ITF Chapter98

Bai Heting had never imagined that a day would come when he would discuss a concept as illusory and far-fetched as “for the rest of this life and all eternity” with someone. When even a promise as simple as watching the sea together was something he had nearly broken, who could possibly have the final say over a span of time as vast as an entire lifetime?

He did not reply to Luo Congye’s words; instead, he clamped his hand around the back of the Alpha’s head and forced his face back down.

“Do you see it as a regret not having any heirs?” He asked.

He couldn’t see Luo Congye’s expression, but he could feel the rise and fall of his chest. That motion paused for several seconds before Luo Congye finally spoke, “No.”

It was a lie thrown out entirely by instinct.

This conversation made Luo Congye feel a profound sense of unreality. He was merely a low-born illegitimate child born in the slums, whereas this person he had looked up to since childhood, regardless of whether he was trapped in a cage, remained eternally composed, eternally noble, like a crystal-clear, dazzlingly brilliant, and indestructible diamond.

How could a presence like Bai Heting ever condescend to continue a bloodline for someone like him?

Yet the moisture against his ear was real.

Luo Congye dared not move an inch as if terrified of disturbing something. His voice was incredibly soft, and he even slowed his breathing, “I thought you didn’t like children.”

“I don’t.” Bai Heting said.

From a very young age, he had been different from ordinary children. Father, mother, child, bloodline—none of these words held any special meaning for him, nor did they evoke any distinct emotions within him. On the day Luo Wanyin met her tragic end, he had not shed a single tear, and when Bai Yi died, his heart had not stirred even the faintest ripple.

But why…

Why did his chest feel so utterly hollow, as though a piece of it had been gouged out by a sharp blade?

The side of Luo Congye’s face had already been dampened by the slightly cool liquid. He wanted to raise his head to steal a glance at Bai Heting, but the hand clamped around the back of his head exerted a tremendous amount of force. Incapable of sitting up, he could only turn his face slightly, pressing his lips gently against Bai Heting’s neck, which was taut with restraint.

“Saying it’s not a regret would be a lie, but…” Tasting a hint of wet saltiness between his lips, he rubbed the top of Bai Heting’s shoulder with his fingers, speaking softly, “…having you by my side right now makes up for every single regret.”

The warm breath brushed against his neck, making it feel warm yet itchy. Bai Heting turned his face, locking eyes with those dark pupils that appeared increasingly dense due to his intense focus.

His eyes were clearly so dark, yet they were inconceivably clear, allowing one to see all the way to the very bottom at a single glance—to see the clumsiness, the recklessness, the complete selflessness, and the absolute resolution contained within them.

Bai Heting fell silent for a moment, then lowered his head to approach the corner of Luo Congye’s lips, offering a soft chiding, “You talk too much nonsense.”

The tear stains on his face had not yet faded, and his eyes were completely red, yet his expression didn’t look as though he had just wept; his countenance had once again taken on that familiar detached coldness. But Luo Congye had discovered a novel truth. From this exact moment onward, every single glance, every single movement, and every single word from the person before him had taken on an entirely new interpretation.

Seeing that he was completely unresponsive, Bai Heting raised his leg in dissatisfaction, intending to kick him, only to have his calf firmly caught in a tight grip.

Luo Congye’s kiss met him instantly.

His tongue drove deep, tangling with the tip of Bai Heting’s tongue. Bai Heting gasped sharply, his body arching upward before falling back down, his fingers leaving several distinct red marks on Luo Congye’s arm.

His eyes looked even redder now.

“I missed you so much.” Luo Congye sighed.

They hadn’t seen each other for too long, and Bai Heting’s body couldn’t quite handle such reckless, forceful roughhousing. Yet he lacked the energy to scold him, his words broken into pieces by the impacts, “I think… you on that ship… all by yourself… were living quite happily…”

“I wasn’t happy,” Luo Congye paused his movements, speaking through gritted teeth. “I’m not happy at all.”

Now he only regretted that time couldn’t turn back to three days ago. The very moment the warship docked, he should have flown straight back to this place.

Instead of scratching his head and tearing his heart out inside that cramped, freezing cabin.

“Speaking of which…” He turned Bai Heting’s face toward him, asking curiously, “How did you know I was hiding on the ship?” Recalling Bei Yang’s utterly exasperated look, a few rather unpleasant suspicions couldn’t help but rise in his mind. “What did you do to Bei Yang?”

Bai Heting fell silent for two seconds, responding vaguely, “He deserved it.” Then, he grabbed Luo Congye impatiently. “Didn’t you forbid me from bringing up other people in bed?”

*

Jiang Han finally moved into his new residence.

He politely thanked the Beta who had driven the carriage to deliver him here, standing at the doorway to look over his new home.

The house wasn’t large, but it was bright and well-lit, appearing to have been meticulously cleaned. The fireplace in the outer parlor was burning brightly, and daily necessities were fully stocked.

Lin Qian had always been thorough in her handling of affairs, so this came as no surprise.

He placed the few items he carried with him onto the table. Just as he was pondering how to arrange them, someone suddenly knocked on the front door.

The door was already wide open. The young man standing by the doorway had a straight and upright posture, yet his demeanor remained as stiff and constrained as ever. The newcomer looked at Jiang Han without speaking, merely raising the cloth sack in his hand as if greeting him.

Only after Jiang Han gave him a nod did he step into the room, placing the cloth sack on the table, his tone sounding equally rigid, “I brought you some fruit.”

Jiang Han stole a glance inside the open sack, his expression changing slightly. “This is fruit?”

Bei Yang swallowed hard, looking at him and letting out an “Ah.”

Jiang Han said nothing further, simply offering a word of appreciation, “Thank you.”

He stopped speaking as if seeing a guest out. The atmosphere instantly turned awkward, and Bei Yang’s gaze drifted around aimlessly before settling on the table.

Sitting on it were only a few changes of clothing and a stack of books.

Jiang Han had been personally escorted onto the island by him. Back then, he had been completely empty-handed, so these items must have been prepared for him by Lin Qian. Yet having lived on the island for over half a year, he brought only this tiny amount of belongings when moving houses, which caught Bei Yang somewhat by surprise.

Along with the surprise came a faint hint of disappointment—there were no medicinal herbs whatsoever on the table.

He compressed his dry lips and asked, seemingly nonchalant, “Did the medicine I sent back work well?”

Since the vast majority of what he had sent back was just weeds, Jiang Han replied tactfully, “My hand no longer requires any medication.”

Once these words were spoken, the room fell into an excruciating silence yet again. Jiang Han could not directly drive him out, so he had no choice but to pick up the clothing on the table.

Bei Yang hurriedly said, “Let me help you.”

Jiang Han said helplessly, “No need…”

But Bei Yang had already picked up the stack of books and walked silently to a corner of the parlor, where a dark brown oak chest of five drawers stood.

He pulled open the top drawer and placed the books inside one by one. Jiang Han followed him over, placing the clothing in his hands into the second drawer while casting another glance at Bei Yang’s hand.

“Is your hand injured?” Jiang Han asked.

The young man’s tone was even stiffer than his wrist. “No.”

Jiang Han could roughly guess that the injury on his wrist was the work of Bai Heting. He had heard from Lin Qian this morning that because Bei Yang refused to reveal Luo Congye’s whereabouts, Bai Heting had gotten into a brief public altercation with him.

However, he left the young Alpha a shred of dignity and did not expose the truth, merely letting out a few low chuckles.

Bei Yang’s ears burned red from the laughter, making him wish he could find a hole to crawl into, and his still-throbbing wrist grew increasingly uncooperative—

The book in his hand dropped straight into the drawer.

Jiang Han’s laughter ceased instantly.

Bei Yang was also stunned. Staring at the familiar handwriting on the open page, he murmured, “This is my brother’s…”

The notebook that had fallen open happened to be Bei Chenzhou’s medical notes, which Jiang Han had obtained from Lin Qian.

After a brief silence, Jiang Han said to Bei Yang, “If you want it, you can take it.”

“No.” Bei Yang stole a few more lingering glances before finally closing the notebook and straightening it inside the drawer. “I can’t understand it anyway. Keeping it with me would be too much of a waste.”

This time not only were his ears red, but even the rims of his eyes had turned red. Jiang Han closed the drawer containing the clothing, picked up a book, and walked away, giving him a bit of space to let out his emotions.

Walking back to the table, he sat down in a chair and flipped open the book in his hand. “You brothers certainly had a wonderful bond,” he said plainly. “If your brother knew you missed him this much, he would be very happy.”

Only after a good long while did Bei Yang speak, “Our mother passed away when I was very young, so I’ve always clung to my brother.” He let out a soft sigh, his voice still carrying a faint, subtle nasal tone. “Physician Jiang, you are so gentle. You’re just as gentle as my brother was.”

Jiang Han did not reply, merely offering a silent smile as he turned another page of the book.

This young man could only see Bei Chenzhou’s gentleness, but he clearly did not yet understand that people who were gentle to everyone were often crueler than anyone else.

His refined, cultured brother, who treated everyone with a spring-like warmth, had clearly been fully aware of Bei Yang’s feelings, yet had feigned absolute ignorance all along.

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