What Bad Intentions Could a Spoiled Little Brat Possibly have? - Chapter 24

Ten fingers locked and intertwined.

To a six-year-old child, the world ending is not the discovery that one lacks a blood bond, but the realization that even this sole, stolen piece of love is about to vanish.

The young Fu Zheng could not yet fully grasp the complex terms in the Cheng couple’s conversation words like “sexual orientation” or “lover” meant nothing to him but he keenly captured the cruelest truth.

The unborn child in his mother’s belly was stealing his last place of refuge. He stubbornly pinned all the blame on that life he had yet to meet; had it not been for this child’s appearance, perhaps this beautiful dream could have lasted a little longer.

Little Fu Zheng clenched his tiny fists.

Surprisingly, under such a massive shock, the six-year-old showed an extraordinary level of calm. He silently wiped the tears from his face and retreated around the corner of the hallway as if nothing had happened.

First, he changed out of his soaked clothes, then found a mop to carefully wipe away the puddle of water outside the study door. By the time he finished his hot bath and came out wrapped in his pajamas, the argument in the study was still raging. The couple had no idea that the child they had decided to abandon had been standing right outside the door just moments ago, taking in every one of their cruel words.

Fu Zheng quietly packed his schoolbag and curled into his cold bed.

After that day, the plan to send Fu Zheng away did not proceed on schedule.

The argument had disturbed Chang Shu’s pregnancy, and her due date was suddenly moved up. The Cheng and Chang families were thrown into a frantic mess as they rushed to the hospital, everyone anxious and tense for the sake of the soon-to-be-born infant, terrified that the slightest slip-up might occur.

“Auntie, can you take me to the hospital? I’m very worried about Mom.” Fu Zheng tugged at the hem of the woman who had come to fetch a change of clothes, looking up with a childish face, his eyes filled with cautious anticipation.

The woman knelt down and affectionately pinched his cheek. “Does Xiao Zheng miss Mom and Dad again? Be good, Auntie will take you.”

Fu Zheng sat on the back seat of his aunt’s electric scooter, his palms tightly gripping her clothes.

The air after the rain was sticky and sweltering. His T-shirt, mixed with sweat, soon became soaked and clung uncomfortably to his back. At the hospital entrance, he jumped off the bike and lowered his eyes, shaking his shirt to try and vent some of the heat.

Someone had dropped an open bag of ice cream on the ground; it had melted into a puddle of white liquid. Swarms of ants were gathering there as if they had discovered a new continent for survival. Fu Zheng lifted his foot to make way for the ants, blinking, and stood dazed for a moment.

His aunt walked a few paces forward, realized the little one hadn’t followed, and called back to him: “Xiao Zheng, let’s go.”

Only then did Fu Zheng look up and quickly follow.

Inside the hospital’s special care ward, doctors and nurses were a whirlwind of activity.

Cheng Jiayun sat slumped on a long bench, his fingers buried deep in his hair, his eyes bloodshot. From time to time, Chang Shu’s piercing screams echoed from the ward.

Fu Zheng walked forward a few steps, looking at Cheng Jiayun’s haggard appearance, and called out expressionlessly: “Dad.”

Cheng Jiayun froze for a second before looking up. Upon seeing Fu Zheng, his expression instantly turned to fury. At this moment, he had completely lost the heroic image he once held in Fu Zheng’s heart. Since this child was going to be sent away sooner or later, he simply dropped his hypocritical mask entirely.

“Who told you to come!” Cheng Jiayun barked harshly, his face contorted. “Things are messy enough, don’t add to the trouble here!”

His aunt, who had just delivered the clothes to the ward, returned just in time to see Cheng Jiayun berating Fu Zheng. Meanwhile, Fu Zheng stood motionless before him, as if those piercing insults had nothing to do with him.

She couldn’t stand it and stepped forward to shield Fu Zheng behind her. “That’s enough! I brought him. Why are you shouting so loud? The child is only six; how could you have the heart to leave him home alone? Besides, Chang Shu is giving birth to Xiao Zheng’s biological brother. By all rights, he should be here to visit.”

The woman turned around, knelt, and gently stroked Fu Zheng’s soft hair. “Are you hungry? Your uncle went to buy food; he’ll be back soon. Shall we eat first?”

Fu Zheng nodded obediently, but his gaze followed his aunt toward the ward. The moment she turned to leave, he lightly tugged her hem, his clear eyes filled with unspoken words.

“What a sensible child,” his aunt smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry, the doctors are in there. You’ll see your brother soon. Stay here with Dad for a while, okay?”

Fu Zheng said “okay” and sat quietly on the bench next to Cheng Jiayun.

The two figures one large, one small formed a sharp contrast in the hallway. The adult sat slumped in dejection while the child sat with a straight back, staring forward. Those prematurely mature eyes held a calmness that didn’t match his age, making it impossible to tell what he was actually thinking.

Time flowed slowly through the scent of disinfectant. Not long after, his uncle arrived in a hurry with lunch boxes.

Fu Zheng actually had no appetite, but he still ate small mouthfuls. He didn’t like wasting food; even though his stomach had begun to ache slightly, he insisted on finishing every grain of rice.

About two hours after eating, Fu Zheng moved his legs, which had gone numb from sitting so long. Just as he was about to get up and stretch, a loud cry suddenly erupted from the ward.

Cheng Jiayun snapped upright as if a switch had been flipped. Rising too fast made his vision go dark, and he had to lean against the doorframe for a while before staggering into the ward, his mouth constantly calling Chang Shu’s name.

Fu Zheng followed him up. He paced a few steps on the spot, his face flashing with hesitation and struggle, before finally making up his mind and walking into the room.

The newborn’s crying pierced the sky. All the adults were drawn like magnets to the side of the crib.

Through the gaps between people, Fu Zheng saw a small face, red and wrinkled from crying.

So ugly.

He made the silent judgment in his heart but still couldn’t help standing on his tiptoes to peek.

Looking at this tiny life that had just entered the world, Fu Zheng couldn’t help but wonder if he looked the same when he was born.

This thought made him suddenly envious of the clay people in myths. How wonderful it would be to be hand-molded by the Goddess Nuwa; then one wouldn’t need real-life parents, and one wouldn’t be so easily abandoned.

The baby’s crying grew louder and louder, as if it would blow the hospital roof off. The adults were in a frantic scramble, taking turns holding the little life, but no matter how they coaxed or rocked him, the heartbreaking wailing wouldn’t stop.

Amidst the chaos, the uncle raised his voice to ask: “Second brother, Sister-in-law, have you thought of a name for the child?”

“This is the root our Cheng family has been waiting for all these years!” Cheng Jiayun’s mother Fu Zheng’s nominal grandmother sobbed excitedly while wiping tears. “The name must be chosen well. It must be resonant and full of good fortune!”

Lying on the sickbed, Chang Shu was pale, the sweat from labor sticking her hair to her cheeks. However, her gaze remained sharp as it swept over everyone in the room before landing on the incessantly crying infant. She seemed not to have expected a newborn to be so difficult and frowned impatiently. “Take the child further away, his crying is giving me a headache.”

She paused, her tone hardening. “Also, this child takes my surname.”

“How can that be!” A stooped, elderly man in his sixties stood up tremblingly. “Chang Shu, you are trying to end the Cheng family line!”

The aunt couldn’t listen any longer and stood her ground. “Dad, what you’re saying is wrong. Xiao Zheng is still in the family; how can you say the line is ending? Besides, what era is this? Our family’s daughters can carry on the family name just as well. You should change that feudal mindset of yours!”

“Absolute nonsense!” The old man stamped his cane in anger, glaring at the aunt.

The uncle quickly pulled his wife behind him. “Just say a few words less, it’s messy enough.”

And so, the family argued until they were red in the face over whether the newborn should be surnamed Cheng or Chang, completely ignoring Chang Shu, who needed rest, and forgetting the tiny life that was still screaming its lungs out.

In the confusion, someone accidentally pushed the baby carriage, and it wobbled and rolled to Fu Zheng’s feet.

Fu Zheng looked down and saw the little red lump of flesh in the swaddle. The little fellow was kicking his chubby legs with all his might, his clenched fists waving wildly in the air, his eyes squinted into slits. His wide-open mouth emitted a deafening cry as if he were trying to cry his very organs out.

Fu Zheng subconsciously swallowed and gripped the hem of his clothes.

This new life, expected by the whole family, was now lying at his feet, crying heartbreakingly.

No one was paying attention; no one cared.

Fu Zheng thought to himself: If I reach out and strangle this baby right now, would I be able to reclaim that thin slice of love for myself alone?

His steps moved forward uncontrollably. As he approached the crib, his trembling hand rose as if possessed. A voice deep inside warned him this was wrong, but his hand still reached toward that wrinkled, crying face.

The moment his fingertip touched the baby’s cheek, a miracle happened.

The baby suddenly stopped crying and let out a joyful yi-ya. The previously clenched tiny fist unfurled and gently grasped Fu Zheng’s pinky finger. Those eyes, washed crystal clear by tears, gazed curiously at Fu Zheng. Then, a bright, unreserved smile blossomed on the infant’s face.

Fu Zheng’s movements froze. He thought the child, who had just entered the world, had seen through his terrible intentions. Fear made his legs go weak. He tried to pull his finger away, only to find the little guy was holding on surprisingly tight.

Just then, a moment of silence fell during a gap in the argument. Someone finally realized the baby was no longer crying and turned to look for the carriage, only to see the two children staring at each other while holding hands.

Seeing this, the aunt smiled and said, “These two brothers really are close.”

Instantly, everyone’s gaze focused on them. Fu Zheng was overcome with shame; he abruptly yanked his hand away and bolted out of the ward without looking back.

He didn’t stop until he reached the open ground below the hospital, where he leaned his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

The warm, soft sensation still lingered on his pinky finger soft and hot. The strange feeling brought by that tender white hand stirred a sour ripple in his heart.

Fu Zheng stared at the hand Cheng Huai had unconsciously placed over his.

The medicine was beginning to take effect. Cheng Huai’s docile profile was buried deep in the pillow, his breathing gradually becoming even and long.

The sleeping man murmured something unintelligible, his fingers instinctively finding the gaps between Fu Zheng’s fingers, skillfully slotting into them.

This was a habit he had developed over many years. No matter when, as long as Cheng Huai slept with his brother, he would always wake up with their fingers interlocked.

Fu Zheng patted his back lightly, cautiously withdrew his hand, and went to the bathroom for a hot towel.

He stripped Cheng Huai completely and used the warm towel to carefully wipe the skin that had been soaked in sweat. From head to toe, he didn’t miss a single detail. Once the body was clean, he found a set of fresh, clean pajamas and gently dressed Cheng Huai.

After finishing this, Fu Zheng sat by the bed, curled his finger, and gently grazed Cheng Huai’s soft cheek.

Even if the night is long.

When dawn breaks, there will always be light.

Cheng Huai was startled awake by a persistent ringing of his phone.

He opened his eyes. The morning light was already leaking through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting a narrow band of light onto the wooden floor.

The bed beside him was empty. Fu Zheng had left at some point, leaving behind only the flat sheets and a faint, lingering scent of cologne.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing clean pajamas and his skin felt refreshed, clearly having been wiped down carefully. For a moment, he felt dazed, as if the agonizing episode from yesterday had just been a hallucination.

The phone was still ringing stubbornly, one ring after another, piercing the morning quiet.

“Cheng Huai! Where are you?!” As soon as he picked up, Gu Siming’s frantic voice burst out. “The registration for the AI lab closes this morning! It’s already 10:30—are you coming or not?”

Shoot.

Cheng Huai sat up abruptly, his sleepiness vanishing instantly. He had completely forgotten such an important matter.

He ruffled his messy hair and glanced at the electronic clock on the nightstand 10:28 AM.

There was no time to think about what had happened last night. He hurriedly said “Wait for me” into the phone and jumped out of bed, rushing to the bathroom.

There was a message from Fu Zheng on his phone, telling him to contact the driver to take him back to school once he woke up. But he was truly out of time, so he quickly replied “I’ll take a taxi back” and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

He had still been staying in Fu Zheng’s master bedroom last night.

During military training, he had secretly occupied half of Fu Zheng’s wardrobe, hanging the clothes he kept bringing over alongside Fu Zheng’s.

He thought that since he hadn’t been here in so long, Fu Zheng would have cleared his clothes out. To his surprise, they were still hanging neatly in their original place, as if waiting for their owner’s return.

Cheng Huai grabbed a white shirt and black trousers from the wardrobe, changed quickly, grabbed his backpack, and sprinted out the door.

“Cheng Huai?” The upperclassman sitting behind the desk looked up at him. The moment he called out the name, several other upperclassmen nearby also looked over in unison.

“Yes, I’m Cheng Huai from Computer Applications Class 1.” Cheng Huai steadied his breathing slightly. “Senior, I’m here to register.”

The AI Lab had set up a temporary registration point in the campus square. Several eye-catching banners swayed gently in the breeze, printed with the lab’s major achievements from recent years.

The sun was high, the light exceptionally piercing. Cheng Huai’s skin almost seemed to glow under the intense light. His cheeks were flushed from running, and his fair skin held a healthy luster, as if dusted with a layer of luminous powder.

“Aren’t you…” The senior dragged out his tone, looking Cheng Huai up and down with a strange gaze, but he stopped mid-sentence. He casually flipped through the resume Cheng Huai handed him, the paper rustling in his fingers, but his eyes clearly didn’t linger on the text.

“Your achievements don’t meet our registration requirements,” he said dismissively. “I’m sorry, your registration can’t pass for now. Try again next year.”

“Wait a second—” Gu Siming, who had been watching tensely from the side, couldn’t help but interject. “Senior, when those other freshmen registered earlier, the conditions weren’t this strict. I clearly heard you saying just now that to encourage everyone, conditions could be relaxed as appropriate. Why the sudden change of heart?”

Hearing this, the senior’s lips curled into a meaningful, cold sneer. “Do you know why I said conditions could be relaxed just now?”

Gu Siming was defiant: “Why?”

“Because I am your senior. The rules here are set by me. Whether a registration passes is, naturally, also up to my word.”

“What kind of logic is that? This is blatant discrimination!” Gu Siming’s face turned red with anger, his voice rising as he stood up for Cheng Huai.

Seeing the tension rising between the two, Cheng Huai pulled Gu Siming’s arm. He turned to the senior and smiled. “Senior, I understand your concerns, but I still hope to have this opportunity so I can prove myself with my strength.”

The senior, however, gave an unimpressed snort and flicked his finger carelessly, sweeping Cheng Huai’s resume onto the ground.

He feigned surprise, saying “Ah,” but there was no apology in his tone. “I’m really sorry. But you freshmen are just too young and lack social experience. When you’ve experienced more, you’ll understand that in this society, character is also an important asset. You still have a lot to learn. Go back now, don’t waste time here.”

“What a snob!” Gu Siming cursed indignantly as they walked back.

Passing by the hanging promotional banners, he was so angry he almost wanted to tear one down.

“Huai-bao, what do we do now?” Gu Siming looked at Cheng Huai worriedly. “If you ask me, don’t take it to heart. We’ll just wait until sophomore year. It’s not like one year makes a difference anyway.”

Cheng Huai tucked his resume into his bag and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll think of another way.”

“What other way is there? I say you should just tell your brother. And another thing why don’t you clarify your relationship with the senior? Right now, they’re all targeting you because they misunderstand that you have improper motives.”

Cheng Huai only said: “The innocent need no explanation.”

His motives toward Fu Zheng were impure to begin with, so why clarify? Besides, he wanted to take this chance to see exactly what Fu Zheng’s attitude was.

However, things developed much faster than they imagined. By noon that day, the news that Cheng Huai had been rejected by the AI Lab spread like wildfire.

Support