Jiang Xunyu quickly fell asleep, but his slumber was restless.  

Ji Yuzhou sat beside him for a while before noticing the boy’s brows furrowing, a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead.  

Ji Yuzhou frowned, intending to call the doctor, but then he heard Jiang Xunyu’s low, pained murmurs.  

“No… don’t touch me…”  

Jiang Xunyu’s eyes remained tightly shut, his expression one of anguish. He seemed to be struggling desperately in his dream, trying to escape from something.  

Was he dreaming about his past at the welfare home?  

Ji Yuzhou felt a pang of sorrow. He reached out, intending to brush away the sweat-beaded hair on Jiang Xunyu’s face. Just then, the boy spoke again:  

“Mr. Ji… I’m dirty… don’t… don’t touch me.”  

Ji Yuzhou’s long fingers froze, hovering ten centimeters from Jiang Xunyu’s face. His fingertips trembled slightly.  

Time seemed to stand still. A wave of sourness rose in Ji Yuzhou’s chest, spreading through his limbs, leaving him heavy and numb.  

Uncertainty—an unfamiliar emotion—took hold of Ji Yuzhou.  

After standing stiffly for a few seconds, he silently withdrew his hand, his gaze fixed on the sweat-drenched Jiang Xunyu. He didn’t attempt to touch him again.  

Dreams often reflect the truest fears hidden within the heart. Even now, the boy still felt unworthy and self-conscious.  

For the first time, Ji Yuzhou fully grasped the extent of the psychological torment Jiang Xunyu had endured. The stain of his past, like a scar, remained buried in his heart, refusing to fade.  

And yet, despite all this, Jiang Xunyu remained resilient, striving to grow towards the light he had glimpsed.  

The ancient Chinese writer Zhang Ailing once said, “When you love someone, you’re willing to lower yourself, sinking into the dust to let a flower bloom.” Jiang Xunyu was different from most people. He had always been rooted in the dust and mud—without sunlight, dew, or nutrients. Yet, even so, he still fought with all his might to bloom for the faint glimmer of light he had seen.  

The flower may not have been large, but it was brilliant enough.  

Brilliant enough to make Ji Yuzhou feel ashamed of his earlier manipulative intentions.  

If given enough sunlight, water, and space to grow, how much more could this kid flourish?  

Smiling self-deprecatingly, Ji Yuzhou shook his head at himself.  

Known for his ruthless, iron-handed ways, who would have thought he’d one day be contemplating a kid’s future so seriously?  

Ji Yuzhou lowered his gaze and stopped overthinking. Leaning down, he gently patted Jiang Xunyu’s shoulder, his voice low and soft. “Xunyu, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”  

After a couple of pats, Jiang Xunyu stirred and slowly opened his hazy eyes, looking at Ji Yuzhou. “Mr. Ji?”  

“You were having a nightmare.” Ji Yuzhou subtly withdrew his hand, his voice as gentle as ever. “Are you feeling alright?”  

Still dazed, Jiang Xunyu struggled to sit up. He vaguely remembered a sharp, heart-wrenching pain from his dream, but he couldn’t recall the details.  

Rubbing his groggy head, he nodded weakly, his voice hoarse. “I’m fine…”  

….

Jiang Xunyu’s injuries had mostly healed. After he regained consciousness, the doctors conducted a thorough examination. Once they confirmed there were no further issues, Ji Yuzhou took him home.  

The next morning, Ji Yuzhou brought Jiang Xunyu back to Li Hanqiu’s place.  

Aside from needing to retrieve their belongings, Ji Yuzhou knew they couldn’t keep hiding the incident from Li Hanqiu. Though he had managed to soothe her worries temporarily over the phone, she had become increasingly suspicious, frequently calling to press for answers.  

Returning to the familiar house, everything in the courtyard and the rooms remained exactly as they had left it. Li Hanqiu scrutinized the two of them carefully before scolding, “I thought you’d only be gone for two days. Who knew it would be half a month? Isn’t your leave almost over?”  

“Sorry, Mom. I’ll explain everything that happened.”  

Ji Yuzhou sighed as he sat down on the sofa. Jiang Xunyu obediently sat beside him. Li Hanqiu, her expression growing more serious, seated herself opposite them.  

“It’s about time you told the truth,” she said, her tone sharp.  

…  

As Ji Yuzhou spoke, Li Hanqiu listened silently, her brows furrowing tighter and tighter.  

When she heard about Jiang Xunyu taking the bullet for Ji Yuzhou, her eyes widened in shock, her face pale as she fixed her gaze on Jiang Xunyu. “Where were you hurt?!”  

Ji Yuzhou glanced at Jiang Xunyu. “Right shoulder.”  

Li Hanqiu got up and sat beside Jiang Xunyu. Her fingers hesitated as she reached out to touch his shoulder, afraid of causing him pain. Awkwardly, her hand hovered in midair. “Does it feel better now?”  

Being cared for like this left Jiang Xunyu feeling a little overwhelmed. His heart ached in a way he couldn’t quite describe. He quickly nodded and said, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”  

“Silly child.” Li Hanqiu finally let her fingers fall gently onto his shoulder, carefully feeling the area. “Next time, don’t do something so foolish. Yuzhou has undergone intense professional training—an ordinary photon gun wouldn’t be able to hit him.”  

Jiang Xunyu’s body stiffened slightly as he lowered his head.  

He already knew that.  

Without certain skills and instincts, Ji Yuzhou wouldn’t have been able to hold his position so securely. But knowing something and acting on it were two different things.  

Just like when he fought that student in class before—he had known that person couldn’t really harm Ji Yuzhou, yet he had still instinctively put everything on the line to stop the slander.  

His body always reacted before his mind. Protecting Ji Yuzhou in his own way had become second nature to him.  

His voice was hoarse as he said, “I was willing to do it…”  

Li Hanqiu sighed, her heart aching even more.  

“Silly child.”  

If she had any lingering doubts about Jiang Xunyu before, they disappeared at this moment. She could see it now—Jiang Xunyu would be utterly devoted to Ji Yuzhou.  

It was her own son, on the other hand, who didn’t seem ready to open his heart.  

Ji Yuzhou, who had been quietly listening from the side, felt ripples spread across his usually calm heart, as if someone had thrown a stone into still water.  

He couldn’t pretend not to hear the deep emotions in Jiang Xunyu’s words.  

But he swiftly changed the subject. “Mom, I have a break next month. I’ll bring Xunyu back to visit you then.”  

Right now, these emotions were built on a limited worldview—just a momentary attachment, a fleeting crush. They wouldn’t last.  

Someday, when Jiang Xunyu saw more of the world, he would realize that these feelings were immature, shallow, insignificant.  

Yet, for some reason, Ji Yuzhou felt a brief pang of loss.