Qi Jing looked up at him, momentarily blanking out before he managed to say, “I was just thinking this wheelchair is pretty fun.”
There was a handle on the right armrest that let the chair spin around.
Bo Chengyan leaned against the doorframe, gazing down at him with a faintly puzzled expression.
“Like that, huh.”
He couldn’t hear it clearly again.
But Qi Jing could tell him anyway.
Bo Chengyan kept looking at him, brow furrowing slightly as he thought for a moment. “That girl the other day—she’s a friend of the family’s little sister. Not the brightest.”
Qi Jing sat there watching him, his eyes full of bewilderment, though he still listened intently.
“Like that, huh.”
Two identical phrases.
It felt oddly off for some reason.
It was still morning. Qi Jing felt a hand ruffle his hair, and then Bo Chengyan headed downstairs, telling him to get some more sleep.
The boy steered his wheelchair over to the bedside, picked up his 996, and gave it a shake.
The bean-shaped eyes on the screen were still spinning.
Qi Jing felt a surge of annoyance and grumbled under his breath, “Ruan Heng… you could’ve at least sent a photo.”
That was the protagonist bottom.
~~~
Qi Jing had barely managed to wash up that morning by himself. His foot made things awkward, so he’d clumsily wiped himself down with a towel. But the blow dryer’s cord wasn’t long enough, and breakfast time had rolled around.
So he’d skipped properly drying his hair and just gone downstairs.
Bo Chengyan still hadn’t left.
Qi Jing was stunned.
[Why hasn’t he gone yet?]
Bo Chengyan’s brows twitched faintly. He deleted the message he’d just sent to Lin Se on his phone, finding the whole thing bizarre and unsettling.
“There’s a chief assistant handling things at the company today. I’ll have breakfast with you.”
Qi Jing’s fingers rested on one of the wheelchair buttons. His mind wandered for a second, and he accidentally pressed it. The chair shot straight forward.
Thud—
Bo Chengyan blocked it with his foot and shot Qi Jing a mildly disapproving look. The boy panicked instantly.
[Ah, I didn’t mean to run into him…]
[I’m done for.]
“Mr. Bo…”
Qi Jing was scooped up from under his armpits and deposited into a dining chair, tense as could be.
“Sorry.”
Bo Chengyan found it amusing. “No harm done.”
He ate the meal with his heart in his throat.
Ever since learning that the man didn’t like him at all, Qi Jing had been moping. Yesterday, he’d tried practicing what he’d learned, only to get interrupted.
And now he’d crashed his wheelchair into him.
His chest felt hollow, filled with nothing but pure dejection.
Being a goldfinch really wasn’t easy.
Winning over even one person was surprisingly tough.
Qi Jing finished his food and figured Bo Chengyan would leave now.
But perhaps his sneaky glances gave him away.
“What university do you want to go to?”
Qi Jing blinked, caught off guard. Could he just say whatever?
“Whatever.”
Auntie cleared the dishes, stealing an extra glance at the unexpectedly cozy scene. She set out a fresh bouquet of lilies on the table.
Qi Jing answered earnestly, “Get into a public university.”
Simple and straightforward.
It was his most basic dream. Public schools came with subsidies, and worst case, he could apply for student loans to scrape by until graduation and a job.
Bo Chengyan’s brows stayed furrowed, his confusion deepening. He asked softly, “Little Jing, is the allowance I give you not enough?”
The boy before him had flawless, smooth skin. Strands of his soft black hair curved gently by his ears. The knitted wool sweater hugged his frame, giving him an air of refined elegance.
Not a single thing felt out of place.
Everything for Qi Jing had been prepared in advance. Seasonal clothes arrived early for Auntie to dress him in, complete with matching accessories neatly laid out.
He rarely even knew the prices.
He didn’t know his household registration was at the Bo Family Old Mansion either.
Brocade River Villas had crafted a perfect little world for him—one so seamless that Qi Jing lacked the perspective to see how exceptional it truly was. He could tell it was a good life, but not just how luxurious or unique.
After all, he was just an unnamed goldfinch.
Qi Jing hurriedly shook his head. “No, no, it’s plenty.”
Bo Chengyan leaned back slightly in his chair, turning to study him. He was tall—even seated, he exuded an unspoken pressure.
Qi Jing couldn’t help ducking his head.
He fiddled with his fingers.
In the past couple of years, he’d rarely seen the man. Even during New Year’s, there was only a red envelope waiting by his bed on the first day of the lunar new year.
The man was elusive.
Personally, Qi Jing thought Bo Chengyan was the handsomest person he’d ever laid eyes on—ten thousand times better than his dad.
Ten thousand times hotter than the guys in those gay videos.
He didn’t count his classmates; he only compared to men from the wider world.
[He has tons of money, sure, but intimacy… zero. Even hosts have gotten more of my New Year’s cash than that.]
Bo Chengyan’s brows knitted tighter at his words. He tried to explain, “You haven’t had your birthday yet, so I can’t get you a credit card.”
“Right, and don’t take off that smart wristband anymore. Stay away from those clubhouses.”
[Then why can you go?]
The man paused, momentarily taken aback.
Bo Chengyan had meant to say it was just an informal business mixer. Yuan Sheng events were grand affairs—black gold cards only…
But explaining that to a kid? Pointless.
He’d always prided himself on not caring about his reputation. The more rumors flew about him avoiding settling down, the better for his position.
Picking a young one. Keeping a boy toy.
It was the ugliest sort of scandal.
But right now…
It was as if moral chains had snapped back into place around him, and he welcomed them. In the end, he simply said, “Fine. I won’t go either.”
Qi Jing looked over curiously.
~~~
A week later.
Qi Jing finally returned to school. He’d spent so long playing with the electric wheelchair at home that he almost missed it while walking.
This odd sentiment probably stemmed from never having fancy toys like rocking horses or kiddie cars as a child.
When he sat down, Huang Ze whipped his head around. “Little Jing, what happened to you? You left early, then end up hurting yourself?”
“How’d it go down?”
Lin Yuze passed over a geography notebook. Qi Jing had been about to answer but switched gears. “Thanks.”
Geography was his weak spot.
Huang Ze propped his chin on his hand, still staring. “Hey, pay attention to me too.”
His tone held a hint of hurt.
Qi Jing immediately replied, “I’m paying attention, I am.”
Jiang Yao mimicked Huang Ze from the back row with eerie accuracy. “Little Jing, pay attention to me too!”
Qi Jing spun like a top trying to keep up.
“I bumped into the corner of the coffee table. Fibula dislocation. Hurt like hell.”
“My smart wristband has tracking. Guess it alerted someone—family came to pick me up.”
Qi Jing always hit the key points when he spoke, but his calm delivery afterward created this weird contrast.
Especially—
“Tracking? That’s some tight leash…”
The other three exchanged glances and dropped the subject, resorting to light banter instead.
But then, Qi Jing felt someone tap the window near him. It was a boy who whistled at him before strolling off with a basketball.
Huang Ze jumped up cursing. “Qin Sheng’s got issues.”
Qi Jing didn’t know him—only thought, “Can you dye your hair yellow at school?”
Lin Yuze explained without looking up, “Nope.”
“Why’d he whistle at me?”
“…”
“…”
No one had an answer.
Everyone was basically telling Qi Jing to ignore the guy.
But honestly, he still didn’t get it. The boy resolved to search it on his phone that night.
Just then, class started.
It turned into a class meeting, announcing a parent-teacher conference.
The room erupted in groans.
The International Department rarely held them—none in the past two years. They prioritized freedom for students and parents: art candidates, IELTS and TOEFL prep, visa processes.
Everyone had their plates full.
Qi Jing grew worried. He had no parents.
~~~
By five in the afternoon, Qi Jing was packing up to head home. Late study hall was normally mandatory, but with his injury, Bo Chengyan had excused him for now.
Study at home instead.
Qi Jing knew he wouldn’t actually study at home, but he grabbed some books anyway, slinging the heavy bag over his shoulder for a sense of security.
“Little Jing, bye… Hey, why didn’t my mom get me out of late study hall?”
Huang Ze wailed dramatically.
“Take it slow on the road,” came a soft voice—the girl from the birthday party. Qi Jing waved back.
The driver waited at the school gate.
Qi Jing had a short walk ahead.
But at the stairwell landing, someone blocked his path. He stepped aside to let them pass first.
It backfired.
The guy mirrored him.
Qi Jing frowned and backed up toward the corridor railing, saying politely, “You first.”
It was the start of evening self-study—corridors empty, everyone in class.
Qi Jing waited with his backpack, but the guy approached. A bit taller, probably basketball team, around 6’0.
“You’re Qi Jing?”
Qi Jing nodded, then tried to slip past—only to be blocked again.
For once, he felt a spark of irritation.
“Classmate, why won’t you let me go downstairs?”
Qi Jing had never experienced anything like bullying before. He simply didn’t understand, so he tilted his head back and asked.
“What? You gonna snitch to the teacher?”
The guy across from him clearly looked down on that kind of thing. He rolled his eyes, but quickly shifted his gaze back to Qi Jing.
“I’m Qin Sheng. Add me on WeChat.”
The demand came out of nowhere. Qi Jing shook his head. “I don’t have a phone. I need to go home.”
Qin Sheng frowned, impatience creeping in. “Don’t you have a watch? Hurry up.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t want to add you.”
Qi Jing tried to sidestep him and leave, but his arm was suddenly yanked hard. He nearly flipped over, his head knocking against the wall.
The pain made his face scrunch up.
“Come on—what are you playing at?”
Qi Jing stared at the guy in bewilderment. This was the first time he’d encountered outright malice. “I’m not playing at anything,” he said earnestly.
“No add, no leaving campus. What, you want me to drag you to a stall for some fun?”
Qi Jing just kept staring at him, stunned.
Maybe it was the shock in that gaze that grated on him.
Qin Sheng grew irritated. He grabbed Qi Jing’s arm again and glanced at the watch. No password. He added himself on WeChat right then and there.
A smug satisfaction swelled in him. He’d worried too much before. Qi Jing was just the son of some nouveau riche family—the Qi name barely registered in Capital City.
And with a face like that, rumor had it someone from Class 9 had already taken him to watch porn.
Just a twink.
Qin Sheng had to admit, the kid was exactly his type.
Qi Jing’s wrist burned from the rough grip. He instinctively tried to pull free, but Qin Sheng recoiled in disgust. “What’s with the drama? Plenty of people beg to get my contact info and can’t.”
He let go—and gave him an extra shove for good measure.
A 1.87-meter athlete with a solid build. Qi Jing went flying backward and hit the ground.
His foot twisted again.
It had only just healed…
His face drained of color in an instant.
It hurt so much.
His breath hitched, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Qi Jing was terrified of another dislocation. The doctor resetting it last time had been agony. He barely dared to move his ankle now.
“What the hell? You trying to scam me or something?”
Right then, the dean of discipline appeared at the end of the corridor on her rounds. She hurried over, her expression dark.
Qin Sheng’s brows furrowed.
“Qi Jing? Qi Jing? Are you okay?”
How did the dean even know this kid’s name? Wasn’t she the ultimate snob?
Qin Sheng was fuming. “He just twisted his ankle or whatever. I’ll take him to the infirmary.”
But the dean didn’t spare him a glance. She seemed genuinely anxious as she asked Qi Jing, “Can you move it? Has your fibula been treated properly?”
“I’ll call your family.”
She ignored the slacker young master standing nearby the whole time. Only when she stood up did she flick a brief glance his way.
For some reason, Qin Sheng felt like there was pity in that look.
Psycho.
He played it cool, telling himself over and over in his head.
It was just a shove.
