Chapter 59

Chapter 59

The lamp cast a dim, yellowish glow.

Qi Jing propped himself up by the bedside, his eyes still red and swollen. After the ointment was applied, he felt utterly woozy and disoriented—whether from lack of oxygen or something else, he couldn’t tell.

His ankle was being gently massaged.

Bo Chengyan’s eyelids were lowered, the light casting shadows that obscured his expression.

"Why are you unhappy?"

The boy finally asked, his lips swollen, his heart pounding with a tingling sensation.

"Do you think we’re in a relationship?"

Bo Chengyan’s tone was gentle and refined, as if merely chatting, but his gaze was downcast, his expression placid.

Qi Jing paused, startled by the question. Weren’t they?

He had just begun to think so when—

"I never engage in relationships."

Bo Chengyan leaned closer, his palm pressing against the boy’s wrist bone, steadily pushing down. Qi Jing’s eyes flickered with helplessness and panic, his earlobes flushing pink.

"Mmm..."

He let out a soft, nascent sound, like a fledgling bird.

Eventually, his soft hair settled into the pillow, his lips slightly parted, his slender chest rising and falling.

Qi Jing’s face was delicately handsome, but his eyes were remarkably clear—just as they had been two years ago when he was spotted by the roadside.

Empty, innocent. Like a still pool.

"Then... then why are you like this...?"

His voice was muffled, almost an accusation, his emotions flaring up instantly.

A film of moisture clouded his dark pupils.

"I desire you."

The boy stiffened, then immediately averted his gaze, his breathing quickening.

Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip.

The directness of words, in some ways, surpasses physical touch.

Sometimes, Bo Chengyan regretted indulging him. How could a teenager possibly consider the long-term implications?

He only wanted the immediate gratification, not the subsequent entanglements.

His slightly damp chin was gently grasped and turned.

Their gazes met.

What did he mean by...

—never having considered the question?

Would he make other friends after graduation?

Or would he simply fly away?

Qi Jing felt as if his soul had been ensnared. Only when his calf was cradled in the other’s arm did he realize—no... no.

It was too much.

He even tried to kiss him, but he was too weak.

Bo Chengyan merely watched him, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

Qi Jing vaguely felt he had forgotten something. His fingers clutched at the bedsheets, a muffled groan escaping him just as—

He faintly heard a whisper in his ear:

"Even without legal procedures."

"You are mine."

*

Human nature is inherently flawed. Rules only apply to those willing to abide by them.

Restraint and abstinence are a constant struggle against primal instincts.

Bo Chengyan grew up in a privileged environment, but his emotions were detached. His family life was far from normal—rife with suicide scandals, yet paradoxically thriving in numbers.

His understanding of social boundaries was blurred.

His thresholds were abnormal.

Qi Jing completely lost count of how many times he was given glucose. His consciousness was a blur, his fingers clammy.

As he buried his face in the pillow, a thought lingered...

So good.

So good.

His eyelids were damp, as if he had plunged into a suffocating sea.

Completely controlled, a tingling numbness spread from his tailbone all the way to the back of his head.

Uncontrollable whimpers escaped him.

Qi Jing finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning. Light filtered through the curtains, illuminating his slender fingers.

Even they bore marks.

"You’re too used to your privileges. Skipping military training? That’s a crucial part of making friends, you know?"

The young man on the phone rambled on.

"I’ll send him to school myself."

Bo Chengyan adjusted his wristwatch, his expression calm, as if he had returned to his usual state.

"...How’s your mental state?"

The true purpose of the call emerged from the other end. Lin Se, after all, was his first psychologist, and due to their friendship, he knew more intimate details.

Excessive restraint and abstinence were not good signs.

He had always hoped the other would return to normalcy.

Even though the person he later found... was a bit too young.

But it still counted as getting back on track.

However, many things had happened in Macau this time—the old man's passing was one, followed by the eldest son being thrown in jail, and various concubines being driven out of the Bo family.

The media outside didn’t dare report it, but rumors circulated in the capital...

Bo Chengyan’s methods were far too merciless.

"I’m fine."

Lin Se frowned: "..."

He couldn’t shake a sinking feeling.

Qi Jing was too young—he couldn’t yet be considered a "partner." He was still growing, his emotional framework not yet mature.

He lacked a deep understanding of intimate relationships.

This was actually quite dangerous.

Especially when facing someone whose experience and awareness far surpassed his own.

One couldn’t stay only in a greenhouse.

He needed outside sunlight and rain.

So, university socialization and growth were necessary steps for his independence.

Lin Se thought for a moment, "Alright, I’ll go give him a health check this afternoon."

There was no immediate response from the other end.

Lin Se had no choice but to add, "There’s also the university physical fitness test—are you going to fork over another few hundred grand in research grants?"

"Not even allowance is handed out this freely."

"You can’t shield him from all hardship."

After a few seconds—

"Alright."

The tone was very calm.

*

Qi Jing had always been well taken care of. Aside from falling ill from his own moods, he rarely fell ill in bed.

The experience felt good—just left him exhausted.

Like he’d been hit by a truck.

Around noon, the young man was picked up to change clothes, his eyes too heavy to open, leaning against the other’s shoulder.

His fingers were tweaked.

"Mmm..."

A soft, breathy noise—one that always came when he woke up.

As if it were hardwired.

Bo Chengyan remained expressionless, dressing him in long-sleeved loungewear before asking calmly, "Hungry?"

The room was dim, no lights on, the curtains barely parted.

Still cradled, he shook his head.

Qi Jing shifted his chin slightly before closing his eyes again, quiet.

As if nestling into the comfiest spot on his own.

He never seemed to learn.

Even after being worn out, he couldn’t help but lean against the one who’d worn him out.

Like a toddler scolded by its mother, still crying for her.

Qi Jing did have some emotional entanglement.

All his positive feelings and emotions came solely from Bo Chengyan.

He played parent, lover, and support.

It was messy, yet clingy.

"We have a guest coming soon. No more naps."

Qi Jing slumped into a sulk—really just sleepy crankiness. He hadn’t slept well and ended up being carried to wash up.

Red-eyed, with damp lashes.

This was common even among ordinary people—post-intimacy emotional sensitivity would be enhanced.

Even to the point of sulking.

When Lin Se walked in, he froze, immediately spinning right back around.

Aghast, he asked, "Did you make him cry?"

"Did you hit him?"

"He’s just sleepy."

His tone was calm.

Qi Jing raised his hand to rub his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed, and gave a confused look.

"Hello."

His voice was hoarse.

Even slow as Lin Se was, he realized this was a challenge, but he still frowned and stepped forward.

He took his pulse.

The boy gazed up with innocent eyes. "Am I sick?"

Still pouting.

So obedient.

Lin Se’s heart melted. He'd accompanied him to the hospital before, after all, and seen the child in a wheelchair.

Such a good kid.

Why did it have to be Bo Chengyan?

Aside from being wealthy and passably attractive… what other virtues did he have?

The young man thought bitterly.

Frustrated, he pulled his hand back.

"It's nothing, really."

His tone was gentle.

Maybe the weight of that stare was too much—he was out in under three minutes.

The door closed softly.

*

The young man kept repeating:

—Bo, you can’t do this. I didn’t grow up with Chinese traditions.

—I’ll still come next time.

—I don’t get... social graces.

He seemed to pause, searching for the right idiom.

Self-righteous.

Bo Chengyan merely frowned. "His health is my responsibility."

"Oh, I wouldn’t dream of competing with you over that," Lin Se said pointedly. "My job is looking after you."

He wasn’t the one overstepping.

It was the other.

When did he start losing grip?

"What’s your problem?"

"Perhaps I can help you understand."

The young man leaned against the doorframe, his face all forgiving, like some merciful saint.

Until—

"Marriage?!"

"You do know he’s barely legal, that’s basically..."

Lin Se restrained himself.

After all, the other man signed his checks.

Better watch his words.

"Are you calling me a beast?"

Bo Chengyan leaned slightly against the desk, absentmindedly spinning a teacup—an antique piece.

"I’ll admit I’m a hypocrite."

Bo countered, "If he doesn’t marry me, who else would he marry?"

"It’s just a matter of time."

Lin Se froze, getting the sense that the other man’s restraints had slipped.

He couldn’t tell if that was good.

"You think I don’t mean it?"

"Or that I’m manipulating him?"

Bo Chengyan lowered his eyelids, and said coolly, "My original plan was to wait until he finished school before responding."

"But that day, he kept crying."

"Was I supposed to keep rejecting him?"

The young man hadn’t expected this—had the boy… made the first move?

He was at a loss for words.

"He’s too young, stubborn, and prone to insecurity."

"If I didn’t take him to Macau, he’d threaten to run away."

He said it calmly.

But Lin Se was truly stunned. He’d assumed—

"He has everything from me."

"To him this is just puppy love, without considering the future."

He stopped mid-sentence.

Bo Chengyan turned the teacup in his hand and said expressionlessly,

"I raised him."

"I'll never let go."

Freedom has its limits—ones not to be crossed.

*

Lin Se felt things grow more complicated.

Especially after the incident at the old mansion in Macau—Bo Chengyan had no true relatives left. He was naturally distant.

Perhaps bringing Qi Jing home two years ago was a quiet act of "self-salvation."

Nurturing a wellspring of "love."

They got along effortlessly. He had never seen Bo care so deeply about someone.

He kept track of his height.

His weight.

Vetted his school friends, even.

Like he poured every ounce of himself into it.

Bo Chengyan even underwent frequent psychological therapy.

To keep from hindering the boy’s growth.

Lin Se acknowledged his own bias, replaying the last two years in his head.

No photos of Qi Jing had ever surfaced. His school records were kept under lock and key. He’d even shot up nearly four inches.

He greeted everyone with open warmth.

Confident and kind.

It hit him then—the "treasure" he’d first met was already a bloom carefully tended by the other.