Chapter 90: Past – Separation Anxiety

Qi Jing was being held in Bo Chengyan’s arms, tears streaming down his face. His arms draped over the man’s shoulder, and the tip of his nose was bright red.

He felt somewhat at a loss.

Almost instinctively, he lifted a hand to steady himself against that shoulder as he twisted around to peer at the floor. Stumbling over his words, he managed, “Not yet… haven’t walked.”

Bo Chengyan carried him into the living room and gently supported the slender curve of his neck.

“Don’t cry.”

“Good boy.”

He took Qi Jing to the dining room and fed him a little something to eat.

The youth sat on the man’s lap. He wanted to ask why he wasn’t walking anymore, but he didn’t quite dare.

Instead, he just pushed the plate.

It held egg tarts.

He ate only half.

His lashes were still damp.

Sometimes he still relied on body language and couldn’t quite shake the habit, but he had learned to follow up with words. So now, in a muffled voice, he said, “Not eating anymore.”

It came out fairly fluently.

Bo Chengyan pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed at the corner of Qi Jing’s mouth. His expression remained utterly calm.

“Don’t be afraid of me.”

His tone was straightforward.

Qi Jing seemed to register the words only then. He tilted his head back to look up, his eyes holding a hint of bewilderment.

“It’s okay.”

“Even if you can’t do it right, it’s fine.”

Bo Chengyan stayed calm from start to finish. After wiping the youth’s mouth, he grabbed a wet wipe and gently pried open those slender fingers, cleaning them section by section.

Qi Jing had stopped crying, though teardrops still clung to his lashes. His thoughts churned briefly.

Perhaps the speech training was paying off.

The youth leaned forward slightly. His fingers curled in Bo Chengyan’s palm as, for the first time, he took the initiative to voice his worry.

His tone was muffled.

“Then… will you abandon me?”

Bo Chengyan froze for a moment.

~~~

Qi Jing’s original psychological condition hadn’t been fully treated yet when he received a new diagnosis: separation anxiety.

The doctor explained the situation succinctly.

“As for the walking… if you keep carrying him all the time, he’ll develop a dependency and won’t want to walk on his own.”

“I still recommend against twenty-four-hour companionship. He needs to adapt, or he won’t be able to integrate into society.”

Bo Chengyan went silent for a long while.

He even countered, “What happens if separation anxiety goes untreated?”

The doctor was caught off guard.

But after a second or two.

“I’m sorry. I’ll follow your advice.”

The doctor seemed to grasp the situation. After a moment’s thought, he added an explanation.

“Separation anxiety stems from a lack of security. You could try providing positive reinforcement.”

“For example, go out and come back, then give him a hug.”

“Or bring back something a child might like?”

The consultation room fell utterly quiet.

The doctor felt an inexplicable pressure.

Until—

“What if he keeps crying?”

Bo Chengyan’s voice was soft.

~~~

After that, Qi Jing mostly spoke properly. Communication wasn’t an issue anymore; he just remained deeply attached to hugs.

He had grown completely accustomed to having Bo Chengyan by his side. So when he was told that morning that the man had to go out, he froze in place.

Qi Jing sat on the edge of the bed, tilting his head back to stare at him.

“Why?”

From the beginning until now, the youth had believed Bo Chengyan slept in a chair, never truly leaving.

Nearly a month had passed, and their bond had grown naturally intimate.

“Because I have to go to work.”

Qi Jing’s mind struggled to connect the dots to reality. He knew about work; he knew it was normal.

But when it hit home.

“No… no.”

He sounded like a toddler desperately trying to express himself.

Bo Chengyan placed a hand on the back of the youth’s neck and drew him closer. In a gentle tone, he said, “Stay home by yourself. Give it a try. I’ll be back at noon.”

Qi Jing clutched the man’s fingers and gazed up at him. He opened his mouth to protest, but—

“You can do it, yeah?”

Bo Chengyan’s voice stayed even.

Qi Jing’s breathing grew ragged. Tears welled up in his eyes almost instantly. He didn’t know what to do, just glanced helplessly around the room.

A blue shadow hopped into view.

It was the ghost.

He was scared.

“I can’t… no.”

Fear truly took hold of the youth. He inched forward and tugged at the man’s sleeve.

“Hug.”

He looked utterly pitiful.

He wanted a hug.

But Bo Chengyan said cruelly, “No.”

“I’ll be back at noon.”

The tears started flowing.

His face was soaked. He wasn’t sure what that shadow was.

Fear of the unknown gradually overwhelmed his senses.

“Bo… Chengyan…”

The youth was truly aggrieved. He even reached out to wrap his arms around the man’s waist, but his hands were gently removed.

It took no effort at all.

He cried harder.

Bo Chengyan had no choice. He scooped the youth up first. A slender arm climbed onto his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly.

“How about this: I’ll go out for one hour. Okay?”

“Then I’ll hug you for two hours when I get back.”

He truly seemed at a loss.

Qi Jing was half-dubious, tears still glistening at the corners of his eyes. His thin chest hitched with sobs as he asked, “Really?”

His voice was muffled.

He rarely stuttered on just two words.

“But… do you have to go?”

The youth caught on quickly. If he didn’t have to go, there’d be no need for any time limit.

Bo Chengyan replied mildly, “I have to.”

It was always like this. He didn’t bend his principles. He’d coax and cuddle, but what needed doing still got done.

He had school too.

The youth’s forehead bangs were damp from crying, and a sheen of moisture filmed his eyes. He looked heartbreakingly vulnerable.

But there was no helping it.

Qi Jing had spent enough time with the man to sense that unmistakable authority.

All the people they encountered—the assistant, the doctor, the driver—treated him with utmost respect.

In his haze, Qi Jing drew a shaky breath and fell silent.

Hoping to delay the inevitable.

Until—

“Alright then. Stay in your room this morning?”

Bo Chengyan set him down. The youth’s legs dangled off the bed’s edge.

Then the man left.

“Chengyan…”

A short, sharp call.

He tugged at the dark bedsheet. Pale fingers stood out starkly against it, all the more beautiful for the contrast.

~~~

The room fell utterly quiet.

No one was there.

At first, Qi Jing was terrified. He could barely breathe, and in his peripheral vision, that blue shadow flickered again.

His hairs stood on end.

The ghost…

He didn’t dare make a sound. He just wiped at his tears with one hand, sobbing silently without a noise.

It made him all the more pitiable.

From the monitor room, the doctor glanced at his employer—whose expression had been displeased from the start—and tried to smooth things over.

“The first time… it’s bound to feel uncomfortable.”

Bo Chengyan hadn’t actually left the building. He wasn’t at ease, so he watched the surveillance feed from the doctor’s quarters.

“He’s already doing very well.”

The doctor: “…”

After a moment’s thought, he said nothing more.

Time ticked by slowly.

In the monitor, the youth still sat on the bed’s edge, all alone. He had stopped crying, but his fingers clenched the bedsheet tightly.

His gaze fixed on one spot.

The corner of the wall.

Bo Chengyan frowned, sensing something off. But more alarming, the youth waved a hand in midair, as if seeing something.

The doctor was stunned.

“Hallucinations?”

What a rollercoaster…

Meanwhile—

996 was thrilled to discover that the host could apparently see it a little. It hadn’t realized it had been the one scaring him all along.

The blue slime’s beady eyes blinked as it shifted shapes, first a cylinder, then—boom!—a ball.

The youth simply looked up at it, tear tracks still streaking his face. He could only make out a blurry form.

Now a triangle, now a square.

How intriguing.

He grew absorbed.

No longer quite so afraid, he even reached out tentatively.

But just then, the door opened. Before Qi Jing could look away, he was lifted from under the arms.

His neck was gently kneaded, and Bo Chengyan’s low voice asked, “What’s wrong?”

“What did you see?”

Qi Jing’s eyelids were puffy. His thoughts snapped back as he tilted his head up. His arms had already looped around the man’s shoulders.

“Ball…”

“Triangle.”

He didn’t even need to be asked why.

He answered naturally.

Bo Chengyan’s brow furrowed. He was about to press further when the youth twisted to scan the rest of the room, mumbling, “Where’d it go…?”

He even sounded a touch regretful.

Bo Chengyan pinched his delicate chin and turned his face back.

The man’s expression darkened.

He took him to see the doctor.

~~~

Qi Jing sat quietly in Bo Chengyan’s lap, puzzled at the doctor’s sudden appearance.

He clutched the man’s forearm and looked up. “I’m not sick.”

The doctor was shocked by how much his speech had improved, but before he could explain, a steady voice cut in.

“It’s not an illness.”

“Then what is it?”

The crisp voice followed up immediately.

Short sentences.

No different from a normal child.

“I just want to know what you saw.”

Bo Chengyan’s tone remained even, like casual conversation. Qi Jing naturally let his guard down.

He described it.

But he fixated on the shapes.

A very simple geometric shape.

The doctor was indeed troubled. Triangles, spheres, cylinders… What psychological state could they reflect in the patient?

A love for mathematics?

Of course, he couldn’t just make things up.

It wasn’t until Qi Jing pointed to a spot—a sunlit desk with a glass ornament on top—that the doctor suddenly understood. He explained, “It might be the shadow refracted by the glass he’s seeing, not necessarily a hallucination.”

“I see this child is in a pretty good state right now.”

Qi Jing had never once gotten down from Bo Chengyan’s lap. He sat there quite steadily.

He was just clutching the man’s fingers.

It was a very instinctive motion.

~~~

That “hallucination” episode passed quickly. Bo Chengyan truly hadn’t noticed anything unusual about Qi Jing; perhaps he had simply misseen it.

Or maybe Qi Jing had just been reaching out to touch the light.

Bo Chengyan wasn’t willing to admit that he had a strong desire to control every aspect of Qi Jing’s treatment. He simply didn’t want any extraneous matters to disrupt their rhythm.

“Come here for a hug.”

In time, Qi Jing gradually adapted. After Bo Chengyan left for thirty minutes, he would return for a full hour—a tradeoff that seemed like a profitable deal.

Qi Jing had been eating chocolate on the bed. At those words, he lifted his gaze. His eyes were very innocent.

After a brief moment of processing, he reached out his arms.

Bo Chengyan scooped him up.

Qi Jing was eating very sweet white chocolate, the kind with a rich fragrance. One hand rested on Bo Chengyan’s shoulder while the other held the chocolate.

He was very quiet.

Bo Chengyan looked down at him and noticed that the youth was staring at the wrapper in his palm, his cheeks gently working as he chewed.

He took another bite.

But he hadn’t glanced at Bo Chengyan even once.

It was as if he were only going through the motions with the hug.

The doctor had been right: immediate rewards worked wonders. At first, Qi Jing would cry, but little by little, he could stay by himself for longer stretches.

An hour. Two hours. It was all possible.

As long as there were treats.

“Is it good?”

The youth turned his head and looked over. His eyes were exceptionally clear.

He thought for a moment.

Then he lowered his head and snapped off a piece of the chocolate.

It broke with a crisp snap.

Just as Qi Jing was about to hand it over, he remembered to speak. Earnestly, he said, “Here, for you.”

The impeccably dressed man lowered his eyelids slightly, his expression mild and gentle. He hadn’t yet had a chance to respond when—

There was a knock at the living room door.

Bo Chengyan didn’t take the overly sweet morsel. Instead, he pried open the mouth of the boy in his arms and fed it back to him.

Qi Jing’s eyes grew watery. His arm looped around the man’s shoulder again, though his gaze drifted toward the living room as he chewed.

“Wh-who?”

The words came out muffled and halting.

He wasn’t quite as afraid anymore. Over this period, the sound of knocking had become linked in his mind with Bo Chengyan’s return—a positive signal.

It was gradually overwriting his old memories.

Bo Chengyan carried Qi Jing to the living room. The boy’s feet arched against his legs, as if stretching, seemingly oblivious to the pain in his ankle.

He swung his legs back and forth several times.

Standing outside the door was a stranger—Auntie.

Qi Jing’s hand instinctively tightened on Bo Chengyan’s shirt. He glanced at the woman by the door, then tilted his head up at the man with wide, pleading eyes.

He knew exactly who was in charge at home.