No One Else Will Do But You - Chapter 67

He was required to master every nuance of aristocratic etiquette; it was his grandfather’s absolute mandate. Every day, he dressed as a gentleman, his lips curved into a perfectly measured smile. His primary duty was to uphold the dignity of the Rochechouart name. They were nobility, yet in the modern age, that nobility was merely a shadow of ancestral glory—a matter of reputation.

As a man of mixed heritage, his education extended beyond French culture; he was also compelled to master Chinese. His mother had always told him that they would eventually return to her homeland; she no longer wished to stay in France.

That prediction came true sooner than expected. He remembered the scene vividly: his mother, usually so resilient, striking his father’s face while tears streamed down her cheeks. His father had said nothing, maintaining that effortless, charming poise of his. That man was as fickle in his affections as he was cold in his heart.

At twelve, Jiang Mu returned to China. Though he held French citizenship, the process of relocating was complex, as was his mother’s legal status since her marriage into a French family.

They arrived in S-City—a beautiful yet foreign city he had only visited twice before. The first time was for his grandparents’ funeral. With few relatives and his mother being an only child, the atmosphere had been desolate. Being so young then, it hadn’t left much of an impression.

The second time was when he moved there at age twelve. This time, he never wanted to leave.

It was then that he met a very special boy—a bright, lively, and beautiful child. This boy possessed eyes that were clear and full of spirit. Jiang Mu had never met anyone like him; someone so unapologetically bold and vibrant.

In France, Jiang Mu was always addressed as “Young Master.” Everyone greeted him with polite, distant smiles that held no warmth. Only his mother smiled with genuine affection; everyone else felt like ice. People chose the safest, most conservative way to interact with him, fearing they might offend him and spark his temper.

His mother encouraged him to forget his title and simply be an ordinary child. He tried his best to do exactly that.

Fate drew them together. This wonderful child ignited a fierce desire within Jiang Mu to protect and cherish him. It was a peculiar feeling, difficult to describe—something he had never experienced in France, and something that would have been impossible there.

The Old Count would only say to him sternly: “Your responsibility is to uphold the glory of Rochechouart. Your image is the image of our house. Do not grow up to be like your father.”

Yes—do not be like his father, who did as he pleased, unrestrained and reckless.

But Jiang Mu wondered: By what right? Why did his father get to enjoy such freedom while he, a mere child, had to labor under such heavy expectations?

Since childhood, he had mastered three languages: French, English, and Chinese. Chinese was the most familiar to him, as he naturally spoke Mandarin with his mother. As for the servants in the French manor, he felt no desire to speak with them; it was simply tedious. He would exchange a few words with the butler, but even those were brief.

Combined with his specialized Chinese education, he integrated quickly into local life once they moved back.

His desire to spoil Shu Luo like his own child stemmed, ironically, from his own father’s neglect. Having grown up without a father’s focused attention, Jiang Mu vowed never to be that kind of man. Protecting this boy gave him an immense sense of fulfillment.

He observed the child’s every move with cautious affection, intentionally teasing him. Shu Luo’s irritable reactions were particularly adorable, sparking a surge of “paternal” protectiveness in Jiang Mu. He spent years enticing the boy to call him “Bro.” That single word, spoken by Shu Luo, sounded far sweeter than any greeting from his distant cousins back in France.

Jiang Mu knew he had a temper. Perhaps it was the arrogant blood of nobility flowing in his veins that made him prone to criticizing others for their mistakes. But Shu Luo was a proud soul; he would talk back. Jiang Mu never got angry when this happened; instead, he enjoyed the prospect of slowly “taming” him.

Being more mature than other children, Jiang Mu understood his own feelings clearly. Once he decided he liked someone, he stayed committed. That “like” had already lasted seven years.

Over these years, as he watched his beloved boy grow more exceptional, Jiang Mu felt as though a wild beast within his heart was fighting to escape its cage.

Then came the turning point that finally opened that cage.

He revealed his heart. Shu Luo didn’t reject him outright, and to Jiang Mu, that meant everything. It meant there was a chance. All he needed was time, and he was more than willing to wait. This increasingly brilliant young man was always hovering before his eyes, and Jiang Mu took delight in creating “misunderstandings” just to see Shu Luo flustered and embarrassed. He loved him exactly like that.

Eventually, everything fell into place. They were together, an unspoken understanding between them.

However, their daily life soon began to feel like that of an old, long-married couple. They knew each other too well. Jiang Mu worried that he was too boring, causing the boy to lead a dull life alongside him.

When he first heard that Shu Luo suffered from depression, he was stunned. How could someone so bright and lively be afflicted by such a disease?

And when Shu Luo was in danger during the kidnapping, Jiang Mu felt his blood turn to ice. How could anyone dare to lay a hand on his treasure?

All of these experiences fueled his desire to become stronger. Only with absolute power could he truly protect the person he loved.

But now… Shu Luo wanted to go abroad?!

While he knew their feelings wouldn’t be eroded by a mere four years of distance, how could he possibly suppress the ache of longing? Yet, Shu Luo had shown an unprecedented resolve. His attitude was firm. It seemed Jiang Mu had underestimated the man Shu Luo was becoming. He was growing up, after all.

At this moment, only by letting go could he hope to see an even more brilliant Shu Luo in the future.

Jiang Mu thought to himself: Perhaps my charm isn’t yet enough to make him stay. In that case, they would see whose growth would be more dazzling over these next four years.

Except for Shu Luo—the person already etched into his very soul—everyone else was a compromise. Except for him, everyone else was just “settling.”

His gentlemanly poise would no longer allow anyone else to lay a finger on his precious boy. Shu Luo belonged to him, and him alone.