Shi Yuxing held the photo album, casually placing it back with feigned calm, licking his lips as he said: “I was so absorbed in looking at it that I didn’t hear your voice, Grandmother.” With that, he looked at Gu Lingzhou beside him. He was back in his military uniform today, looking unapproachable. Gu Lingzhou’s clear black-and-white eyes concealed his anger, suppressing his emotions, lips pressed together in silence as he stared toward the doorway.
Her shoulders were draped with a knitted shawl—black fabric threaded with gold, the emerald green stone resting quietly upon it like a deep, bottomless pool in a black desert. The butler carried a large jingling ring of keys on his elbow, adjusting his monocle as he awaited instructions. Grandmother glanced back and told him to leave the door ajar.
The tall door slowly closed, letting out a deep, distant moan.
“You haven’t come over together in a long time. Last time was the family banquet.” The dignified, elegant woman lightly gathered her shawl, wrapping herself tighter, then slowly sat down, supporting herself on the armrest of the sofa.
Shi Yuxing was about to step forward when the hem of his clothes was tugged. Then a warm, large palm caught his dangling hand and held it tight. Confusion in his eyes, he let Gu Lingzhou lead him over. Kolia’s expression changed instantly—to delight. As soon as they sat down, Grandmother threw out: “Now that you’ve cultivated your feelings, Lingzhou has also learned to care for Xingxing.”
Gu Lingzhou didn’t let go, sitting side by side with Shi Yuxing. Shi Yuxing knew he was probably a bit triggered—the enemy who had killed his parents was sitting right across from him, and she was his own grandmother. Even a tiger wouldn’t eat its own cubs. If what Da Ling said was true, then the person before him was more terrifying than a tiger.
A slight tremor came through his palm, and he could vaguely feel the vigorous heartbeat pulsing through the veins beneath his skin. Shi Yuxing desperately wanted to comfort him, but for now, besides holding his hand tightly, there was no other choice.
“I heard you came racing back from another planet a few days ago and even took An Bao’s customized starship?” Grandmother’s voice was like a thunderbolt, exploding in Shi Yuxing’s head. No way—it had only been a few days, and Grandmother already knew about it from somewhere? Kolia continued: “If you like that kind of starship, just buy one for yourself to drive. Don’t keep troubling others.”
At first listen, this was nothing more than an elder scolding a younger one. But Shi Yuxing had stumbled through enough pitfalls to know that in this situation, it was really about blaming Gu Lingzhou for causing trouble and dragging the Gu family into it. Otherwise, Grandmother wouldn’t have put it so plainly. The one being troubled appeared to be An Bao, but in reality, it was her—the entire Gu family.
Gu Lingzhou was distracted, squeezing Shi Yuxing’s hand again before barely managing a reply: “Mm. I wasn’t feeling well.” Shi Yuxing glanced at him, unsure if he was making an excuse or if he wanted to see Grandmother’s reaction to him.
Kolia rotated the jade bangle on her wrist and closed her eyes. “Rest when you need to. If there’s something you can’t handle, come to me.” On the surface it seemed like concern, but it was really just empty talk. If Gu Lingzhou—with his position—couldn’t solve something, then Grandmother certainly couldn’t either.
The tea room had lovely sunlight. The white gauze curtains swayed, pushed by the sneaking breeze, and light particles danced upon them like undulating waves, sparkling and shimmering.
Gu Lingzhou’s gaze was like a tangible blade. This dignified old woman across from him, full of prosperity, sitting there was enough to command the entire Old Mansion to act on her behalf. The green gems on her body were like the scales of a bamboo viper. Those eyes—as black as his own—held a black hole vortex capable of tearing people apart, stripping flesh from bone.
It was precisely such eyes that had left his parents in a bottomless abyss, exactly as she had wished.
“Lingzhou, why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?” Kolia touched her well-maintained skin. Shi Yuxing tugged Gu Lingzhou’s hand, snapping him out of it. He straightened his back. “No.”
A gust of strong wind came from somewhere, turning the white gauze curtains into surging waves. The loud slapping sound made their heads buzz. Shi Yuxing turned his head—whether to look at Gu Lingzhou or to look through him at the curtains behind, he wasn’t sure.
Gu Lingzhou spoke: “It’s just that I haven’t seen Grandmother in a long time. I missed you.” Shi Yuxing released Gu Lingzhou’s hand and stood up. He walked around the seat to close the window a little, the remaining gap locking out the fierce wind and soothing the curtains.
Grandmother seemed to truly believe his words. She slowly rose and sat down beside him, taking Shi Yuxing’s original spot. “It has been a long time. Now that you’ve moved back to the marital home, find the right time to have a child. Bring them over to relieve my boredom.” Both Gu Lingzhou and Shi Yuxing’s expressions noticeably froze. Shi Yuxing’s feet were nailed to the spot by the curtains, utterly unenthusiastic. Here we go again—nagging about having kids. He really wanted to be DINK.
Shi Yuxing habitually pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to squeeze out his troubles through this simple massage. The next second, he heard Gu Lingzhou’s voice from over there: “Yuxing and I have discussed it. We’re both at the peak of our careers right now, and our lifestyle would also affect pregnancy preparation. We’ll discuss it again once things are more stable.”
He looked up. Gu Lingzhou’s side profile was somewhat blurred, but his strong, sharp lines were still there.
A savior. He was absolutely a savior.
Gu Lingzhou, you’re absolutely amazing today!!!
To be honest, Shi Yuxing didn’t not want children. Given the family’s financial means, hiring a nanny or a full-time tutor wouldn’t be a financial burden at all. The main reason was that he simply didn’t want to give birth. Never mind how low the conception rate was for betas—he might have to get all sorts of injections during pregnancy. And he knew exactly how painful childbirth was—level ten pain. If the placenta happened to stay inside during a natural delivery, it would have to be manually removed, ripped out piece by piece. The ceilings of obstetrics wards were all stained with blood spatter. Anyone who’d been a doctor would feel awe and fear. Childbirth was a great thing, but he’d rather remain an ordinary beta.
And also—the suffering during pregnancy and the possible complications could cause changes to his appearance and figure. That was still the lighter end of it. He’d seen plenty of cases where postpartum depression led to suicide—those were all living lives, all bloody warnings.
He still remembered a mother who’d been reported on years ago. Her glands had been severely damaged due to pregnancy, and after more than twenty years of unrelenting daily pain, she’d passed away prematurely. Her child had wept, wishing that in her next life, his mother wouldn’t give birth again—even if that meant he himself would cease to exist.
At that time, Shi Yuxing was still young. He’d thought: if a person lived their whole life without marrying or having children, was it because they’d heard their child’s wish from their previous life?
God had given some humans the ability to create life. But if the price was sacrificing one person, then he thought it was better to maintain the status quo. He was selfish. He simply didn’t want some stranger he’d never met to potentially take away his career, his body, and his mental strength. Life was only thirty thousand days long—one third of it spent in bed—and he was supposed to spend a large chunk of the remaining twenty thousand days healing psychological or physical trauma?
Over there, they were saying something else. Grandmother seemed very angry. “Xingxing, come here. Don’t you want to have your own child with Lingzhou?”
Shi Yuxing took a deep breath, walking over as he answered: “No.”
The bluntness of it left Kolia speechless for a moment, but she still refused to give up. “When you see those adorable children at the kindergarten gates, don’t you feel anything at all?”
“No.”
“You two are really—” Grandmother stood up abruptly. Shi Yuxing was still a distance away, so she could only vent her anger on her grandson. “Lingzhou, you can’t be this negative! The Gu family has such a vast enterprise—so many people are eyeing it covetously. If I, an old woman, weren’t standing here, this piece of meat would have been carved up long ago. After those shareholders and branch families fight over it all, will there be anything left for you? Or for our line of the Gu family’s descendants?”
Amidst the crossfire, two pairs of eyes met across the room—tea-colored pupils calm and unruffled, and across from them, black pearls equally so.
So what? Why should I worry about what happens after I’m dead while I’m still alive? I have enough money to spend right now. It’s not like I can take it with me to the grave anyway.
It was as if Kolia had heard his inner thoughts. The old woman turned her artillery back on him. Shi Yuxing sensed trouble and took a step back with his right foot.
“Xingxing, come here. Grandmother needs to have a good talk with you. Your parents will grow old too. In the future, only your children will provide for you in your old age and see you off at the end. Are you really counting on descendants from your mother’s side to take care of you?” Her gaze shifted back to Gu Lingzhou. “Don’t be so flippant. Before you entered the military academy, you were such an obedient young man. Now you don’t even listen to your grandmother. In the end, you’ll only be hurting yourselves.”
With that, she let out an indignant sigh—frustrated that iron hadn’t become steel—and left.
Shi Yuxing craned his neck to make sure Kolia had finally left, then let out a breath of relief. He didn’t dawdle either—he hurried over, closed the door, and locked it. “Phew. Seriously, my ears are getting calluses. Why does she love nagging about having kids so much? Shouldn’t these things just take their natural course?” After venting, he turned around and found that Gu Lingzhou had somehow crept up right behind him. Startled, he jerked his chin back and nearly stumbled against the door.
“Why don’t you make any sound when you walk? You’re like a ghost.”
Gu Lingzhou lowered his lashes, looking down at Shi Yuxing’s wide, crystal-like eyes. “Do you want children?”
“No, I don’t. Couldn’t you tell how much I was resisting?” Shi Yuxing pushed him away, straightened up, and dusted off some nonexistent dirt from his clothes. “I heard pregnancy makes you ugly. No thanks. But—you were smart to help me dodge that.” In his peripheral vision, Gu Lingzhou’s fingertips twitched slightly. Shi Yuxing looked up. “Don’t go thinking about anything else. Oh, and earlier—you need to act the same toward Grandmother as before. Don’t keep making that sour face.”
General Gu’s throat moved at his words, and he gave a slight nod. “I’ll listen to you.”
Shi Yuxing hadn’t expected him to be so obedient. “That’s more like it.” Then he remembered something and dashed off. “Almost forgot the real reason we came. Gu Lingzhou, come here. I think I found a new clue.”
Gu Lingzhou followed unhurriedly. Shi Yuxing had no trouble finding the photo frame he hadn’t had time to fully put away and pried open the back. A piece of paper that didn’t match the pristine white back of the photo at all was revealed—yellowed, with frayed edges, torn from some page.
The paper had absorbed traces of time, pressed against the back of the photo, leaving an impression. Finally, it was picked up by a pale hand—so light, yet its contents were so heavy that they made Shi Yuxing’s heart pound wildly—
120930n.
I might die.
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