Chapter 65 Changing Topics

Chapter 65: Changing the Subject

Chen Jiyan didn't have the stamina for things to go much further. He tried to stop it before it became uncontrollable, but he had no chance to speak—his pushing and resisting only came across as coy reluctance.

"Forget it," Chen Jiyan said, meeting a pair of eyes deeper and more intense than usual through the thin layer of fabric, like sapphires submerged in water. "Let's just enjoy the moment."

"There's... a message. Let me check..."

"Don't bother."

There was almost no barrier left between them now. Half of Chen Jiyan's body was suspended in the air, leaving him feeling insecure. He instinctively wanted to grab onto something, but his hand fell limp under the other's movements.

"This isn't good... How about... next time?"

His pleas—from addressing him as "Governor," to "You Jinhui," and finally to the hard-to-utter "brother"—were all useless.

The bastard still had a shred of conscience, moving him from the sofa back to the room, then carrying him to the shower to help him wash up.

His biological clock roused the half-dead Chen Jiyan. He still remembered the unread message from yesterday.

"What did Mother talk to you about?"

Chen Jiyan was so engrossed in reading the messages that he didn't notice the weight that had settled on his shoulder. You Jinhui seemed to have just woken up, his eyes still drowsy.

"Some things from childhood, and your photos." Chen Jiyan generously showed him the records. "Maybe you should put some clothes on first?"

You Jinhui had somehow pulled out one of Chen Jiyan's knitted jackets and draped it over himself, shifting the scene from inappropriate to cozy.

You Jinhui had no life photos from the age of ten onward, and video footage was even scarcer. It wasn't until he became an adult and served as the Secretary-General to the Finance Minister that he made public appearances.

"Why are there none after that?"

"The family was arguing; no one paid attention to me." Plus, he himself wasn't keen on such things.

"Actually, I've never been sure if she willingly gave birth to me."

When he first learned the truth, self-loathing enveloped him completely. He wanted to apologize but couldn't bring himself to speak.

"I thought she would resent me."

In a way, it was a small rebellious phase. He deliberately acted cold, hoping to earn open disdain, but unfortunately, he didn't succeed.

The adjustment period wasn't long. They found a suitable way to get along. At twelve, You Jinhui demanded that his mother treat him like an adult.

They had a brief but deep conversation. You Ting's expression was hard to read—neither satisfied nor dissatisfied. Given her complete lack of experience in parenting, You Jinhui had at least proposed a solution she didn't dislike.

"Why didn't you clear the air?"

Chen Jiyan didn't ask such a question. The moment the doubt arose in his mind, it was automatically answered. That period was an unpleasant experience for his mother, and the young You Jinhui might not have been able to accept the worst-case scenario he had imagined.

Mother and son tacitly changed the topic.

And so it remained until now.

"What else do you want to know? About me."

"Nothing hidden from me? I can ask anything I want?"

Chen Jiyan hoped for a negative answer—that would be fairer, easier to accept.

Unfortunately, the opposite was true.

"What if I can't do the same as you?"

"If you're hiding things for my own good, then I hope you'll be honest. If it's for other reasons, I have no right to pry."

"Will you support me no matter what I do? Even if it harms Ding Shu? Even if the world ends? Even if... I go back to the past?" he pressed further.

You Jinhui's expression finally faltered upon hearing the words "go back to the past."

"I'll support you in everything."

"If one day you want to, and are able to, go back,"

"I'll bless you."

The second person in the New Calendar to bless him.

These words were more sincere and moving than any confession. Love, promises—they were all elusive things, neither lasting nor verifiable.

At least when they said these words, they genuinely wished him well. What moved Chen Jiyan was that moment of sincerity.

Human emotions are too complex and fickle. He was never good at handling them and rarely analyzed them carefully. So he chose to remember only the good, warm feelings. Even if they lasted only a fleeting moment, they were enough to savor for a long, long time.

Blood ties aren't always strong; relationships built through daily companionship are more stable—at least in Ding Shu, that's the case.

Teacher and student, colleagues, guardians—they could entrust their backs to each other in life-or-death moments. Like raising affinity in a game, through companionship over time, they became trustworthy partners.

This was also why Sang Xia'en gave every child the initial system setting that only guardians were worthy of trust.

He found the right moment and opened the black box.

"Aren't you my guardian?"

"No. Go find someone else."

Vita Star didn't dislike childcare work, but she certainly didn't like it either.

Sticky, dirty, with big, watery eyes blinking up at you.

Troublesome creatures.

The choice between guardian and child was mutual. Occasionally, there were cases of random assignment like this. Vita Star had never taken care of a child before. The little bundle in front of her was a well-meaning reminder.

The little bundle obediently walked away.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I asked everyone. They already have their own children and can't take care of me."

It wasn't unusual for one adult to look after two or three children, but the kids who had already found their desired guardians weren't willing to share.

"Fine," Vita Star resigned herself.

Though not clever, at least cute and not annoying, the little bundle was a very easy child to care for. Most of the time, she even ended up looking after Vita Star instead.

"Why can't I call you 'Mom'? Don't you like it?" The soft, fragile human child asked a foolish question. "But everyone else calls them that."

His head wasn't even as big as a soccer ball, couldn't handle anything too complex. He could only tell if someone was happy—and pleased with him—just by whether they smiled.

"Would calling you 'sister' make you happy?"

Trying to please adults was almost instinctive, a way to get protection, food, and rewards.

Yet Veta Star was a cold, heartless adult, always focused on her research, quiet and stern.

Fortunately, little kids don't hold grudges. He kept trying to be cute and figured out how to get along with her. As long as she didn't dislike him, that meant she liked him.

So when Veta Star clearly rejected the title "Mom," the child wasn't disheartened.

What you called someone wasn't fixed—mother, sister, aunt, even teacher—all were common, but Veta Star refused them all.

"Don't I have my own name?"

This was the first thing Veta Star said to him, aside from a few interjections.

"But they say it's rude to just use someone's name."

"What if I don't use your name and just call you 4759? Would that make you happy?"

"No, I have a name."

"Hmm, Chen Jiyan. So what should you call me?"

"Veta Star."

"Good boy."

Chen Jiyan had only ever seen this former guardian in other people's memories; this was the first time he saw Veta Star in his own memory.

Not the rigorous scholar, not the gentle elder, not the disgraced traitor. Under the unchanging sunlight of Sangsiaen was a living, breathing person.

"Go on, Chen Jiyan."

On the eve of Sangsiaen's collapse, he was pushed through a door. No one knew where it led.

"It can't be worse than now. I bless you."

"I hope you find family, friends, love—that you get to experience beautiful, sincere feelings. If possible, don't come back."

"I bless you with a short but happy life."

Back then, he didn't understand; he only thought he had been abandoned.

Ever since he was little, Chen Jiyan knew he wasn't up to standard. His health was too poor; he might not even survive until the exam at age twelve. So no guardian was willing to choose an investment destined to fail.

For as long as he could remember, he was terrified of the exam results. No one wanted to be eliminated.

Veta Star wasn't like other kids' guardians, who would gently comfort them, saying it was okay, that no matter the outcome, they were still a good child and would surely graduate smoothly.

"What happens if I fail? If I'm judged as unqualified..."

"Then the system will tell you it's just a game. Please delete your file and start over." Veta Star was cruel and blunt.

A gentle yet cruel form of euthanasia.

Even a twelve-year-old who's been taught about death would still be scared. So why tell them the truth? Let them sleep peacefully in the lie woven by both humans and the system.

"Is it really a game? Does failing not matter? Can I try again?" The young Chen Jiyan was exceptionally naive.

"Of course not," Veta Star replied firmly and decisively. "But, since I'm your guardian, I can give you one more chance."

"Really?" A child's emotions were written all over his face, changing faster than flipping a page.

Finally managing to soothe the little crybaby before tears fell, Veta Star pinched his soft cheek, using a tone even she found overly sweet: "Of course, I'll make sure you graduate smoothly."

"Great! Thank you!" Little Chen Jiyan cheered, spinning around. "Veta Star, you're the best person in the whole world!"

"Then share one of your afternoon tea snacks with me."

"I already ate them all..."

"Oh? How careless. I always save tender alfalfa grass for you."

"That's what's left after feeding Nico!"

"Next time, remember to save a snack for your guardian."

"Other guardians don't do that!" Little Chen Jiyan protested.

"Then change guardians."

"My new guardian after I turn twelve definitely won't steal snacks from a child like you!"

"Oh? We'll see."