The real young master thought he was hated by everyone - Chapter 109

“I think I had a dream.”

Mrs. Xie woke abruptly from her sleep, glancing at her smartwatch screen. It displayed a warning: her heart rate was too high.

Instinctively, she nudged the person beside her on the bed, unable to articulate the immense grief and panic surging through her heart.

Mr. Xie, a light sleeper, woke almost immediately and switched on the bedside lamp, ready to ask what was wrong.

Under the light, he saw her swollen, tear-streaked eyes.

Tears were still streaming from her eyes.

In all the years since they’d known each other, this was only the second time he had seen such an expression on his wife’s face—on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

The first time was when their youngest son was first kidnapped and then tragically trafficked.

But she had been much younger then, less composed in handling crises. Even if she had bad dreams, it wouldn’t have reduced her to such inconsolable tears.

Judging by how swollen her eyes were, she had likely started crying in her sleep.

Without a word, he held her close. Only when her emotions calmed somewhat did he begin asking about the dream, trying to understand what had happened.

…Could something have happened to their family or loved ones in the dream?

“I dreamt of Xie Heng,” she said, her voice hoarse. “…I dreamt we found him.”

Mr. Xie was momentarily stunned. He couldn’t understand why his wife would be so distraught over something that should have brought joy.

“But we didn’t adopt Duzhi. The child you brought back from the orphanage was someone named Ruan.”

Her voice choked. “…And he was the one who had kidnapped Xie Heng, trying to force him into submission.”

Mr. Xie froze mid-motion as he gently patted her back, rare disbelief breaking through his usual calm.

“What?” he asked instinctively, unable to believe such an absurd scenario.

But in that moment at the orphanage, if not for Duzhi stopping him, he might have indeed approached the boy the director had called “Ruan.”

“I didn’t plan to keep him at first… But he developed a fever. In the dream, he kept crying out for ‘Mom,’ and it reminded me of how Xie Heng used to call for me whenever he had a fever.”

“I thought he was pitiful.” She paused, her voice growing even more desolate. “…I never imagined that a five-year-old could have such deep, calculated thoughts. To be adopted by us, he deliberately ran through cold water for hours.”

In the dream, she even felt pity for herself.

How could she have let a five-year-old see through her emotional vulnerabilities and exploit them? How had she trusted the misleading things he said?

She didn’t see a psychologist or continue taking her prescribed medication, believing the boy when he said, “Auntie isn’t sick; she’s just too sad about her older son going missing,” and “Brother will be back soon. I’ll wait with Auntie.” She placed her trust in him and let down her guard.

In the dream, the Xie family treated Ruan very well.

She even agreed to his request to change his name, thinking it would make him feel more like family. Little did she know, while he planned the name change, he was using his “pocket money” to gather information and even impersonate Heng.

This left her emotionally drained, filled with hope only to be crushed repeatedly. She attributed it to the sheer number of similar cases, never suspecting deliberate interference aimed at exacerbating her emotional burden.

Yet, they still managed to find him.

They meticulously verified his identity and information before bringing him home, planning a reunion banquet. But when they returned to fetch him, an accident happened.

She scolded both children equally—one for being too reckless, the other for being too careless—but didn’t think much of it.

Because one child had an injured hand, everyone was slightly flustered, so they ended up having dinner at home instead.

She forgot to tell her Li Heng how happy she was to have him back. She didn’t explain the plans she had initially made, nor did she notice his discomfort and awkwardness, which stemmed from this small incident.

…She assumed he was simply not used to being home again.

Similar instances happened repeatedly.

For example, his birthday had already passed when they found him. Thinking a combined celebration with Bai Ruan would save time and preparation, she thought it would make him happier. She never considered how others might sow discord, let alone that Bai Ruan—so reliant and seemingly fond of his “brother”—might twist the truth entirely.

He never conveyed her messages, making Li Heng feel like an afterthought, unloved and unimportant. His poorly hidden disappointment was, in her eyes, a sign of estrangement.

Later, there were more misunderstandings—each one stabbing her heart when she recalled them.

In the end, she still agreed to send her precious son, lost and found after so many years, out of the house to live on his own.

That was, in essence, a form of abandonment. But at the time, she was consumed by her sadness over how “distant” he seemed. She never realized she had failed to truly see him from the beginning.

She had never properly communicated with him. Initially hesitant to seem intrusive, she left it to the younger generation to bridge the gap. But later, it turned into selfish disappointment.

—What right did she have to be disappointed?

Mrs. Xie thought bitterly, her spirit wilting like a flower.

Her voice was soft, almost ephemeral in the quiet room, as though it might vanish at any moment. “Zhu, when I woke up just now, I thought to myself—if only I had died back then.”

Mr. Xie extinguished his cigarette and lowered his gaze, unsure how to comfort her.

If he were good at comforting people, always knowing the right things to say, he wouldn’t have gone straight to the orphanage back then.

He loved children because he loved his wife.

In all these years, he had almost never smoked in front of her. Tonight was an exception.

When the cigarette burned out, he silently opened his contact list, composed a message to their family doctor, and sent it.

Mrs. Xie’s tears had dried. She asked him, “Why didn’t I believe my own child? Why didn’t I listen to what he was saying before making a judgment?”

Mr. Xie lit another cigarette.

After a long silence, he replied hoarsely, “…It wasn’t your fault. You were a victim too.”

“But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Mrs. Xie spoke rationally. ” Zhu, I was a victim, but I was also a perpetrator.”

Her memories of the dream were terrifyingly vivid.

In that dream, it was Xiao Sizhi who first noticed something was wrong and told her Li Heng’s bank card was in Bai Ruan’s room.

She questioned Bai Ruan, but his calm demeanor made her believe his explanation—that he had found the card in the trash and kept it to spare her feelings.

“He picked it up because he didn’t want me to feel sad if I found out,” she whispered.

In her dream, she hesitated. She didn’t believe that her son, despite his flaws, would simply discard the bank card so thoughtlessly.

When her son took the card from her, his eyes looked hollow and fearful, as though he were carrying the weight of a terrible burden.

That night, unable to shake her suspicions, she checked the surveillance footage from outside their home.

Her son had not thrown the card away. Instead, he stood near the house for a long time, wiping his eyes before walking away.

How, then, did the card end up in the hands of Bai Ruan?

The two children had grown distant over time, and the possibility of them collaborating was inconceivable.

Her doubts grew until she started to dig deeper, and that’s when she opened Pandora’s box.

Though Bai Ruan had become meticulous over the years, evidence still surfaced.

When she confronted him with the evidence, her voice trembled. “Why? Why would you do this? Wasn’t what we gave you enough? We treated you like our own child, planned to give you an equal share of everything.”

Bai Ruan remained calm, unfazed by her accusations. He even smiled, though tears eventually rolled down his face.

He called her “Mom,” but the sound of it turned her stomach.

He admitted everything, mocking her for her blind affection, saying, “Your love is worth nothing. Why don’t you just give him to me?”

It was the first time in her life that she so fervently wished for someone to vanish from the face of the earth.

But Bai Ruan left first, disappearing without a trace.

She lived in fear, sleepless and on edge, dreading that he might find her son again and hurt him.

Fortunately, he was eventually caught and brought to justice.

But her son? He was nowhere to be found.

Psychologists advised her to prepare for the worst. “His depressive state was severe at the time,” one profiler gently warned.

It was in a remote village, so isolated that deliveries had to be collected from a town miles away, where they finally found him.

She rushed there, desperate to apologize and bring him home.

But her son no longer recognized her as his mother.

When she arrived, he was in a tree, picking persimmons for an elderly villager. He didn’t even climb down—climbing back up would be too troublesome.

From his perch, he apologized politely before asking why she had come. When she expressed her intentions, he refused outright, without hesitation.

Standing under the tree, she listened to him calmly recount his past bitterness and misunderstandings.

“…It hurt so much,” he said. “I didn’t even know what was happening. I thought I was going to die.”

He woke up in a hospital bed. A kind couple, who sold boxed meals at construction sites, were by his side. They told him bluntly, “Kid, you can’t keep living like this.”

He knew they were right. But he had no idea how to fix himself.

The couple, despite their own struggles, took him in and found him affordable therapy. He worked for them, peeling vegetables and cleaning up. They even lent him money to cover his medication and counseling.

He hadn’t wanted to live anymore. But he felt obligated to repay their kindness. That sense of duty kept him going, one day at a time, until life became tolerable again.

Later, when they mentioned their elderly parents back in the village, he volunteered to go and help them. The elderly couple grew to treat him like their own grandson.

He found work in a local orchard, picking and packing fruit for online orders. It was honest labor that paid just enough. He even managed to send money back to the couple who had saved him.

It took her nearly two years to find him.

By then, he no longer needed their family. He had rebuilt himself into a self-sufficient, unshakable person.

“Then… how can I make things better for you?” she asked cautiously, no longer daring to call herself his mother.

He looked at her, his gaze devoid of recognition.

Forgiveness is only extended by those who still hold hope. For him, she was no longer a part of his world.

Her regret, her missteps, the lies and truths—it no longer mattered to him.

After a long pause, he said with quiet resignation, “This wasn’t just your fault. I share some blame, too.”

But what had he done wrong?

He had been deceived, hurt beyond measure, and cast out by those who should have loved him unconditionally.

She left the village dazed and hollow. The boy she had yearned to find now treated her like a stranger.

Resentment would have been easier to bear. At least resentment meant there was still a thread of connection. But his indifference left her utterly broken.

In her dream, he excelled in life despite everything. He passed college entrance exams on his own and graduated from a prestigious university, only to return to the same village.

The elderly villagers cherished him, and he had countless friends. His life no longer intersected with hers.

Blood ties, she realized, are not a cure-all. She had severed that bond the day she sent him away.

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her husband’s hand.

“Zhu, you know… when he first came home, the way he acted so cautiously…”

Her voice faltered, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.

“It was exactly like how he looked when I forced him to leave.”

Her husband hadn’t noticed how tightly she was gripping him. Since hearing about her dream, half his body had gone numb, feeling only the searing heat of her tears.

“When he first came home, that cautious look he had… it was exactly the same as when I forced him to leave.”

Mrs. Xie struggled to breathe, unable to distinguish between dream and reality.

She fainted in Mr. Xie’s arms.

Xie Duzhi received the call and rushed to the hospital. By the time he arrived, it was already past 3 a.m.

When Mr. Xie saw him, as well as Xie Sizhi, who had hurriedly returned from a bar, he only said one thing:

“…Don’t let your little brother know about your mother being hospitalized.”

The cigarette in his fingers was still burning.

“Just tell him that she went out with friends and won’t be home for a while.”

He was acutely aware that his youngest son’s final exams were just two days away.

“And about your eldest brother…”

Thinking of their eldest son, who was conducting market research in another city, Mr. Xie sighed deeply. “…Tell him she’s away as well.”

Their eldest was too straightforward and would struggle to keep the truth hidden.

“What happened to Mom?” Xie Sizhi asked anxiously after waiting for him to finish his instructions. “Didn’t she just have a health checkup not long ago?”

Why was she suddenly rushed to the family hospital in the middle of the night?

“Likely a recurrence of her depression,” Mr. Xie replied. “The exact cause… she might tell you herself later.”

Momentarily at a loss, Xie Sizhi couldn’t understand why her depression would suddenly resurface. “…So we’ll just keep this from Xie Heng until she’s feeling better?”

He felt this approach was both reasonable and strange.

Xie Duzhi gazed silently in the direction of the hospital room. After a moment, when the conversation subsided, he spoke softly:

“Did Mom have a dream about Xie Heng?”

Mr. Xie’s hand holding the cigarette trembled.

He had always known that Xie Duzhi was perceptive and sharp, but he hadn’t expected him to zero in on the issue with just a few words.

Then again, perhaps his own behavior had given too much away.

He nodded and closed his eyes. “…That’s why I don’t want him to know.”

Mrs. Xie was fragile, unable to handle any more emotional shocks. If their youngest son knew about the dream, he might not be able to cope either.

Other than keeping mother and son apart for now, Mr. Xie couldn’t think of a better solution.

Xie Sizhi was about to exclaim in shock when Xie Duzhi stepped on his foot.

“—This is a hospital. Keep quiet.”

After saying this, Xie Duzhi turned to Mr. Xie and asked, “When will Mom wake up?”

“…Not sure. The doctor said her intense emotional distress caused significant strain on her body.”

Mr. Xie stared at the hospital room. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Before he finished speaking, the door to the room opened.

Mrs. Xie’s face was pale, drained of all color. She shook her head at her husband. “…If you have anything to say, come inside. It’s too cold to stand out here.”

She paused, then suddenly looked at Xie Duzhi. “Duzhi, did you want to say something just now?”

“It wasn’t me. It was Second Brother.”

Xie Duzhi’s expression remained calm, but his shove wasn’t gentle.

When Xie Sizhi stumbled forward and nearly lost his balance, he instinctively glared back at him, only to find him pretending as if nothing had happened.

“Second Brother had a dream about Xie Heng too,” Xie Duzhi said, ignoring him entirely. “He dreamed that after you adopted Bai Ruan, Xie Heng was found and brought back but was driven out again.”

Mrs. Xie froze, her lips trembling, her hand nearly slipping from the door handle.

Mr. Xie, who had been watching her closely, quickly caught her and supported her in his arms, preventing her from collapsing.

“…Come inside,” Mrs. Xie said with a strained smile.

“Don’t let Mom know about Xie Heng,” Xie Duzhi whispered to his brother as they entered, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. “I’ll figure out the rest.”

For a fleeting moment, Xie Sizhi felt touched, finding his older brother unexpectedly reliable. He thought perhaps entrusting their youngest brother to him was indeed the right choice.

That feeling dissipated when he stood by Mrs. Xie’s hospital bed and saw their father sitting beside her, holding her hand tightly, while the only chair next to the bed was occupied by Xie Duzhi.

He was left awkwardly standing with nowhere to sit.

“Sizhi, have you had any dreams?” Mrs. Xie clung to a desperate hope as she looked at him, as if grasping for a lifeline.

She longed to hear something that could alleviate her guilt—like in the dream, perhaps their relationship with the child had eventually healed over time, not completely, but no longer irreparably broken.

Caught off guard by her gaze, Xie Sizhi felt his heart tighten, unable to meet her eyes.