed.
Irrelevant chatter filled his ears.
Chen Zhuo had nearly convinced himself when the man beside him spoke up.
“Do you think their friendship would suffer if the truth came out?”
“No.”
Bo Chengyan’s eyes were dark and inscrutable.
“The ones who’d suffer are you and me.”
Chen Zhuo froze, his brow furrowing just as Bo Chengyan straightened up and pulled open the car door.
The young man glanced back—and sure enough, there was his precious little heart, coming down.
A surge of panic hit him.
“Wait, you mean—”
“I’d prepare yourself ahead of time, if I were you.”
Qi Jing walked up, and Bo Chengyan took the items from his hands. He glanced down: three pipa tangerines.
The barest hint of a smile touched his lips.
Chen Zhuo had been stewing in frustration, but when he realized Qi Jing was staring right at him from nearby, it felt like a fishbone lodged in his throat.
What the hell?
The boy was only nineteen; Chen Zhuo was twenty-seven. Eight years apart.
It was like dealing with a kid.
“If you’re not going to let him go, then at least treat him better.”
Qi Jing was maturing in this environment, coming to see that not everything could be fixed in an instant. The dealings of the elite were more like a game of power.
Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed ever so slightly at those words.
~~~
By the time they returned to Brocade River Villas, night had already fallen.
The car’s engine rumbled to a stop, and the driver hurried around to open the door for his employer.
Bo Chengyan stepped out, murmured a few instructions to him, then bent down to lift the boy from the vehicle.
Slender arms draped softly over the man’s shoulders.
A scrap of tangerine peel still clung to his palm.
Qi Jing was oblivious to it all.
From his viewpoint, he’d simply gone to Z Province on some errand. He had no idea the charade of his presence in Capital City was still holding.
The outsiders’ attempts to snap photos and gather proof had come up empty.
Bo Chengyan’s Brocade River Villas held nothing of interest except for the live-in Auntie. By the time anyone caught on,
Everyone in Z Province had been intercepted en route. His so-called birth parents were rotting in jail under a pile of charges, and the real culprit had slunk back to Macau.
Lingyue Group’s stocks kept climbing, bolstered even further by the family head’s direct appearance in the disaster zone, earning waves of public goodwill.
Hardly anyone spared a thought for the chaos in Bo Chengyan’s household.
The entire landscape had shifted.
Auntie had prepared warming soup hours ago. Mindful that Qi Jing was still so young, she’d even whipped up some ginger cola on the side.
“Did you have a fever yesterday?”
Those were the first words the groggy young man heard as he was settled into a chair, his arm still looped stubbornly around Bo Chengyan’s neck.
Qi Jing’s voice was thick and sticky fresh from sleep. “Auntie.”
He was home.
“I missed you so much.”
It was heartfelt. After more than two years in this world, she’d managed nearly all his daily needs.
Even if it all stemmed from Bo Chengyan’s generosity.
People weren’t so different from kittens—they gravitated to their caretakers, occasionally nuzzling the provider who ventured out to hunt.
“Hungry? This one’s sweet. Try a little?”
Seated in the chair, Qi Jing’s hand slid instinctively from Bo Chengyan’s neck, giving a sleepy little push.
He rubbed at his eyes and mumbled earnestly, “Okay.”
This was their everyday routine.
“Good?”
Qi Jing took a sip and tilted his head up. Bo Chengyan towered over him like a wall.
The boy’s right hand couldn’t even reach the table.
Too cramped.
Sleep tugged at him again.
He rested his cheek against the man’s waist, nodding off.
He managed half a glass of ginger cola.
Bo Chengyan ran a hand along Qi Jing’s shoulder blade, his gaze darkening subtly.
“Why are you so sleepy…”
Auntie was unfazed by now; the poor kid must be worn out. Still, should she plate the food or let him nap first?
She voiced the question.
“We’ll take him upstairs shortly. I’ll carry him.”
Qi Jing was scooped up once more, nestling naturally against the man’s shoulder, chin tucked in, his cheeks flushed with a soft glow.
The cradling hold didn’t work well from a seated position. Instead, Bo Chengyan secured him by the waist atop one thigh, the boy’s cheek pillowed on his shoulder.
With endless patience, Bo Chengyan wiped Qi Jing’s fingers clean. The slender bones in his arms spoke of a delicate frame—a boy through and through.
He even fed him porridge by gently pinching his chin, hand braced against his chest, as if raising a pampered prince.
A bit of moisture glistened at the corners of his lips.
At first, Qi Jing let out soft whimpers of protest, but he soon stopped squirming. His eyelids fluttered open just enough as he clutched at Bo Chengyan’s arm—the one holding the spoon.
That spoon kept prying past his teeth.
[Slower.]
[Slower…]
[I haven’t swallowed yet.]
The room was hushed, save for faint hums. It seemed he’d realized escape was impossible; his wrist wouldn’t budge.
Qi Jing had scarfed three tangerines in the car, followed by a full bowl of porridge. In the end, his eyes were red-rimmed.
“No more.”
“No more.”
Slender fingers pushed feebly at the arm.
Bo Chengyan set the bowl aside without a word and carried him to the bathroom. “Want to soak by yourself?”
The tub brimmed with steaming water, turning the boy’s cheeks rosy.
Qi Jing shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was syrupy and thick.
He was getting better at asking for what he wanted.
Damp fingers tugged at Bo Chengyan’s shirt, his eyes drifting shut amid the splashing water.
“Can’t you… help me?”
He pressed his cheek closer.
The boy hugged that arm tight and dozed off.
The nonstop sleep during the drive had led to this.
Bo Chengyan’s throat bobbed. Half his shirt was soaked now.
Maybe it was half-hearted reluctance. Maybe pure indulgence.
“Little Jing, you can’t keep testing my limits like this.”
The water splashed like tinkling wind chimes.
The boy in the tub wasn’t pleased, his eyes reddening at the corners as he shoved Bo Chengyan’s arm away.
He had just wanted to turn around when he belatedly realized that his wrist bone was gripped tight. He couldn’t shake it free and could only face the wall in utter humiliation.
[Can’t seduce him at all.]
[He’s just no good.]
Bo Chengyan’s eyes abruptly darkened, and the force in his hand grew heavier without him even realizing it.
It felt as if the towering wall called “reason” had come crumbling down.
Far too often, excessive restraint didn’t earn a young man’s understanding. Instead, it only fueled waves of rebellious impulse.
Had he been wrong from the very beginning?
Qi Jing was already grown now—a mature fruit swaying on its branch, giving off a tantalizing sweetness, ripe for the picking.
His nape was yanked back with force. He barely had time to react before an airtight kiss descended upon him.
His fingers braced against the surface of the water, sending droplets splashing up.
Bo Chengyan wrapped an arm around the young man’s waist to keep him from slipping under in the bathtub. Qi Jing gasped for air in heaving breaths, the flush at the corners of his eyes spreading like ink blooming across paper.
Roughly a minute passed.
“Too… too much…”
His gaze, drenched and shimmering, lifted to meet Bo Chengyan’s.
But the reprieve lasted only a few seconds.
That slender waist was drawn back in once more, and the man’s kisses came down in a fine, relentless press.
There was a secretive edge of coercion to it all.
No escaping.
The fruit was ripe, after all. Naturally, it fell to him to pluck it.
~~~
Suits carried an air of restraint in certain ways—symbols of professionalism and precision. And because of that, they even served as a form of erotic role-play in some niche circles.
The so-called refined degenerate.
Qi Jing’s body grew slick and slippery bit by bit. His wrists were taken one at a time to be licked and kissed, while stray locks of his hair were carefully smoothed back.
A shiver ran through him. Qi Jing had always prided himself on his wealth of theoretical knowledge—not to mention that one prior “practice run.” His hand reached out on instinct… only for his shoulder to be turned aside, leaving him grasping at empty air.
“Mmm…”
The bathroom was a sealed world unto itself. Warm water from the shower poured down like a raging tempest, gasps of breath rumbling like thunder in its wake. Vision blurred and swayed. Amid it all, Qi Jing clung to a single arm.
That arm was his lifeline—his unsteady ship.
Rocking back and forth, it alone bore the weight of his body.
