It had been almost a month since leaving the Fuyuan Processing Plant Factory, but Tao Fengche had been weighed down by one lingering question—why was Zhao Jiayang’s hand trembling?

At that time, Zhao Jiayang had held a gun to Tao Fengche’s temple, threatening Sui Yuesheng, while Sui Yuesheng’s gun was steadily aimed at Zhao Jiayang. The atmosphere was extremely tense, like a tightly drawn bow, ready to snap at any moment.

Zhao Jiayang had no previous connection to Sui Yuesheng. He knew full well that the latter wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, and he was also aware that any movement in such a high-stress situation could be seen as a precursor to an attack…

But why?

It couldn’t be that he was deliberately trying to make Sui Yuesheng misunderstand him, in hopes that Sui Yuesheng would shoot him, just to test the effectiveness of his bulletproof vest, right?

…That idea was too absurd.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Tao Fengche dismissed it as impossible. But aside from that, he couldn’t think of any other explanation.

Or could it be… Zhao Jiayang had truly intended to drag him down with him, but at the last moment, he showed mercy?

Tao Fengche racked his brain, unable to come up with an answer. After tossing and turning for over ten days, he finally decided to temporarily set the question aside, along with all the other mysteries surrounding Zhao Jiayang, and move on with his life.

However, just a few days into his peaceful life, Jie Yushu suddenly appeared, and a long-buried past began to reveal itself. Unexpectedly, the question that had troubled him for so long was answered.

—The reason Zhao Jiayang’s hand trembled was because of a sudden surge of cancer pain.

It was also because he never intended to hurt Tao Fengche. At that critical moment, Zhao Jiayang had used his gun to push Tao Fengche away from him.

Unlike Tao Fengche, who had no protection, Zhao Jiayang was wearing a bulletproof vest, so the bullets wouldn’t cause him any serious harm, though they would still hurt. What’s more… he was a terminal pancreatic cancer patient, constantly tormented by pain.

Tao Fengche wished he had never learned the truth.

He would rather Zhao Jiayang had remained the cold-blooded, crazed murderer of his father in his memory.

The long-sought truth had slowly begun to unfold, almost within reach, but Tao Fengche suddenly lost the courage to face it.

Fear began to creep into him, a subtle dread of the truth that might be different from what he had imagined.

Maybe… it would be better to stop here?

The dead are gone, be it Tao Zhixing, Chu Yin, or Zhao Jiayang. They’ve all moved on to another world. Zhao Jiayang was guilty of murdering Tao Zhixing, and it was also true that he had intentionally kidnapped Tao Fengche. Even if he did have his reasons…

What difference would it make?

Life is a one-way river, and all streams eventually flow into the sea. The dead cannot come back to life.

For the first time in a long while, Tao Fengche felt the urge to avoid everything. He lowered his head, his expression hidden, as a somber mood enveloped him.

The phone, now hung up, lay quietly on the table. In the large study, there was no sound, and the faint breaths of two people were barely audible.

Sui Yuesheng silently stared at Tao Fengche for a while, the worry in his gaze growing stronger. After a brief internal struggle, he finally couldn’t hold back any longer and pulled Tao Fengche toward him.

The young alpha was unusually obedient, allowing Sui Yuesheng to pull him closer, though his gaze remained unfocused, avoiding direct eye contact with Sui Yuesheng.

Seeing this awkward behavior, Sui Yuesheng felt both amused and exasperated. He wanted to smack Tao Fengche to snap him back to reality, yet the sight of the boy, looking so pitiful after everything that had happened, made him want to comfort him instead.

In Sui Yuesheng’s eyes, Tao Fengche was someone born to be confident and spirited. Seeing him now, so dejected, made Sui Yuesheng feel a sour ache in his chest, as though his heart was steeped in a cup of high-concentration lemon juice.

With a silent sigh, Sui Yuesheng’s inner conflict continued, but in the end, his compassion won out.

“Xiao Che,” he said, standing up, “look at me.”

He held onto Tao Fengche’s wrist with one hand and forcefully turned the boy’s body to face him with the other, gripping his chin to prevent him from turning away.

Sui Yuesheng had undergone years of training, and his strength was much greater than that of a regular alpha. Tao Fengche, now restrained, found himself unable to turn back.

Of course, he wasn’t an ordinary alpha either. If he really wanted to break free, he could have. But unwilling to get rough with Sui Yuesheng, Tao Fengche was left in an awkward situation, caught between resistance and surrender.

Couldn’t Sui Yuesheng just leave him alone for a bit?

Feeling irritated, though reluctant to take it out on Sui Yuesheng, Tao Fengche simply sulked, casting his eyes downward to stare at the seam of Sui Yuesheng’s sweater—he couldn’t move his head, but he could still control his eyes. Sui Yuesheng wouldn’t force him to turn those around too, right?

Sui Yuesheng: “…”

He almost found himself laughing from frustration.

The two remained locked in a silent standoff. Eventually, Sui Yuesheng, barely resisting the urge to overpower Tao Fengche, leaned in and pressed his forehead against his.

Tao Fengche had grown taller during his teenage years, now slightly taller than Sui Yuesheng. Yet he wasn’t standing fully straight, making the gesture feel just right.

With their foreheads touching, the space between them was silent. Tao Fengche’s gaze was forced to shift, his eyes momentarily crossing in a way that would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so tense. If not for the timing, Sui Yuesheng might have burst out laughing.

But Tao Fengche wasn’t feeling nearly as comfortable.

Sui Yuesheng’s steady breathing was right by his ear, and unable to move, Tao Fengche was forced to meet his gaze. Those gray-blue eyes quietly stared at him, like the deep, tranquil waters of an ocean.

For once, Tao Fengche felt a sense of warmth and acceptance from Sui Yuesheng.

A moment later, Sui Yuesheng pulled him into a tight embrace. Their bodies fit together snugly, and Tao Fengche could feel the steady, strong rhythm of Sui Yuesheng’s heartbeat through his clothes, pounding in his ears.

The lychee scent from years ago was nowhere to be found. Sui Yuesheng now carried only the faint fragrance of sandalwood from his clothes, a scent that always reminded Tao Fengche of the family’s prayer hall.

For the past while, Xu Song had been lighting incense there from time to time, and each time he returned, he carried the smell of incense with him. Though Tao Fengche wasn’t religious, the scent had a calming effect on him.

Sui Yuesheng stayed silent, and Tao Fengche buried his head in his shoulder, resting there quietly for a long time before finally reaching out and hugging him back. “Thanks, Ge.”

“Mm.” Sui Yuesheng patted Tao Fengche’s back twice and leaned over to kiss his earlobe. “Feeling better?”

“Much better.”

His voice was muffled, like a little dog that had been caught in a downpour, drenched and pitifully seeking comfort from its owner.

Sui Yuesheng couldn’t help but smile as he gently pulled Tao Fengche away from him and exchanged a brief kiss. “Shall I call Uncle Xu up?”

Their lips barely touched before parting, but Tao Fengche, unsatisfied, was about to lean back in when Sui Yuesheng’s words made him pause.

After a moment of hesitation, Tao Fengche nodded in agreement—running away might bring temporary relief, but it wouldn’t solve anything. Avoiding the problem was shameful, and no matter how long he delayed, he would eventually have to face it.

With a sigh, he pressed Sui Yuesheng back into his seat, then pushed the neat stack of papers on the table aside to make room. He sat down on the cleared space and looked down at Sui Yuesheng.

Those gray-blue eyes, once clouded with mist, now looked like a clear sky after the rain, with a few drifting clouds.

“Can we kiss for a little longer?” Tao Fengche asked, his voice low. His puppy-like eyes were full of stubbornness as he stared intently at Sui Yuesheng.

Tao Fengche had long passed his voice-changing period, but now, due to emotional reasons, his voice was a little hoarse, though not dry, and the sound made people feel a tingling sensation in their ears.

He knew that Sui Yuesheng couldn’t do anything about him in this state.

“If you’re going to kiss me, then just do it.” Sui Yuesheng gave him a sideways glance with no real threat and reached out to press the call bell on the inside of the desk.

The young man’s lips and tongue were warm, cautious yet firm, gently licking the seam of his lips. Sui Yuesheng remained silent for a moment, then finally relaxed his teeth, silently consenting.

…

When the knock on the door finally came, the two, absorbed in the kiss, parted, a thin silver thread still connecting their lips.

Sui Yuesheng quickly reverted to his emotionless facade, took a tissue to wipe his mouth, and leisurely tidied up his hair and clothes, which Tao Fengche had disheveled. “Put away those paws of yours. If you stretch them out again, I’ll cut them off.”

As if he didn’t see it. This cheeky brat, seizing the rare moment of softness, was still unsatisfied after getting a kiss. While they were both caught up in the moment, his sneaky hands had already reached toward the hem of Sui’s clothes, slyly making their way to his waist.

A true opportunist.

If Master Tao knew that the good son he raised was using his cunning to take advantage of moments like this, who knows if he’d jump out of his grave and shoot this unfilial son.

Tao Fengche blushed but still said with a straight face, “Ge, you can touch me back.”

He tried to grab Sui Yuesheng’s hand, wanting him to feel his abs.

What was there to touch? Doesn’t everyone have abs?

Sui Yuesheng lightly slapped Tao Fengche’s outstretched hand and glared at him again.

Although he found Tao Fengche’s cheeky attitude annoying, it was still better than the pitiful, defeated look he had earlier.

He reached out and tousled Tao Fengche’s neatly combed hair into a mess. “Call in Uncle Xu.”

After Sui Yuesheng had vented, Tao Fengche simply ran a hand through his hair and obediently called out, “Uncle Xu, come in.”

Xu Song had a sense that something was wrong before he even entered. Once inside, the atmosphere felt even more unusual. He only took one look at the two, one sitting and one standing by the desk, then quickly lowered his head, not daring to look any further.

No one spoke for a long while, and Xu Song felt a growing tension, like the calm before a storm.

His intuition was always spot on, and this time was no exception.

“Uncle Xu, did you know that Zhao Jiayang had a vasectomy?”

After a long pause, Tao Fengche finally spoke, dropping a bombshell. Xu Song’s breath hitched, and after a long moment, he slowly nodded. “Yes, I knew.”

The missing piece of the puzzle had connected all the scattered clues.

No wonder Zhao Jiayang had chosen the teahouse as the meeting place that day, sent Jie Yushu to the car for the medical report, and cleared the room. Tao Fengche had thought Zhao Jiayang was going to reveal some secret, but looking back, Zhao Jiayang was clearly trying to avoid Xu Song, who knew the truth!

And with Tao Fengche’s character, after learning such a secret, he would undoubtedly help Zhao Jiayang keep it, never asking Xu Song about “whether his uncle was born sterile,” but if Xu Song had been there…

Zhao Jiayang truly was a meticulous planner.

Tao Fengche narrowed his eyes slightly, having pieced everything together. He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. “…Why?”

Xu Song remained silent.

“Uncle Xu!” Tao Fengche’s voice dropped an octave.

Xu Song hung his head low and sighed silently.

Time had flown by, and so many years had passed in the blink of an eye. All the people involved in these hidden past events had long since passed away, leaving only him, the one who knew the truth.

Xu Song had planned to take these secrets to the grave but hadn’t expected Tao Fengche to uncover so much.

These events were from so long ago that knowing the truth wouldn’t change anything. Xu Song wanted to persuade Tao Fengche not to dig deeper but couldn’t disobey his master’s orders. In the end, he could only sigh heavily.

“Because of Young Master Chu, or rather, Chu Yin.”

The story was long, and even Xu Song wasn’t sure where to start. After a brief pause, he threw a question to Sui Yuesheng: “Young Master Sui, do you remember me mentioning something about Madam Chu before?”

Sui Yuesheng slowly nodded.

“Although Chu Yin and Zhao Jiayang were both adopted by the old master, their situations were not the same…”

As Xu Song unfolded the story, the long-buried past finally revealed its mysteries. It was as though they had found a special key, unlocking a library sealed for years, dust gradually being swept away.

The dust settled everywhere.