BTMDY Chapter 118

The amount of information revealed just now was overwhelming. Lin Shen could never have dreamed that at his age, he’d end up with a son older than himself by a year.

 

And the information hidden behind that email was even more devastating.

 

With Lu Chengxuan’s reminder, even the slowest of thoughts in Lin Shen’s mind could piece together its true meaning.

 

The horrifying idea that surfaced sent chills all over his body.

 

His nerves trembled uncontrollably, his voice carrying a bone-deep chill, slightly trembling as he whispered,

 

“Could it be that in the other timeline…?”

 

He didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes involuntarily flicked toward Lin Wangye, as if slamming on the brakes at the edge of a cliff, forcing the words back down.

 

“…Hu Haoyang hurt both of us,” he corrected, asking.

 

“No. You were sick,” Lu Chengxuan answered, clearly aware of what he was thinking, carefully softening the word ‘death’ in front of Lin Wangye.

 

“You handed over all your assets and less than ten percent of Lin Corporation’s shares to Lin Wangye, while the remaining shares went to me, making me the largest shareholder. But it all happened suddenly and too quickly. The Lin family didn’t know. Hu Haoyang thought all the shares were in Lin Wangye’s hands, so he moved against him.”

 

As he spoke, Lu Chengxuan’s tone was deliberately calm and breezy.

 

But Lin Shen felt his blood reverse, his body going cold, his fingers gripping so hard the joints cracked.

 

It was at this moment that Lin Wangye realized the car accident had not been an accident.

 

His eyes widened in shock, redness spreading almost immediately. Even lying in the warm, cozy blankets, his hairs stood on end, and his whole body shook uncontrollably.

 

Shi Yuan’s heart ached. Seeing tears forming in Lin Wangye’s misty eyes, he furrowed his brows, full of concern, and gently touched his face, looking up at Lu Chengxuan:

 

“Did you catch him?”

 

Lu Chengxuan turned to him and nodded.

 

“Death penalty.”

 

The words were decisive, hammering down the verdict. The other three simultaneously exhaled, relief mixing with grim expressions—especially Lin Shen.

 

At this point, even if he hadn’t fully believed it before, any lingering doubt vanished. Subconsciously, he finally accepted the brutal truth.

 

Thinking about what Lu Chengxuan had said regarding his illness, Lin Shen suddenly remembered how from the very beginning, Lin Wangye had strangely liked taking care of him, even forcing him to quit bad habits.

 

Like forcing him to quit smoking.

 

Making sure he rested on time, ate regularly.

 

If he secretly slipped back into old habits, Lin Wangye would immediately throw a fit, sometimes even crying when anxious.

 

Lin Wangye had always been the type to speak without a filter, joking constantly. No matter what kind of teasing he threw, Lin Wangye would never get angry and would even join in the banter.

 

But Lin Wangye couldn’t stand it when he mentioned death.

 

Even a casual complaint during overtime—‘Ugh, I’m so fed up, I don’t even want to live’—would earn him a scolding straight out of nowhere.

 

Before this, he couldn’t understand it.

 

But now, he finally empathized with what Lin Wangye felt in those moments.

 

Smoking or staying up all night gaming were just small flaws to him. Saying a few offhand lines about wanting to die wasn’t a big deal. But to Lin Wangye, those words carried a pain that was deeply real.

 

Once that thought sank in, Lin Shen felt a tightening in his chest. He looked up at Lin Wangye again, and the boy’s pitiful, almost helpless gaze sparked an emotion he had never felt before.

 

From the moment they met, he’d sensed a strange bond between himself and Lin Wangye. He couldn’t exactly put it into words, but it was intense, undeniable.

 

And when he realized that this boy had truly come from another world looking for his son—even without any blood connection—he still felt something deeply stirring inside.

 

Lin Shen found it hard to describe exactly.

 

If he had to put it into words, he’d say that all his feelings for Lin Wangye had surged like a tidal wave—warmth, closeness, relief, and an overwhelming desire to protect him.

 

Seeing Lin Wangye holding back tears, his eyes red and glistening, looking at him so pitifully, Lin Shen exhaled slowly, stepped toward the bed, bent down, pinched his cheek, and said with a smile,

 

“Call me Dad.”

 

Lin Wangye’s lips twitched downward, and after a small pause, he spoke softly but clearly:

 

“Da…Dad…”

 

Before Lin Shen could even respond, Lin Wangye completely lost it. The tears he had been holding back for so long burst out, and he began to wail loudly.

 

“Whoa—”

 

Lin Shen jerked his hand back as if shocked by electricity, bouncing backward, his head spinning, and shouted, furious but helpless:

 

“Why does everyone have to be so miserable! Life’s restarting after a disaster, no champagne needed, fine—but why the long faces like I’m at a funeral! I’m fine, can’t you see I’m fine!”

 

Though his words were a bit chaotic, they did the trick.

 

Lu Chengxuan and Shi Yuan also realized there was no need to overthink or panic—they hadn’t lost what mattered most, not now.

 

Their faces brightened a bit, but Lin Wangye kept crying, hoarse and unstoppable, not even Shi Yuan could calm him.

 

Lin Shen’s head buzzed, and in a mix of frustration and panic, he pointed at Lin Wangye’s nose and yelled,

 

“If you keep crying, no Bentley for you!”

 

Lin Wangye hiccupped, and miraculously stopped crying. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out the last of his tears so Shi Yuan could wipe them away, sniffling and sniffing, looking at him with watery eyes:

 

“…I really need a Bentley.”

 

“Bought! You’ll get one as soon as you’re out of the hospital!”

 

Lin Shen nodded quickly, adding a warning with a hint of teasing: “One more crying fit and I’m taking off a wheel. Your choice.”

 

Lin Wangye blew his nose into the tissue Shi Yuan had pressed to his nostrils and lay obediently on the bed, completely silent.

 

Lin Shen leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, thought for a moment, and looked up at Lu Chengxuan:

 

“Where were we?”

 

“Death penalty,” Lu Chengxuan reminded him.

 

“Oh, right.”

 

For Lin Shen, what happened in another timeline was far away, almost unreal. No matter how angry he got, he couldn’t go back and take revenge—he could only let go and trust that justice would be done.

 

This time, Hu Haoyang hadn’t succeeded, didn’t reach the level of the death penalty.

 

No matter—justice would deal with him.

 

For someone like Hu Haoyang, who fancied himself above everyone else, losing his freedom after a huge rise and fall would hurt a hundred times more, striking right at his pride. Death would have been too quick, too easy.

 

With that settled, Lin Shen suddenly stopped caring about the case itself. After a moment’s thought, he asked:

 

“Lu Chengxuan, did you handle the task I assigned in my email?”

 

Lu Chengxuan lowered his eyes and replied softly, “Yes.”

 

Lin Shen exhaled slowly, a weight lifted:

 

“That’s good.”

 

He actually had so many questions he wanted to ask.

 

He wanted to know, in the other timeline where nothing had gone wrong, what had really happened to him and why it had ended that way.

 

Why Lu Chengxuan had only learned about his death when he got the email.

 

Maybe they’d never meet again. Maybe they were far apart.

 

Lin Shen had no clue. There were too many things he wanted to ask, he didn’t even know where to start—or how to ask.

 

While Lin Shen sat in silence, Lin Wangye suddenly remembered something important. Clearing his throat, he asked Lu Chengxuan: “Uncle Lu, did you come over back when I asked you about my dad…did you recognize me?”

 

It was a critical question, but the moment Lin Wangye spoke, Lin Shen burst out laughing:

 

“Uncle? What kind of weird title is that? Just call him ‘brother’ like before, I can’t take it!”

 

Lin Wangye blinked and obediently corrected himself: “Brother Lu…can I keep calling you that?”

 

“Sure, it’s fine,” Lu Chengxuan said, showing no discomfort at any title. Then he thought for a moment before answering Lin Wangye’s earlier question:

 

“To be honest, I can’t really tell when I came over either.”

 

Hearing this, all three of them were a little surprised.

 

Lu Chengxuan’s high intelligence was well known; nothing ever seemed to stump him—except when it came to matters involving Lin Shen. And now, faced with such an important question, he couldn’t give a clear answer.

 

Seeing the puzzled expressions around him, Lu Chengxuan began to explain as clearly as he could.

 

When he first met Lin Wangye, he didn’t recognize him at all.

 

But after Lin Wangye appeared, fragments of unfamiliar memories and images related to him started surfacing in his mind.

 

At first, those stories seemed too bizarre—identities, ages, everything didn’t match up. He assumed that because Lin Shen and Lin Wangye called each other father and son every day, he must be dreaming about them.

 

It wasn’t until more and more memories flooded in, like a rising tide, that he realized something was off.

 

The memories were scattered and fragmented. Often, they had no clear connection.

 

After all, Lu Chengxuan existed in this timeline. Unlike Lin Wangye, who arrived complete with experiences from twenty years later, Lu Chengxuan’s soul carried decades of future memories and experiences but returned to his 18-year-old body.

 

So he couldn’t simply accept it all.

 

It took a long process of collecting and piecing together memories, along with clues he noticed in Lin Wangye, before Lu Chengxuan finally discovered the truth.

 

The complexity of it all left Lin Shen dizzy, scratching his head in exasperation.

 

Lu Chengxuan’s voice was calm and slow. Lin Wangye, still a little sleepy, perked up when he realized the clues involved him, asking, “What clues about me?”

 

Lu Chengxuan glanced at him:

 

“When you came to the cafeteria back then asking about Lin Shen, you called me ‘Uncle.’”

 

Lin Wangye hadn’t remembered it at the time, and so much time had passed he’d long forgotten. Only when Lu Chengxuan reminded him did he slap his forehead and say, “Oh, right… I don’t even remember that.”

 

Lu Chengxuan continued:

 

“And there were your browser searches for Shi Yuan, that platinum necklace, the paternity test… clues like these kept adding up, and soon I was able to get close to the truth.”

 

Hearing this, Lin Shen finally understood.

 

With Lu Chengxuan’s personality, he must have been a steadfast materialist before this.

 

Imagining him getting confused while sorting all that information made Lin Shen laugh to himself. Holding back a smile, he said, “You’re such a blockhead—took you forever to figure it out.”

 

Lu Chengxuan didn’t argue. He hadn’t even told Lin Shen that, during the early days, he had nearly gone to see a psychologist.

 

“Mainly, along the way, I encountered some resistance that made me doubt the truth. So I needed more evidence to confirm my guesses,” Lu Chengxuan explained.

 

“What kind of resistance?” Lin Shen asked.

 

Lu Chengxuan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze shifted to Lin Wangye and Shi Yuan, his expression complicated.

 

Lin Wangye, having just woken from a long coma, hadn’t fully regained his energy. He was still a little weak, and the moment he closed his eyes, he fell asleep again.

 

To avoid disturbing him, the topic had to end there.

 

Knowing that Lin Wangye would likely sleep for a long time, Lin Shen didn’t linger. He left the space to him and Shi Yuan, and turned to leave the hospital room with Lu Chengxuan.

 

Once in the underground parking lot and seated in the passenger seat, Lin Shen suddenly spoke:

 

“Stop the car.”

 

Lu Chengxuan eased off the gas, slammed the brake, and turned to look at him.

 

The car was utterly quiet, broken only by their alternating breaths.

 

Lin Shen didn’t speak for a while. He lowered his eyes, lost in thought, before finally looking up and meeting Lu Chengxuan’s gaze, asking softly,

 

“Last time…was our relationship different from now?”

 

At once, a fleeting, unusual expression flashed across Lu Chengxuan’s eyes, disappearing in an instant—but Lin Shen caught it immediately.

 

He knew Lu Chengxuan would stay silent rather than lie.

 

So he didn’t press further, just sat quietly, waiting.

 

Lu Chengxuan didn’t avoid his gaze. He answered honestly:

 

“Yes. Different.”

 

“Were we…at odds? Hostile?”

 

“Like strangers.”

 

“Why?” Lin Shen clenched his fists, trying to keep his voice calm, suppressing the edge as he asked, “When did it go wrong?”

 

Maybe Lu Chengxuan didn’t know how to answer at first. Maybe certain unpleasant memories came to mind.

 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and after a long pause opened them again:

 

“At that time, I wanted to break free from my father’s control. After high school, I chose to go abroad. By the time I returned, you were already handling everything alone and didn’t want to see me anymore.”

 

He paused, lowering his voice:

 

“It was my fault. I made the wrong choice.”

 

Hearing that in another timeline Lu Chengxuan had chosen to go abroad, Lin Shen wasn’t surprised and didn’t blame him at all.

 

Because the choice itself wasn’t wrong.

 

This time, Lu Chengxuan didn’t go abroad—but the effort he’d put in, the pressure he bore behind the scenes, was beyond Lin Shen’s imagination.

 

He had paid a heavy price to defy his father, and Lin Shen had watched it all.

 

Lu Chengxuan was not at fault. The one at fault was himself.

 

He had to be stubborn, refusing to yield until the very end.

 

The air in the car seemed to freeze in that moment.

 

Lu Chengxuan knew Lin Shen’s temper. He knew that just because what happened in another timeline didn’t actually happen in this one didn’t mean Lin Shen would easily let it go.

 

That question was a signal of anger.

 

After speaking honestly, Lu Chengxuan fell silent, waiting for final judgment.

 

Lin Shen let out a quiet sigh. A light of release shimmered in his eyes as he suddenly asked,

 

“Lu Chengxuan…can I ask you something? It’s important to me.”

 

“What?”

 

“In the other timeline…did we…?”

 

Lu Chengxuan hadn’t expected the question. He didn’t answer immediately. After a long pause, he finally said:

 

“Yes.”

 

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