Goosebumps quickly spread across Tao Fengche’s arms.

In extreme fear, his wrist trembled slightly, causing the plastic chopsticks in his hand to wobble.

Before this, perhaps because Zhao Jiayang hadn’t been too rough with him, Tao Fengche still harbored some unrealistic fantasies. But at this moment, when he saw the Alpha in front of him, whose tongue had been cut off just to ensure he would keep a secret, he finally realized: the Zhao Jiayang he once knew, his uncle, was completely gone.

The Zhao Jiayang standing before him now was a ruthless man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

Tao Fengche’s face turned pale, but the muscular man next to him remained calm. Either he didn’t find anything unusual, or he was already used to others’ reactions. He reached out and pulled the chopsticks from Tao Fengche’s tight grip. The latter, shocked and unprepared, loosened his hand, and the chopsticks were easily taken.

The muscular man placed the chopsticks in the lunchbox, cleaned up, and set it on the ground. Then, he picked up a pair of handcuffs, raised them in front of Tao Fengche, and shook them slightly, the meaning clear: Are you going to put them on willingly, or should I force you?

The man wore a black tank top with a jacket over it, his arms bulging with muscles. Tao Fengche took one glance before lowering his head and obediently stretched out his hands, allowing the man to cuff them together again. He then used a hemp rope to bind him back to his previous position.

Losing his freedom once more did not feel pleasant. Tao Fengche shifted uncomfortably on the stool, trying to find a more comfortable position, but to no avail.

He opened his mouth, trying to say something to convey his harmlessness and obedience, hoping the muscular man would tie him in a less painful way. But before he could speak, the man suddenly pulled a thick, damp white towel from his jacket pocket.

Tao Fengche instantly forgot what he wanted to say. Under his terrified gaze, the man pressed the towel over his mouth and nose.

It was obvious that the towel had been soaked in some drug that would knock him out. He quickly shut his mouth, held his breath, and closed his eyes tightly, trying to resist in this way. But the man was patient.

Minutes later, Tao Fengche’s lungs ran out of air, and his chest began to tighten painfully, as if someone were hammering at it. He could no longer resist the urge to breathe.

The moment he inhaled the first breath of fresh air mixed with the anesthetic, his mind began to slow down, his thoughts gradually becoming muddled, and his body started to feel heavy.

Once again, he returned to that familiar river.

…

The lower your expectations, the greater your happiness. Tao Fengche used to think this was nonsense, but now he felt there was some truth to it.

One piece of evidence was that when he opened his eyes again and realized that, unlike last time, there was no scene change during his unconsciousness, and he was still in that tightly guarded, empty room, he felt a strange sense of relief.

—At least this suggested that, even if this wasn’t Zhao Jiayang’s final destination, it was a fixed base of operations. And it was here that Zhao Jiayang had called Sui Yuesheng. As long as they stayed here, Sui Yuesheng had a better chance of finding them.

Tao Fengche let out a breath. In the next moment, his attention was drawn to the new person in the room.

Zhao Jiayang was sitting not far from him, turned sideways, smoking a cigarette. The ground was littered with cigarette butts, and he had another one in his mouth, his head slightly lowered, lost in thought.

The cigarette tip flickered with tiny sparks. After a long while, Zhao Jiayang took the cigarette from his mouth, tapped off the ash, and put the filter back between his lips, moving with practiced ease.

Tao Fengche knew Zhao Jiayang smoked, but rarely saw him do so. Now, seeing it so abruptly, he watched his uncle’s profile for a while and actually felt a trace of loneliness.

Like a traveler walking alone in the vast world, with no place to come from and no idea where to go.

For a moment, he felt a bit of pity for Zhao Jiayang, but then he looked at the rope binding him and realized he shouldn’t be feeling sympathy for the criminal who had kidnapped him.

He sighed quietly to himself, his emotions in turmoil, while Zhao Jiayang remained oblivious.

Tao Fengche had woken up silently this time, and Zhao Jiayang was lost in his own thoughts, so he hadn’t noticed Tao Fengche’s state.

After a while, Tao Fengche mentally prepared himself and softly cleared his throat, drawing Zhao Jiayang’s attention.

Zhao Jiayang glanced over, “You’re awake?”

His tone was flat, his face expressionless, turning what should have been a question into a statement.

It was almost the same question as last time, but Tao Fengche inexplicably felt that Zhao Jiayang was kinder this time. His tone didn’t carry the brewing storm of their previous encounter, and even his gaze seemed less intense.

If it weren’t for the handcuffs on his wrists and being tied to the chair, Tao Fengche would have doubted whether the uncle he once knew had returned.

Time changes everything.

Tao Fengche hesitated, then nodded, gathering his courage. “Uncle…”

He tried calling him by the familiar term again. This time, Zhao Jiayang didn’t turn away with a cold face, nor did he respond as he used to. He simply glanced at him calmly.

From that look, Tao Fengche felt a faint glimmer of hope. He pressed on, “What time is it now?”

Locked in a room with no windows and drugged every time he ate, it was easy to lose track of time. Last time he’d been able to judge based on his hunger, but this time, he had eaten far more than usual before passing out.

You gain some, you lose some. While he didn’t need to worry about starving in the short term, Tao Fengche couldn’t estimate how much time had passed.

“It’s ten in the morning.” Zhao Jiayang pulled up the sleeve of his suit jacket, checked his watch, and gave the exact time: “Ten twenty-seven.”

…It was already the next day.

It had been nearly seventeen hours since Zhao Jiayang had kidnapped him, and Tao Fengche didn’t know if Sui Yuesheng had reported it to the police. If they had, how far had things progressed by now?

Tao Fengche sighed inwardly, pushing these thoughts that would only make him anxious out of his mind, reminding himself to stay calm.

His previous assessment wasn’t wrong; Zhao Jiayang was in a much better state today than he had been yesterday. At least now, he was willing to answer questions.

As long as he was willing to answer, communication was possible.

Just then, Zhao Jiayang suddenly spoke, somewhat abruptly, “Are you hungry?”

Tao Fengche’s train of thought was completely disrupted by the question. After a moment of surprise, he quickly shook his head, “Not hungry.”

It was the truth. He had eaten too much the night before and had no appetite at all now.

Zhao Jiayang hummed in acknowledgment and said nothing more.

In the silence, Tao Fengche took a deep breath, carefully preparing his words, and cautiously asked the question that had been buried deep in his heart, “Uncle, are you doing this for Aunt?”

To Tao Fengche’s surprise, Zhao Jiayang didn’t react much. He maintained the same posture as before, holding a cigarette between his index and middle fingers, silently bringing the filter to his lips, taking a deep drag, letting the nicotine fill his lungs.

Only after a long while did he exhale, slowly blowing out the smoke. The grayish-white haze filled the air, obscuring his face and hiding his expression.

Tao Fengche realized that Zhao Jiayang was deliberately avoiding the question.

He assumed Zhao Jiayang’s silence was an unspoken admission. Unbothered by the awkwardness of the cold response, he continued on his own, “I already know. Aunt was a beta.”

Tao Fengche spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly.

This time, Zhao Jiayang finally turned his head and glanced at him. His face still bore no expression, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes. He slightly parted his lips, as if preparing to say something.

Zhao Jiayang hadn’t expected Tao Fengche to uncover this. But on second thought, it wasn’t all that surprising, given that Tao Fengche had accidentally stumbled upon that production base and had been interning under Jing Ning for some time.

Zhao Jiayang suddenly took a fierce drag of his cigarette, then threw the butt to the ground.

The gray-white smoke was like a screen, and through this hazy veil, countless memories resurfaced in his mind.

Chu Yin had almond-shaped eyes, with a tiny, faint mole at the corner of the right eye that was barely visible unless you looked closely. He had a particularly beautiful smile.

When they first met, Chu Yin was so thin that a gust of wind could have blown him away. His face was pale, with large, hollow eyes like a skeleton. His body was covered in a patchwork of bruises and marks left by fingernails. There wasn’t a single patch of unscarred skin on him.

After a few years of good care at the Tao household, he finally gained some weight, but his health remained poor. A family doctor was brought in, who said the illness had been present since birth and couldn’t be cured, only managed. The Tao Master at the time, Tao Fengche’s grandfather didn’t feel comfortable sending him to school, so after consulting his wife, they hired a private tutor. After Zhao Jiayang and Tao Zhixing came home from school, they would sometimes visit Chu Yin in his room.

Perhaps because they both lived under someone else’s roof, Chu Yin was always well-behaved, showing respect for his older brother Tao Zhixing, but especially clinging to Zhao Jiayang. He would sit quietly at his desk doing his homework, but when he saw Zhao Jiayang, he would smile and sometimes tug at his sleeve, asking him to help with his homework so he could go out and play on the swings.

Then…

He entered puberty, with tear-filled eyes arguing that he wanted to be an omega, refusing to listen to reason, stubborn as ever.

And later, his swollen, sick face, the emaciated hands on the white hospital bed, and finally… finally…

Zhao Jiayang didn’t want to recall any more. But the moments he had clung to, and those he had tried to forget, kept flashing back in his mind.

Like a nightmare from which there was no escape.

Zhao Jiayang remained silent for a long time. But in the end, he only took another cigarette from his suit pocket, lit it, took a deep drag, and flicked the ash, saying, “Forget it. You don’t know anything, kid.”

Tao Fengche had been eagerly anticipating a response, but Zhao Jiayang’s reaction left him disappointed. For a moment, he even forgot to argue back.

By the time he regained his senses, Zhao Jiayang’s gaze had grown distant again, as if he were staring through the air at something that didn’t exist.

Zhao Jiayang didn’t say another word.

The curtain of silence descended, enveloping the entire room and weighing heavily on Tao Fengche’s heart.

The floor was littered with cigarette butts. Zhao Jiayang’s right wrist, which emerged from his shirt as he raised his hand to smoke, bore several small, noticeable needle marks.