Chapter 49

Chapter 49

The whimpers came unbidden, forced from a constricted throat like steam from a boiling kettle, pushing against its lid.

Qi Jing shrank fearfully into the embrace, his calves held fast by Bo Chengyan, unable to pull away. The man merely lowered his gaze slightly, one arm encircling the boy’s slender waist.

Desire was often complex, not always purely carnal.

But kissing was, indeed, the crudest form of punishment.

"You're going to hit me..."

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes, his fingers clutching the man’s sleeve, his chest heaving with sobs.

Bo Chengyan looked at him impassively. "Who said that?"

The light was dim.

A hazy mist filled the bathroom.

As if guided, Qi Jing stammered, pointing at the object.

It was the paddle.

"Oh."

His chin was seized, pulling him into a kiss. As his body temperature rose, something cold and smooth pressed against his inner thigh.

Before Qi Jing could open his eyes, he found himself lifted, his body draped over the other like a vine.

There was a sense of intimate dependence.

Being raised by him made him different.

As if forever unable to distinguish good from bad, he’d simply reach out for an embrace.

The cold object slid up his thigh, reaching his most tender spot. Qi Jing was overcome with panic.

He thrashed like a fish on a cutting board.

Even a slap on the palm hurt terribly.

"Wuwu..."

Qi Jing even opened his mouth, biting down on Bo Chengyan's shoulder. Saliva soaked the shirt fabric, making it appear suggestive and ambiguous.

A muffled crack.

The person in his arms cried out at the sound, biting him without restraint, his calves struggling to break free.

"So delicate."

Bo Chengyan lifted him onto the bathroom counter, pausing slightly at the sight of him biting his lower lip in distress.

Qi Jing’s head was swimming, but in his daze, he thought he saw a red mark on the man’s hand.

Before he could react, the back of his neck was pressed forward.

He couldn't even swallow.

Qi Jing had never been kissed for so long—he felt like he was suffocating.

His tongue was even drawn out.

"Will you allow it?"

The gentle voice inquired.

Qi Jing’s legs were guided to wrap around the other’s waist. Unaware, he thought the man was no longer angry.

His eyelashes were damp.

Meeting a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes.

The boy, innocent and naive, even tilted his head up to look.

[Is this actually happening?]

Before tasting the forbidden fruit, it was always filled with various alluring fantasies.

Like honey attracting ants.

No special methods were needed; he simply walked into the trap.

*

Ten fifteen.

The housekeeper had finished preparing dinner, a worried expression on her face.

Not until steady footsteps descended the stairs did she relax.

"Sir."

Bo Chengyan glanced at the table, absently adjusting his cuffs. "You may rest. You can tidy up tomorrow."

"Oh, no, it's fine, I'll take care of it later, it's no trouble—"

But her voice trailed off into silence.

The atmosphere turned glacial.

"Then... I'll rest now. You should sleep early too, sir."

"Thank you."

The housekeeper finally left, still feeling a subtle pressure, her heart heavy with concern.

Where was the boy?

Second floor.

The master bedroom’s bed was dark-toned. A pale arm was tangled in the sheets, still catching uneven breaths.

Then the bedroom door opened.

The boy’s foot arched sharply, his whole body holding its breath.

The sound drew nearer.

Until the blanket was pulled back, his smooth arm abruptly pulled up. Qi Jing’s gasping breaths hadn't even settled when his mouth was opened.

A spoonful of lukewarm porridge was fed to him—neither too hot nor too cold.

"Mmm..."

But that wasn't enough. A blanket was pulled over him.

Qi Jing was slightly propped up underneath. The spanking was partly cushioned by the man’s hand, but some tender flesh was still struck.

Red marks appeared.

"Out all day without eating?"

The voice was slightly hoarse.

Yet the actions were forceful. The boy struggled to swallow in time, pushing feebly against the man’s arm.

His lips were carefully wiped clean.

Bo Chengyan seemed infinitely patient, carrying him to the bathroom. A blanket was spread over the sink counter, Qi Jing’s calves dangling, bearing obvious grip marks.

His mouth was thoroughly explored.

The clean taste of mint.

"Mmm..."

It was hard not to react. When the base of his tongue was pressed, his palms went numb.

A feeling of being overwhelmed.

Qi Jing stammered, "L-Let’s sleep... Just use your fingers..."

He had never experienced this before—this strange, suffocating fullness.

Only when his face paled from stomach pain did it reluctantly stop.

Bo Chengyan methodically removed the cleaning finger cot. His silhouette was sharply defined under the ceiling light, his fingers long and knuckled.

Qi Jing’s knees were forced apart without resistance.

Repeating the earlier process.

Children always change their minds.

Concerned he was in too much pain, yet afraid he wouldn’t learn.

Neither option was ideal.

Narrow—

The wet, slick sound.

Qi Jing began crying again, like a child made to cry by his parents, emotionally unstable, yet still clinging to the adult.

Bo Chengyan let him cling, his hands never stopping. His lips brushed lightly against the boy’s ear, as if soothing.

***

The age difference had its perks. Qi Jing even passed out midway, waking groggily to find himself still pinned, though glucose was being administered to him through his lips.

The single-dose injectable kind.

Leftover from high school.

Now put to use.

Care was given, but the *fucking* was relentless.

Once was intense, twice was intense—but by the third or fourth time, endurance was challenged.

A fledgling whose feathers were not yet fully grown.

Naturally, he couldn’t endure.

Qi Jing slept straight through till the next evening, his sleep schedule completely reversed.

Bo Chengyan’s quiet didn't mean idleness.

He kept watch by the bed, reviewing records left from dealing with the so-called parents in Province Z—the infant with a birthmark on its collarbone.

The boy clung to his hand, the redness at his eyes still present, yet he slept soundly.

His collar was easily opened.

Clean.

Bo Chengyan’s expression remained indifferent as he scrolled again—a paternity test report.

The so-called birth parents.

—Based on the current DNA test results and relevant genetic principles, Subject 1 and Subject 2 are excluded from a biological parent-child relationship.

Not blood-related.

Bo Chengyan inclined slightly toward the boy in bed. His lips were bruised from kissing, swollen despite medication.

"Did heaven send you to me?"

No one answered.

*

Lin Se was the first to visit—already the third morning. Qi Jing sat on the edge of the bed, wearing long sleeves despite the summer swelter.

He gazed blankly.

The redness at his eyes remained, a bandage on his hand from the night’s IV drip.

He looked pitiful.

"Eat."

The boy turned obediently, opening his mouth for the food.

The image of obedience.

Bo Chengyan calmly collected the dishes and stood up to look at the visitor, his gaze steady.

Completely unbothered.

Lin Se was completely floored.

But he didn’t say much, just walked over and asked, "Running a fever?"

This was meant to challenge Bo Chengyan.

But the boy on the bed shook his head. "I didn’t."

"I’m perfectly fine."

His complexion was pale, his bangs neatly framing his forehead, but his expression was serious.

"Mm."

Qi Jing glanced at Bo Chengyan, then obediently averted his eyes.

Looking a little uncomfortable.

Lin Se was indeed surprised and made himself scarce, thinking to himself that the technique must have been good.

The after-sales service was thorough too.

But when he took hold of the boy’s wrist, he froze.

The sleeve shifted, revealing a patch of skin.

Covered in hickeys.

Packed close together.

"..."

Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy.

Lin Se even let go of the hand, crossed himself over his chest, and only then finally took the pulse.

In truth, there was nothing seriously wrong—just eight words to sum it up:

Qi and blood deficiency, overindulgence.

Eventually, the two went outside.

The person in the room was fiddling with a phone—Bo Chengyan’s.

Lin Se could already see the signs. This was way more than just liking someone, this… this…

"Is that your work phone?"

"Mm."

"No, you two are…"

Lin Se was at a loss, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stared at Bo Chengyan and stated firmly, "You’ve put off Macau for days. You’re losing control."

"No."

"Being restrained is exhausting."

The man before him was even amiable, looking thoroughly sated.

Lin Se’s face remained blank, thinking to himself that this truly matched the rumors outside—he really had become a "femme fatale."

After all, Bo Zhonglin was nearly at death's door, and the eldest son had barely arrived before heading back. Though news in the capital was tightly sealed, it was inevitable that the gossip would get out.

When it came down to it, there was only one conclusion.

"By the way, where did you find him? Where’s the kid?"

As an insider, Lin Se knew some things and couldn’t help but frown as he asked.

...

Meanwhile—

Qi Jing was carefully going through Bo Chengyan’s phone. He scrolled through WeChat, seeing only strangers, most of them labeled with prefixes and names.

Either job titles or other identifiers.

Nothing personal at all.

Qi Jing was about to put it down when it suddenly hit him. He wanted to search for his own WeChat.

But there were way too many contacts—even those under "Q" were numerous.

So he opted to search directly.

The boy carefully entered two characters:

—Qi Jing

Nothing came up.

He tried again:

—Xiao Jing

Nothing came up.

Qi Jing pouted. Could it be under "Hates Broccoli"?

That would be just cruel.

The room’s air conditioning was set just right. The boy bit his lip and typed in his own nickname.

Nothing came up.

Qi Jing was actually getting mad now. He was determined to find himself. Perhaps he was still groggy from sleeping so much—he didn’t think to message himself from his own phone or search the chat history.

Instead, he meticulously went through the contacts.

So focused that he missed the door closing entirely. Soon, he spotted something odd—a username starting with "M," what looked like an English word.

The profile picture was an artsy landscape photo.

Qi Jing bit his lip at once, feeling a pang of jealousy. He looked up to find Bo Chengyan right next to him.

He was about to complain.

But then.

"Found yourself?"

Qi Jing froze, then blankly looked down. "N-no, my profile picture is..."

A gentle finger tapped the frame, and the image automatically updated to the current one—a bright green broccoli.

Silence.

Oh, it was just a WeChat cache. Qi Jing's ears turned red as he pretended nothing had happened.

He absentmindedly bit his lip but quickly stopped himself.

He let go.

He mumbled, "Y-yeah, f-found it."

Without thinking, he opened it, only to see the messages from that day, over and over.

—Xiao Jing, where are you?

—Xiao Jing, reply to me.

—Are you mad at me?

—Xiao Jing...

Qi Jing immediately threw the phone down, clutching the blanket with both hands as he looked up at Bo Chengyan with a pitiful look.

He wanted to explain, "I-I didn’t mean to..."

Perhaps he realized—abrupt departure was hurtful to those close to him, causing them distress.

That wasn’t right.

Bo Chengyan stayed calm. "No need to apologize. I should’ve taken precautions earlier."

The wording was somewhat obscure. Qi Jing didn’t understand what "taking precautions" meant. He tried to change the subject, his eyes fell on the note on the screen.

*Meu amor.*

What did that mean?

The boy looked up and asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

Bo Chengyan looked down at him, explaining gently yet directly:

"*Meu amor.*"

His voice was like a deep instrument, steady and magnetic.

Qi Jing was momentarily distracted. Just as he was about to ask for the meaning in Chinese, a familiar voice murmured in his ear.

"Darling."