The morning had promised fair weather, yet by afternoon, rain began to fall without warning, casting the entire sky into a somber haze. Qiao Si sat in his room shrouded in darkness, having left the lights unlit. Perhaps it was the oppressive weather, or perhaps something deeper, but a heavy melancholy had settled over him, eroding any desire for even the smallest semblance of pleasure. 

At this time, Duan Heng should have already reached Qiao Che. Whatever needed to be said, whatever explanations required laying bare, would surely have been addressed by this point. As for what to follow, Qiao Si had no desire to picture it. 

A child like Duan Heng, once sent away, would naturally be missed. Yet the comings and goings of those around him, however, had long since become a matter of routine. Even so, never before had the weight of solitude felt quite so profound. 

He was enthralled by the young man’s smile, the warmth of his arms, the firmness of chest. He had already begun to miss Duan Heng’s gentle, love-struck expressions, to the extent where he could not help but question whether any of it was truly worth it. 

Who knew what Duan Heng was doing now?

Qiao Si’s gaze drifted to the window as his thoughts meandered. No matter how one framed it, suddenly learning that he had been given away would undoubtedly be a shock. 

Perhaps he should have explained things clearly, rather than making such a decision on his behalf without a word. No matter how obedient or attuned to circumstance Duan Heng might be, he was not a dog—he had his pride, just like anyone else. 

To be handed off like an object, that child must have felt insulted. 

Qiao Si himself failed to recall when he had begun to regard Duan Heng as something more than just a pet. The thought lingered in his mind, stirring an undercurrent of unease. Rising from his feet, he began considering whether he should pay a personal visit to Qiao Che. 

The rain outside continued to pour relentlessly. Qiao Si changed his clothes and was about to call for someone to prepare the car when the closed door suddenly burst open with a resounding crash from the outside. 

To Qiao Si, the sheer audacity of this act bordered on the incomprehensible. No one had ever dared to be so brazen, as if their life were of no consequence. 

The figure standing in the doorway was soaked through, a sculpture of disheveled misery. Rain-matted hair clung to his head, and beneath it, a pair of dark eyes bore the weight of the storm. He looked like a hound, both wet and forlorn. 

Qiao Si, surprised and touched by an emotion he could not fully identify, asked, “You’re back?” Without bothering to reprimand him for his rudeness, he added, “How did you end up like this? Go and dry yourself off first.” 

The young man took a few hesitant, unsteady steps towards him, yet with a quiet, determined persistence. 

Qiao Si remained silent for a moment, the near-desperate disbelief in the young man’s voice, thick with near-desperate disbelief, striking him with an unexpected twinge of guilt. 

In his tacit approval, the young man’s voice became hoarse, “Why are you doing this to me?” 

Qiao Si steadied himself before softening his tone, “You know… Fifth Master has taken a liking to you…” 

For a moment, their gazes locked. Qiao Si thought he saw a glimmer of moisture in those usually gentle, yielding eyes. 

“What am I to you?” 

“Duan Heng…” 

Qiao Si suddenly felt a surge of desire to pull him into an embrace, so he reached out his hand. 

However, what met his hand was an entirely different kind of force. Sensing something was amiss, he instinctively countered, swiftly exchanging two or three moves in a matter of seconds, yet his arms were ultimately restrained. 

Qiao Si was somewhat astonished. He had grown accustomed to Duan Heng’s obedient submission, never once imagining that the young man could possess reflexes faster than his own. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without a word, Duan Heng effortlessly threw him onto the bed. 

Qiao Si’s irritation flared, and attempted to sit up, only to be pressed back down again. This struggle continued in an unrelenting cycle, each effort thwarted, until he was left with no room to resist. 

He had never been one to rely on raw strength, and it was scarcely surprising that his physical endurance paled in comparison to that of a younger man. However, what truly astounded him was the realization that his combat skills were ineffective against Duan Heng was astonishing to him. 

The young man’s movements were deliberate yet charged with unspoken tension, unfastened his collar with an almost forceful precision, pulling his shirt open before his hands moved to unbuckle his belt. 

Qiao Si, aghast at this unexpected display of brazenness, could only gasp, “How dare you!” 

Before he could make a move, Duan Heng pinned his legs firmly with his knee and, with a sharp tug, tore open his trousers. The sheer force behind the young man’s actions caught Qiao Si off guard, leaving him momentarily frozen in disbelief. 

Fear mingled with a strange sense of violation, but he was not entirely defenseless. Not daring to hesitate any longer, he seized a fleeting opportunity, freeing one hand to deliver a resounding slap across the face of the audacious fellow. 

The slap was delivered with precision of a surgeon’s strike, a sharp, resonant sound echoing through the room. Five crimson marks blossomed across the young man’s face, a stark testament to Qiao Si’s fury. 

Sensing an opening, Qiao Si seized his shoulder with a firm grip, applying a sudden and forceful pressure. A sickening crack echoed as the young man’s arm, once rigid, slackened and hung limply. 

Duan Heng remained silent, still holding his position, though the redness around his eyes deepening. 

Qiao Si understood the excruciating pain of a dislocated joint. Observing the young man enduring it silently, despite the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he could not help but say, “Stop messing around. Go and set your arm back in place.” 

Duan Heng remained motionless, his gaze unwavering as it met Qiao Si’s with an intensity that was both steadfast and piercing. Something akin to the glistening of unshed tears flickered in his dark eyes. 

Confronted by that gaze, Qiao Si inexplicably felt a sharp ache in his heart. Reflecting on how they had treated each other, he realized the misery they had caused. Unable to resist, he placed his hand upon the young man’s head, gently wiping away the sweat. “Set it back in place. Stop being so stubborn.” 

The young man persisted in his silence; his eyes reddened as a testament to the restraint he forced upon himself. It was only when Qiao Si firmly seized his arm and shoulder, and with a sharp crack, realigned the joint that the tension was broken. 

Duan Heng kept his head bowed, and as Qiao Si’s fingers caressed his cheek, he felt the faint moisture that lingered there. 

“You…” 

This was the second time Duan Heng had been brought to tears. Weakness was certainly not a virtue, yet for some reason, in the midst of the young man’s vulnerability, there was something inexplicably endearing about him. 

“Go change into clean clothes and warm yourself up.” 

The young man grasped his hand, fumbling for something with the other. Qiao Si, still observing the delicate arch of his lowered lashes, was caught off guard when a sudden, searing pain jolted through his shoulder. Before he could gather his wits, his hand was twisted behind his back. 

“You!” 

In the split second before any sound emerged, Duan Heng had already bound both of Qiao Si’s hands behind his back and pressed him face down onto the bed. “Are you rebelling?!” 

The restraint itself failed to induce any pain, but Duan Heng’s audacity was beyond his imagination. Regardless of his skill, he found himself completely immobilized. He could only say, “Duan Heng, don’t be so insolent!” 

One should not assume that indulgence equated to tolerating lawlessness. Even if Duan Heng gained the upper hand this time and successfully exacted his revenge, it would be futile. Tomorrow, Qiao Si would ensure that the young man would regret this foolish act, and it would not be as trivial as a dislocated shoulder. 

The young man, as though he had abandoned all inhibitions, his arms tightening around the Qiao Si’s torso. Lips, hot and insistent, found their mark on his neck. With a fierce disregard for Qiao Si’s dignity, he proceeded to strip away the last vestiges of the man’s clothing. 

Trapped beneath the young man’s imposing frame, Qiao Si was struck by a jarring awareness; the hard, searing pressure against him laid bare the other’s intent. A shiver ran down his spine, and he snapped with wrath, “You insolent…”  

Yet his voice faltered, betraying a quiver, Duan Heng’s touch, once a source of pleasure, had devolved into something crude and brutal. The young man’s large hand enveloped his manhood, a torment that both thrilled and repulsed him. Each stroke was a violation of those long fingers, a cruel dance between pleasure and pain that ignited a fire within him, a fire fueled by a potent mix of desire and humiliation. 

Compelled to his knees, his legs spread wide and rendered immobile by the young man’s knee pressing against the sensitive hollow of his hamstrings. A chilling sensation, slick and intrusive, began to trace a path down his buttocks. The sensation of the liquid trailed into an unmistakable realization of what would follow, sending an involuntary shudder across his skin. 

“You dare!” 

Duan Heng offered no reply, his actions alone a brazen declaration of the extent of his audacity. Restrained and vulnerable under him, the young man’s searing gaze was the only indication of his presence. In the searing, maddening caress, he could feel his hips forcibly raised, his most intimate region subjected to the harsh intrusion of the hardened pressure. 

Qiao Si inhaled a breath of cool air, “You… ah…” 

Before he could finish his sentence, he was suddenly and forcefully penetrated from behind, the sensation striking him with such force that it robbed him of speech. Before he could catch his breath, the young man had already begun his relentless movement. 

Each rhythmic motion deep within him sent waves of heat coursing through his abdomen, his throat constricted with inarticulate sounds, a symphony of moans and gasps escaping his lips. 

Duan Heng pinned him beneath his weight, the rhythm of his movements relentless. Then, with a cruel twist of his wrist, he forced Qiao Si’s legs apart, elevating him into a position of utter exposed. Qiao Si, trapped and defenseless, was forced to kneel upon Duan Heng’s thigh, his body offered up for further violation. 

Qiao Si moaned, his voice breaking with desperation. “No… don’t touch there…” 

He had never been treated in such a manner. Duan Heng held him firmly by the waist, each movement punctuated by an intense force that left him gasping for air. The remnants of his rationality clung desperately to his fading consciousness, the overpowering intensity of the sensation threatening to overwhelm him completely. 

The actions could certainly be described as savage, lacking the brutality one might have expected. The enforced submission, far from causing pain, had morphed into a perverse pleasure—a thrilling dance between dominance and surrender. 

The young man seemed to have cast aside all pretense, no longer considered Qiao Si’s comfort or sought out positions that would bring ease, as he had in the past. There were no longer any boundaries to his actions, no need for permission, only the unrestrained act of claiming him. 

The young man, then, took on a variety of forms, each more inventive than the last. Qiao Si felt as though he were reduced to a mere vessel, a lump of clay in the hands of a sculptor, manipulated and reshaped, moved in ways he could not have anticipated. 

At last, with his back pressed against Duan Heng’s chest, the relentless movements pushed him to the brink of his endurance. Overcome by the sensation, he had no choice but to abandon his dignity, his breath ragged and interrupted as he pleaded in a strained whisper, “I can’t… no… ah…” 

His struggles were met with a redoubling of the assault from Duan Heng, who, from behind, clamped his teeth onto his neck with an almost predatory force. 

“Ah… no… ah…” 

At the peak of the moment, it felt as though his very soul was being torn from him, leaving him in a state of complete disarray. 

As his consciousness began to flicker back into awareness, he lay on his side, his legs crudely elevated, resting on the young man’s broad shoulders. His body, exposed and vulnerable, was entirely at the mercy of the young man, unable to escape the overwhelming force of the moment. 

His every reaction was laid bare under the young man’s intense scrutiny, his body manipulated and exploited at will with an intensity that left him feeling like a puppet on strings. This inevitable, inescapable assault ignited a burning flush of shame and anger across Qiao Si’s entire being. 

Duan Heng eventually compelled him to sit astride his waist, their gazes meeting as they faced each other. With his hands bound, Qiao Si could no longer maintain his balance. As the intensity escalated, the relentless thrusts threw him out of kilter, leaving him slumped against the young man’s chest, his body trembling as a symphony of moans and gasps escaping his lips. 

Through the haze of passion, distorted by the tumult of the moment, he managed to catch a glimpse of the young man’s face. The expression remained indistinct, veiled by the shroud of exhaustion and raw emotion. Then, as Duan Heng leaned in to claim his lips in a fervent kiss, the vision dissolved entirely. 

Qiao Si awoke amidst the disarray, his body drained of all strength, a profound lethargy seeping through his limbs. For a moment, the world around him swirled in a disorienting kaleidoscope, his senses muted, and his body paralyzed in the aftermath. 

As his senses gradually returned, he was still unable to fully regain his composure. The events of the previous night felt as though half of his very essence had been siphoned away, leaving him adrift and unsettled. 

He had witnessed violence in many forms, a grim familiarity that dulled its impact. But this… which could be described as a sensuous assault, was entirely beyond the reach of his imagination. 

People often succumb to recklessness, casting aside the weight of consequences in a desperate attempt to release their bottled frustrations. However, the emotions Duan Heng had unleased were of a dept and intensity that Qiao Si found difficult to comprehend, let alone reconcile. 

For the first time, he was somewhat uncertain about what Duan Heng truly sought. 

He remained prostrate on the bed until his strength gradually returned and the numbness in his lower body receded. Slowly, Qiao Si rose, frowning and gritting his teeth as he dressed, then instructing someone to prepare bathwater. 

Duan Heng had already left while he was still in a deep slumber, but Qiao Si did not feel the need to rush. 

Duan Heng could never escape his grasp. As long as he wished to continue thriving here, he would eventually have to return, bow his head, and beg for forgiveness. Whether by life or death, any punishment would be his to wield, a fate shaped entirely by his will. 

Immersed in the soothing warmth of the bath, Qiao Si body throbbed from exhaustion as he contemplated how to discipline Duan Heng. The young man had grown increasingly bold and unruly, his actions veering dangerously close to insolence. Qiao Si recognized his own indulgence as the root of the problem—he had spoiled Duan Heng too much. Yet, Duan Heng had never been one to abuse his privileges. He could not pinpoint precisely where things had gone astray. 

As he brooded over this dark train of thought, he suddenly sensed someone entering. Knowing it was Qiao Bo, Qiao Si did not bother to open his eyes. 

“What is it?” 

“Fourth Master, Master Duan… he…” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“He resigned from his position in the organization.” 

Qiao Si opened his eyes. “Mn?” 

“He also terminated his contract with the film company. So, I came to report to you…” 

“Wait,” Qiao Si sat up, frowning his brow. “His contract hasn’t expired yet. How did he terminate it without the funds to pay the penalty?” 

Qiao Bo hesitated. “It’s already been paid…” 

Qiao Si rose from the water, taking the towel handed to him. In those few seconds, his mind racing through a thousand thoughts. “Where did he get that kind of money? Who helped him?” 

“Well, it was all arranged by Master Duan himself. He has been making investments for a while now… ” 

Qiao Si was momentarily taken aback. He had indeed underestimated and misunderstood Duan Heng, who evidently possessed considerable capabilities. But the question remained—what was the purpose behind all of these? 

“Could it be that another company is trying to poach him?” Their contract was ironclad; as long as Duan Heng remained in the industry, he was bound to work for them. Betraying them would lead to dire consequences. 

“No, Master Duan said he plans to retire from the entertainment industry.” 

“…” Qiao Si halted, contemplated for a moment. “Then what are his plans next?” 

“He didn’t say,” Qiao Bo hesitated, “but it seems he intends to sell his properties and move out…” 

Amidst his surprise, Qiao Si was inundated with a series of unanswerable questions, enough to unsettle even his usually sharp mind. He could not help but ask, “Where is Duan Heng now?” 

Qiao Bo replied, “He’s still at the company, handling some paperwork.” 

Duan Heng’s departure was anything but a hasty retreat. The meticulousness with which he had tendered his resignation, coupled with the exorbitant sum he had paid in penalty, and leave in such an open and orderly manner. There was nothing about his departure that spoke of cowardice or escape; it was an act that adhered to every rule and formality. 

As Qiao Si dressed, his thoughts raced. He realized that Duan Heng was not afraid of him, nor of any punishment he might impose. This departure was simply for the sake of leaving. 

In a sudden clarity, he finally understood that Duan Heng was clearly and resolutely telling him that he was leaving him forever. 

Perhaps it was because he had just emerged from the water, but even after dressing, Qiao Si still felt a chill. He instructed Qiao Bo to bring him a coat, which he wrapped around himself as he sank into the chair, his face wearily peeking out from the fur collar. 

Qiao Si found himself grappling with a perplexing enigma. Duan Heng had painstakingly climbed to this position, grasping the power and influence he had with such effort, could so easily let it go. 

If this were a rash decision made out of spite, Duan Heng was certainly not the type to act impulsively. If that child could not endure the suffering or grievances, he would never have achieved what he has today. 

In the past, Duan Heng had always excelled at patience, always knowing when to advance and when to retreat, understanding people and the boundaries of propriety. 

At what point had he begun to stray from this path? 

What had emboldened him to act with such defiance? 

The thought that Duan Heng’s unshakable confidence might stem from the fact that he had already found a better place, a fallback plan, made Qiao Si furrow his brows. 

“Fourth Master, there’s one more thing…” 

“What is it?” 

“Since last night, Fifth Master has called many times, but you were unavailable at that time, so…” 

Qiao Si, feeling drained, darkened his gaze and replied coldly, “Understood.” 

He was utterly exhausted from the ordeal. Even after soaking for half a day, his body still felt weak. A quiet unease gnawed at him, sapping the mental energy he might have spent on thoughts of Qiao Che. 

The subtle differences in the attitudes of those around him also weighed on his mind. 

Even when Qiao Che called, they hesitated over whether to report it or not, still holding reservations. Yet Duan Heng’s comings and goings were unimpeded. The disparity in treatment was a stark reminder of the young man’s growing influence, a silent testament to the shifting sands of power within the household. 

Perhaps it was Duan Heng’s loyalty to him that was truly beyond doubt, rivaling that of Qiao Bo, his trusted confidant for many years. 

However, unlike Qiao Bo, Duan Heng shared a bond of intimacy with him that no one else could match. 

Loyalty intertwined with intimacy—what kind of relationship did that create? He pondered this as he got into the car, feeling mentally exhausted by the thoughts. 

When Qiao Si arrived at the office, Qiao Che was already there. For some reason, he was locked in a tense standoff with Duan Heng, his expression dark and brimming with unspent frustration. Upon seeing him enter, he sneered, “Oh, you’re here. So, this is the ‘ace’ you’ve trained. Obedient, indeed.” 

Qiao Si lifted his eyelids and said, “Shut up.” 

With a mere softly spoken command, the room was plunged into a profound silence. Not a single soul dared to make a drop of sound as the color drained from Qiao Che’s face, leaving behind an expression filled with anger and humiliation. 

“Leave, all of you.” 

The bystanders swiftly filled out the room, with Qiao Che being the first to walk out. 

Qiao Che knew that he had once again wounded Qiao Che’s pride, and dealing with his temper would be a troublesome task; one that would require a whole lot of soothing. But for now, there was a much bigger problem at hand. 

The so-called bigger problem had already packed his belongings in a cupboard box, awkwardly tucked under his arm. He stood there in a calm manner with not a hint of fear shown. 

Qiao Si stared at him for a while before saying, “What exactly do you think you’re doing now?” 

The young man lowered his eyelashes. “I just terminated my contract with the company. I’ll be leaving soon.” 

Qiao Si’s expression darkened. “Did I give you permission to do that?” 

The young man’s tone still carried the respect it should, but it was only respect. “Fourth Master, I’m no longer your underlings. I don’t need your approval for everything anymore.” 

Qiao Si’s gaze remained still at the person before him. Duan Heng had once been his finest and most cherished creation—someone he had invested boundless trust and high hopes in. Never imagining that one day, Duan Heng would be the first to speak such words to him. 

Qiao Si nodded, “You’ve truly grown. Even getting bolder now, no wonder you had that courage to act so recklessly last night.” After a pause, he lifted his gaze and added, “It seems that I have underestimated you.” 

Duan Heng stood there silently under his glare, neither retorting nor showing fear, nor wavering in the least. Qiao Si was pleased with the young man’s quiet demeanor in such a grim atmosphere. It was exactly the kind of composure he had always hoped to cultivate in him. 

Unfortunately for him, that composure was directed towards him. 

“Since you’re so mature now, you should know that, in my presence, leaving isn’t as simple as just resigning.” 

The young man calmly answered, “Sir, I know this time it’s my fault. You’ve raised me, and I’ve once again made a mistake. I deserved for whatever you do to me.” 

Qiao Si felt exhausted from standing as he pulled up a chair and sat in front of him. “You’ve been with me for all this time, and it’s not that I never cared about you. If you really want to leave, just leave a few fingers behind.” 

Duan Heng momentarily glanced at him and eventually knelt down. 

The fruit knife lay poised on the coffee table as Duan Heng stretched one hand flat, while the other gripped onto the knife. After pausing for a few seconds and quickly closing his eyes, he decisively made the cut. 

Qiao Si struck his wrist in an instant, causing the knife to veer off course, grazing his nail and leaving a mark on the wooden table. 

This cut was deliberate. 

Qiao Si withdrew his hand, slumping back into his chair, sinking into the collar of his coat as his eyelids fluttered shut. 

“You may leave.” 

The young man was taken aback, lifting his gaze in a mixture of surprise and confusion. 

“Your fingers are of no use to me. Keep them.” 

The young man paused in silence, then stood up and simply responded, “Thank you, Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si spoke as casually as though they were making small talk, asked, “What are your plans after this?” 

“Investment in finance.” 

“Not bad.” 

With nothing more to say, Qiao Si ended with his final command, “You may leave.” 

In the end, Duan Heng really did leave. 

Qiao Si also felt that he had been too lenient this time. He had countless ways to make others kneel and obey him in tears, but when it came to using those cruel methods on Duan Heng, he simply could not bring himself to do so. 

He had long since grown accustomed to being soft-hearted towards Duan Heng. 

However, just as simple act of charity would never change the fact that he was still a villain; occasionally showing kindness to one or two people would never change the fact that he was still Qiao Si. 

Yet, as he lay in bed at night, his thoughts would sometimes wander to the time when he had once asked Duan Heng, “How long would you be willing to stay by my side?” 

With Duan Heng’s answer as, “I will never leave you, Fourth Master.” 

The sensation of his kisses seemed to linger on his fingertips. But that person had already gone. 

It had been a month since Duan Heng left. 

During this month, there had been no news from Duan Heng. Of course, this was to be expected; Qiao Si knew that his place was not one that inspired fond memories. 

Though many depended on him, those who had the strength to break free from his grasp would never look back. 

There was a charity banquet in the city that evening. Such events rarely piqued Qiao Si’s interest. He preferred to simply donate the money and avoid the networking in which he found bothersome. Moreover, he had no desire for the associated reputation. 

However, upon hearing that Duan Heng was also invited, Qiao Si gave it some thought and eventually agreed to attend. 

He assured himself that it was not out of longing; he merely wanted to see how Duan Heng was faring. 

Duan Heng was likely not having an easy time. The news of his contract termination with the film company and his intention to retire from the entertainment industry had caused a public uproar. Entertainment tabloids had featured the story as their headline for several consecutive issues, while devastated fans gathered daily outside the company to demand answers. 

In response to various speculations and inquiries, Duan Heng offered nothing beyond an apology and expressions of regret for disappointing his long-time supporters. However, he provided no direct explanation for his decision to quit the industry. 

The less he said, the more eager the public’s curiosity grew, digging deeper and speculating relentless rumors to uncover the so-called “inside story.” 

Inevitably, such conjectures always tended to evolve into scandal. 

Soon, rumors spread far and wide.  

There were claims that he suffered from psychological issues and had to undergo necessary treatment. Others swore they had witnessed him in the throes of drug addiction. There were even reports alleging he had crossed a powerful figure in the industry over a romantic rivalry with a certain actress, leaving him no choice but to retreat from the spotlight. Such rumors were varied and inconclusive, each story more outrageous than the last. 

When he was under Qiao Si’s protection, such negative news would have never made it to print. Even the most ruthless journalists were cautious when writing about him, treating him with measured respect and stopping short of outright mockery. 

Now, without Qiao Si as his shield, things had taken a drastically different turn. 

Scandals always boost sales more compared to praise. The more sensational the story, the better it sold. In their race for profit, newspapers freely fabricated various rumors, writing whatever would catch the public’s eye. After all, no matter how capable Duan Heng was, he was now just a former celebrity who had offended Qiao Si, so no one compelled to show him restraint. 

Old grudges and opportunistic voices led to a frenzy of half-true and outright fabricated scandals about Duan Heng. Coupled with the fans’ fervent emotions, the media coverage was overwhelmingly negative, with almost every article criticizing and exposing his flaws. 

Qiao Si had little interest in such matters, but even a casual glance at an entertainment news revealed some truly unpleasant and nonsensical remarks. Were this in the past, those responsible for such venomous words would have met a grim fate. 

However, Duan Heng was no longer under his command, and Qiao Si no longer had any reason to support him. 

Even so, he had considered that if Duan Heng were to ever come seeking his help, he would not refuse. 

Duan Heng was a natural-born actor, someone who truly has a passion for making films. Qiao Si thought that if it had not been their rules, Duan Heng probably would never have abandoned acting. 

Rules were made by people—especially those set by him. If Duan Heng were to plead for forgiveness, Qiao Si might have been inclined to let it slide. 

Qiao Si was never an easy person to deal with, but his patience with Duan Heng far exceeded that with others. 

After all, the impulsiveness of young people often led to rash decisions. By now, Duan Heng should have learned how difficult life was without him and likely regretted his choice. 

If Duan Heng knew to turn back and realize his childish mistake, Qiao Si would be willing to overlook it. 

However, despite waiting day after day—even a month has passed—for Duan Heng to return and seek his shelter; Duan Heng never came back.