The holidays always seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. After the Lantern Festival, the lingering sense of ease gradually faded, and more serious matters were placed squarely on the table.
Pei Yusheng was about to leave for City B for his final round of examinations.
After days of gathering data, everything was now complete. This round of testing would lead to a definitive judgment—whether it was a confirmed diagnosis or a false alarm, there would be a clear and final result.
This was the final verdict.
Before his departure, as per procedure, Zhao Mingzhen went over the pre-examination briefing with Pei Yusheng. One item on the list concerned confidentiality: Should the results be kept from the examinee?
Zhao Mingzhen asked Pei Yusheng the question carefully.
This kind of confidentiality could help stabilize a patient’s mental state, preventing them from becoming overly pessimistic or despairing. In fact, from the very beginning, Zhao Mingzhen’s team had leaned toward having patients undergo examinations without being fully informed, to avoid excessive anxiety that might worsen sleep disorders.
After all, sleep disorders often came hand in hand with neurasthenia, emotional instability, and other symptoms. They had seen far too many patients crushed by the weight of their own psychological stress.
But Pei Yusheng didn’t hesitate. He gave his answer immediately.
“No need.”
He wasn’t afraid of knowing the result.
Even if it was the worst possible outcome.
Zhao Mingzhen confirmed again, “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
It wasn’t impatience with the agony of waiting—Pei Yusheng’s voice was remarkably calm, so calm that it surprised even Zhao Mingzhen.
Under such immense psychological pressure, most patients couldn’t maintain their composure. Zhao Mingzhen had seen many people who were steady and collected in daily life fall apart to varying degrees after falling ill.
Yet after all this time, the second young master was still this calm.
“There’s no need for all that,” Pei Yusheng said lightly. “Next.”
He had nothing left to fear.
Once the briefing was finished, there was the matter of deciding who would accompany him. From the start, Pei Yusheng had never intended to bring Qi Ji along. Unlike the Xu family, the Pei family’s background was complicated, and combined with the strained relationship between Pei Yusheng and his father, letting the Pei family learn too much about Qi Ji so early would not be a good thing.
Nor did Pei Yusheng plan to have Xu Yunchi go to City B. This examination involved the two people most important to her, and neither Pei Yusheng nor Pei Xiaolin wanted her to bear that kind of pressure in person.
This was one of the very few matters on which father and son could reach an agreement.
In the end, Pei Yusheng only brought a driver and an assistant. However, he made arrangements in advance for Qi Ji and Xu Yunchi to go together to Huashan Hospital to wait for the final results. Huashan Hospital would be providing remote support for the examination, so the outcome would be known almost simultaneously.
Truthfully, Pei Yusheng didn’t even want Qi Ji to go to Huashan Hospital. He knew all too well the shadow hospitals had left on Qi Ji, and he didn’t want the uncertainty of his own results to deepen that fear.
Life was long. Qi Ji still had a bright, expansive future ahead of him.
But something this serious couldn’t be hidden, so Pei Yusheng compromised. He chose Huashan Hospital under Zhao Mingzhen’s supervision—if anything unexpected happened, there would at least be people to look after them.
When Pei Yusheng told Qi Ji about the arrangements, the boy didn’t object. After a brief silence, he asked instead, “Then… will you be scared going through the tests by yourself, Mr. Pei?”
Pei Yusheng paused. He hadn’t expected that to be the boy’s first reaction.
No matter how capable or meticulous a person was, they still needed care.
Pei Yusheng smiled and ruffled Qi Ji’s hair.
“When I’m scared, I’ll think of you,” he said. “That’ll be how I encourage myself. You might end up sneezing nonstop that day, so remember to dress warmly.”
Qi Ji nodded obediently. “Mm.”
“I’ll take good care of myself,” he said earnestly. “You should too, Mr. Pei.”
Pei Yusheng kissed his forehead.
“Okay.”
The day of the examination dawned with perfect weather—clear winter skies, rare sunshine, and a gentle calm. Pei Yusheng left for City B in the morning, and the results were scheduled to come out at three in the afternoon.
After lunch, the driver picked up Qi Ji.
They were going to the Xu residence to pick up Xu Yunchi, then head to Huashan Hospital together to wait for the results.
As vice chairwoman of Xinghai, Xu Yunchi was still busy even on a day like this. When Qi Ji arrived, she had just finished a video conference. Walking downstairs with her was a man who bore a slight resemblance to her.
Qi Ji had only seen this man before on television and in news reports, but that was enough for him to recognize who it was at a glance.
This was Xinghai’s chairman—Xu Yunchi’s second older brother, Xu Yuncheng.
Xu Yuncheng was already past fifty, yet like his youngest sister, his appearance betrayed none of his age. He was refined, even scholarly in demeanor, but those who knew Xu Yunchi well were aware that his methods were anything but gentle.
Xinghai had been founded for over thirty years and had enjoyed smooth, steady growth throughout. In its early days, when domestic communications technology was still in its infancy, Xinghai—having drawn heavily on overseas experience—had long remained at the forefront of the industry. Yet even in such a dominant position, Xu Yuncheng hadn’t pushed aggressively for expansion and profit. Instead, he had decisively steered the company toward reform, focusing on a new direction proposed by his sister.
At the time, many people couldn’t understand the move, and criticism was rampant.
But it was precisely Xu Yuncheng’s persistence that allowed Xinghai’s successful transformation, putting it a full decade ahead of the industry average in high-end communications technology.
He was a true legend.
And yet now, all this legendary man cared about was his sister.
“Nannan,” he said, “I’ll go to the hospital with you.”
Qi Ji hadn’t known about this plan and was momentarily surprised, but Xu Yunchi replied calmly, “No need, Second Brother. You should head to Shenkang.”
All four Xu siblings were busy people. The eldest and third brothers ran the Xu Group and were constantly occupied, especially with an important milestone approaching—they simply couldn’t get away. Xu Yuncheng, who managed Xinghai, was equally busy. In two days, officials were scheduled to visit Shenkang for an inspection significant enough to make the evening news. He should have been leaving for Shenkang, not accompanying his sister.
Xu Yuncheng said, “With something this serious involving Yusheng, how can we not worry? Big Brother and Third Brother both told me to make sure I looked after you today.”
Xu Yunchi still shook her head gently. “It’s fine, Second Brother. I’ll go by myself. Once the results are out, I’ll let everyone know immediately.”
“And besides,” she added, “if something really does happen, this will only be the beginning.”
Xu Yuncheng frowned. “Don’t talk nonsense. Don’t overthink it. Yusheng will be fine.”
Xu Yunchi smiled faintly and went along with him. “Okay.”
Xu Yuncheng fell silent. He appeared mild and cultured, but inside he was stubborn—almost domineering.
Only in front of family would he make rare concessions.
Seeing his sister insist, he could only say, “Then make sure you tell us as soon as the results come out.”
Xu Yunchi nodded. “I will.”
“You,” Xu Yuncheng sighed, “I even suggested letting Qishan and the others come keep you company, and you wouldn’t allow it.”
“Everyone has their own work,” Xu Yunchi said softly. “There’s no need to make a fuss. Once we confirm everything’s fine, I’ll call each of them with the good news.”
“And,” she said, looking toward Qi Ji waiting nearby and smiling, “I’ve got Xiao Qi with me.”
Xu Yuncheng followed her gaze, which made Qi Ji a little nervous. Although he had greeted the chairman earlier, their exchange had been brief.
But to Qi Ji’s surprise, Xu Yuncheng spoke gently. “Kid, you’ve worked hard this time too.”
Qi Ji froze for a moment, then hurriedly replied, “You’re too kind.”
He had never met the chairman before and wasn’t even sure whether the man knew who he was, yet Xu Yuncheng was unexpectedly warm toward him.
It seemed likely that Mr. Pei had mentioned him before.
The thought made Qi Ji’s chest swell slightly.
Even before their relationship had been formally defined, Pei Yusheng had already introduced Qi Ji to so many members of his family.
His feelings were never careless.
Xu Yuncheng saw the two of them out and watched their car drive away. Not long after they set off toward the hospital, Xu Yunchi received calls in quick succession from her eldest and third brothers.
Everyone was deeply concerned about Pei Yusheng.
Even so, Xu Yunchi didn’t ask them to come to the hospital with her. The topic seemed to come up in both calls, and she only said that everyone was busy and there was no need to mobilize so many people.
Listening from the side, Qi Ji couldn’t help thinking of Mr. Pei.
During the Spring Festival, Pei Yusheng had chosen not to return home for the same reason—he didn’t want his own situation to disrupt everyone else’s joyous reunion.
And now, Xu Yunchi was making the same choice.
Qi Ji didn’t know that the two of them had once had a serious discussion about Pei Yusheng’s resemblance to his father. To Qi Ji, Mr. Pei actually seemed more like his mother.
He liked them both. He couldn’t help wanting to be close to them.
They arrived at the hospital just before two o’clock. Zhao Mingzhen led them inside. Instead of the cold, harshly lit emergency rooms people usually imagined, they entered a bright, spacious laboratory.
Large screens lined the room, along with various high-precision instruments. Doctors in white coats moved back and forth, busy checking and discussing data.
The examination data was complex—numbers and categories that looked like an indecipherable script. Qi Ji had never studied this field before, but after weeks of exposure, he could now understand most of it. At the very least, he could tell whether the values were within normal ranges.
Xu Yunchi’s understanding went even deeper. After all, the two people being examined were the ones she loved most. She studied the data carefully and calmly, looking less like a patient’s family member and more like an actuary.
Only Qi Ji, sitting beside her, noticed her tension.
A result so simple it required only basic arithmetic—Xu Yunchi recalculated it three times before she dared to confirm it.
Qi Ji knew she was trying to occupy her mind with data. He was doing the same. His thoughts raced, as if his brain had suddenly shifted into overdrive, accelerating exponentially. Every detail surfaced vividly—he could recall three kisses in the span of a single second.
Thinking so much made his body ache for Pei Yusheng: his familiar warmth, his low voice by his ear, the snug scarf. Qi Ji replayed every moment of care Pei Yusheng had shown him.
At that moment, he wasn’t just remembering—he was learning.
Because no matter what the outcome was, Qi Ji would make the same choice.
So he needed to learn how to take better care of Mr. Pei.
From two to three o’clock, the hour of waiting wasn’t actually that long. Perhaps the suffering beforehand had lasted too long; this final stretch seemed to pass quickly. When the second hand crossed the top of the dial at three, there was no earth-shattering sound—but hundreds of pages of data had already been compiled, lines of numbers leaping out of abstraction and solidifying into bold black ink.
After repeated testing, analysis, and model simulations, the conclusion finally settled.
The final report still displayed the same familiar items and values, but Qi Ji—who had studied them obsessively for days—suddenly couldn’t understand them anymore.
It felt as though all his mental energy had been spent during the frantic processing earlier. Now, at the moment of the final result, he couldn’t calculate—and didn’t dare to.
Not just Qi Ji. Xu Yunchi’s reaction lagged by several beats as well.
In the end, Zhao Mingzhen was the first to shout. His voice rang out together with cheers from City B’s Hexie Hospital over the video feed—
“There’s no possibility of pathological change!”
That was enough.
Those six words were more than enough.
Qi Ji felt his body suddenly lighten, a floating sensation washing over him—like the day he had been buried in debt for so long and then learned it had all been cleared, the unreal feeling of Is it really over?
And then came joy a hundred times greater.
Suddenly, he understood the meaning of those complex figures again. The numbers leapt eagerly into his mind one after another. Qi Ji felt weightless, like a cloud—and yet utterly full. He was the happiest cloud in the world.
Joy spread quickly through the lab. Everyone became a transmitter, amplifying the happiness they received a hundredfold before passing it on. After so much effort, they had finally arrived at the best—and most successful—outcome.
It wasn’t until Qi Ji looked at Xu Yunchi beside him that his rationality began to return.
The analyses had been completed at different speeds. Pei Yusheng’s results came out first; the other set followed a little later. So mixed into Xu Yunchi’s joy was still a measure of worry.
Qi Ji steadied himself and stepped forward. “Auntie.”
Xu Yunchi looked up at him and lightly grasped his arm.
Her hand was cold. The grip wasn’t strong, but it tugged painfully at the heart. Joy had torn open half her defenses, stripping away her composed exterior and leaving her fragility plainly visible.
Qi Ji said softly, “Everything will be fine. It will.”
Xu Yunchi smiled weakly, about to respond, when Zhao Mingzhen’s voice came from behind them again.
“Mr. Pei Senior’s results are out too! Pathological changes have been ruled out!”
Hearing this, Qi Ji finally let out a breath. “Auntie, it’s all okay now—”
Before he could finish, the woman in front of him began to tremble slightly. Tears silently soaked her beautiful face.
Xu Yunchi cried quietly, but joy overflowed all the same.
Qi Ji said nothing more. He simply pulled out a few tissues and handed them to her.
She accepted them, smiling through tears. “Thank you.”
After a gentle breath, she said, “Thank you, Xiao Qi.”
Zhao Mingzhen came over as well.
“Mr. Pei Senior’s physical condition is a bit weaker than the second young master’s,” he explained briefly, “mostly due to age, and partly his mindset. But there’s no possibility of pathological change either. You can rest assured, ma’am.”
“I know there may be some unresolved tension between the second young master and Mr. Pei Senior,” he added with a smile, “but they still have time to work things out. Congratulations—to you and your family.”
They still had time.
There was nothing better than that.
After the results were announced, the lab remained busy with further organization and discussion, but that was professional work and no longer concerned the families. Qi Ji and Xu Yunchi were free to leave and return later for the final reports.
They prepared to head back. Xu Yunchi went to the restroom to freshen up, and Qi Ji waited outside.
His phone suddenly vibrated. Qi Ji unlocked the screen.
It was a reminder he had set himself.
[Time remaining until the end of the probation period: 45 days]
Qi Ji only then remembered that he still had a probation period.
Forty-five days—exactly half of three months.
Forty-five days ago, Qi Ji had imagined countless possibilities, yet none of them compared to the reality of today. Back then, he feared losing what he had yet to truly gain. Coupled with the news about Lina and Lin Wan, the fear in his heart had nearly outweighed his joy.
Qi Ji had lived cautiously for nineteen years.
He never expected that these forty-five days would change him so profoundly.
There was still a faint chill lingering on his arm, and Qi Ji found himself thinking again of Aunt Xu’s tears. His impression of Pei Xiaolin had always been shaped by words like domineering, stubborn, and harsh. For the longest time, Qi Ji had even felt that Pei Xiaolin and Xu Yunchi didn’t look like parents from the same family at all.
But now, Xu Yunchi’s vulnerability and tears had erased any doubt Qi Ji might have had about the love between the two of them.
They had many disagreements, many unresolved issues, but none of that diminished the fact that they loved each other.
Qi Ji had never understood what love looked like, nor had he dared to imagine it. Only now did he realize that things weren’t as difficult as he’d always thought.
Like Aunt Xu and Uncle Pei.
Like Lina and Lin Wan.
Love came in countless forms, along countless paths.
He had worried about taking the wrong step a thousand, ten thousand times over—yet only now did he finally understand that there was never just one road.
Every road held its own scenery.
What he lacked was simply the courage to take the first step.
And for the remaining ninety-nine thousand steps, Mr. Pei would walk with him.
Qi Ji dropped Xu Yunchi off at the Xu residence, then turned around and headed straight for the airport.
He’d received a call—once the checkup was done, Pei Yusheng rushed back from City B.
The trip had been so hurried that it wasn’t until he arrived at the airport that Qi Ji realized he hadn’t brought a gift.
And to make matters worse, the man returning was in just as much of a rush. Before Qi Ji could even decide whether to buy something nearby as a makeshift present, the flight board refreshed to “Arrived.”
At that point, Qi Ji no longer had the mental capacity to think about gifts.
First-class passengers disembarked early, and Pei Yusheng had no luggage. Qi Ji waited at the arrivals gate and spotted him immediately—the tall figure striding forward.
Without a second thought, Qi Ji ran toward him.
Only when he reached the man, close enough to catch the familiar, sun-warmed scent, did he stop short, standing there in a daze.
He’d thought too much. Now, he didn’t know what to do.
But the pause lasted only a heartbeat. Qi Ji watched as the man reached out to him, palm up, fingers long and elegant.
Before he even realized it, Qi Ji had already taken his hand.
A low chuckle sounded by his ear. A gentle force pulled him forward, drawing him into a firm embrace. His body lifted, and he was scooped up just like that.
“Qi Qi.”
Pei Yusheng called him with a smile.
Just hearing his name in that familiar voice made Qi Ji’s ears burn red.
His hands rested on the man’s shoulders, his face pressed against the side of Pei Yusheng’s neck, holding tight—like a small animal desperate for warmth in the dead of winter.
Qi Ji spoke softly, his voice tinged with a nasal hitch and faint tears.
“Mr. Pei…”
He said,
“Welcome back.”
A warm hand rested against the back of his head—the most reassuring warmth there was.
Along with that deeply familiar, low, magnetic voice.
“Mm. I’m back.”
Night fell, city lights flickered on. The bustling airport was filled with people coming and going, departures and reunions playing out side by side. The two embracing figures were nothing out of the ordinary—and yet, they were very happy.
The world was vast. Life was long.
And they were by each other’s side.
The drive home from the airport was long, yet the time passed quickly. They’d only held hands for a short while, and somehow, they were already home.
Stepping into the villa and stopping at the entryway, Pei Yusheng gave their joined hands a gentle squeeze.
“One kiss before we let go?”
It went smoothly enough—but Pei Yusheng soon found himself with a new problem.
Just that one kiss, and he was already hard.
Maybe it was the boy’s wet, luminous eyes. Maybe it was those slightly cool, impossibly soft lips. Whatever the reason, before Pei Yusheng could come up with an excuse, he’d already felt the stiffness in the body against his.
Not from the kiss reddening his lips—but from being pressed against below.
Afraid of startling him so abruptly, Pei Yusheng felt a flicker of regret. Reason forced the heat down. He released the slender wrist he’d been holding, deliberately ignoring the faint marks his fingers had left, stepped back half a pace, and composed himself as gracefully as he could.
Except when he spoke, his voice was still hoarse.
“Come on. Let’s get changed first.”
But the boy in front of him, uncharacteristically, didn’t let the topic pass.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” Qi Ji said.
Pei Yusheng asked, “What is it?”
Qi Ji looked at him. The moisture in his eyes hadn’t faded—if anything, it was more obvious now.
“I don’t want the three months anymore.”
Pei Yusheng froze.
He knew exactly what the three months meant. He just hadn’t expected Qi Ji to say this so suddenly.
Qi Ji clenched his fingers, as if steeling himself. “I want three years. Thirty years…”
Pei Yusheng came back to himself and continued, “Three hundred years.”
Qi Ji’s nose stung faintly. He said softly, “Then we’d turn into old monsters.”
The half-step of distance between them vanished again. Pei Yusheng pressed his forehead to Qi Ji’s, laughing quietly.
“This old monster really likes you.”
Qi Ji’s eyes were red, but he didn’t dodge. Instead, he leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss was soft—and sweet.
To Pei Yusheng, it was nothing short of exquisite torture.
Somehow, reason still hadn’t snapped. With immense effort, Pei Yusheng restrained himself, even as the boy took the initiative for the first time.
Before, he’d held back for fear of scaring him away.
Now, he held back because he was afraid of hurting him.
“Good,” Pei Yusheng said hoarsely, cupping the boy’s warm cheek. “We’ll take it slow.”
Qi Ji didn’t respond. Instead, he rubbed his cheek lightly against Pei Yusheng’s palm.
Pei Yusheng lowered his head to meet his gaze. “Qi Qi.”
“What’s wrong?”
The boy was unusually proactive. Pei Yusheng was happy—but more than that, he was worried about Qi Ji’s state of mind.
Qi Ji was quiet for a moment before speaking softly. “I’m scared…”
“Scared this is just a dream. That I’ll wake up and you won’t be there.”
The fear he’d carried for days hadn’t fully dissipated. Even recalling it now made his palms sweat.
His words were slightly broken by his nasal tone, but every syllable was clear.
“I want to feel you… more.”
Pei Yusheng’s gaze darkened. He was nearly unable to hold back.
No one could resist words like that from a lover.
Least of all him.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he said hoarsely, “It won’t be like that. I’ll always be here…”
Before he could finish, the boy turned his face and lightly kissed his fingertip.
“Qi Qi…”
Pei Yusheng was almost smiling bitterly.
“Even though I can fall asleep holding you like this…”
“You really shouldn’t trust my self-control too much.”
“Then don’t use it,” Qi Ji said softly.
The words slipped out without thought. He didn’t even have time to process what “fall asleep holding you” really meant. His mind was fixed on a single conviction—one he’d never expected to be so firm.
The moment the words fell, the room went utterly still.
Qi Ji fell silent too.
But he didn’t regret it.
He’d once had countless reservations, hesitating and weighing everything back and forth. Yet when danger truly struck, those reservations turned into regret—regret that he hadn’t decided sooner, that he’d waited until the very end to finally admit his feelings for Mr. Pei.
He should have known.
While he was afraid of the future, Pei Yusheng had been suffering through the wait imposed by reality.
Fortunately, it was a false alarm. They still had a long future ahead.
After nineteen years of being worn down by fate, Qi Ji had finally been granted a stroke of good luck.
He no longer had the energy to consider anything else. Overwhelming emotion swallowed all his hesitation. When the tidal wave receded, all that remained in the depths of his heart was the simplest, most honest truth.
He liked him.
Liking him was enough.
Because he liked him, he was willing to move forward without hesitation.
Qi Ji wanted to do this—so he did. For once, he was this bold, venturing into a realm he’d never experienced before. And he didn’t regret it. Not his impulsive words, not his overstep.
He wanted to learn how to care for Mr. Pei. The first step was learning to express his own feelings.
The silence around them persisted. No one spoke. Qi Ji rose on his toes and kissed him again—clumsy, inexperienced, but earnest.
A ringing filled his ears, blood rushing so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. The man in front of him seemed to sigh. Before Qi Ji could react, control shifted back into Pei Yusheng’s hands.
Despite a few prior experiences, Qi Ji still hadn’t learned how to breathe properly. Not long into the kiss, his head went light, and he had to clutch the man’s clothes just to stay upright. Only when saliva pooled at the corner of his lips and his breathing grew painfully labored was he finally released—just a little.
“Mmph… cough—cough…”
He coughed weakly. In his daze, his body suddenly lifted, and he was carried sideways in Pei Yusheng’s arms.
His heart tightened.
Even though he’d prepared himself mentally, when the moment truly came, it was impossible not to feel nervous.
Qi Ji struggled slightly, wanting to get down and walk on his own, but the man holding him stopped almost immediately. Instead of heading upstairs to the master bedroom, Pei Yusheng carried him to the living room and sat down on the couch.
Qi Ji sat on his lap. The stray hair at his forehead was brushed behind his ear. Pei Yusheng lowered his head, resting his forehead against Qi Ji’s, and spoke softly.
“Qi Qi, there’s no rush.”
Qi Ji froze.
Pei Yusheng continued, “Let’s let things happen naturally, okay?”
Seeing his own reflection in the man’s eyes, Qi Ji went completely stiff.
That first act of initiative—the kiss—had used up all his courage. Looked at another way, that bravery was little more than shameless self-offering.
This kind of impulsive, one-sided passion would only make his actions seem uglier, more undignified.
His mind went blank. After what felt like a long time, Qi Ji finally forced out a strained smile.
“I’m sorry…”
His voice was far hoarser than before, like it had been scraped raw by sandpaper. The color drained from his face, leaving it deathly pale.
Qi Ji looked away, trying to leave the man’s embrace and stand up on his own.
“I’ll go change my coat.”
“Qi Qi,” Pei Yusheng said, not loosening his hold but tightening his arm around his waist instead. “Listen to me…”
Qi Ji smiled faintly. Only then did he remember that a polite smile was something he was always good at.
“There’s no need,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever Mr. Pei thinks is best.”
He insisted on getting up. Afraid of hurting him, Pei Yusheng didn’t use force and spoke directly instead.
“The drug’s effects might still be lingering. If we do it now, then from now on, you’ll only ever be able to be with me.”
One of the effects of BSW991 was that the user could only accept the first person they were with after taking it. Any subsequent intimacy with others would trigger rejection and disgust.
That was why Pei Yusheng had kept delaying.
Qi Ji’s movements stopped. He was pulled back into Pei Yusheng’s arms.
“Qi Qi,” Pei Yusheng said quietly. “We still have a long life ahead of us. I won’t let go—but I don’t want to bind you with this. Accidents can happen anytime. If next time I’m not so lucky…”
He didn’t get to finish.
A cool, soft hand covered his lips.
The boy looked at him with wet eyes, stopping him from saying the rest.
“Don’t say that,” Qi Ji insisted, his eyes red, voice thick with emotion. “It won’t happen. It can’t.”
Pei Yusheng’s chest tightened. He kissed the boy’s palm.
Qi Ji loosened his hand slightly, but his tone remained serious.
“You have to take that back.”
Pei Yusheng agreed without hesitation. “Okay. I take it back.”
Only then did Qi Ji’s tense shoulders relax a little.
Cradled in Pei Yusheng’s arms, he curled into his chest, cheek pressed against it, clearly hearing the steady, reassuring heartbeat beneath.
He sniffed quietly and said in a small voice, “I was only ever going to be with you anyway.”
His voice was soft, but he said it more than once—repeating it, confirming it—making it impossible to mishear.
“Only you. I only like you. I only want you…”
The arm around his waist tightened. The chest beneath his cheek rose sharply, and he heard Pei Yusheng’s voice—low, hoarse, as if barely restraining something that was about to break free.
“Qi Qi.”
Pei Yusheng still called him gently.
“You might get angry. You might regret it. You might come to dislike it.”
“But in this lifetime, you’ll never be able to leave me.”
Qi Ji’s voice was thick with emotion, but every word was clear.
“I won’t regret it.”