Chapter 148

Chapter 148

They continued to discuss the birthday party plans.

Luo Ci was nearing adulthood, a significant milestone, and Tristan intended to make it a grand celebration for him.

The bedroom lights gradually dimmed. Luo Ci feigned sleep, obediently closing his eyes. Even with his own eyes shut, Tristan’s hand continued its rhythmic patting on his back.

Tristan always treated him like a child.

But his birthday was fast approaching. Once it passed, surely Tristan wouldn't see him as a child anymore, right?

Luo Ci mused with anticipation.

Only when the hand patting his back ceased did he realize Tristan had fallen asleep.

He quietly lifted his eyelids.

Tristan lay beside him, eyes closed, his features sharp and defined even in repose. His usually piercing gaze was softened, its intensity slightly muted. Though dressed in a loose shirt and loungewear pants, his perfectly sculpted muscles were still discernible.

The contrast between Tristan in public and Tristan when he was with him was quite striking.

This completely relaxed side of Tristan was something only he was privy to.

And he hoped, both now and in the future, that this particular facet of Tristan would remain exclusively his to witness.

Luo Ci suddenly buried his face in Tristan’s chest, his rosy lips pursing slightly before he tilted his head up just enough to gaze at Tristan’s lips.

He listened intently for Tristan’s heartbeat, confirming he was truly asleep.

After a second of hesitation, he cautiously leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Tristan’s lips.

Then, he pressed the back of his cool hand against his own cheeks, which felt hot enough to burst.

Luo Ci lingered for a while longer before drowsiness finally set in. He rubbed his eyes, burrowed deeper into Tristan’s embrace, and at last, drifted off to sleep.

Sensing the little one had fallen asleep, Tristan opened his eyes.

He stared at the dimly lit ceiling for a long moment before closing his eyelids once more.

...

The next morning.

When Tristan awoke, Luo Ci also stirred. Without even opening his eyes, he rubbed his cheek against Tristan's neck.

Freshly awakened, the little one’s movements were soft and clingy. His fluffy, soft hair brushed against Tristan’s neck, tickling him all over.

"Hold me…" Luo Ci tumbled into Tristan’s arms, demanding to be held, still too sleepy to open his eyes.

Men were all the same in the morning, and the little one’s hands were resting in an inappropriate spot. Tristan shifted, adjusting his posture.

Luo Ci grumbled, pouting, wanting to sit on Tristan’s lap, but Tristan wouldn’t allow it. His face puffed out in a pout: "Am I too heavy?"

"...No."

The little one was too light, almost worryingly thin.

"Then why won’t you hold me?"

After much coaxing and fussing, Tristan finally managed to slip away for a cold shower.

Yet, even as icy water streamed down his spine, it did nothing to cool his thoughts. Images of Luo Ci’s secret kiss last night, and his coquettish demeanor just moments ago, flashed through his mind.

His temple throbbed, and he pressed a veined hand to his forehead.

"Haah…"

Finally emerging from the chilly bathroom, he found Luo Ci curled under a small blanket, back turned, motionless—just as he’d been before Tristan entered the bathroom, resembling a fluffy white dumpling.

When he approached the little one, the white dumpling squirmed and twisted, turning its back again.

Tristan pretended to move to the other side, and sure enough, the white dumpling turned back—only to realize Tristan hadn't actually moved.

Once their eyes met, the little one puffed out his cheeks indignantly.

Tristan raised his hand, gently brushing a few stray locks of hair back from the little one’s forehead. "I have to go to work."

The family doctor had mentioned yesterday that the bandages could be removed today, so he wouldn't need Tristan to carry him around anymore.

But once Tristan left, they wouldn't see each other all day.

Luo Ci finally poked his small head out from under the covers: "…Kiss me."

Tristan paused, then leaned down and kissed the little one’s soft, tender cheek.

"Go back to sleep."

Before leaving, he carefully tucked the blankets around the little one again. Just as he turned to go, the hem of his shirt was gently tugged.

The little one’s voice, muffled by the blankets, carried a slight nasal tone.

"…Come back early when you’re done."

"Mm."

...

When the family doctor arrived to remove the bandages, Luo Ci was in the playroom, building with his block set.

It was a limited-edition set Tristan had given him. He had only completed a third of it and had just uploaded a photo to social media.

While he was browsing comments, the doctor walked in.

He took the squishy toy the family doctor offered him, giving it a light squeeze. The toy’s smiling face comically caved in. "…What is this?"

The family doctor chuckled: "The master instructed that the Young Master must hold a squishy toy when his bandages are being removed."

Little Luo Ci had frequent doctor visits since childhood, to the point where, as a toddler, the sight of a white coat would send him into fits of tears.

Tristan had tried many methods. Later, after consulting a psychologist, he learned that for anxious children, distracting them with toys could help alleviate their anxiety.

So, every time little Luo Ci saw the doctor, Tristan would prepare a variety of toys, never repeating the same one.

He tugged at the toy’s jelly-like hat: "…How old do you think I am? Why are you still giving me these?"

The family doctor replied, "In the master’s eyes, the Young Master will always be the cherished child held in his palm."

"I don’t want that…"

Despite his words, Luo Ci gleefully poked the toy’s cheeks.

The family doctor very carefully removed the bandages.

Freed from the "little dumpling" encumbrance, Luo Ci immediately felt lighter on his feet and eagerly jumped off the sofa.

The family doctor also nodded, "The recovery is excellent."

He took a video and sent it to the secretary.

When the secretary received the video, he was at an abandoned mine.

In the cold, restless air, the acrid scent of alchemical oil mingled with the heavy, rusty smell of the mine.

Mining pits were everywhere, with fifty-foot containers haphazardly stacked.

Faint yellow light filtered through the gaps between the containers.

The secretary stepped inside a container.

A hulking figure knelt on the ground, two prominent bones protruding from the back of his neck. His face was evenly covered with fine scales, and his reptilian eyes gleamed. His forked tongue was particularly noticeable as he spoke: "…My lord, please believe in our loyalty. We absolutely had no intention of breaching the contract."

"I believe our relationship is strong. The Waki people and your company benefit mutually. Besides, without us Waki to guide you, it wouldn’t be easy for you to find so many mines and caverns, would it?"

The speaker was none other than Faris, the current leader of the Waki people.

The Waki were the product of genetic fusion—descendants of humans and subterranean creatures. They retained the habits of underground beings while being able to understand human language.

New Bet City’s energy was derived from crude oil extracted from minerals using alchemical technology, and these minerals came from underground caverns. Each cavern varied in distribution, type, and depth; some large caverns were so well-hidden that even the most advanced detection equipment couldn't find them.

This made the Waki, who could discover and guide them to these caverns, highly sought after.

Virtually every enterprise in New Bet City wanted to cooperate with the Waki, but the Luo Zi Alchemy Technology Consortium always offered the most generous rewards.

They had collaborated with Faris for over a decade.

Perhaps they had been too well-fed over the years, for Faris now dared to resell caverns already promised to them to another enterprise.

Although kneeling, Faris wore a defiant expression, confident that Tristan wouldn't harm him—no guide possessed a keener sense of smell than the Waki.

Tristan: "I think you’ve misunderstood. At this point, I’m not here to resolve this matter; I’m here to eliminate the person who caused all this."

The bodyguard responsible for translation relayed this to Faris.

Faris didn't understand.

Tristan sat in a chair opposite him, disassembled the loading port of a mechanical gun, and chambered two live rounds.

This was not the Consortium’s latest laser weapon, but an old-fashioned bullet gun.

It felt remarkably heavy and cumbersome.

Tristan approached Faris with the gun, kicked him to the ground, then shouldered the weapon, squinting one eye as he sighted through the scope, aiming slightly off-center from the man’s heart.

The Waki’s skin was thicker than a human’s. A shot to a non-fatal area wouldn’t kill him instantly, but would cause him to slowly bleed to death.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he fired.

Bang—

The searing pain of ruptured blood vessels near his heart made Faris howl. Gasping for breath, he thrashed on the ground.

The bullet fragments pierced his internal organs like countless awls. Faris’s eyeballs became bloodshot and swollen, driven to madness by the torment.

Driven by the lizard’s instinct to shed its tail when in danger, he violently tore off his own tail. However, the tail was his third leg; without its support, his body collapsed with a thud.

Gushing blood instantly stained the ground crimson. After another five or six minutes, Faris’s wails gradually ceased.

Not far away, Faris’s tribesmen huddled together in terror.

Tristan took a handkerchief from the secretary, wiping the blood from his cuff. "Disgusting creature. Its blood is still red…"

The secretary dared not speak.

Tristan: "And Faris’ other accomplices?"

A nearby bodyguard: "All captured."

"Dispose of them all."

"Yes."

Tristan walked out of the container.

As he walked, the Waki huddled tightly together. Each step he took exuded an oppressive presence. Some Waki babbled prayers, clutching their heads, others shrieked, and some vomited—the sight of Faris’s corpse before them terrified them so much they felt their gall bladders might burst.

The secretary showed Tristan the video he had just received from the family doctor.

Tristan watched it repeatedly, six or seven times.

The Waki’s terrified screams were grating. In this bizarre environment, the secretary stood silently to the side, unsure what Tristan was thinking at that moment.

The video quickly ended, and Tristan replayed it again.

The little one seemed to be in a good mood; it appeared he was no longer angry.

Forty-five minutes later, the car drove smoothly down the highway.

The trees lining the road reflected in the car windows. As they entered the core area of New Bet City, the surrounding scenery suddenly became bustling and prosperous.

The secretary quietly glanced at the rearview mirror. Even after witnessing such scenes, he still felt deeply unsettled.

After dealing with the troublesome individual, Tristan remained perfectly calm, a virtual tablet resting on his lap as he attended to work.

"Stop." Tristan spoke as the car passed a shop.

The secretary quickly pulled the car over.

Tristan personally walked into a roadside cake shop.

He remembered Luo Ci liked the cakes from this shop.

The secretary was about to offer to go himself, but Tristan stopped him: "You don’t know what flavor he likes."

After a short wait, Tristan returned to the car, carrying a beautifully wrapped, adorable package that seemed at odds with his demeanor.

As the car restarted, the secretary couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.

He had never seen anyone pamper a younger sibling to such an extent.

It seemed no matter what happened, Tristan always thought of Luo Ci—even stopping to buy him treats when passing a cake shop.