Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Marriage is a weighty commitment.

Qi Jing was pulled flush against the other's chest, his waist encircled, yet Bo Chengyan's gaze was solemn, his eyes intense as they pinned him.

The boy instinctively tried to turn his head away.

But his chin was gripped and turned back.

In a way, he wasn't wrong.

It felt controlling to Qi Jing.

Still, he stammered, "I... I'm not a girl."

"I don't..."

Before he could finish the words,

Qi Jing met the other's eyes, bit back his refusal, and amended,

"I need to think about it."

"I... I'm only eighteen."

Like he'd just now grasped the problem.

Like he hadn't been the one confessing back in high school.

Qi Jing's heart hammered against his ribs.

Until a steady voice sounded by his ear.

"I'll investigate your conversation this afternoon."

Qi Jing snapped his head up, frowning. "N-no, you can't."

"Why not?"

Bo Chengyan sometimes grew irritable, chalking it up to teenage rebellion—the boy losing faith in him.

Pointless worries kept stacking up.

But they were completely trivial.

Qi Jing's lips were slightly moist, half-aware he was being diverted.

Then he reeled himself back in.

"You still haven't answered me."

"Did you respond to her feelings?"

His expression was dead serious, his tone firm.

Bo Chengyan couldn't quite decipher the young man before him. Perhaps it was his youth that had him obsessing over tiny details—

Attire, perfume, meetings... he hyper-focused.

But only when he remembered.

Most of the time, he couldn't be bothered with such matters.

Qi Jing hadn't learned to take responsibility in matters of the heart—he lived purely by impulse.

A habit Bo Chengyan had fostered.

"I only found out just three hours back."

"Xiao Jing, I've got neither the time nor patience to care about others."

More often than not, Bo Chengyan wore the mantle of leadership—assessing his team's performance was his duty.

Feelings didn't factor in.

Qi Jing fisted in the man's dress shirt and nodded, apparently appeased.

Then he lifted his gaze.

Bo Chengyan's expression had darkened considerably.

He was too young.

He couldn't risk him developing fear or apprehension.

But at the same time,

Now it'd swung too far the other way.

He was getting too bold.

Bo Chengyan's eyelids lowered slightly, something dangerous flickering in his eyes.

But just then—

The boy craned up to press a kiss to his chin.

*

Often, the privileges a partner enjoyed were given freely by their partner—offered freely, treasured completely.

That night, he kept vigil over the youth as he slept. The young man's sleepshirt had ridden up, his fringe obscuring his eyes, fingers stubbornly fisted in Bo Chengyan's buttons.

Because he was desperate to stop the investigation.

But it was hopeless.

The Bo household answered to him alone—getting answers required no effort. Qi Jing had indeed been exhausted, clinging like a limpet to keep him there.

It was useless.

Around half past ten,

The servants downstairs caught the disturbance. When the master arrived, they surrendered the recording device without hesitation.

Cheng Yun fundamentally misunderstood him.

That was the Bo way—merchants took no chances. When outsiders visited the estate, servants first took their bags and coats, storing them in secure locations.

A precaution against concealed weapons.

Meetings require the host's permission; otherwise, they can only be held in the main hall with servants present.

So archaic.

Oppressively strict.

So-called "accidents" are not permitted in the Bo family.

"Leave."

The servant lowered their eyes and departed.

The audio clip wasn't lengthy, roughly twenty minutes.

The opening dealt with formalities upon entry.

Until later—

"You're young and beautiful... It's natural for him to like you. Even I... can't help but admire you."

"But beauty doesn’t last."

"What can truly endure?"

The other speaker was the young man.

"You seem unhappy."

"Here, drink this tea."

The sound of a cup being passed could be heard.

Perhaps due to poor signal at night, there was faint static interference.

"...I think I understand why he likes you."

"I just can't accept it."

"Do you like him?"

The young man pressed bluntly.

But silence lingered for a long time before a hollow, faraway response came:

"I never said such a thing..."

"But he hasn’t returned yet."

"You’ll probably have to wait."

Bo Chengyan frowned upon hearing this—how could he be so defenseless? He fast-forwarded through part of it.

Scrolling forward—

"How long will you stay with him?"

"He can’t marry so easily... The Bo family’s vast legacy... Can you bear it?"

Bo Chengyan’s face clouded over instantly, but it didn’t end there.

Because the next line was:

"I haven’t considered that question."

*

The next day.

Qi Jing woke up very early, automatically reaching to rub his eyes, but his arm wouldn't move.

"Mmm..."

The man sat observing him from the chair.

Daybreak was just creeping in, and a predawn mist had gathered. The young man's face was nestled in the blanket as he muttered thickly, "Why are you up so early?"

Bo Chengyan just stared impassively at him.

Qi Jing scooted backward a little, offering a simple invitation: "Join me."

He was tempting.

Yet untamed.

Even when his mouth was pried open, he gazed blearily at the other, his tongue drawn out, slick and exposed.

Between ragged breaths.

His pajama top was pushed up, the contact nearly brutal in its directness.

Qi Jing instinctively tried to retreat, but his ankle was grabbed and hauled back ruthlessly.

The man remained still fully clothed, as if sampling a rare vintage.

Time lost meaning.

The young man could neither struggle free nor resist, and finally whimpered into his sleeve.

"L-let go..."

His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from crying.

When proper morning came, he was taken for a bath.

Qi Jing had clothes put on him as he was lifted, his lips swollen and red, his thoughts sluggish as he lolled sleepily against the other’s shoulder.

His thighs still quivered.

"Let’s go home."

His voice was frosty as a pine forest in winter.

A carefully controlled calm.

The Macau business was wrapped up so effortlessly that System 996 ran repeated scans for a long time, only to find the protagonist’s emotional spikes registered during...

It was still processing anomalies.

Why the nocturnal pattern?

Gold gleamed around Qi Jing’s wrist as he slept on the plane, his chin burrowed in the blanket, just the curve of one flushed cheek showing.

Like a porcelain doll.

The boy barely walked a few steps the entire time—either being carried or napping in the car.

Occasionally, his mouth was parted gently to take some water.

By the time they arrived at Jinjiang Villa, it was already night.

"Sir?"

Bo Chengyan held the boy in his arms, his expression calm as he glanced over. "He's too tired. I'll feed him dinner."

It seemed that at this moment, he suddenly had time and energy to spare.

During the brief exchange, the boy in his arms stirred slightly, letting out a faint whimper.

"Auntie..."

But he was swept away.

A hint of smothering possessiveness surfaced—

like the iceberg’s tip.

Once in the bedroom, it was nothing but kisses—tongues entwined, the boy’s waist already limp, his head lolling weakly.

Qi Jing was overwhelmed and cried, "Bo Chen—"

He was pulled onto Bo Chengyan’s lap, his waist secured, as a cup of warm water was handed to him.

His eyes shimmered with tears.

The boy couldn’t help but lift his gaze.

"Looking at me is no different from teasing me."

Bo Chengyan calmly fed him water, tilting the cup against his lips, pouring it down in sync with the boy’s swallowing.

After drinking nearly half, a trickle remained at the corner of his mouth.

Qi Jing, for some reason, pouted pitifully. When a knock came at the door, he had barely glanced before his chin was pulled back.

Their lips met in a kiss.

Bo Chengyan set him on the bed and went to fetch dinner from the door. When he turned back, the boy had already shrunk back to the far side of the bed.

His tearful eyes watched him.

Silent.

"Come here."

Qi Jing shook his head. "Not hungry."

Stubborn.

Without a word, Bo Chengyan set the food aside and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

Then closed the distance.

The boy stammered, "You’re too harsh..."

"Your kisses are scary."

"You weren’t like this before."

The more Qi Jing spoke, the more frantic he grew, edging away toward the bed—only for his ankle to be caught and dragged back.

"How did I kiss you before?"

Bo Chengyan gathered him close, his eyes darkening, tendons faintly standing out along his forearm.

"G... gently."

His mouth was taken again, as if indulging him—

yet leaving no room all the same.

By the end, Qi Jing was panting, tears brimming.

Too weak to even grip the man’s shirt, his hands slid down helplessly. When finally released, he gulped air.

His face flushed deep red.

Night fell like silk.

Bo Chengyan watched him, an arm firmly supporting the boy’s waist. Once his breathing steadied, he tilted Qi Jing’s chin up.

Let their lips graze.

His eyes were icy.

Yet his touch remained tender.

In the end, Qi Jing was fed bite by bite, his waist held firmly as he ate dutifully—he was hungry.

Only when the bowl was set aside did he mumble,

"More."

"You’ve had enough."

Having gone too long without food, he couldn’t eat much at once.

Qi Jing didn’t understand. He only felt slighted by the man’s harshness today, his temper rising.

"You’re being too—"

A firm poke to his sternum—before his tears could fall, he suddenly gagged.

Stunned.

Bo Chengyan scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom. "No more."

His voice remained steady.

By the time his shirt was unbuttoned, Qi Jing’s eyes began to well up again. He couldn’t stand steadily, staggering weakly.

He had to submit to being washed while held upright.

The teeth were also cleaned by the other person wearing finger guards.

Even Qi Jing, slow as he was, eventually caught on when he was placed on the counter. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the veins on the other’s arm.

They were bulging.

His breathing was hot.

He stammered, "Y-you okay?"

"You mad?"

He tilted his head slightly.

His tone was innocent, exactly the same as in the recording.

He’d ask anyone the same.

"Yeah."

Qi Jing was carried back to the bedside. His pajamas were button-down, and though the fabric was smooth, the front still rubbed a little.

Bo Chengyan stayed calm the entire time. He got up to grab ointment from the bedside, his tall figure, his shadow stretching against the wall.

The shirt was supposed to mean control.

But now, his collar was open, and the sleeves were pushed up.

Qi Jing only jolted back to awareness when his wrist was lifted, feeling a cool touch.

There were bruises on his wrist.

The mature man bent slightly, kneeling slightly before the boy, he pushed aside the thin fabric at his waist—his hand alone could span half of it.

"Hn..."

Qi Jing instinctively tried to pull away, but Bo Chengyan lifted his gaze, heavy and dark.

He tensed up again.

He blurted,

"I said it was okay."

There were more bruises around his waist, though faint, they hadn’t faded.

Qi Jing’s breathing trembled slightly as he looked down at the man.

His nose was sharp.

After the wound on his chest was treated.

A hand closed around his ankle again.

"This too?"

His voice was weak.

There were marks near his inner thigh as well.

Qi Jing nearly panicked, his calf held firmly before being cradled in Bo Chengyan’s arm.

Unable to pull free.

He didn’t dare move.

The sleep pants were loose, allowing fingers to glide along the fabric up to the back of his knee—and further, to his inner thigh.

"Need medicine."

"Just behave."