This was the first time Qi Xiaolin had told someone everything about his past without reservation. After he finished speaking, Yan Qingming remained silent for a long moment before saying, “I am sorry.”
Qi Xiaolin gave a bitter smile. “You are not the one who needs to apologize to me.”
“It is a great regret that in Qingyan’s final moments, I was still that spoiled, arrogant young master, acting holier-than-thou toward him. I did not even know what we were about to face or what real danger was when he took me to A Island. It was only when I heard his screams that I realized how wrong I had been. I have thought more than once how much better it would have been if the useless one who died back then had been me.”
“I do not know if Qingyan, watching from heaven, would feel happy or comforted seeing the suffering I endured in the years that followed.”
Yan Qingming clumsily raised his hand to stroke Qi Xiaolin’s head where it rested against his neck. “I do not know how to say nice things, but I believe that someone as kind as Qingyan would never feel pleased to see others in pain.”
Qi Xiaolin fell silent. He reached out to turn off the light and said in a muffled voice, “Let us sleep.”
Reliving the past was agonizing. Yan Qingming watched the shoulders of the man shivering with the rhythm of silent sobs and could not help but sigh. He pulled the quilt over Qi Xiaolin and, just as he had done in the past, gently patted his back, hushing him into sleep without a word. Qi Xiaolin buried his head lower, refusing to let Yan Qingming know he was crying.
Seeing this, Yan Qingming wanted to smile, but he felt too bitter to do so. In the end, Qi Xiaolin was still just a child.
His pants had long since been discarded by Qi Xiaolin. Moonlight spilled in, illuminating his body, his two long, fair legs stacked together. No one would ever notice the faint, faded canine bite marks on the inner side of his thighs.
When had he been adopted by the Yan family? He could not remember clearly. He only knew that when he first opened his eyes, he was already in the Yan household, locked in a training room day and night, treated as a machine devoid of emotions. Rather than an adopted son, killing machine was a more accurate description of what the Yan family had raised him to be.
Yan Qingming was a light sleeper, but perhaps because his body was too exhausted, he did not notice when Qi Xiaolin got up early. By the time he opened his eyes, the sun was already high in the sky.
When he walked downstairs, he saw that the number of servants in the villa had doubled, and bodyguards were pacing back and forth outside. He realized his movements were restricted once again.
Qi Xiaolin was dressed in a suit, looking ready to head out. Beside him stood a man in his late twenties wearing a black suit, looking mature as he reported something to Qi Xiaolin.
It was Ren Jue.
Yan Qingming cast a fleeting glance at them before looking away. After bringing Qi Xiaolin into the Yan family home all those years ago, he had trained Qi Xiaolin to work under him. After Qi Xiaolin rebelled, the people who followed him most closely were Yan Qingming’s own subordinates, with Ren Jue at the forefront.
Qi Xiaolin had his reasons, and while Yan Qingming did not hold a grudge against him, he saw no reason to be friendly toward those who had betrayed him.
Ren Jue heard the footsteps behind him and turned to see Yan Qingming coming downstairs in casual loungewear. As if he could not feel Yan Qingming’s indifference, he greeted him with a smile just as he always had: “Brother Ming.”
Yan Qingming looked back at him, not missing the flash of dark intent that crossed Ren Jue’s eyes.
Is this hostility?