After Tao Zhixing passed away, Tao Fengche forced himself to grow rapidly, almost in a self-abusive manner. Zhao Jiayang hadn’t seen him show such an innocent expression for a long time, and his feelings were inexplicably complex.

He reached out and patted Tao Fengche’s head. “With eyes that bright, how long have you been secretly sharpening your knives? Just waiting to outdo your uncle? You seem so happy, I assume your studies have been going well? But I heard…”

In Tao Fengche’s eyes, mixed with terror and disbelief, Zhao Jiayang deliberately enunciated, “A while back, it seems someone got the lowest score in the class?”

At that, Tao Fengche’s pupils truly shook.

“Uncle!” He trembled his right hand, almost spilling the cola from the can. He quickly placed it on the cup holder, barely controlling his volume. “How did you find out!”

Although he had anticipated this would spark some gossip when he made the decision, he never expected it to reach Zhao Jiayang’s ears.

Zhao Jiayang shook his head and smiled. “Just to clarify, I didn’t ask about it on purpose. Don’t forget, your report cards were posted publicly. The day after they were posted, half of the social circle in Jingpu knew about it. During that time, everywhere I went, I could hear things like ‘the young master Tao is unlikely to amount to much,’ or ‘the Tao family is on the verge of collapse.’”

“What’s that even about? It was just a final exam!” Tao Fengche’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How do these people have so much time to spare, gossiping everywhere without getting tired?”

“Xiao Che, you have to understand, the so-called ‘upper class’ that flits around parties with champagne flutes and whispers is not so different from the aunties at the old tree in the village, gossiping endlessly while cracking sunflower seeds. They just gossip about wealthier subjects.” Zhao Jiayang raised an eyebrow. “After all, gossip is human nature.”

Tao Fengche scoffed, but after a moment of contemplation, he had to admit Zhao Jiayang was right. Now, he really had a headache. “Uncle, believe me, this wasn’t my intention; I just didn’t want to go to the Western Continent for that summer camp…”

Even Zhao Jiayang couldn’t help but chuckle at this unexpectedly straightforward excuse, ultimately shaking his head helplessly. “You…”

Looking at Tao Fengche, who seemed grown yet still acted like a child, thinking of things on a whim without considering the consequences, he wondered what to do about it.

Sighing in resignation, Zhao Jiayang was about to adopt a mentor-like demeanor to lecture Tao Fengche when suddenly, a ringing sound broke the moment.

Both of them used the same phone, so Zhao Jiayang instinctively reached for his phone, and Tao Fengche reflexively turned his gaze toward him.

Moments later, Tao Fengche realized the vibration and sound were coming from his own coat pocket. He hurriedly pulled it out to look—

The caller ID glaringly displayed Wang Yuan’s name.

Tao Fengche’s breath caught, and he had a premonition—the matter that had been keeping him up at night was finally about to be resolved.

He had been eagerly anticipating this moment every second leading up to it, but now that it had arrived, he felt a surge of anxiety, an inexplicable fear of the unknown answer that made him hesitate to pick up the phone.

He stared blankly at the screen, his finger hovering in the air for what felt like an eternity before he finally couldn’t bring himself to press the button.

To Zhao Jiayang, this behavior was exceedingly unusual.

Connecting Tao Fengche’s age to his expression, Zhao Jiayang made a confident guess and casually asked, “Is it someone you like?”

His tone was so casual, devoid of the superiority of an elder, yet Tao Fengche abruptly turned his head, nearly straining his neck with the force.

His face was filled with shock; he couldn’t understand why Zhao Jiayang would make such an absurd guess.

Someone he liked. Wang Yuan.

Oh my god.

Putting aside the fact that a same-sex relationship wasn’t mainstream, just picturing himself dating Wang Yuan was suffocating and terrifying.

It was like a horror movie.

He tried to argue against it, but Zhao Jiayang interrupted him again. “Time flies; I still remember when you were little, you loved running around us, saying you wanted to live with your father and us for a lifetime. Years have passed, and now you have someone you like.”

His words were tinged with nostalgia, leaving Tao Fengche unsure how to respond. He was genuinely curious about the answer but felt caught in a bind, freezing and glancing frequently at his phone.

Zhao Jiayang, unable to contain his sentimental expression, burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright, kids grow up and leave home; I’ve been mentally prepared for this. Xiao Che isn’t the little child who would cling to me when his father scolded him anymore.” He waved his hand with a teasing expression. “Just answer the phone; pretend I’m not here.”

“Do you need me to wear earbuds too?” he added, as if it wasn’t enough.

If Tao Fengche hadn’t realized Zhao Jiayang was deliberately teasing him, he would have been a fool.

His face flushed, and he desperately clarified, “What are you saying, uncle! It’s Wang Yuan!”

Fearing Zhao Jiayang wouldn’t remember, or might confuse him with someone else sharing the same name, he quickly added, “My childhood friend!”

Tao Fengche thought this would clear up any misunderstanding, but to Zhao Jiayang, it only seemed like a glaring attempt to cover up.

He looked at Tao Fengche with an understanding gaze for a while, full of affection. “Alright, I understand. You can answer.”

With an appearance of a completely loving elder, if Zhao Jiayang hadn’t started teasing earlier and now struggled to suppress a smile, Tao Fengche might have actually believed him.

…It’s over; the situation is getting worse.

Tao Fengche closed his eyes and made up his mind to hang up the phone.

After all, he had been waiting for so many days; a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Once they got to the restaurant, he could use the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom to call Wang Yuan back.

Moreover, this call from Wang Yuan might not even be about the account issue; it could just be that he heard they got out of school early and was calling to vent or chat.

【Tao Fengche】:[I’m a bit busy right now; it’s inconvenient to take the call.]

He sent a quick text to Wang Yuan, then placed the phone on the armrest between them, physically demonstrating his choice of uncle over the call, so there was absolutely no hint of secretly dating.

But Zhao Jiayang wasn’t willing to let him off that easily.

Born into this family and raised in this environment, Tao Fengche was already more mature than his peers. After Tao Zhixing’s death, he had grown even more serious.

Yet Zhao Jiayang knew that Tao Fengche hadn’t abandoned his emotions; he had merely suppressed many feelings deep inside. Such excessive restraint was detrimental to both mental and physical health.

For both emotional and logical reasons, Tao Fengche needed a proper outlet, and now was a perfect time—he rarely saw Tao Fengche so lively, his thoughts clearly written on his face.

And he enjoyed teasing Tao Fengche, finding genuine joy in it. Furthermore, after Tao Zhixing’s passing, he was now Tao Fengche’s only elder. Zhao Jiayang felt it was his duty to guide him in many matters.

“Xiao Che, did your father talk to you about anything before he passed?” he carefully chose his words.

“Hmm?” Tao Fengche was somewhat confused.

Could it be about the business on both sides of the underworld, or some specific arrangements? Tao Fengche thought to himself, feeling his breath quicken.

“About AO relationships, as well as some specific common knowledge, for example, marking.”

Under Tao Fengche’s subtly expectant gaze, Zhao Jiayang slowly spoke, giving the answer he least wanted to hear.

Why are we still talking about this?!

Tao Fengche felt extremely awkward, wanting to roar in frustration and beg Zhao Jiayang to change the topic.

But ever since he was a baby, Zhao Jiayang had held him, and he was an elder who had watched him grow up. Suppressing his resistance was as easy for Zhao Jiayang as it was for Buddha to subdue the Monkey King.

So Tao Fengche could only blush furiously, suppressing his embarrassment, and listen to Zhao Jiayang give him a one-on-one alpha puberty sex education lesson.

…Being lectured about sexual knowledge by an elder face-to-face was far too dramatic; it felt like a disaster.

Tao Fengche felt like time was dragging on, and he didn’t know how many minutes had passed. Suddenly, a text notification sounded from his phone resting on the armrest, and the message automatically displayed on the screen.

Tao Fengche eagerly leaned down to read it, like a drowning person grasping the last piece of floating wood.

[Wang Yuan]: [Tao Ge, I found out the name of the payee for Liu Tianlei’s overseas account. The system shows it’s “Yin Chu.” Do you know this person?]

Yin Chu.

This followed the word order of the Western Continent. If changed to Chinese, it would be Chu Yin—楚殷.

Tao Fengche could hardly believe what he was seeing. His heart dropped to his stomach, and he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, cold sweat instantly soaking his clothes, once again experiencing what “sweating profusely” truly meant.

The soft fabric sticking to his skin made him feel nauseous. No one moved, and he felt like a bug suddenly attacked by resin, trapped in a viscous liquid unable to move.

He drifted into endless thoughts.

The phone screen darkened from lack of interaction.

Finally, Tao Fengche’s gaze met Zhao Jiayang’s on the pitch-black screen. The latter’s expression froze on his face, his eyes gradually darkening, filled with a chilling murderous intent.

Tao Fengche opened his mouth in vain, wanting to say something, but no words came out. Just moments ago, he had drunk most of a can of cola, but now his throat felt dry as if he were a traveler in the desert who hadn’t had water in ages.

He began to doubt whether the person in front of him was really the uncle who treated him like a son, or perhaps he had never truly known him at all. It was only at this moment that the real Zhao Jiayang emerged from that wayward exterior, greeting him.

Tao Fengche struggled to swallow, swearing he sensed a hint of blood in his throat.

In his short life of fewer than eighteen years, he had never experienced such an overwhelming, life-threatening sense of crisis.

Zhao Jiayang sighed and suddenly smiled.

“Xiao Che, you know now.”

He spoke with certainty, crumpling the half-empty beer can in his hand like a used napkin, letting the remaining golden liquid spill wildly in his grip.

Then he threw the can to the ground, the expensive leather instantly tainted, but it didn’t even receive a glance of pity.

Zhao Jiayang rubbed his temples with his liquid-stained hand, a hint of sadness in his gaze: “Get some sleep.”

Tao Fengche’s memory froze at the sharp pain in his neck, at Zhao Jiayang’s outstretched hand, and at his face.

Zhao Jiayang’s expression was surprisingly sorrowful, but his eyes were shockingly bright, like a fiercely burning, crazed fire, igniting everything around them.