Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Lin Jian's face still held a mixture of shock and sorrow—shock that Lin Cheng, his brother with whom he'd always been at odds, had truly died. As an older brother, a touch of sadness was inevitable.

Yet, within a few breaths, a secret delight began to bubble up inside him.

Lin Cheng's sudden death meant that perhaps he could lay claim to Lin Cheng’s entire inheritance...

"I want my mom!"

Hearing Lin Jiaxu still wailing, his thoughts were abruptly cut short. He snapped impatiently, "Enough! Why are you so disobedient? Can't you even let your deceased parents rest in peace?!"

"It's because of you that your parents died!"

For a moment, the room fell silent.

Lin Jiaxu stared at him with an expressionless face, his small hands clenched into tight fists.

The adults were stunned and horrified, unable to believe such words had come from his mouth.

Lin Jian hadn't yet grasped the gravity of what he'd said, but seeing everyone fall silent, he began to feel a little uneasy.

"What, did I say something wrong..."

Before he could finish, the grandmother, who had never been particularly close to Lin Jiaxu, suddenly rose to her feet.

"Enough! It's you who should shut up!"

She slapped her eldest son hard across the face.

Lin Jian, in disbelief, clutched his cheek. "Mom, you hit me?"

"You bet I did!"

"How could you, how could you speak to a child like that? That's your brother's child!"

She gasped for breath, tears welling in her eyes, her face contorted with fury, her hand trembling as she pointed at Lin Jian.

Lin Yubei, startled, quickly rushed to her side to calm her. "Mom, deep breaths, deep breaths! It's alright."

Once the elderly woman had composed herself, Lin Yubei cast a cold glare at her brother, Lin Jian. "What does Lin Cheng's death have to do with Jia Jia? How could you say such a thing to a child!"

Lin Jian had always been somewhat intimidated by his assertive older sister and felt a pang of guilt. "I—I just blurted it out? He was making such a racket, and I was annoyed. I didn't mean it."

"Just because you didn't mean it, you think you can say something like that? Those were his parents. What's wrong with a child wanting his mom? As an adult, don't you understand that? How dare you turn around and blame him for his parents' accident!"

Lin Yubei was seething with anger now.

The relationship among the three siblings had always been strained, and Lin Jian had even caused considerable trouble over what he considered his rightful inheritance.

Lin Cheng's death brought Lin Jian no sorrow; in fact, he was almost gleeful.

Lin Jian's anger flared even more, his rage boiling over. "He was the one being disruptive first! A child who didn't shed a single tear when his parents died—what does he know!"

"You!"

Lin Yubei pointed at him, trembling with indignation. "How could he not understand? You've gone too far!"

She couldn't fathom how this heartless wretch could utter such words to a child.

Just then, the grandfather, who had been observing coldly from the sidelines, suddenly spoke.

"The kind of child the Xu family raises is not for you to criticize. But the Lin family's upbringing—I've certainly witnessed it now."

His expression was unreadable, his voice devoid of warmth.

As the elder spoke, the argument immediately ceased.

Grandfather waved to Lin Jiaxu, who had remained silent throughout, gesturing for him to come closer.

Lin Jiaxu cast a calm glance at Lin Jian—no one could discern what the child was thinking—and walked over to his grandfather and grandmother.

Lin Jian hadn't anticipated the elder's sudden intervention, and his face immediately flushed crimson with shame.

Looking around the room at everyone—some angry, some scornful—all expressing their displeasure with him, Lin Jian finally relented and apologized to the elders.

Then, he hastily scurried out of the room.

But Lin Jiaxu cared little whether he apologized or not.

He clutched his grandmother's hand on the hospital bed. "I want my mom."

He repeated the words incessantly.

The elders sighed and finally relented.

"Take him to see... It's better to let him see them one last time."

*

The elders were all advanced in years.

Two of them were still hospitalized, and given their fragile health, they were in no condition to accompany Lin Jiaxu again. They also feared that seeing the bodies would deepen their grief and worsen their conditions, so none of their children allowed them to go.

Accompanying Lin Jiaxu to the morgue where the bodies were kept were his maternal uncle, Xu Kaichang, and aunt, Yu Ruoshu.

As they reached the entrance, a wave of cold air washed over them.

They hadn't expected Lin Jiaxu to be so bold—he ran straight in without a hint of fear or tears.

Lin Jiaxu finally saw the mother he had longed for.

"Mom."

The moment Lin Jiaxu stepped into that cold, sterile room devoid of life, he knew which person was his mother.

He ran over and pulled back the white sheet.

"Jia Jia, don't—"

Yu Ruoshu reached out to stop him but was not quick enough.

Lin Jiaxu saw the mother he had been waiting all day to see.

His gaze slowly descended, calm in a way that was almost unnerving.

The sleeping Xu Yinuan was utterly still, without even a breath. Various gruesome wounds marred her body, which was tinged with the bluish-white pallor of a corpse.

She looked anything but peaceful in her sleep, her complexion ghastly, still bearing the agony and terror from before her death. Even in slumber, she seemed restless.

Lin Jiaxu remained silent, bewildered, as he grasped Xu Yinuan's cold hand.

"Mom, please wake up, okay?"

The child's voice was so faint, he could barely hear it himself.

He had never imagined that his mother, who laughed so sweetly and possessed a voice as melodious as a nightingale, would suddenly fall silent forever.

After a long while, he slowly emerged from his daze.

He detected a faint, lingering stench, a smell eerily similar to the one present at his own birth, emanating from the wounds on his parents' bodies.

Lin Jiaxu's icy pupils, along with the whites of his eyes, instantly turned crimson. Endless black mist seeped from his body, enveloping the two corpses.

He recognized it—it was those pathetic, foul creatures that usually hid in the sewers that had killed his mother.

How dare they. They deserve to die.

The two adults couldn't comprehend the change in him and were at a loss for words. They couldn't discern much from this seemingly emotionless child.

They felt helpless, sensing the intense, suppressed grief within this small body.

But Lin Jiaxu didn't cry, and his expression barely changed. This left them unsure how to approach or comfort him.

His uncle and aunt sighed, standing silently by his side, waiting. Then they heard Lin Jiaxu say in a very soft voice:

"Mom's sleeping."

Lin Jiaxu knew his mother had always been ill. Even when she appeared normal, he could discern the difference between her and others.

She was very frail—perhaps because he had drawn too much nourishment from her during pregnancy—but she grew weaker and weaker.

Her mental state wasn't good either; she would often zone out unexpectedly, losing herself in her own world for long periods, just like him.

He had overheard Lin Cheng say once that it was because Mom was sick—depressed—and that illness was painful, so she would occasionally become overwhelmed by sadness and despair.

For years, her condition hadn't worsened significantly. Lin Jiaxu had thought they would always be like this, that they would have countless happy days and nights ahead. Even with the presence of that annoying Lin Cheng, it was something he could tolerate.

But happiness, it turned out, was stolen—everything was like a firework blooming in the night sky, dazzling but fleeting.

Everything came to an abrupt end today.

Lin Jiaxu wanted to lash out uncontrollably, to unleash his fury without restraint.

But he loved his mother deeply.

Mom didn't like bad children.

So, he had to try his best to be a good boy, even if his acting was clumsy and his mother could no longer see it.

He had always known that the comfortable life he had was because someone had indulged him.

But now, he had lost the person who indulged him.

Xu Yinuan could no longer respond to him.

Lin Jiaxu slowly turned his gaze to Lin Cheng on the other side—a similarly corpse-pale face, but with even more injuries, almost unrecognizable.

If not for Lin Jiaxu's ability to identify people by their scent, he wouldn't have been able to recognize who it was based on appearance alone.

That was his father.

Lin Jiaxu thought silently.

A coward who had feared him since the day he was born, who was so terrified of him he would freeze, who initially didn't even dare to approach him, and who had once tried to strangle him or abandon him in a deserted alley while he and his mother were asleep.

But now, this coward had died alongside his mother.

Perhaps he died protecting her.

At this moment, Lin Jiaxu suddenly realized—this person was indeed his father.

A father who loved his mother, who occasionally teased him but also indulged him and played along with his antics.

In that moment, Lin Jiaxu felt that maybe he didn't dislike Lin Cheng as much as he thought.

Lin Jiaxu stood by Xu Yinuan for a long time.

He slowly walked over to Lin Cheng's side but didn't linger—just a few minutes. After taking one last look at Xu Yinuan, he calmly left the cold room with the two adults who had brought him.

As he left, black mist quietly emanated from Lin Jiaxu's body, slowly enveloping the two corpses.

The moment the black mist vanished, two thin, thorn-covered vines appeared around Lin Jiaxu's left wrist.

The thorns tightly wrapped around his wrist, and two small white flowers, invisible to Xu Kaichang and Yu Ruoshu, bloomed on the vines, nestled close together.

The larger, more pure white flower, as he left, softly brushed its petals against the skin of Lin Jiaxu's wrist.

Like a tender kiss, it caressed the boy as it always had, silently comforting him.

At the same time, a familiar corruption signature reappeared on the Alien Bureau's monitoring network.

"Director Li! It's an S-class pollution!"

The technician, hearing the alarm, immediately bolted upright.

...

Leaving aside the chaos at the Alien Bureau for now, Lin Jiaxu was about to attend his parents' funeral.

The child didn't cry from beginning to end.

Even though he kept begging for his parents, he didn't shed a single tear.

After seeing his parents, everyone noticed that the once noisy, difficult child had suddenly grown quiet.

At the funeral, many acquaintances and business contacts came to mourn.

Lin Jiaxu obediently stood at the front, holding photos of his parents, but his gaze never fell on the coffins.

He was lost in his own world, often looking down at his hands, occasionally forming a faint smile.

It was as if he had returned to the way he was before his parents left—eating quietly when told to eat, sleeping when told to sleep, but ignoring everyone except for basic necessities.

In a black-and-white funeral, smiling should have been something to be scolded for or something creepy.

But none of the elders reprimanded him for his behavior; instead, they showed concern.

A mourner glanced at Lin Jiaxu, who clearly knew about his condition, and sighed, "This child... what's to become of him?"

Lin Jian cast a sidelong glance at the little brat who had gotten him scolded earlier, thinking to himself, what else could be done?

This little brat had thrown tantrums at the hospital, demanding to see his mother, yet he never cried once. Lin Jian had thought the child missed his mother deeply, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

He seemed like a heartless, ungrateful little monster, who'd never be tamed.

Just wait, he'd raise this little brat, but he would make sure he suffered.