Chapter 490: Day 18 into the Alien War Story

Chapter 490: Day Eighteen in the Alien War Novel

Over the next few days, An Qionglan grew increasingly uneasy and began secretly observing.

She was a successful businesswoman, skilled at catching details, analyzing information, and sizing things up.

And now, she turned that skill on her own kids.

The next day, they went diving.

An Yi was fascinated by the underwater world.

He had learned to dive before and had gotten certified, gliding through the water like a fish.

An Cheng also took it seriously—or rather, he made it look like he did.

But An Qionglan noticed that An Cheng turned his head every few seconds to check on An Yi's whereabouts.

It was even more noticeable underwater.

The seabed was another world.

Coral clusters burst with brilliant colors, schools of fish drifting by like silver clouds.

An Yi swam intently, pausing to study a coral formation, even trailing a sea turtle for a short distance.

And An Cheng...

He barely glanced at his surroundings.

His gaze lingered on An Yi most of the time.

Wherever An Yi swam, he followed, hovering at a careful distance.

When An Yi stopped, he stopped.

When An Yi turned, he adjusted his direction.

An Qionglan watched from the side, her suspicion growing heavier.

After that, they hit the local market.

It was an alley in the old district of Haiqi City, crammed with stalls.

There were seafood vendors, fruit sellers, and handicraft stalls selling coconut carvings, shell wind chimes, pearl necklaces...

The alley was a riot of noise, tourists and locals jostling shoulder to shoulder.

An Cheng fell into step beside An Yi.

He shielded An Yi with his arm in a protective gesture, holding the crowd back.

The whole move was as natural as breathing.

Whenever An Yi lingered at a stall or gave something a second look, An Cheng would quietly buy it.

A little fish carved from coconut, a set of postcards of local scenery...

When An Yi took the coconut-carved fish, he glanced up at An Cheng and said, "Thanks, bro."

There it was again—"thanks."

An Qionglan caught the almost imperceptible press of An Cheng's lips at those words.

It was a subtle movement, fleeting, but she caught it—he was unhappy, unsatisfied, holding something back, and lost.

She suddenly remembered the little ornaments, bookmarks, and models in An Yi's room... most of them had come from moments just like this.

Over the past ten years, whenever An Yi gave something a second look, An Cheng would quietly buy it.

Unlike before, "thanks" was now the standard reply, and sometimes he wouldn't even take the gift.

That evening, they grilled out on the villa's terrace.

The terrace faced the sea, the ocean pitch black at night, with only the distant lighthouse beam sweeping by every few seconds, leaving brief glints on the wave tops.

A cool sea breeze rolled in, chasing away the day's heat.

An Cheng handled the grilling, while An Yi handed him the seasonings.

Charcoal crackled beneath the grill, seafood sizzled on the iron rack, the smell mixing with the smoky tang of charcoal.

An Cheng flipped the skewers with great care, brushing on oil and sprinkling seasonings, while An Yi stood beside him, occasionally catching something An Cheng said.

It was a cozy scene.

Warm yellow string lights swayed overhead, the red glow of the charcoal reflected on both their faces, the waves a steady soundtrack.

But An Qionglan caught one detail.

The whole time they were grilling, An Cheng almost never looked An Yi in the eye.

His eyes went to the grill, the seasoning bottles, the distant sea, the tongs in his hand... rarely to An Yi's face. But when An Yi turned away, An Cheng would lift his eyes, watching his back, the curve of his profile lit by the string lights, the pale nape of his neck showing above his T-shirt collar.

That gaze...

It was so deep it was unsettling.

Not the look of a brother watching his little brother.

Not the affection between family.

There was too much in that look for An Qionglan to examine closely—longing, restraint, pain, and a love that was almost spilling over...

An Qionglan set down her coconut juice, the glass bottom clinking sharply against the rattan tabletop.

No way?!

The impossible suspicion in her chest suddenly became crystal clear, leaving her almost breathless.

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After the barbecue, everyone headed back to their rooms.

An Qionglan lay in bed, unable to sleep.

The waves outside rose and fell in a steady rhythm, like someone breathing heavily.

Her mind replayed everything she'd noticed over the past few days—the way An Cheng looked at An Yi, the distance An Yi deliberately kept, those "thanks," those averted eyes...

She got up, threw on a jacket, and decided to take a walk, to clear her head in the sea breeze and untangle her thoughts.

A small nightlight was still on in the villa's first-floor living room.

She walked quietly down the stairs, crossed the living room, and pushed open the door to the courtyard.

Then she saw them.

An Yi and An Cheng were sitting on wicker chairs in the corner of the courtyard, their backs to her, facing the sea.

The two chairs were neither too close nor too far apart, about a meter apart.

The nightlight's glow spilled out of the house, barely outlining their silhouettes.

She couldn't hear what they were saying.

The sound of the waves was too loud, and the wind too strong.

She only saw An Cheng's profile—he was speaking, his voice low, his words slow.

An Yi listened quietly, occasionally nodding.

Then, as if sensing something, An Yi suddenly looked back.

His eyes were still bright in the darkness, as if filled with moonlight.

"Mom, still awake?" he asked.

An Qionglan's heart gave a jump, but she kept her expression natural: "Mm, came out for a walk."

An Yi stood up and walked toward her.

He was wearing a loose white T-shirt and dark shorts, looking at ease.

"The wind is strong at night, don't stay too long," he said, his tone gentle. "Get some rest soon."

"Okay," An Qionglan nodded.

An Yi smiled at her, then turned and walked toward the house.

His steps were light, and he quickly disappeared behind the door.

Only An Cheng remained in the courtyard, still sitting in that wicker chair, his back to her, motionless.

An Qionglan stood there, hesitating for a few seconds, then walked over anyway.

She couldn't hear what they had just said, but a certain oppressive atmosphere lingered in the air.

She walked to An Cheng's side, just about to speak—

Then she saw it.

An Cheng lowered his head, his hands tightly gripping the armrests of the wicker chair, his knuckles white from effort.

His shoulders were trembling slightly.

"Xiao Cheng?" An Qionglan called softly.

An Cheng looked up.

Seeing An Qionglan, he was startled for a moment, his eyes reflecting a wet glint in the darkness.

"Mom?" His voice was a little hoarse.

An Qionglan saw his face clearly.

He was crying.

Tears flowed down silently, spilling from his eyes, sliding along his cheeks, gathering at his jaw, then dripping onto his T-shirt, leaving dark stains.

His face was almost expressionless—one could even say calm—but his eyes were filled with pain: that suppressed, silent pain that threatened to consume him.

An Qionglan suddenly swallowed back all the words she had wanted to say.