Chapter 143

Chapter 143

The Consortium Tower.

The assistant deftly organized the files in the cabinet, casting a wary glance towards the desk.

Tristan pressed one hand against the desktop, the other against his temple. The documents spread before him had remained unturned for a long time.

*Is something troubling him lately? Or has there been a problem with operations somewhere?*

Just then, the sliding doors parted, and the personal secretary entered. The assistant immediately bowed.

The secretary approached Tristan, bending to whisper a few words.

Tristan frowned.

Once Tristan had left, the secretary hurried after him, pausing briefly to instruct the assistant as they passed.

"Notify everyone that this afternoon’s report has been postponed until tomorrow."

The assistant quickly acknowledged, "Understood."

The car entered the castle grounds. Tristan roughly pressed the elevator’s up button, stepping out the moment the doors opened.

The game room was vast, spanning over ten thousand square meters—larger than many museums. The floor was covered in cartoon-printed rugs, strewn with toys and plushies.

He found the person he was looking for nestled in an oversized plush sofa. The small figure sat with its back to him, facing a half-assembled Swallow Trick model.

Tristan watched the tiny figure for a moment before walking over and sitting beside Luo Ci. "What’s wrong? Why are you refusing to take your medicine again?"

Luo Ci pouted, fidgeting with the building blocks in his hands, silent.

"Hmm?" Tristan asked patiently, "Who upset my little one? Tell big brother."

Luo Ci puffed out his cheeks, pointing a slender finger at Tristan’s chest. "You did."

"...Me?"

Luo Ci gave him a pitiful look. "You’re the one, big brother, who doesn’t want to see me. Otherwise, why haven’t you come back in three days?"

Tristan habitually used work as an excuse. "I’ve just been a bit busy lately."

Luo Ci sniffled, turning his face away. "No, you haven’t. I asked the secretary. He said you’ve been in your office the whole time, not going anywhere."

Tristan rubbed his forehead.

The personal secretary had been with him for many years, bolder and more perceptive than most. For instance, if he had to offend someone, he’d rather it be Tristan than Luo Ci. Because while Tristan might let it slide, anyone who upset Luo Ci would never be spared.

And Luo Ci, spoiled rotten by Tristan, threw such tantrums that the secretary would never dare lie to him.

Tristan sighed. "Even so, you shouldn’t play with your health. You need to take your medicine on time."

Unit No. 2 approached at the perfect moment, its mechanical arm holding an exquisite tray with a delicate medicine vial and Luo Ci’s preferred juice.

The Luo Zi Alchemy Technology Consortium also had a pharmaceutical division. The initial investment in this field had been because Luo Ci hated bitter medicine. Tristan had funded a dedicated medical and drug research team.

Kleine-Levin Syndrome had no known cure and was considered a chronic condition, requiring daily medication. The medicine Luo Ci took now was the result of over a dozen iterations—as easy to take as candy, with no bitterness at all.

Tristan coaxed Luo Ci into taking the medicine, only for the child to complain that the powder left a dry feeling in his throat. So Tristan gave him some juice. Luo Ci licked his lips, drinking eagerly.

Luo Ci’s mouth was tiny.

Even half a cup of juice took him a while to finish.

His small face tilted downward slightly, his pink lips slightly parted to reveal tiny white teeth. His small lip pressed against the glass, resembling a delicate fruit being pressed.

Tristan looked away carefully.

Once he’d had his fill, Luo Ci pouted and held out his arms. "Hug."

"Big brother..." Cuddled in Tristan’s embrace, he looked up. "Do you already know?"

"...Know what?"

"I mean..." Luo Ci buried his face in Tristan’s shoulder, whispering, "That I like you."

Tristan froze momentarily before quickly regaining his composure. "Of course. I love my little one too."

Luo Ci lifted his head, pressing his lips together. "Not that kind of like."

"Rest early after your medicine. I still have a report to review at the company. There are issues in the energy division lately—it’ll keep me busy for a while..." As usual, Tristan stroked his hair. "No need to wait for me tonight. Go to sleep first."

"Big brother..."

Luo Ci stood up.

But Tristan walked too fast—he couldn’t catch up.

After a few paces, he stopped.

Looking down at the smiley face on the doodled carpet, he stamped on it angrily.

"...So annoying..."

---

Tristan didn’t return to the castle for two weeks.

On one hand, his workload had been heavy. On the other, he needed time to organize his thoughts and clear his mind.

He’d realized Luo Ci’s feelings back when the little one had kissed him instead of the customary bedtime kiss.

He’d once been Luo Ci’s age too. He knew how children instinctively became attached to caregivers.

Having grown up without parental love, Luo Ci was still young. He’d transferred that need onto Tristan, intensifying those feelings endlessly—hence this misplaced affection.

It was instinctive attachment. Emotional transference.

One day, when he learned the truth, he wouldn't feel this way about Tristan anymore.

The luxury car glided through the neon glow of the skyscrapers, lights reflecting off the windows.

Tristan undid his tie slightly.

...So everything he did now...

His wishes, his desires...

Were simply to guarantee Luo Ci's safe, happy upbringing.

At that moment, the accompanying secretary received a call, and his face instantly fell. "...My Lord, the castle reported an incident."

...

Keepsake Room.

Luo Ci sat on the sofa flipping through a photo album, his legs swinging aimlessly.

His fingertips brushed over the album—little Luo Ci sat perched on a cherry blossom branch, tiny fists clenched, wiping tears as he sobbed uncontrollably. Servants frantically rushed below to lay out nets and soft cushions, while Tristan climbed a ladder and reached out to him.

That must have been when he was about five years old.

He had a sniffle back then, so he didn’t follow Tristan to the company and stayed home instead.

By chance, he overheard the servants chatting about his parents being in the guesthouse.

At the time, he had almost no memory of his parents. Seeing other children on TV with theirs, he wanted to know what his own parents looked like.

Hearing that the crimson spire to the southwest was the guesthouse, he took advantage of his caretaker’s distraction during a walk and spotted a cherry blossom tree. Grunting with effort, he climbed up, hoping to get a better view of the red roof from above.

He hadn’t felt scared at all while climbing.

But once he settled on the trembling branch, fear suddenly gripped him.

All he remembered was clinging tightly to the trunk, tears pattering down like shattered pearls.

The servants were terrified, spreading the alarm as they rushed to fetch nets and cushions while others hurried to inform Tristan.

Tristan must have been in a meeting at the time, but he rushed over immediately. Little Luo Ci was crying so hard he hiccuped, and the ground was already covered in a thick layer of shaken-loose cherry petals.

Tristan climbed the ladder.

The little one clumsily wiped his tears and stretched out his chubby hand. A large hand grasped the small one, and Tristan lifted the child onto his shoulder. The cried-out little Luo Ci clung to him like a puddle of melted pudding.

Luo Ci looked at the photo album, cheeks slightly flushed as he recalled the scene.

But then, remembering Tristan hadn’t returned for two weeks, he huffily slammed the album shut with a "thud."

The keepsake room was lined with glass display cases holding various treasured keepsakes—like the first paper star he folded, illustrated storybooks he once read with Tristan, and the potted plant he made during his first flower-arranging lesson, which Tristan had preserved as a specimen.

...Why was Tristan everywhere?

Most items in the glass cases were small trinkets. What truly dominated the room were the building blocks.

Even as a child, little Luo Ci loved piecing together all kinds of blocks. Hundreds of sets, big and small, were assembled by him and Tristan.

The largest among them was the colossal mammoth series released by *Caber* Corporation a decade ago.

With over a hundred thousand pieces, even Luo Ci lacked the patience to assemble it. Tristan had painstakingly built it piece by piece at the company and gifted it to him for his birthday.

"Ugh, so annoying."

Luo Ci buried his face in a cushion—plush velvet, also bought by Tristan.

In a huff, he hurled the cushion at the mammoth.

Whenever he was upset, he liked throwing pillows. Perhaps from years of this, the base had worn down over time.

The massive, hill-like block structure tilted, wobbled, then collapsed toward him...

...

Tristan strode into the Keepsake Room, immediately noticing the scattered mammoth block sculpture.

But he paid them no mind, stepping past the wreckage toward the sofa.

Servants crowded around it. Luo Ci had his face buried in the personal physician’s arms. Hearing Tristan’s footsteps, he glanced up briefly before hiding again.

The personal physician spoke cautiously, "...My Lord."

Tristan: "Thank you. You and the others may leave."

The doctor nodded.

But Luo Ci drooped his head, tiny hands gripping the doctor’s clothes tightly. "No, I don’t want you. I want the doctor..."

Tristan’s gaze lingered on the damp patch on the doctor’s shoulder—evidence that Luo Ci had been crying against him for a while during Tristan’s rush back.

His tone remained calm as he repeated, "Out."

The doctor flinched and didn’t dare linger, ushering the other servants out quietly and closing the door behind them.

"..." The moment they left, Luo Ci turned his face away.

Tristan pressed the back of his hand to his tear-flushed cheek, his voice low. "Crying again."

At the familiar warmth of his touch, Luo Ci’s upset welled up.

"You didn’t want to come back, so why are you here now?" he whined pitifully. "It’s not like you care what happens to me anyway. Might as well wait till I get crushed, then bundle me into a coffin—"

"Don’t talk nonsense!" Hearing the little one’s nonsense, Tristan’s temple twitched, and he cut him off instinctively.

But seeing his damp, glistening eyes, his heart softened instantly. "Big brother didn’t mean to scold you. It’s just... today scared me."

Hearing Luo Ci had nearly been crushed by the falling blocks, Tristan had felt his throat constrict with dread.

Fortunately, only part of the structure collapsed, and Luo Ci had dodged quickly.

"...It was big brother’s fault." Tristan wrapped his arms around his waist—only by holding him could his unsettled heartbeat calm. "It’s all big brother’s fault."

"Our little one is generous-hearted. Forgive big brother this once."

"...Fine."

Luo Ci’s ears turned pink as he buried his face against his chest, lips slightly pouted. "I’ll make up with you. But you can’t avoid me anymore. Come home every day."

"Mm."

Luo Ci lowered his eyes, nuzzling his shoulder with a hint of a sniffle. "But the mammoth’s ruined..."

"Not ruined," Tristan stroked his hair. "Big brother will rebuild it for you."

"...Okay."

Seeing Tristan carry the young master out, the servants collectively sighed in relief.

They’d made up.

The castle’s gloom finally lifted.

Luo Ci rested his chin on Tristan's shoulder.

Closing his eyes, he quietly listened to the steady *thump, thump* of his heartbeat, a quiet smile playing on his lips.

Seeing Tristan so nervous secretly pleased him. At least he’d succeeded in keeping Tristan in the castle. As for what came next—well, there was plenty of time. He’d prove just how much he liked Tristan—with actions, not words.

In the evening, draped in a loose bathrobe, Luo Ci stepped out of the bathroom.

Tristan set aside the documents he was reading and frowned when he noticed a slight bruise on his knee.

"What happened here?"

Luo Ci glanced down. "Probably knocked it against something."

Tristan: "Come here, let me see."

Luo Ci walked over.

Tristan gently ran his fingers over the bruise. Fortunately, it wasn’t too large and would likely fade in a few days. Gently pressing the spot, he asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not much," Luo Ci leaned into his arms, tilting his face up. "But a kiss from big brother would make it heal quicker."

Tristan shot him a look. "..."

Luo Ci watched as Tristan cradled his calf in both hands, as though cradling something precious.

He buried his flushed face in his too-long sleeves.

Tristan leaned down, his lips grazing his knee feather-light.