Chapter 153

Chapter 153

After a few more rounds, Yulia regretfully saw Luo Ci, who insisted on leaving, off in the car.

Luo Ci had a wonderful time today, waving goodbye through the glass car window.

Watching the luxury car drive away, Yulia sighed, a hint of worry in her expression.

Having grown up in a large family with many siblings, she knew that normal families didn't operate like Tristan's.

She had wanted to warn the young master that Tristan's control went far beyond that of a typical older brother, but the young master seemed utterly oblivious…

Yet, given Tristan's possessive nature, with so much time having passed, his patience must have reached its breaking point.

The moment he couldn't hold back and revealed himself, the young master would surely realize…

…

When Luo Ci returned home, Tristan was in his study, reviewing documents. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he appeared engrossed in his work, looking no different from his usual self.

He set down his pen, calmly raising an eyebrow. “Why are you back so late?”

Luo Ci guiltily clutched the hem of his clothes, feigning sudden realization: “Late? I was so absorbed playing with my friends, I didn't even notice…”

Tristan swiveled his chair. “What friends? Did you drink?”

“No, I didn't drink. You don't allow me to drink…” Luo Ci pursed his lips.

“And the friends?”

“…We just chatted casually, played some card games, nothing much,” Luo Ci was accustomed to Tristan's concern, and his tone was gentle, no different from usual, so he didn't detect anything amiss.

“Are you hungry? You probably didn't eat much there. I'll make you something.” Tristan stood up.

“I'm not hungry. Yulia took good care of me and gave me plenty of delicious food…” Luo Ci's eyes darted, noticing Tristan's hand. “What happened to your hand…? How did you get hurt?”

“Did I?” Tristan glanced at it indifferently.

It was likely from accidentally crushing the communicator, the shards causing the wound.

Luo Ci immediately went to grab the first aid kit. There wasn't one in the study, but fortunately, No. 2 brought it over.

“How could you be so careless, brother…? This cut looks deep; it's still oozing blood when touched—doesn't it hurt?” Luo Ci said while disinfecting Tristan's wound with an iodine-soaked cotton swab.

Tristan: “It's fine. Without my darling, I wouldn't have even noticed.”

“How could you not notice?” Luo Ci puckered his lips. “What were you doing earlier that had you so focused?”

Tristan looked at the young master's round, fluffy head—utterly adorable—but worried that squatting for too long would make his legs sore. He wrapped his hands around Luo Ci's waist and lifted him onto his lap.

Luo Ci frowned. “What are you doing? The wound's bleeding again.”

“Sorry…”

Luo Ci carefully placed a bandage over Tristan's injury. “I'll put this on. Don't use this hand too much in the next few days.”

Tristan used his other hand to gently hold Luo Ci's busy fingers. “Thank you, my darling.”

Luo Ci slid off his lap. “I think I reek of perfume. I want to take a shower.”

“Alright, I'll draw your bath.” Tristan stood and headed to the bathroom.

Luo Ci went to the bedroom to undress, halfway through when his communicator pinged—a message from Yulia asking if he'd gotten home safely.

[I'm home.]

Luo Ci reassured her, then received another message asking how his brother had reacted.

He didn't understand why she suddenly asked that. Was Yulia worried Tristan would blame her for his late return?

After a moment's thought, he texted back: [He wasn't mad. It's all good.]

“The bath's ready,” Tristan called, knocking on the door.

Luo Ci responded, dumped the communicator, finished undressing, and dashed barefoot into the bathroom.

…

Luo Zi Consortium Headquarters.

Piles of thick files covered the desk as Tristan went through them one by one with a fountain pen.

He worked intently until every last file was completed.

Tristan massaged the bridge of his nose.

Noticing the bandage on his finger—decorated with a line-drawn kitten—he didn't remove it even though the wound had long healed, simply because Luo Ci had put it there.

A secretary knocked and entered, carrying a new folder.

By now, the secretary was accustomed to Tristan's occasional glances at the kitten bandage his darling had given him while working.

Just then, Tristan's gaze shifted. “What was he up to this morning?”

The secretary answered promptly, “The young master spent the morning in the entertainment room.”

Luo Ci had woken up early to put the finishing touches on *Swallow Trick*.

After months of diligent work, the model was finally done and ready for his collection room.

Before storing it away, he snapped several pictures of *Swallow Trick* and posted them to his socials.

Tired from the busy morning, he crashed for a nap after lunch.

Well-rested from his nap, he pondered how to kill time that afternoon.

He had woken up a bit late, and with only two hours left before Tristan's return, he figured he'd watch a movie to pass the time.

He hauled out all the DVDs from the cabinet, plopping down cross-legged on the rug as he sifted through them.

In this highly advanced technological era, any movie was available for streaming, rendering physical discs obsolete. Yet, among the upper class, these antiques were prized collectibles.

As such, every movie release came in two versions: a regular digital version and a limited collector's DVD set, often ridiculously expensive and with limited quantities.

The Luo Zi Consortium had stakes in several film studios, and whenever a new movie was released, they'd automatically send a collector's copy to the castle.

Ever since he was little, on weekends or when Tristan was free, they'd watch these movies together.

But he had always been very curious about the discs with bright red labels in the upper right corner—the ones Tristan had never let him watch.

Curiosity got the better of him.

He picked out one of the red-labeled discs and inserted it into the high-end disc player.

At first, the scenes were no different from ordinary films. Luo Ci sat cross-legged on the carpet, puzzled as to why Tristan had forbidden him from watching them.

Just as he was resting his chin in his hand, half-dozing, the scene abruptly shifted—two characters began undressing, embracing, and kissing.

Luo Ci’s eyes widened, his small hands instinctively clutching at the carpet.

His virtual tablet was always under Tristan’s control, with any inappropriate content filtered out in advance, so this was his first time seeing such explicit scenes.

The disc he had chosen happened to center on a brothers' relationship—precisely why he had picked it out of the pile.

The scenes grew increasingly chaotic, the graphic scenes overwhelming him as if a switch had flipped. Luo Ci’s gaze grew hazy as he stared at the screen, his knees—originally loosely crossed—now pressed tightly together, his pale pink kneecaps peeking through as they rubbed against each other.

The younger brother in the film had light hair like his, while the older brother’s muscular back reminded him a little of Tristan’s.

But Luo Ci noticed the faint injection marks on the actor’s waist—evidence of enhancements, meaning his muscles might have been artificially enhanced, unlike Tristan’s, which were the result of natural genetics and training.

Ignoring those minor flaws, a half-formed fantasy that had once lingered vaguely in his mind was now playing out right in front of him.

He was so engrossed that he didn’t even hear the door open.

"...What are you watching?"

Luo Ci startled, his eyes darted nervously toward the screen. "B-Bro... why’d you barge in?"

Tristan: "I knocked. You didn’t hear me."

"Why did you dig these out to watch?"

Luo Ci hadn’t expected to be caught so easily. He averted his eyes awkwardly. "I... just got curious."

"..." Tristan looked down at the kid curled up on the carpet—this was the first time he had seen Luo Ci like this. His cheeks burned, his ears tinged pink, his soft, rounded knees chafed red. He tilted his head up slightly, his lips slightly parted, breathing unevenly.

A shiver ran down Tristan’s spine to his skull. He killed the projector. "You’re too young."

"I’m *not*," Luo Ci muttered, biting his lip.

Tristan bent down to retrieve the disc and tossed it back in the cabinet.

In truth, he was trying to conceal his own state—and distract himself. The image of Luo Ci just now kept replaying in his mind, triggering a response he shouldn’t have.

Luo Ci, of course, noticed.

Especially with how obvious Tristan’s... was.

Before, he might not have understood what was happening, but the film had clued him in.

"Wait..." Seeing Tristan reach for the door handle to leave, Luo Ci realized this was his chance. He shot up from the floor and rushed over, gripping Tristan’s arm tightly.

Feigning confidence, he said, "This... happens. I can help."

Tristan’s hand paused on the doorknob.

He turned back, staring into those wide blue eyes. "...Do you know what you’re saying?"

Luo Ci’s grip loosened slightly, then tightened again.

He had been timid at first, but now he recognized this as one of his few opportunities. Fisting Tristan’s shirt, he buried his face against his chest, his hot cheek nuzzling the tie.

"...I know."

He whispered.