Chapter 75: Sir, I Wish to Leave You
The air was thick with the scent of blood. Mu Si, his body drenched in fresh wounds, descended from the punishment platform, his trembling fingers reaching for the black shirt on the floor.
But he lacked the strength to put it on.
Half-naked, blood streaking his torso, Mu Si walked toward the basement door.
“Sir?”
He hadn’t expected to see Bo Yu waiting at the entrance.
Bathed in cold moonlight, Bo Yu sat quietly in his wheelchair, as if he’d been there for ages.
“Are you waiting for me?” Mu Si asked bluntly.
Bo Yu slowly opened his amber eyes, gazing into the basement behind Mu Si. “In a way.”
The winding trail of blood marked Mu Si’s path here.
It was also the path that someone else had once tread, step by step.
Mu Si fought the pain as he slipped into his shirt. The master was obsessive, demanding strict control; he never allowed anyone before him to appear untidy.
“That’s enough.”
When Mu Si’s trembling fingers failed several times to fasten the buttons, Bo Yu finally interrupted, impatience flashing in his tone. “Push me down.”
“It’s filthy in there. Why do you want to go?” Mu Si asked, hand gripping the wheelchair’s armrest.
Bo Yu gave only three words.
“I miss him.”
Countless times, he had waited here for Shen Jixing.
That person respected him, revered him, never defied him.
The last time was for a mistake Shen Jixing made at eighteen—Bo Yu’s harshest punishment yet.
He locked Shen Jixing away for an entire month.
From then on, it seemed their paths diverged, each going their separate ways, never to cross again.
“It was all because of that boy.”
Bo Yu looked toward the chains in the corner, his vision flickering with the image of that youth sitting quietly, as pure as a broken-winged bird.
Never again able to fly to the freedom he yearned for.
“A Xing would actually do that for him... No, not really because of him,” Bo Yu shifted his tone. “He only chose that filthy path to spite me.”
That boy was never important enough.
Shen Jixing was not motivated by love; he was simply frightened into rebellion.
So he found someone at random to taint himself.
Mu Si was silent for a moment, not agreeing. “Do you think sex is dirty?”
Mu Si’s words were unflinchingly straightforward, but only Bo Yu remained unfazed.
“Isn’t it?” Bo Yu asked coldly.
The masterpiece he had cultivated should be flawless, untouched by anyone.
“I picked him up from the snow when he was six, gave him hope and a new life, painstakingly nurtured him into a genius, guarded him for half his life.”
“And finally, he turned eighteen.”
Bo Yu’s memory drifted back to that time.
Before he could speak, Shen Jixing sensed it and spoke first—
“Sir, I’ve grown up.”
“Thank you for all these years of raising and guiding me. From here on, I want to walk my own path.”
The eighteen-year-old youth was exquisitely handsome, standing tall and cold in the summer night breeze.
His voice was clear and resolute, piercing straight to the heart.
“Just as the great roc rises with the wind, soaring ninety thousand miles.”
“I will not disappoint your expectations. I will become the pride you speak of.”
“Sir.”
Shen Jixing spoke in the calmest, gentlest tone. “I want to leave here now.”
Bo Yu only remembered that his blood surged wildly then, though his face remained composed and elegant, as always.
He had poured his heart into nurturing and protecting him, all the way to adulthood.
He said, Sir.
I’ve grown up, and I want to leave you now.
...
The endless silence of the moonlight was broken by Mu Si’s lazy voice.
“Perhaps the young master simply understood your feelings and didn’t want to reject you outright, to avoid making things ugly.”
Bo Yu slowly looked at him. “Have you forgotten you were punished just ten minutes ago?”
Mu Si: “...”
He lowered his head. “Sorry.”
Truth is always unpleasant, especially when spoken by Mu Si.
And it differed little from reality.
Shen Jixing had long seen through him; he only pretended ignorance, and then, after coming of age, left as a matter of course.
How absurd.
Did he really think he could escape?
“I kept him in the greenhouse for too long. He has no idea how harsh the world is. He’s too weak, too delicate—he can barely take a step.”
Mu Si listened quietly, still unwilling to agree.
A golden cage is no greenhouse.
“But he survived nonetheless.” As Bo Yu said these words, a flicker of pain crossed his eyes.
Shen Jixing left without a cent, took on all sorts of dirty and exhausting jobs.
He went hungry, slept under bridges, and because of his striking beauty, he was nearly harassed by vagrants.
That’s why he rejects all touch.
Bo Yu laughed. “This is the freedom he wanted.”
He didn’t even qualify to fly to Venus.
Everything changed with Zhou Yili.
That young man, moved by a single tear, agreed to let him stay, and began to nurture the wounded white dove.
Shen Jixing gradually became gentle, cheerful, and smiled more often.
It seemed he was teaching, but in truth he was taking.
The vitality in that boy made him long for it, nourishing his slow rebirth.
“So you went mad,” Mu Si remarked, knowing what came next. “You tied him up and dragged him back, locking him in the basement.”
Bo Yu’s gaze turned cold and gloomy. “Do you think you’re the only suitable choice as my bodyguard?”
Mu Si was handsome and refined, mature and steady, attentive in all things.
Bo Yu found him useful and kept him on.
But lately, he’d grown a bit... unruly.
“When my wounds heal a bit tomorrow, I’ll accept three more hours of punishment.” Mu Si spoke in a calm voice.
No hint of the earlier trembling and distress.
Bo Yu looked at him coolly. “Because of that mouth, you’ve suffered countless injuries.”
Mu Si replied matter-of-factly, “Serving me, I won’t be mistreated.”
His words rippled through the night, stirring something unspoken.
Bo Yu snorted, “I really do pick people from the same mold.”
Rebellion ran deep in their bones.
But rebellion was useless.
The master ruled; Shen Jixing had no right to resist.
“You want to escape to France, to get far away from me, don’t you?”
At the top floor, Bo Yu smiled gently, nothing like the frenzy he showed when he saw the marks on the boy’s collar. “I’ll help you.”
He sat in his office, chatting amiably with Chu Wen, weaving for Shen Jixing the future he longed for.
Gentle, romantic parents in France, the dreamy Venus Hall—he crafted invisible shackles, controlling Shen Jixing with his own hands.
“A Xing, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
Shen Jixing sat quietly, eyes closed, neither listening nor responding.
He wondered, if those hands reached for him again on a snowy night, would he again grasp them without hesitation?
“Sir.”
Shen Jixing called him once.
But said nothing more.
“He’s admitting his mistake; he knows he was wrong,” Bo Yu said. “He’s learned how to be a good child.”
Even without Bo Yu’s intervention, Shen Jixing cut off everything with that boy.
He accepted the reality of being locked in the cage.
That boy shouldn’t be involved with a caged bird—he should soar unrestrained, riding the wind, flying toward the sky that belonged to him.
“He’s become very obedient.”
“But he’s never looked at me again.”
Bo Yu fell into deep thought, unsure what to do with Shen Jixing.
“Sir.” Mu Si looked at the chains in the corner. “The chains binding the young master have already been broken.”
“Let him be free.”