By Zephyria 
Jing Mian sat on the floor.
His mind was overwhelmed with shock, leaving the young man frozen in that position, unable to move for a long time.
The thing he had lost for years had actually been in Mr. Ren’s drawer all along.
This meant that
they had met before they got married.
To be more precise, it traced back several years, on the anniversary of his mother’s death, when Jing Guozhen had forcibly dragged him to attend a birthday banquet for some influential figure.
It was after that night
that Jing Mian had never been able to find the birthday gift he had failed to give since childhood.
*Flashback*
Jing Residence.
“Put this on.”
Jing Guozhen casually picked out a new suit. Watching Jing Mian step out dressed in a black formal suit, his gaze filled with approval. “Black suits you better than white.”
“White makes MianMian seem naive, like a child just entering society,” Li Qiao chimed in from the side. “Now you look sharp and handsome, just like a top student.”
Jing Mian’s long lashes cast delicate shadows over his pale eyelids. His voice was flat as he asked,
“Whose birthday banquet is it?”
Jing Guozhen was about to speak when Li Qiao tugged at his sleeve. The woman cut in first, “It’s your father’s superior. You wouldn’t know the name even if we told you.”
Li Qiao pulled Jing Guozhen aside, adjusting his tie while whispering, “He’s not in the mood to think about marriage alliances right now. If you bring it up, it’ll only make MianMian resist even more.”
Jing Guozhen seemed to understand and sighed silently.
Of course he knew, today was Zhinian’s death anniversary.
Just like his late wife’s name, even after ten years, her son still remembered her.
The nanny was holding Jing Luo. Li Qiao took the child into her arms, and Jing Luo lifted his tiny hand toward Jing Mian, his pinkish fingers curling slightly.
He wanted his brother to hold him.
Li Qiao smiled and held Jing Luo’s hand. “You can hold him when we get back. Dad and Brother are going to a banquet now.”
Jing Mian put on his shoes, gave Jing Luo a long look, then turned and left.
The driver had been waiting at the door for some time.
Father and son sat in the backseat. Jing Guozhen glanced at his silent son and wondered if bringing Jing Mian to such an important banquet was a mistake.
A year ago, Li Qiao had quietly arranged a marriage alliance between Jing Mian and the young master of the Ren family. The decision had seemed unconventional, same-sex marriage was still unfathomable in his eyes.
But the Jing family had been struggling financially for the past two years. If they could form an alliance with the Ren family, who stood at the pinnacle of society, it would be an unexpected lifeline, a blessing they couldn’t have hoped for.
In fact, Li Qiao’s idea hadn’t been entirely bad,
because the Ren family had actually agreed.
But for some unknown reason, just a month ago, the Ren family had abruptly called off the engagement. Rumor had it that it was the young master’s own decision.
This sudden turn of events left not only Li Qiao but even Jing Guozhen himself in a panic.
The invitation to this banquet had been secured through connections and favors. He hadn’t originally planned to bring Jing Mian, but Li Qiao insisted, if the young Ren heir saw Jing Mian in person, perhaps there was still a chance to salvage the broken engagement.
Though it felt like using his own son as a bargaining chip for the family’s revival, Jing Guozhen knew he had no choice.
Neither did the Jing family.
Although Young Master Ren was physically disabled, at least his family background was good, and the two had known each other since childhood. For Jing Mian himself, this arranged marriage wasn’t too terrible.
It was just that the boy in the back seat was far too silent.
He gazed out the window, his slender frame bathed in the night’s darkness, not uttering a word.
Jing Guozhen didn’t dare bring it up either.
After all, this time of year was always difficult for MianMian.
When the car stopped, Jing Guozhen caught sight of a well-dressed VIP stepping out of a luxury vehicle through the window. He quickly straightened his tie, cleared his throat, and let the driver open the door for him. Following the small crowd, he made his way to the banquet hall on the tenth floor.
Rumor had it that this five-star hotel, located in the prime commercial district of Lincheng, was one of the Ren family’s properties. While the Ren family’s attendants entertained guests in the banquet hall, the powerful figures might very well be standing in the presidential suite on the top floor, gazing through floor-to-ceiling windows at the intoxicating city beneath the night sky.
Jing Guozhen presented his pass and was led by an attendant into the banquet.
Amidst the clinking of glasses and the opulent surroundings, Jing Guozhen thought to himself that even the birthday celebration of the Ren family’s crippled illegitimate son could command such a grand and extravagant display.
The Ren family’s influence and wealth were truly unimaginable.
He had Jing Mian follow behind him as he exchanged pleasantries and flattered the heavyweight tycoons of the business world, occasionally introducing his own son. Jing Guozhen thought that if he could run into the patriarch of the Ren family later, it would be good to mention the eldest son, Ren Changsong…
“Ah, President Wei, hello! This is my—”
Jing Guozhen turned his head and realized Jing Mian was no longer behind him.
Jing Guozhen: “?”
After scanning the area for two seconds to no avail, he decisively turned back and resumed his smiling conversation with President Wei.
At such a critical moment, he couldn’t afford to worry about his inexperienced son.
As a waiter passed by a corner of the banquet hall, he heard a young voice call out, “Wait a moment.”
The waiter stopped and looked over to see a young master dressed in a black suit.
Holding a tray of drinks, the waiter heard the boy say softly, “I’d like one.”
The waiter nodded slightly and respectfully handed him the nearest glass.
Just as he was about to leave, the boy spoke again, “Another one… thank you.”
The waiter blinked in surprise as he took back the first empty glass, then watched as the young master downed the second one as if it were water.
Later, the waiter found himself bewilderedly carrying an empty tray with five or six drained wine glasses, heading straight back to the kitchen.
Jing Mian sat on a chair in the corner, watching as countless designer gowns and tailored suits passed before his eyes. The dazzling lights of the banquet hall spared only the faintest glimmer to illuminate his figure.
He was lost in the intersecting shadows of the dim corner, entirely enveloped in darkness.
Jing Mian lowered his head, staring at the bracelet clutched tightly in his hand.
Suddenly, he noticed his left hand was trembling.
It was an uncontrollable shaking, his fingertips icy cold. Gripping his left wrist with his right hand did nothing to stop it. Jing Mian patted his pockets, empty. He must have left his medication in his white suit.
Yet, as time passed minute by minute, Jing Mian unexpectedly calmed down.
The alcohol gradually numbed his senses and nerves, quieting his mind. The boy’s breathing slowed as he sat up, feeling the warmth spreading through his veins and rising to his cheeks.
So, he hadn’t known before, drinking could suppress the episodes.
It could also numb the pain.
Jing Mian felt the hard texture in his suit pocket and seemed to relax slightly before standing up and heading toward the elevator.
Jing Guozhen had mentioned that the hotel’s sixth floor had a large terrace where guests could enjoy the night breeze. As the birthday banquet neared its end, many tipsy businessmen would gather there to negotiate, taking advantage of the secluded and windy space.
When Jing Mian stepped into the elevator, a waiter politely asked, “Which floor, sir?”
The young man parted his lips. “…Sixth floor.”
His voice was soft, slightly muffled. The waiter raised his hand and pressed the button for the sixteenth floor.
Ding—
The elevator doors slid open.
“Please enjoy your stay, honored guest.”
The waiter’s voice followed behind him as he watched the young man’s retreating figure. The waiter thought to himself, the sixteenth floor was the top level, where the presidential suites were located.
Leaving the banquet midway, this unfamiliar young master was likely… a gift meant for the powerful figure residing on the top floor.
Though regrettable, it wasn’t his place to interfere.
Jing Mian realized something was wrong a few seconds after stepping out of the elevator.
The hallway and carpet before him were far too spacious, and far too luxurious. Even the most inconspicuous decorations were opulent.
The stark contrast to what he knew of the sixth floor left him standing there in confusion for several seconds.
Behind him, the elevator doors had already closed, leaving no way back. He had no choice but to move forward.
Instinctively, Jing Mian tried to find the terrace, but every door in sight was tightly shut, offering no exit.
At the end of the hallway, there was a solid wooden door left slightly ajar.
When his fingertips brushed against the doorframe, Jing Mian noticed that the interior was much darker than he had expected, even dimmer than the soft glow of the hallway.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, silently adjusting to the darkness.
Even without the lights on, he could make out the grandeur and extravagance, a duplex living room constructed with double layered hardwood, glass inlays. He could see the living area and dining room, some rooms without beds, arranged more like reception halls.
What an astonishing space.
Nearly every inch of the floor was covered in carpet, muffling his footsteps to complete silence. Without lingering, Jing Mian followed the faint glow of the night and soon found what could be considered a terrace.
Connected to the master bedroom, it seemed to be the largest room within the space he had entered.
This would do.
Jing Mian thought.
As he stepped into the bedroom, his foot landing softly, he suddenly heard a sound not far away.
Something had fallen to the ground, an almost imperceptible noise.
In the dim light, Jing Mian saw that it was a syringe.
The needle had rolled onto the floor, droplets seeping out and dripping with a soft plip, glinting faintly.
Following the direction of the roll, Jing Mian turned his gaze toward the source of the sound, and froze completely.
A wheelchair.
And someone was sitting in it.
They seemed to have startled each other.
The figure was too indistinct, though the person had long hair, the darkness made it impossible to discern their features. Then, in the next moment, the young man heard them speak,
“Who’s there?”
It was a man’s voice.
Jing Mian stiffened, suddenly realizing he had intruded into someone’s private space, and this was definitely not the sixth floor. He swallowed before answering, “A guest from the birthday banquet.”
The man asked, “A guest?”
Jing Mian hummed in confirmation. “I had some drinks… I think I got on the wrong floor. My apologies.”
In the darkness, the man’s gaze seemed to remain fixed on him.
“Whose birthday banquet?”
Jing Mian was at a complete loss for words.
He should have asked before leaving.
“Should I call security?”
The other person’s voice was gentle and calm, yet inexplicably chilling, sending a shiver down one’s spine.
Jing Mian was startled.
For the first time, his heart was in such turmoil.
His back stiffened, nerves tensing as he curled his fingers slightly. His lashes trembled, and though he wanted to retreat, he hesitated, pausing mid-step.
The man said, “Come closer to me.”