“How many people have you killed?” Ke Mingxuan asked him.

“I don’t remember.” Bian Yiqiu narrowed his eyes, as if recalling something. “The first time I stuck a knife into someone’s body, I was only six years old. Over the years, I’ve punched, slashed, and even pressed a gun to people’s heads… tsk, I can’t even count them all.”

He spoke with a faint smile at the corners of his lips, his expression relaxed, his tone light and even cheerful. There was even a hint of nostalgia and pride in his words. But for some reason, Ke Mingxuan suddenly felt a pang of pain, as if an invisible thread was tightening around the organs in his chest, slowly constricting.

What was he doing at six years old? He was being picked up and dropped off at school by his father’s bodyguards, running wild with a bunch of other troublesome kids in the compound, flipping tables because the servants’ cooking wasn’t up to his standards, getting beaten by Commander Ke and running off to his grandfather’s place for two months without coming home… He couldn’t imagine what kind of extreme circumstances a six-year-old would have to face to drive them to stick a knife into someone’s body.

“Boss Bian.”

Lost in his past glory, Boss Bian turned to look at him, making a questioning sound: “Hmm?”

Ke Mingxuan looked at the sharply defined face in front of him and smiled. “I’m not interested in killing people. Tell me about your childhood.”

Bian Yiqiu asked, “How young are you talking about?”

“Start from your earliest memory.” Ke Mingxuan tilted his chin toward the decanter on the table. “We’ve got plenty of time to talk.”

Bian Yiqiu never shied away from his background; with an open heart, there were no unresolved knots inside him. No matter how tough life had been in the past, it was already history. Time was the best remedy for healing wounds. Even the most painful memories, after two or three decades, were enough to ferment into an aged fine wine. He could take them out from time to time, just to savor them and reminisce about the bitterness and sweetness of life. So, he didn’t refuse Ke Mingxuan’s suggestion. Instead, he furrowed his brows and thought carefully, trying to recall his earliest memory.

At six, he escaped from the orphanage. At five, his mother passed away. At four, he almost drowned while fishing by the river. At three, Bian Ying’s drug addiction wasn’t as severe, and he still had enough money to send him to kindergarten…

Bian Yiqiu chuckled. “Turns out, I did go to school after all.”

His words were so unexpected that Ke Mingxuan didn’t quite catch them and asked, “What did you say?”

Bian Yiqiu replied, “I went to school too, I attended kindergarten.”

Ke Mingxuan laughed along. “How old were you when you started kindergarten?”

“Three, I think? Or maybe three and a half? I’m not sure. The kindergarten wasn’t far from home. Bian Ying would always take me to the gate of the compound and then watch me go in by myself—oh, Bian Ying is my mother—she seemed to know her time was short, so from then on, she used her actions to show me that the road ahead was mine to walk alone. Don’t you think she had quite a bit of foresight?”

Bian Yiqiu turned his head. Ke Mingxuan looked at the smile on his face and suddenly felt the invisible thread around his heart tighten a little more.

“Did you feel scared, being so young, all alone?”

“Of course, I was scared. How could I not be?”

Bian Yiqiu’s answer caught him off guard. He had expected him to say something like, “When has Bian Yiqiu ever been scared?” But instead, at this moment, Bian Yiqiu admitted he was afraid. This unexpected response left Ke Mingxuan momentarily speechless, unsure of how to reply.

Fortunately, Bian Yiqiu continued the conversation himself, though the smile on his face gradually faded.

He said, “But I couldn’t let her know I was scared. I had to walk strong, walk steady, walk in a way that would make her feel at ease. She was watching me from behind…”

“Bian Yiqiu.” Ke Mingxuan took his hand, slowly and firmly threading his fingers between Bian Yiqiu’s. Their palms pressed together, fingers interlocked tightly.

Perhaps feeling that two grown men holding hands was a bit too awkward, Bian Yiqiu’s first instinct was to pull away. He struggled for a while, trying to break free, his leg almost kicking out in the process.

“The road ahead, I’ll walk it with you.”

Bian Yiqiu’s raised leg froze in mid-air. He stared at Ke Mingxuan in disbelief, trying to read any trace of a joke on his face. But the expression on Young Master Ke’s face was more serious than ever.

Slowly, Bian Yiqiu lowered the leg he couldn’t kick out and narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what you just said?”

“I do.” Ke Mingxuan stepped closer, pressing Bian Yiqiu between himself and the railing, locking his gaze with Bian Yiqiu’s. Their eyes tangled, sparks flying, almost burning with intensity. “I’m claiming your future.”

With those words, Ke Mingxuan kissed him, silencing the storm of shock and unspoken doubts in Bian Yiqiu’s heart, sealing them in his throat.

After saying those words, Ke Mingxuan kissed him directly, silencing all the shock and unspoken doubts in Bian Yiqiu’s heart, trapping them in his throat.

Bian Yiqiu gripped his hand tightly, parting his lips to welcome Ke Mingxuan’s strong yet gentle invasion. His heart softened completely, like it was about to melt into water and blend into Ke Mingxuan’s very being.

It was hard to tell whether it was Young Master Ke’s sweet words or the rich aroma of Romanee-Conti wine, but before they even had a drink, Bian Yiqiu was already intoxicated. And when he was drunk, he became especially talkative, even memories he thought he’d never remember again suddenly became crystal clear in an instant.

He told him about his childhood, about Bian Ying, about the “father” he never met, about the neighbors in the big compound, about the children in the orphanage who, like him, had lost their parents or been abandoned, about Old Master Jiu, about Uncle Shi, about how he struggled, step by step, to rise from the muck and stand where he was now.

In reality, his background wasn’t as complicated as Ke Mingxuan had imagined. It was just a clichéd story of a naive dancer who trusted a hypocritical and cowardly false gentleman, got deceived in both money and love, and became trapped in a fantasy of love she created for herself.

In the public’s mind, dancers in the 1980s were not much different from hostesses. Bian Ying, young and beautiful with graceful dancing, was a star performer in the days of prosperity. Many wealthy and influential guests would spend lavishly just to win a glance from her. But Bian Ying, with her pride, looked down on everyone, except for a poor college student working a summer job at the club.

She gave everything for that man—her body, her money, and a heart that was hot, burning, and alive. She took care of his tuition, accommodation, and living expenses all on her own. And when she left Longfeng Chengxiang at the height of her career, it was only because she didn’t want her work to become a source of gossip about him.

She thought of him in everything she did, with a single-minded desire to live a good life with him. But at that moment, the man became scared, hesitant. As a college student, how could he marry a dancer? Later, Bian Ying became pregnant, but the man, citing his need to prepare for graduate school, quickly arranged to leave Z City. Before he left, in order to keep Bian Ying from looking for him, he said the deeply emotional words: “Do not be upset, my love. Wait patiently, autumn will be our appointed time.”

Of course, Bian Ying was too naive to understand. She assumed the man’s words meant he was asking her not to be upset, and that when autumn came, he would return and marry her.

Such cheap, hollow words and lies moved the naive Bian Ying deeply. She tearfully saw off her lover, but forgot to ask him which year’s autumn he was talking about.

Once the man left, there was no word from him. Yet she clung to that empty promise and insisted on carrying the child to term. She named her son Yiqiu, because she had never doubted the man’s words. She naively believed that when autumn came, her waiting would be rewarded. But as autumn after autumn passed, that man never returned.

Bian Ying refused to believe that the man had lied to her, and when Bian Yiqiu was three, she started drinking and using drugs. Alcohol and hallucinations were a comfort—when your consciousness drifts far from your body, you no longer feel any pain.

During the rare moments when she was sober, she would often sit by the door, holding her son, and stare in the direction the man had left, murmuring, “Autumn is coming, your father will be back soon.”

One day, Bian Yiqiu grew tired of hearing this and said, “Mom, wake up. He’s never coming back.”

And then he received a slap.

Bian Ying had never hit him, never once. Even when she was numbed by alcohol and drugs, losing her sanity, she still remembered that he was her son, her only family in this world. In fact, when she wasn’t drinking or using drugs, she was a very gentle mother. She would sing him to sleep, cook him delicious meals, and would be especially happy when he received praise from his teacher at kindergarten.

After hitting him, four-year-old Bian Yiqiu didn’t cry, but twenty-four-year-old Bian Ying cried like a child.

In fact, to the current Bian Yiqiu, Bian Ying was nothing more than a naive, almost foolish girl. That’s why he refused to call her “mom,” and preferred to call her Bian Ying instead. How could she be a mother? He, at not even four years old, was already more sensible than she was.

Bian Yiqiu gave a self-mocking smile, took the glass of wine that Ke Mingxuan handed him, and drank the deep red liquid in one go.

Ke Mingxuan said, “This wine should be savored slowly.”

Bian Yiqiu replied, “I was just thirsty.”

Then Ke Mingxuan asked him, “So why did you run away from the orphanage later?”

“Because,” Bian Yiqiu swirled the glass of red wine and grinned, “because the first time I drove a knife into someone’s body, that ‘someone’ was the director of the orphanage.”

After Bian Ying passed away, Bian Yiqiu was sent to the orphanage, where he stayed for more than a year.

The orphanage wasn’t large, and there were very few normal children there. Most of the abandoned children had disabilities or were mentally impaired. There weren’t many like Bian Yiqiu, who was good-looking and smart.

The director was a middle-aged man in his forties, with an average appearance and a kind demeanor. He treated the children well and everything seemed normal on the surface, but in reality, he was a pedophile.

However, the orphanage was still a welfare institution, and aside from the director, there were other teachers and aunts who took care of the children. He couldn’t blatantly make a move, so every time, he would lure the children he had his eye on into his office with small things like candies and snacks. But Bian Yiqiu was very sharp and always felt uncomfortable under the man’s strange gaze, so the man’s attempts were unsuccessful after several tries.

On that year’s Children’s Day, the director prepared gifts for each child and needed a few of the older children to help him move them to the office. Naturally, six-year-old Bian Yiqiu was called upon.

No matter how unwilling Bian Yiqiu was, he couldn’t refuse at that moment. But while the other children each took a box and left, the director singled him out and kept him behind.

He smiled gently and asked if Bian Yiqiu wanted some water, candy, or fruit. Bian Yiqiu shook his head at all the offers and said no, then turned to run toward the door. But in the next moment, the man grabbed him from behind and covered his mouth…

As for why Bian Yiqiu left the orphanage, Ke Mingxuan had come up with countless guesses, but he never once thought it would be this reason. The hand he held the wine glass with slowly tightened as he listened to Bian Yiqiu’s story. Finally, he slammed the glass onto the table with a loud clink, the sound sharp and clear.

Bian Yiqiu looked at him and grinned, asking, “Does it hurt?”

Ke Mingxuan didn’t answer, but it was clear that he did feel pain.

Bian Yiqiu continued laughing without a care, “Tsk, even when I was just six, there’s no way that guy would have gotten anything out of me.”

The director probably didn’t expect Bian Yiqiu to be so difficult. The other children, with a little food or a toy, and a bit of authority from the director, would usually obey without question.

But Bian Yiqiu had always been stubborn since he was little. He grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and scratched desperately. His nails, which Auntie had been too lazy to trim for days, left deep bloody scratches. The director winced in pain and loosened his grip. Bian Yiqiu seized the opportunity to jump off the ground and rushed toward the door, but in his panic, he couldn’t open the locked door no matter how hard he tried. Meanwhile, the man’s footsteps behind him grew slower and closer.

Everyone was in the large classroom preparing for the Children’s Day evening party, and the office area was completely deserted. With no one to turn to for help, Bian Yiqiu, in his struggle, somehow found the fruit knife on the coffee table. Without thinking, he thrust it straight into the man’s body.

Blood splattered across his young face, and he could still feel the chilling temperature.

“Did he die?” Ke Mingxuan asked flatly.

“I don’t know,” Bian Yiqiu replied. “I was so scared at the time that I didn’t care whether he was dead or alive. The door wouldn’t open, so I grabbed a chair, smashed the window, and jumped out. I ran out of the orphanage.”

And then began his glorious years of fighting stray dogs and beggars for food, struggling to survive in the dirty, dark mud.