Stop Being a Black Lotus, Okay? - Chapter 4

Lu Min set down his coffee cup and let his gaze sweep across the dining table.

Ying Yulian was eating a fried egg in small, delicate bites. His movements were still cautious, but at least he was no longer trembling so violently that he could not hold his utensils as he had in the beginning. He wore the well-fitting clothes Lu Min had ordered, which consisted of a simple light-colored sweatshirt and trousers. His black hair fell softly over his forehead.

A few days of full meals and steady sleep had brought a faint flush of color to his small face. However, his eyes remained vacant, like deep pools shrouded in mist. Most of the time, he kept his eyes lowered to avoid eye contact with Lu Min.

“Change into something more formal after you finish eating,” Lu Min said in a flat tone.

Ying Yulian paused mid-action and looked up. His confusion was laced with a hint of nervousness. He wondered where they were going and why he needed to be formal.

Lu Min offered no explanation, simply adding, “There are new arrivals in the drawer. Pick one yourself.” After saying this, he stood up and picked up his suit jacket.

Not daring to ask questions, Ying Yulian finished his meal quickly and returned to the guest bedroom. He locked the door behind him. The wardrobe was filled with new clothes, but at the very bottom lay an inconspicuous paper bag he had discovered a few days prior.

Inside the bag was a garment, or rather, something that barely qualified as clothing. It was a piece of extremely thin black fabric with cheap lace trim, designed in a strange style and a very small size. This was likely a deliberate attempt by the purchasing staff to flatter Lu Min, but in Ying Yulian’s limited understanding, it seemed to validate a terrifying thought.

Over the past few days, Lu Min had given him an independent household registration, provided food and shelter, and arranged for medical treatment. Everything exceeded his understanding of “shelter” or “exchange.” In his dark past, receiving something always came with a price, which was often a painful or demeaning sacrifice.

He remembered the foul words of the scarred man in the tin shack, and even earlier, those blurry, sickening hints that he was good-looking, should be obedient, and could do anything. He wondered if this was what was required of him. Was this how he could be useful? Was this the only way to earn his stay and ensure he was not abandoned?

He craved the warmth of Lu Min’s embrace too much to leave his side. Since the only thing he possessed was this unremarkable body, he felt it must serve as payment.

His face turned pale and his fingers grew icy. As he picked up the thin, almost transparent fabric, his fingertips trembled. Shame surged over him like a tide, nearly drowning him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and put on the garment that did not fit him and was entirely inappropriate for his age.

The cold, coarse lace rubbed against his skin, sending shivers through him. The fabric was pitifully sparse and covered almost nothing. Instead, it emphasized his slender waist, his pale complexion, and the scars that might incite a desire for cruelty in others. He did not dare look in the mirror. Clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms, he moved toward the study step by step. With every stride, the cold floor chilled the soles of his bare feet.

The study door was ajar. He stopped at the entrance and heard the faint sound of Lu Min typing on a keyboard. Mustering his courage, he raised a trembling hand and knocked softly.

“Come in,” Lu Min’s voice responded, steady and calm.

Ying Yulian pushed the door open and walked in with his head hanging low. He stopped a few paces from the desk, his body stiff as a stone. Lu Min looked up, and his fingers abruptly stopped typing. The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Lu Min did not explode immediately. He did not even make a large movement. He simply leaned back slowly into his chair, placed his elbows on the armrests, and interlaced his long fingers under his chin. His gaze swept over the garment on Ying Yulian inch by inch, passing over the pale skin exposed to the air, and finally settling on the boy’s bloodless face.

“Who permitted you to dress like this?”

Terrified by this cold, interrogative stance, Ying Yulian trembled so violently he nearly fell. Just as he began to stagger backward, a pair of large hands gripped his slender wrists. Then, with a touch as light as a dragonfly skimming water, Lu Min pressed his knuckles against the small of the boy’s back to steady him.

“Stand still.”

Seeing the tears about to fall and the terror in Ying Yulian’s eyes, Lu Min felt a wave of irritation. This person was still just a child, not the criminal from his past life. If he treated a helpless child with interrogation tactics, how was he any different from the thugs in the tin shack?

Lu Min picked up a tissue from the desk and gently wiped away the tears rolling down Ying Yulian’s face. His tone softened as he spoke. “I am not angry. I just want to know why.”

Feeling the warmth of Lu Min’s calloused hand, Ying Yulian’s human instinct drove him toward that warmth. He nuzzled against the man’s palm like a kitten seeking mercy from its master.

“I thought,” the boy’s voice was fragmented and shaking, “that this way you would need me. I can…”

“Can what?” Lu Min interrupted. His tone remained steady, but it grew a shade heavier. “Can you please me? Or can you prove you are useful?”

He lowered his hands and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. This posture brought an even stronger sense of pressure. Though he was sitting, he seemed to be looking down from a great height.

“Look at me, Ying Yulian.”

Ying Yulian was forced to raise his tearful eyes to meet his gaze. Lu Min’s eyes were bottomless, swirling with complex emotions the boy could not understand, but there was not a trace of the desire or satisfaction he had expected. Instead, he saw pity. He wondered if someone like him could actually be pitied.

“I brought you back, gave you an identity, and provided for you, but it was not for this.”

He stood up. He did not approach immediately, but walked around the desk and stopped a few feet in front of Ying Yulian. The light from behind him cast a shadow that completely enveloped the frail boy. As Lu Min’s gaze passed over the wretched clothing, his disgust was unconcealed. However, that disgust was not directed at the boy, but at the meaning behind the outfit.

“If your value were based solely on such shallow, filthy uses, I would not have looked at you twice to begin with.”

He suddenly reached out. He did not touch the clothes. Instead, he used his cold fingertips to pinch Ying Yulian’s chin. The pressure was not heavy, but it was enough to prevent him from breaking away, forcing him to look directly into Lu Min’s eyes.

“Listen clearly,” Lu Min said, looking down at him. Their breaths mingled in the close proximity. He could clearly see his own reflection in the boy’s eyes and the tears trembling on his thick eyelashes. “I do not need this kind of flattery. I will never need it.”

“You live here, you follow my rules, and you accept my arrangements. That is enough. Rather than this redundant sacrifice, I only hope…”

Lu Min paused. He could not find the words to describe his thoughts. Did he hope for a madman who, in a past life, had defied the law and disregarded life to be happy?

Sensing Lu Min’s hesitation, Ying Yulian hooked his pinky finger around Lu Min’s palm. His eyes were full of confusion.

“Ying Yulian, do not repeat the same mistakes.”

Looking into those clear eyes, which were so different from the cunning, cold eyes of his past life, Lu Min spoke each word with heavy intent.

In the room, Ying Yulian let the black lace fall to the floor. Lu Min found a shirt and trousers in the wardrobe behind him. Ying Yulian lowered his eyelashes and reached out to take them, but Lu Min stopped him. He held Ying Yulian’s arms firmly, his expression cold.

“I will dress you.”

Ying Yulian looked down at those long fingers. Lu Min’s knuckles were well-defined, and the faint blue veins on the back of his hand were visible under his pale skin. These hands had held guns and signed multi-million dollar contracts, yet now they were at his collarbone, fastening a button for him.

The button made a soft clicking sound as it passed through the hole. Lu Min’s fingertips inevitably brushed against the rose-shaped birthmark on the boy’s collarbone. At the moment of contact, Ying Yulian shivered slightly. It was not from the cold, but a different, more unfamiliar tremor.

Lu Min’s hand did not linger. He moved immediately to the second button. The button in the man’s hand sat just above his chest. Ying Yulian’s breathing quickened involuntarily. He could feel Lu Min’s gaze on him. It was not a gaze of lust, but the focused attention of someone helping a child get dressed. That was all.

The button passed through the hole. This time, Lu Min’s fingertips stayed longer. His knuckles curved slightly, and the back of his finger brushed against the boy’s thin chest. Beneath the fabric, that heart was beating uncontrollably fast. Lu Min put the clothes back on Ying Yulian one piece at a time.

“Are you cold?” Lu Min asked suddenly.

Ying Yulian shook his head, unable to speak. He felt Lu Min’s entire palm cover his chest through the thin shirt. The hand was large, almost completely covering his narrow chest, and its warmth radiated through the cloth. Ying Yulian could smell the faint scent of aftershave, which was a cold cedar mixed with a hint of bitter tobacco. It was worlds away from the foul smells in his memory, and it made him feel intoxicated. When he tried to lean in for a closer sniff, the fragrance pulled away.

“It is time to go.”

Ying Yulian looked up. The man had already walked to the entryway and was putting on his overcoat with his back turned. He immediately jogged to catch up with Lu Min.

Ying Yulian wore a light gray cashmere sweater and a white shirt, topped with a dark wool coat. It was a near-perfect match to Lu Min’s outfit. He sat quietly in the passenger seat, his fingers unconsciously twisting the straps of his backpack. His gaze drifted through the car window to the students on campus who were smiling brightly and playing together.

Every expression and gesture revealed a vitality nourished by being loved. As Ying Yulian watched, his fingers tightened their grip. He felt like he was observing creatures from another world through thick glass. They were familiar yet alien.

As his fingers continued to tighten, Lu Min reached out to stop him and slowly pried his palm open.

“Relax,” Lu Min’s voice pulled his thoughts back.

The enrollment process was more tedious than expected. Fortunately, Ying Yulian’s pre-school test results were surprisingly good. He recognized some simple characters and could manage basic addition and subtraction. It was as if he had learned them once before, only for the memories to be crudely erased, leaving only scattered, blurry fragments.

Director Wang pushed up his glasses and looked at Ying Yulian, who was standing by the office wall. The boy’s eyes were downcast and his posture was stiff, with his hands behind his back. This was a defensive stance characteristic of someone who had been under long-term stress.

“Mr. Lu, could you step outside with me for a moment? Where did the child study before?”

Director Wang asked in a professional, inquisitive tone.

“There are some special circumstances at home. He has not been formally enrolled in school before,” Lu Min replied briefly. His tone was calm, yet it carried an aura that discouraged further questioning.

Director Wang nodded and looked back at the test paper, her brow furrowing slightly. “He has a bit of a foundation, but it is too weak. Moreover, based on the testing process, the child finds it very difficult to concentrate and was extremely nervous while answering the questions.”

She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Mr. Lu, given the child’s current state, jumping directly into the tenth grade might be very taxing. More importantly,” she raised her eyes, her gaze falling on Ying Yulian’s perpetually lowered face, “the child’s psychological state may require more attention. He is too quiet. This level of silence and restraint is quite uncommon for a child of his age.”

Lu Min’s expression did not change. He simply tapped his fingertip lightly against the edge of the corridor railing. “So, what is your suggestion?”

“Perhaps you could consider waiting a while?” Director Wang set down the test paper, her tone sincere. “Hire a professional tutor or homeschool him for a period. Once the child has a firmer foundation and is more psychologically adapted to a learning environment, then consider enrollment. After all, school is a collective environment. If the child cannot integrate, it might cause even greater pressure.”

“He needs socialization,” Lu Min interrupted. His voice was not loud, but it caused the air in the corridor to momentarily freeze.

He had once thought about keeping this unstable bomb, Ying Yulian, by his side to personally and carefully teach him. However, Lu Min had already felt a sense of frustration this morning. Even after staying by his side for a few days, the way Ying Yulian chose to repay others was still through his physical body.

This was Lu Min’s failure. It also made the hesitation he felt about sending Ying Yulian to school vanish, replaced by absolute resolve.

Director Wang was momentarily stunned.

“Knowledge can be supplemented, and a foundation can be built,” Lu Min’s voice was steady, carrying an unquestionable certainty. “But the ability to interact with others and the ability to find one’s place in a collective can only be learned in school.”

He turned around, his gaze sweeping across Ying Yulian’s pale profile in the office before landing back on Director Wang. “I hope he can be like a normal child: go to school, make friends, and experience everything one should at this age, rather than being protected in a greenhouse forever.”

Director Wang opened her mouth as if to say something else, but when she met Lu Min’s bottomless eyes, she swallowed her words. There was a heavy, inscrutable determination in that look, as if this decision held a profound meaning she could not comprehend.

“Very well,” she finally conceded, signing the admission notice. “We will place him in Class 2 of the tenth grade. The homeroom teacher, Mr. Li, is very patient. We will pay close attention to the child’s adjustment.”

The formalities were complete.

Ying Yulian followed half a step behind Lu Min, his eyes downcast, staring at the tips of his shiny new leather shoes. When they reached the glass exit doors of the teaching building, Lu Min stopped.

He turned around and looked at Ying Yulian. “You will go to the classroom by yourself now. Class 2 is the second room on the east side of the second floor. Mr. Li will be waiting for you at the door.”

Ying Yulian snapped his head up, a flash of panic instantly crossing his dark eyes. “You… are you not going in with me?”

“No,” Lu Min’s answer was short and clear.

“But,” Ying Yulian gripped his backpack straps so tightly that his knuckles turned white, “I do not know what to do. If they ask me questions… if…”

“Then answer them,” Lu Min’s voice was calm. “If you do not know how to answer, say you do not know. That is normal.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. From this angle, Ying Yulian had to look up slightly to see his face. The morning light hit Lu Min from the side, casting deep shadows in his eye sockets and making his expression look even more elusive than usual.

“Ying Yulian,” Lu Min called his name. The voice was not loud, but it felt like a physical weight landing on the boy’s shoulders. “Remember, you do not need to please anyone, including your classmates and your teachers.”

His fingertips rose, not to touch, but to brush away non-existent dust from the boy’s shoulder. “You only need to follow the rules. Leave the rest to me.”

Ying Yulian’s lips trembled slightly. He understood what Lu Min meant. Schools had rules, just as Lu Min had rules. By following the rules, he could obtain safety.

“Then will you…” his voice was so small it was almost inaudible, “will you come to pick me up when school is over?”

Lu Min looked at him for a long time. So long, in fact, that Ying Yulian thought he would not answer.

“I will,” Lu Min finally gave him that single word.

Ying Yulian’s heart settled slightly, but the surge of panic at being thrown into a strange environment remained. As he saw Lu Min turn to leave, he instinctively reached out and grabbed the corner of the man’s coat. It was a light grip, yet it made Lu Min pause.

“Mr. Lu,” Ying Yulian’s voice carried an irrepressible sob, “I do not want to be alone.”

Lu Min did not turn back immediately. He stood there with his back to the boy, his frame looking exceptionally tall and cold in the morning light. After a few seconds, he slowly turned around. He looked down at the small hand tightly clutching his coat. The fingers were thin, the joints white from the force, and the faint blue needle marks from the IV drip were still visible on the back of his hand.

Lu Min reached out, but not to pry the hand away. He covered it with his own. His palm was large enough to completely envelop the back of Ying Yulian’s hand. The palm was warm, and the pressure was steady.

Looking into Ying Yulian’s timid eyes, Lu Min suddenly remembered the things written on the cards the boy had sent him in his previous life. He had mentioned begging, fighting in underground matches, collecting debts, and even dressing in drag as a dealer in a casino. He had said that everything he owned was earned by himself, that he had no right to choose his birth, but he could decide the outcome.

Ying Yulian had indeed made coins grow from the ruins, but he had done so through crime.

The world was unfair to Ying Yulian, Lu Min thought.

But Lu Min would not be the person to walk with him to the end. Once he had truly taught Ying Yulian to be a “normal person,” he would retire from the boy’s life. He had already spent one lifetime on Ying Yulian; he wanted to keep this life for himself.

“Ying Yulian,” his voice dropped, carrying a kind of cruel tenderness, “the world will not be any kinder to you just because I walk you into the classroom.”

He leaned down so that his eyes were level with the boy’s. They were close enough to see their own reflections in each other’s pupils.

“Fear does not disappear just because someone is holding your hand,” Lu Min continued. “It only fades away because you walk in yourself, face it, and get used to it.”

His thumb rubbed lightly against the back of Ying Yulian’s hand. It was a soothing gesture, yet he spoke the most heartless words. “So, you must go by yourself.”

Ying Yulian’s tears finally fell. One, then two, splashing onto their overlapping hands. He did not cry out loud; he only wept silently, his shoulders shaking slightly like a young beast backed into a corner but too afraid to resist.

Lu Min did not wipe away his tears. He simply watched him cry, his eyes as deep as a pool of water, swirling with complex and unidentifiable emotions: concern, resolve, and perhaps a faint trace of heartache that even he had not yet noticed.

When Ying Yulian’s sobbing weakened, Lu Min let go of his hand, took a dark gray handkerchief from his inner suit pocket, and handed it over.

“Clean yourself up,” his voice returned to its usual coldness. “Then go upstairs to where you are supposed to be.”

Ying Yulian took the handkerchief. The fabric was soft and carried Lu Min’s signature cold fragrance. He wiped his face haphazardly. When he looked up, his eyes and the tip of his nose were red, but his gaze was slightly steadier than before.

“Will you really come when school is over?” he asked again, as if confirming his last lifeline.

Lu Min looked at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly in a very faint, nearly invisible curve.

“I never break a promise.”