The Real Young Master is Entangled by the Paranoid Fake Young Master - Chapter 56

Over the last few days, Zhaoqing drifted in and out of a haze, his consciousness slipping between waking and sleep. The frequent use of sedatives and sleeping sprays left his body soft and weak, sinking into Song Yuening’s plush bedding like a poor insect caught in an inescapable web.

The curtains remained drawn. Dressed only in thin pajamas, Zhaoqing would feel someone push the door open in the twilight of his dreams, sitting on the bed to peel away his clothes and cover him in kisses the forehead, the cheeks, the neck, the wrists, and finally, those intimate places hidden beneath the silk.

“Mm…” Zhaoqing would moan in his sleep, trying to escape the pestering. But the intruder was relentless, insisting on kissing every inch of him.

“Song…” Zhaoqing murmured.

“What?” Yuening’s hair brushed against Zhaoqing’s face, but he didn’t tuck it back. He watched the strands dance against the boy’s smooth, pale skin. “Zhaozhao, my Zhaozhao. Are you calling for me? Am I in your dreams too?”

Yuening’s mood today was actually terrible. Truly, profoundly terrible.

The day he agreed to the Jiang family’s DNA test was the same day Song Shicheng had stormed back, ready for a violent confrontation. “I didn’t realize I was raising two ungrateful white-eyed wolves!” Shicheng had roared, raising his hand to strike.

But Yuening caught his arm mid-air. Did Shicheng really think he could still abuse him like he did when Yuening was a child? Yuening had spent a decade turning every weakness into armor. He squeezed Shicheng’s arm until the older man winced, realizing that Yuening’s sickly frailty had vanished.

“It seems your wings have grown strong, Song Yuening!” Shicheng spat. “You think you’re something special because you handled a few business deals? You’ll always be a dog of the Song family. The moment I disown you, your business will fail!”

“And where is that bastard Song Zhaoqing?” Shicheng continued. “Tell him to crawl out and face me! I know ‘Qingyang’ is his company. I’m his father, he has to give that project to me! Zhiyuan is a cripple now, and you’ve betrayed me. The Song family will belong to him eventually, so why can’t he give the project to the Song Group now?”

Yuening looked at him with utter disgust. “I didn’t realize your delusions had reached such a critical stage, ‘Father.’ You’re old. Do you really think you still control the Song Group? Go back and see how many of your ‘loyalists’ are actually mine. Call a board meeting and see who the shareholders support now.”

The entire Song Group had already been devoured by Yuening from the inside.

Shicheng grasped for one last thread of control: “The medicine! Yuening, do you really want to die? If you take the company, we stop the supply. You know what it’s like to crave death over life.”

“What ‘medicine’?” A majestic female voice cut through the air.

Old Madame Jiang entered the room. “Is the Head of the Song family implying he isn’t welcoming an old woman like me?”

Shicheng paled. “How could I… but why are you here?”

“I am here for my grandson,” she stated coldly, as Nanny Zhang handed a DNA report to Shicheng.

“Grandson? What grandson?” Shicheng’s mind went blank as he read the report. His face underwent a comical transformation. “You, you aren’t the son of a dancer and a gambler? You’re… Director Jiang’s son?”

Shicheng’s attitude flipped instantly. “Yuening, I was just joking. I raised you; you’re my own son. The Song family assets are yours anyway. Old Madame, are you taking him home? Of course! But about the investment… and the Old District project…”

Old Madame Jiang ignored his groveling and stated two facts: Yuening would return to the Jiang family, and he would be sent to Country E immediately to train in the family’s international branches.

“Ningning, the Jiang family is yours. Go to Country E; your uncle will give you a company to practice with.”

Yuening’s reply was polite but distant: “I am not going with you. Because my Zhaozhao is here.”

He refused to move unless Zhaoqing went too. He knew their relationship was currently built on lies, and he didn’t want to shock Zhaoqing further. He locked Zhaoqing away not as a pet, but to “foster feelings” until the boy loved him back. He was a master of strategy, a cold-hearted schemer, yet he harbored a truly naive longing for love.

In Zhaoqing’s eyes, Yuening was simply a monster. When Yuening tried to feed him, Zhaoqing refused. Yuening would simply check off a list: “Zhaozhao doesn’t like eggplant. Let’s try broccoli.”

When Zhaoqing begged for freedom, Yuening only tightened his hold. “Say what I want to hear, and I’ll consider it.”

“We will be together forever,” Zhaoqing whispered numbly.

Yuening smiled. “I lied. I’m not letting you go regardless.” He then used a jasmine-scented sedative spray. As Zhaoqing fell into a stupor, Yuening kissed him, passing a milk candy into his mouth. “You like candy. I like you, too.”

Zhaoqing’s first escape attempt happened three days before the start of the semester. He managed to sneak into a vegetable delivery truck, but as the vehicle moved away from the villa, a searing pain shot through his leg.

The ankle cuff Yuening had placed on him was an electric shackle.

Yuening appeared on the roadside, looking at the dirt on Zhaoqing’s clothes with a chilling smile. “You’re dirty, Zhaozhao. You need a bath.” He carried Zhaoqing back, stripped him, and washed him personally in the tub.

After that, the “prison” became literal. Zhaoqing was shackled, blindfolded, and gagged for long periods, losing all sense of time. When the gag was finally removed, he begged for mercy. Yuening would only grant him “senses” sound or touch in exchange for submissive behavior. It became a conditioned reflex; Zhaoqing would shiver and arch his back whenever Yuening touched him.

Eventually, Zhaoqing broke. “I won’t run anymore. Ever. Just let me go, please.”

“Your credit is negative, little liar,” Yuening whispered, his breath hot against Zhaoqing’s ear. “Let’s try a different way let’s see how much you want it.

In the study, Yuening spoke to Jiang Jinhua on the phone. He finally agreed to go to Country E, but only if Zhaoqing went with him. He told himself that a change of scenery would make Zhaoqing happy that the “bad Feng Shui” of the Song house was the problem.

He came back to the bedroom to find Zhaoqing staring into space.

“When can I go back to school?” Zhaoqing asked listlessly.

“Don’t go to school, baby. I’ll take care of you forever.”

“Sounds like a scumbag’s line,” Zhaoqing noted.

Yuening ignored the bite. “I’m having a party at the Song house soon. I want you there.” He lied, telling Zhaoqing it was a party for his early admission to Q-University. In reality, it was a farewell party before they left the country for good.

Zhaoqing negotiated: he wanted his friend Xiao Yue brought back from the kitchen staff, and he wanted their relationship kept secret. Yuening, mistakenly thinking Zhaoqing was acknowledging their bond, happily agreed.

The Night of the Party

The Song house was brilliantly lit. The Jiang family’s presence drew every socialite in S-City. Even the burnt remains of the greenhouse had been leveled and replaced with a large tree.

Fang Haoyang (Fang Yang’s half-brother) was by the pool, boasting to his friends about a girl he had assaulted. Zhaoqing, having slipped away from the main hall, overheard the conversation. Enraged, he hit Fang Haoyang in the head with a gift box.

“You’re a disgusting scumbag,” Zhaoqing said, hitting him again and knocking out two of his teeth. “You don’t even deserve to mention Fang Yang’s name.”

As they fought, Zhaoqing’s collar shifted, revealing the dense marks on his neck. The rich boys surrounding them sneered. “What a little slut. Acting like a hero when you’re just someone’s toy.”

They grabbed the small gift box Zhaoqing had dropped and tore it open, revealing a hand-knitted rabbit charm. “What is this trash? Is this for Young Master Song? How cheap!” They crushed the rabbit’s face.

“You don’t even know, do you?” they laughed. “Today is Yuening’s farewell party. He’s leaving the country forever. The Song family didn’t even tell you, did they?”

Zhaoqing froze. Leaving?

As the bullies prepared to throw the rabbit away, a cold, metallic click sounded. A gun barrel was pressed against the leader’s head.

“Who said,” a cool, terrifying voice rang out, “that the gift was cheap?”