How far is forever?
Qi Jing propped himself up on the man’s shoulders, his calves dangling as he stared at the man before him with utmost seriousness.
Handsome.
Most of the time, he was his guardian.
“You found out?”
Bo Chengyan lowered his gaze to meet Qi Jing’s eyes as always, parting the boy’s knee with a steady hand. His tone was even.
“Are you going to be mad at me?”
You can’t nurture flowers inside a vacuum chamber.
They still had to brave the wind and rain.
Qi Jing shook his head in bewilderment, then said earnestly, “Jiang Xiuyuan said they’re all gamblers… drowning in debt… they came to me only to shake you down for money…”
“They’re bad news.”
He had cultivated a proper worldview by now and wouldn’t waver at the drop of some illusory family ties.
He was just a little confused.
“They’re… they’re all in prison now?”
Sentencing could be pretty flexible.
Qi Jing had no idea about the specific charges. He just felt utterly lost… because of the man standing right in front of him.
This man had always been so incredibly good to him.
How could he be so…
merciless?
A tangle of complex emotions churned inside Qi Jing. He had no idea how to process it. The person who had always been by his side felt utterly different now.
“What else?”
“I won’t leave any loose ends.”
Bo Chengyan clasped Qi Jing’s wrist, his fingers tracing lightly along the pulse point. A faint itch tingled there.
Qi Jing tugged once, but he couldn’t pull free.
The grip was neither tight nor loose, yet it held fast no matter how he tried.
“Bo Chengyan.”
His voice was solemn, muffled and stuffy from the allergic reaction.
“Hm?”
Qi Jing had no clue what to do.
“Are those my mom and dad?”
He was still like that—clinging to innocent fantasies.
Even if those people were lowlifes, filthy to the core… just the fact that they’d given birth to him seemed to grant them instant forgiveness in his mind.
Bo Chengyan lowered his eyes to regard him, staring intently at Qi Jing. The boy’s blank face reflected back from those dark, glistening pupils.
In a voice utterly devoid of warmth, he said:
“No.”
“You have no parents.”
~~~
Lin Se showed up the next day.
Because Qi Jing had spiked another fever.
But this time was different.
“Why say something like that? He’s just a kid—you’re going to traumatize him.”
Lin Se glanced at the patient, checking that the IV drip was running steady.
Bo Chengyan had cleared his entire schedule, sitting by the bedside and gazing down at Qi Jing with calm composure.
“He doesn’t need parents.”
The boy on the bed seemed lost in a dream, his brows knitting together.
Lin Se rolled his eyes hard. “Come on, how old is he? Only eighteen. He can’t possibly see the world the way you do.”
“You’re a business mogul, a titan of industry.”
Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed slightly.
“But he’s still so young. He’s heading to university—how’s he supposed to explain having no parents? What about small talk with classmates? How do you even explain… what you are to him?”
“Plus, your reputation’s taken a nosedive now.”
Lin Se shuddered just thinking about it. “What did you do to them, anyway?”
“All locked up in prison.”
That kind of ruthless resolution.
No one else would ever come sniffing around for family now.
Problem solved, root and stem.
Bo Chengyan replied with perfect calm, “I’ll make him accept me.”
Lin Se felt a headache coming on. He mulled it over. “He likes you…”
“But that line of yours.”
“Was way too brutally honest.”
Qi Jing drifted in and out of dreams.
His fingers twitched faintly.
Back to the past.
Not that miserable woodshed anymore—the painful memories had faded considerably.
Blue skies, fluffy white clouds… endless stretches of mountains.
Beautiful.
And oppressively heavy.
Footsteps echoed from behind.
The boy turned to look, but their faces were lost in swirling white mist.
“Come back.”
“Come back home. We’re waiting for you.”
It was some strange rural dialect.
Qi Jing felt baffled. Who were they? Yet his body reacted before his brain could catch up—he was already on his feet.
Walking toward the strangers.
One step. Two steps…
Qi Jing was deeply confused. “Who are you?” he asked.
His Mandarin was crisp and standard, pure as could be.
The mist thickened, swelling denser by the second. The boy sensed the three figures drawing closer.
The distance shrank rapidly.
Faster. Faster still.
Qi Jing didn’t have time to dodge.
Until a hand yanked him back from behind.
“Mm!”
Bo Chengyan had been supporting Qi Jing’s wrist, preparing to remove the IV needle. At the sound, he secured the site first, then scooped the boy right into his arms.
Cold sweat drenched Qi Jing’s forehead; his skin felt clammy.
“Nightmare?”
His voice was soft.
The boy hadn’t fully snapped out of it yet.
Tears of pure fright streamed down his face.
Lin Se watched for a beat, then gathered up the medical trash and made a tactful exit. He felt a pang of exasperation.
Why scare the kid like that?
He was barely grown.
Bo Chengyan slid an arm around Qi Jing’s waist, resting his chin lightly atop the boy’s damp hair. In a gentle tone, he murmured, “What happened?”
“Everything in dreams is fake.”
His patience never wavered.
Qi Jing didn’t dare shut his eyes. The moment he did, those three white silhouettes seemed to slide right into his vision.
Terrifying.
He nearly swung his hand to fend them off, but strong arms pinned him in place.
“Don’t move—you’ve got the needle site. Be good.”
That steady voice anchored him.
Roughly fifteen minutes passed.
Only then did the trembling boy in his arms settle. His lashes glistened with tears.
“I dreamed about Mom and Dad.”
“And that little brother.”
Qi Jing’s voice was raw and hoarse, like he’d been dredged from underwater—utterly wilted.
It sounded like feverish babble.
He spilled it all in bits and pieces.
Then he came back to himself and craned his neck with effort. “Do you believe me?”
Bo Chengyan shifted his hold, cupping under Qi Jing’s thighs and drawing him closer for better comfort.
With refined courtesy, he replied, “If you say it, I believe you.”
The boy brimmed with grievance. He threw his arms around the man’s shoulders, clutching fistfuls of his shirt.
Voice cracking with sobs, he wailed:
“Why… why are all the parents I run into such awful ones… Mom and Dad?”
“I really don’t have any parents…”
So often, nothing could ever take their place.
The world was full of toxic original families, trapping their kids for life. Even after financial independence, many circled back to feed the parasites—for that tiniest scrap of parental affection.
But Qi Jing was different. He’d never known anything good.
He knew he wasn’t their biological child.
He’d fantasized about “real parents”… but they were nowhere to be found.
Bo Chengyan’s features softened with warmth. He rubbed the nape of Qi Jing’s neck, eyes lowered as he said:
“I’m a bad man.”
“Can’t be helped, Little Jing.”
—You’re mine alone.
~~~
Two or three days later, Qi Jing stumbled across the Paternity Test Report. He stared at it in a daze. It clearly showed he shared no blood relation with those people claiming to be family.
996 had returned from Harbor City, bobbing aimlessly in midair as it explained:
【Little Jing, you’re a transmigrator.】
【Remember when I first linked up with you? I smoothed out your backstory. No messy parents or anything.】
Qi Jing spotted the document in the study and instinctively glanced around. No one there.
【I get it. I’m just a little…】
Scared.
Because he had zero clue when those so-called parents had shown up—or when they’d been dealt with.
Completely in the dark.
The boy stood alone in the study, his clear eyes earnest as he said:
【I’ve figured it out.】
【No parents… and I’m doing great.】
So often, it was nothing more than a stubborn little fixation.
~~~
Roughly one semester later.
Qi Jing brought up moving out. Dead silence fell over the dinner table.
“I won’t allow it.”
Bo Chengyan shot it down flat.
It was just the two of them downstairs.
“Why?”
“Your trackers? The bugs? Or do I have to take the family car everywhere?”
Everyone knew the truth.
But nothing changed.
It felt like a standoff.
Truth was, Qi Jing wasn’t scheming anything grand. He simply wanted to get a handle on his own assets early—buying a place should be no issue.
He wanted to start managing some things on his own.
But Bo Chengyan had clearly gotten the wrong idea.
“Breaking up with me?”
Bo Chengyan lifted his gaze, his expression icy. Then he simply hauled Qi Jing onto his lap.
The boy perched there like a doll.
One he’d raised from nothing, bit by bit.
“That’s not—”
Bo Chengyan cut in calmly. “Good as long as it’s not.”
“There’s no such thing as breaking up.”
He was already indulging the boy’s whims.
Dating? Fine.
Just one way of never parting.
Qi Jing sat cradled there, chin tucked against the man’s chest. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I… I don’t want to be under your care forever.”
Bo Chengyan’s face grew colder.
“I actually have money… Friends in Harbor City handle it for me.”
“I can buy my own place.”
That was the delicate crux of it.
Bo Chengyan listened to the rambling from his lap, then asked evenly:
“Where’d this money come from?”
Qi Jing’s face turned sullen; he had no quick explanation.
His missions were finished.
Qi Jing wasn’t sure if Bo Chengyan would buy it. With his wrist captured, skin warm against skin, he explained haltingly.
All those absurd happenings.
…
“I just… ended up with money.”
“Playing Little Bird.”
Bo Chengyan’s face remained impassive as he simply asked, “So, after completing it, is that thing still around?”
He wasn’t questioning its truth or falsehood.
He was merely following the other person’s logic.
Qi Jing was immersed in this gentle atmosphere, seemingly forgetting the truth he’d learned not long ago. His eyelashes lowered as he glanced at the man.
He really seemed to believe it…
“It will come see me.”
“It’s very cute.”
Veins bulged faintly on the back of Bo Chengyan’s hand, but his expression didn’t change. He asked in a remarkably polite and refined tone,
“Why would it come see you?”
The young man was stumped by the question. He frowned thoughtfully. “Probably to check if I’m doing well.”
“It said that after finishing the mission, it would take me to Harbor City…”
One sentence at a time, peeling back the layers.
Bo Chengyan’s rationality frayed like a snapped thread. He could only hear his own voice asking,
“Who exactly is in Harbor City?”
The young man mumbled glumly, “That’s where the grind is…”
He trailed off.
As if he’d suddenly realized something.
Qi Jing said earnestly, “I want to live outside for a while.”
“Don’t act like this.”
“It’s scary.”
It was around October.
The young man bought a house near Capital University. After looking it over thoroughly, he was quite satisfied.
It was a school district house.
Bo Chengyan hadn’t expected that house to come into play so soon. It could have been transferred directly to him, but no—he’d insisted on buying it from Bo Chengyan’s hands.
“It’s not the same.”
“Let me have this. I want to try.”
What could he do?
Nothing.
The house was a spacious single-level unit, with a large living room, master bedroom, study, walk-in closet, two bathrooms… and floor-to-ceiling windows.
Qi Jing had shelled out a hefty sum.
He hadn’t brought a single thing from Brocade River Villas. After changing into fresh clothes in the bedroom, he stepped out and saw Bo Chengyan on the phone.
He hadn’t left yet.
Qi Jing stood ramrod straight behind him.
He announced the time.
It was time for him to go.
It was as if he were truly playing a game called “independence.”
Bo Chengyan glanced down at him, then naturally set his phone aside and walked over to his side.
Perhaps the pretense was over.
Qi Jing blinked in confusion and took a few steps back.
He didn’t know what was happening—one moment he was retreating, the next he kept going.
“You… you promised me.”
His words came out stammering.
Before Qi Jing could finish, a shadow fell over him. He was swept up into strong arms, and the bedroom door swung open.
“That’s not how you make an investment.”
“Real estate’s a dying industry. You buy a house from me—good luck selling it.”
The young man tucked his chin down, his ears burning red.
He frowned. “I’m not selling.”
“I’ll live here forever.”
Suddenly, the air around them grew still. The moment Qi Jing lifted his eyes, his chin was firmly gripped.
A kiss descended.
It was stifling, airless and intense.
Fingers fumbled and slipped over the fabric of his shirt.
By the time his eyes grew misty,
“Little Jing, I’m a businessman.”
“I don’t do losing deals.”
