Chapter 44

Chapter 44

The human mind and social cognition mature with age, but they can also gradually deteriorate due to external trauma.

Qi Jing’s memories of being confined were hazy, just fragments—words and scattered images—devoid of sounds or people.

A strange, persistent noise buzzed in his ears, a sound the boy couldn’t comprehend, just as he couldn’t grasp where he was.

Mud was everywhere… his face, his elbows, all caked in it…

Until someone abruptly pulled him back.

"Ouch… you trying to get yourself killed? What are you doing standing in the middle of the road?!"

It made no sense to him.

Qi Jing tilted his head slightly. Where was this?

The summer heat pressed down. People were everywhere, dressed in army-green uniforms, carrying stretchers.

Wooden planks bridged the mud, and vehicles… rumbled across them.

He stood there, utterly disoriented.

Until that vehicle came to a stop.

Qi Jing turned toward the sound, his eyes clear and focused as he looked over.

The old woman’s voice faded in and out, sometimes clear, sometimes muffled.

"He didn’t mean it, don’t take it to heart, he’s just a child…"

Her Mandarin was thick with a local accent.

The car door opened—a long, sliding door.

Someone was inside.

The sunlight outside fell on that person’s wrist, the cuff clean, a watch glinting on it.

Qi Jing stared for a long time, until the wrist shifted slightly outward, revealing more of itself.

The air itself seemed to ripple.

His eyes lifted, drawn upward toward the person’s face…

But before he could see clearly—

His skull split with pain.

The buzz of static filled his ears.

Like a TV lost between stations.

In an instant, the world tilted under Qi Jing. His knees buckled as if drained of strength, blackness ate his sight. Before losing consciousness, the old woman’s voice pierced his ears.

"Someone, help! This boy—"

He floated between consciousness and void.

"Host…"

"Ho-host… Host…"

It felt like an unbroken link.

Qi Jing had a splitting headache and couldn't stop crying. His own crying sounded unbearably loud to him, and the rims of his eyes were red.

Then, a steady voice broke through.

"How old is he?"

The scent of disinfectant filled his nostrils as another voice responded.

"You’d need to ask the villagers. I’m just a volunteer doctor—I don’t know."

Qi Jing’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy. He couldn’t open them no matter how hard he tried—until someone gripped his chin firmly, prying his mouth open.

"Though we could check his teeth. Hmm…"

The doctor on duty remarked, "Young, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Definitely no older than sixteen."

It hurt.

The pressure hurt.

"He’s uncomfortable. Stop."

A calm, gentle voice spoke up.

The doctor released his hold, only to notice the finger marks left on the boy’s face. He hesitated. "Does he have hives…?"

"His skin’s too sensitive."

Qi Jing felt a needle withdrawn from his vein and let out a pained whimper. The doctor glanced back.

"Kid? Wake up?"

Still, his eyelids refused to open.

Time blurred. Outside noises faded, muffled. Then, another person arrived.

"President Bo, we’ve confirmed. This child… seems to have been picked up by an unmarried couple in the village. Their house got swept away. No one knows if they survived—the full toll won’t be known for six months."

"The villagers say his family’s all dead."

Unaware that he was lying in a car, Qi Jing felt the air conditioning easing his fever. A thin blanket covered him.

His headache had eased.

With great effort, he tried to open his eyes.

Just then.

The steady voice returned, calm.

"So… no one wants him?"

Qi Jing processed the words slowly. The strength to open his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by crushing dread.

He looked like he couldn’t breathe.

"Probably. They might send him to a city orphanage, but I’m not sure if they accept older children."

Of course, the assistant wanted the kid to end up somewhere good. President Bo was a decent guy—if he got involved, the rest would sort itself out.

"Should I contact the relevant institutions now…?"

"No need."

Bo Chengyan tapped his fingers lightly on his knee, looking down at the child with reddened eyes. "If no one wants him…"

*

Years flew by, and once again, they were in a car.

The scrawny kid had shot up and filled out, yet he still curled up in Bo Chengyan’s arms.

Qi Jing remembered bits and pieces of the past—he had been taken away for extensive psychological treatment, a period when he couldn’t even walk properly.

His ankles had been chained up so long he could barely walk without tripping.

Skinny, weak, half-starved.

So Bo had held him like this for ages.

That explained it. Qi Jing had never gotten the swoony "princess carry" from cheesy romances—he had always been cradled like an infant.

It wasn’t until after they moved to Jinjiang Villa, once he had recovered, that the carrying stopped.

Bo Chengyan frowned, his palm still gripping the wrist of the person in his arms. His jawline was sharp and cold, yet his words were gentle.

"Talk to me, will you?"

"Say something."

The same question, over and over.

It felt like two years ago, when Qi Jing’s face was still clean and innocent, only gazing at you, occasionally willing to speak a few words.

The boldest he got was looping a finger around yours.

Skittish. Even squeezing back would make him jump.

"Okay."

A quiet, choked-out reply.

Bo Chengyan couldn’t put it into words—like a weight off his shoulders. He had indeed considered the worst possibilities.

What if all that therapy had been for nothing?

What if he had withdrawn into himself again?

"Why are you upset?"

Qi Jing felt Bo’s hand at his waist, tilting his head up by the nape. His chin tilted slightly, a faint confusion in his expression.

"Tell me, will you?"

Bo was on edge, yet he maintained an outward calm.

"I think… I remember a little."

Bo Chengyan’s gaze lowered, the muscles in his arm tightening around the boy’s waist, veins starkly visible.

Like he could break that tiny waist with one wrong move.

"Mhm."

They’d used hypnosis back then—meant to erase painful images and sounds from his memory.

Bo Chengyan’s face gave nothing away as he suppressed his emotions and listened. He didn’t want to dwell on why the boy had forgotten the memory of him bringing him here.

Was it unwillingness?

Too late now.

Qi Jing raised a hand to press against the man’s shoulder, displeased. "Mmm… you’re holding too tight…"

The grip loosened instantly.

The man’s dark eyes met his, his apology immediate. "Sorry."

Qi Jing stiffened. Sometimes, Bo Chengyan’s weirdly formal act always threw him off, as if something was being forcibly restrained.

He had asked before not to be held so tightly.

Yet it seemed the guy still couldn’t help himself.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. A subtle shift in mood had taken hold—he was desperate to know something else.

"Was I given to you by someone else?"

He sounded sulky.

The room instantly felt lighter.

"No."

Qi Jing looked down, fidgeting with his hands. "W-wait, really?" he stammered, confused.

He sat up straighter, shoulders tense with focus. He brightened a bit. "I wasn’t… sent to you?"

Parents were supposed to be your first taste of love. Qi Jing had blocked out so much—even his little brother’s name back in the mountains. But he still remembered the terms "Dad" and "Mom."

In families like his, no one ever got what they needed—

And half of it could be traced back to one’s upbringing.

Seeing that had left him gasping for air. Abandoned too many times, he couldn’t help but project himself onto it.

"My parents here… didn’t abandon me?"

His voice even wavered with hope.

System 996 had never filled him in on his own backstory. Qi Jing had no idea he’d just dropped into this world—he’d stupidly thought he had family here.

But he was terrified he’d wind up like her.

Given away.

Abandoned.

Unwanted.

In the end, his understanding of parents was just a term, yet it couldn't fill that deep, gnawing emptiness.

Bo Chengyan had been holding the young man’s wrist the entire time. He sensed the hopeful tone in the other’s voice and realized he had overestimated how moral he could be.

Because without the slightest hesitation, he said, "You have no parents, my Xiao Jing. I told you before."

"They’re dead. They died in a flood."

"It was me. From the moment I saw you, I wanted to take you away."

Qi Jing hadn’t even processed his feelings yet before being abruptly redirected.

Bo Chengyan realized his actions were losing control. He couldn’t stand the thought of Qi Jing going places he hadn’t planned or meeting people he hadn’t checked out.

The persona he had carefully crafted now felt like a moral chain binding him.

Might as well cut loose completely.

"Back then, I could have handed you over to social services, but I chose to take you with me instead."

"Even pulled some strings. You know I couldn’t legally adopt you, so I had to get you registered in Macau."

Bo Chengyan tightened his grip around the young man’s waist. The blood beneath his skin raced slightly faster, his body wound tight as a spring. His expression remained empty as he asked,

"Do you think I’m terrible?"

Qi Jing wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, in a daze, and shook his head.

"You’re good to me."

The air carried a faint, crushing weight.

As if struggling to breathe.

"What about the future? Once you’re of age, capable of living on your own—will you leave me?"

Qi Jing fisted Bo Chengyan’s shirt, his eyelids fluttering a few times. "I… haven’t even graduated yet…"

"Will you?"

Technically, this wasn’t morally acceptable. One shouldn’t ask for guarantees about the future.

It was like chaining someone down early.

Inappropriate.

Yet in intimate relationships, such behavior happens all the time.

Unfortunately, most partners never kept them.

*

Lingyue’s foundation quickly got word that arrangements would be made for the mother and daughter.

The mother’s congenital heart condition would be treated through charity, and the daughter would be sent to a special school that helped disabled individuals learn survival skills.

This plan was implemented the next day. Meanwhile, Qi Jing, still recovering from a low-grade fever, stayed in Z Province for another day.

A black car rolled up quietly outside the factory building. Qi Jing pushed the door open and stepped out, turning to say, "I’ll be back soon. Very quick."

The boy had already picked up on something being off.

When he went too far away, the other would get moody.

"I’m going."

It was a simple matter—he wanted to return the raincoat and, while he was at it, see Jiang Xiuyuan, who was probably still volunteering here.

He hadn’t said goodbye yet.

After hastily returning the raincoat, before he could even ask the staff, a man’s angry voice rang in his ears.

"Where’s Jiang Xiuyuan?! That heartless bastard! The scum who got my parents killed!"

"Where is he?! This time, I swear—"

Several security guards swiftly restrained the young man, dragging him away with little effort.

Qi Jing stared for a long moment until a staff member spoke up beside him, "No clue who that guy is… just spouting crap. Probably a troublemaker."

"Do you need anything else?"

The boy shook his head. He had initially turned toward the car but hesitated, then ducked into the alley instead.

For no other reason than—

That man looked way too much like Jiang Xiuyuan.

Qi Jing arrived too late. By the time he ran over, Chen Zhuo was already cleaning blood from his hands, and the air went still.

"You—"

"No."

Chen Zhuo followed the boy’s gaze to his own hands and let out an exasperated sigh. "It’s my blood. Jiang Xiuyuan stabbed me. I’m not the bad guy here."

Qi Jing just froze in place.

As if stuck asking questions.

"Why would Jiang Xiuyuan stab you?"

"He just hates me."

"You didn’t move?"

"……"

The boy didn’t forget what he really wanted to know and asked,

"Is that his brother?"

Chen Zhuo felt like his luck had hit rock bottom—getting caught mid-call, getting seen fighting. Might need to visit a temple to wash off the bad luck tomorrow.

"Yep."

"Then why come here to cause trouble…"

"No clue, who cares about that? Where is Bo Chengyan?"

Chen Zhuo instinctively tried to change the subject.

This was actually kind of messy.

But Qi Jing was no longer a high school student. He heard that line and didn’t press further, simply saying:

"I heard what that person said. Are Jiang Xiuyuan’s parents gone?"

Qi Jing’s fingers had actually gone cold.

His grandmother had already passed away, and his parents...

"Yes."

"Then who…"

Chen Zhuo looked defeated as he walked over, crumpling the bloody tissue and tossing it into the nearby bushes.

"Wasn’t my doing, don’t look at me like that."

"He had a fever yesterday, so I didn’t let him come here to volunteer. Were you looking for him?"

Chen Zhuo leaned slightly against the wall, smirking slightly. "Funny how that works."

Qi Jing’s expression was just full of concern.

"Didn’t you leave yesterday? Seriously…"

The details came out slowly. It turned out that on that rainy night when Jiang Xiuyuan was staying in the old house, his parents were also rushing back from the city.

But as cruel fate would have it, their car slid down a slope, and they couldn’t be revived.

"Moved?"

Qi Jing came back to himself, frowning slightly. He had never encountered something so complicated before.

Chen Zhuo said bluntly, "Unfortunately, in the last few seconds before that pair of parents died, Jiang Xiuyuan’s phone was still blowing up with hateful texts."

"Want to take a guess?"

Qi Jing held his breath.

He understood now.

Jiang Xiuyuan had genuinely given up on living at that time. He stayed in the old house, not even wanting to leave.

But that was the worst of the storm.

If he had really died there...

Imagine what the neighbors would’ve said about his parents.

Face means everything in rural society.

Yes, they could use their son’s money to improve their lives—after all, he wasn’t raised by them, was a homosexual, and couldn’t continue the family name. They had a younger one anyway.

As for kicking up a fuss over something so trivial? They didn’t tell you because they didn’t want to affect your work.

Your brother’s about to get married—why are you pulling this crap now? A funeral? Get your ass back here.

We raised you this big—what’s wrong with you chipping in?

...

"They’re dead."

"Maybe it’s better this way."

Qi Jing lowered his eyelids, as if wrestling with something unanswerable.

"But Jiang Xiuyuan can’t know. I have to take him back to the capital."

"If he finds out, someone desperate for love—wouldn’t he fixate on that slim chance? He’d wonder, did his parents still care? Were they coming to find him because they were worried?"

"And then sink into the despair of believing he caused their deaths, only to end it all?"

Chen Zhuo said flatly, "He already had depression. It wasn’t something he developed after meeting me—I checked, it predated me."

"But…"

"Bo Chengyan knows, but he couldn’t care less about us."

"So, please keep this between us."

Life’s nothing but drama.