The real young master thought he was hated by everyone - Chapter 90

During the introductory sociology class, Lin Mo suddenly tugged at Li Heng’s sleeve and said he needed to use the bathroom. Li Heng, unsuspecting, shifted in his seat to let him out, allowing him to exit through the back door. Lately, Lin Mo had been spending time studying programming and language-related courses with Li Heng, rarely using his phone. Whenever he did take out his phone, Wei Zhuowei would quickly send him an invitation link under the pretense of needing “urgent help,” coaxing him to play in a game together.

The game was the most popular MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena) of the moment. To make sure no one was left out, Li Heng often acted as a second “rescue partner” when others were unavailable, joining in to play with the entire dorm.

The story about the “friend” who had been PUAed (Psychologically Manipulated) had been brought up during one of those casual gaming sessions, seemingly in passing. However, Lin Mo didn’t appear to recognize any similarities between the story’s protagonist and himself. Every time they mentioned the “friend,” he simply showed sympathy, without displaying any other reactions.

Li Heng and Wei Zhuowei had planned to bring up the story again that evening, directly asking him if the tactics in the tale bore any resemblance to those used by Bai Ruan. Their hope was that Lin Mo would at least start to suspect something. Li Heng had even reached out to a family psychologist, ready to take him for an evaluation under the guise of “better safe than sorry.”

But after ten minutes, Lin Mo still hadn’t returned from the bathroom. A sense of unease crept up on Li Heng. He discreetly sent him a message, asking if he wanted any help with note-taking, but received no reply even after a considerable wait. Li Heng clearly remembered that Lin Mo had taken his phone with him when he left the classroom.

Feeling something was amiss, he excused himself to the bathroom as well, leaving their textbooks in Wei Zhuowei’s care. The sociology lecturer, noticing the commotion, cast a few questioning glances in their direction but didn’t say anything—he recognized them as diligent students who consistently completed their assignments and chose to overlook this minor disruption.

The bathroom was empty when Li Heng got there, and he called Lin Mo’s number, but there was no ringing sound. Anxiety gnawed at him as he thought about contacting their faculty advisor. Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind, covering his mouth. A sharp, sweet scent filled his nose, and the world went dark as he lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he found himself in a room resembling a hotel suite. His hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles were similarly bound. He was sitting on a couch, with Bai Ruan sitting next to him, staring at him with an unsettling expression. He felt a cold shock run through him, almost letting out a scream.

Bai Ruan pressed a finger to his lips, making a soft shushing sound. “I know you have a lot of questions, but I don’t have much time. If you behave, I might answer one or two of them,” he said lightly, his tone almost playful. “Like why, despite Xie Duzhi’s vigilance, I’m still here in S City with you, and you didn’t get any warning.”

“Or why I brought you here and what I plan to do… Or maybe you’re most interested in your little roommate, Lin Mo.”

“Why haven’t you found him yet? And why is it that I showed up just now? Could it be that he’s my accomplice?” Bai Ruan teased, his voice laced with mockery.

Li Heng forced himself to stay calm. The more Bai Ruan tried to rattle him, the more he knew he needed to remain composed, not giving Bai Ruan any openings.

“I trust Lin Mo,” Li Heng said, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “Even if he was manipulated by you, he would never help you with something as vile as this.”

Lin Mo couldn’t have lured him into a trap. And Bai Ruan’s presence here only proved one thing: he was deceitful and shameless, having used some underhanded trick to slip past Xie Duzhi’s watchful eyes.

Seemingly bored by Li Heng’s lack of panic, Bai Ruan chuckled, his tone dismissive. “Little Heng always did have good judgment,” he conceded. “Lin Mo didn’t help me.”

Despite the words, Li Heng’s sense of foreboding only deepened. He trusted that Xie Duzhi would soon uncover how Bai Ruan had managed to reach S City and would quickly find him. Observing the room carefully, he noticed the hotel-like setup: the power card inserted into the slot at the entrance, indicating they were in a hotel or similar establishment. Since check-ins required ID verification, Bai Ruan’s time here had to be limited.

But there were only two of them in the room, and excluding the possibility that Lin Mo had also been kidnapped, Li Heng couldn’t suppress his dread about what might have happened.

“He’s really foolish,” Bai Ruan said casually. “And fragile. All it took was a single text to lure him up to your university’s rooftop.”

“If they discover him in time, maybe he can be saved?”

“But don’t worry, you won’t be a suspect,” Bai Ruan said nonchalantly. “I called your advisor and informed them that you’d left with me. The campus security cameras should show you leaving before he… jumps.”

Bai Ruan spoke the last word with eerie indifference. He continued, revealing that he’d used a newly registered account on Xie Duzhi’s phone to send the message that lured Lin Mo to the rooftop.

Li Heng’s face went white. It felt like a bucket of icy water had been poured over him, freezing him to his very core. His body trembled involuntarily as he tried to back away from Bai Ruan, but Bai Ruan anticipated his movement, casually leaning closer and resting his head on his shoulder.

Bai Ruan’s warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness Li Heng felt inside. He felt as if he were next to a malevolent spirit—a being that only masqueraded as human.

“No matter what you do to Lin Mo,” he said, feeling a painful lump in his throat, “he genuinely liked you, trying so hard to be closer to you, to be good enough for you.”

Even through his fear, a sense of sorrow washed over him—a deep weariness. “Even if you never truly cared about him, even if you always saw him as a pawn, to be discarded once you no longer needed him, haven’t you had enough?”

“You’ve successfully kidnapped me. Why, Bai Ruan, do you still want to push him to suicide?”

The cruelty of Bai Ruan’s actions left him grappling with disbelief. Didn’t he have even a shred of guilt? Did he not wake in the dead of night, haunted by his deeds?

Did he not see that life was more than just a toy to be broken or a game to be won?

“Why? Why do you get to act like this… What right do you have?”

“Because of you,” Bai Ruan responded with a soft, chilling laugh.

Li Heng couldn’t describe the feeling that Bai Ruan gave him. The Bai Ruan he saw now was different from the one in his dreams and from the way he had appeared before. Even if they shared the same face, if they stood side by side, he would probably never think of them as the same person. This Bai Ruan was terrifying.

“This is your gift, your punishment,” Bai Ruan declared. “You should have met with me back then.”

Recalling the unpleasant encounter with Xie Duzhi and the near-disastrous slip-up, Bai Ruan’s previously bright mood darkened again. His tone became softer and even colder, like a snake hissing as it flicked its tongue. “If you had obediently listened to me back then, Lin Mo wouldn’t have had to die.”

And now, since Lin Mo no longer had any use, he had become a pawn that could be discarded at will. Why not destroy this useless piece in front of a certain someone and make sure the lesson was unforgettable? A worthless pawn in exchange for a profound lesson—what a worthwhile trade.

“You’re so scared you’re about to cry.”

Bai Ruan’s eyes curved in a smile, his tone laced with undeniable joy.

The expression on the face in front of him—the face he had seen in his dreams, a slightly more mature version of the same one—was superimposed over the present. When the him from the dream was framed and cast out, despised by everyone, he had worn a similar expression.

Lips bitten tight, tears welling up in his eyes, fear and anxiety like a fragile bird caught in a storm, yet still trying to appear calm and composed, attempting to use reason to battle his emotions.

Bai Ruan thought he looked incredibly beautiful. Beautiful enough to keep staring at.

He did what the version of himself in the dream couldn’t do—after all, back then, there had been too many unrelated people present. Now, it was just the two of them.

He eaned down, tilting forward slightly, sticking out his tongue to lick away the tears that were about to spill from Li Heng’s eyes. He kissed his eyelids.

The tears were sweet.

For a fleeting moment, he even thought about strapping him down to an operating table, gently extracting his eyes.

That way, he could preserve those eyes forever, ensuring that they saw only him.

Li Heng froze, not immediately understanding what Bai Ruan intended until the burning lips and tongue touched his face. He instinctively struggled, bound as he was, slamming his shoulder into Bai Ruan and using his forehead to knock him away.

Disgust.

Confusion.

The shock left him momentarily unable to think, and after shoving Bai Ruan away, he retched violently. His stomach was empty, and it felt like he was about to throw up bile.

His eyes were red.

Bai Ruan observed his reaction with mild surprise, not approaching immediately, waiting for him to finish retching and coughing for a long time. Only then did he sit back beside him, reaching out to pat his back.

Once. Twice.

Moments ago, he had indeed been enjoying the reaction.

“Did you react the same way when that imposter—Xie Duzhi—touched you?”

He sounded genuinely curious.

Li Heng’s spine tingled, especially the spot on his back that had just been touched. Bai Ruan’s cold fingers were like a snake sliding down his spine, making his whole body break out in goosebumps.

Bai Ruan found it amusing, whether it was the awkwardness or the instinctual response born from fear. “Don’t you know?”

His tone was eerily soft, his voice oozing disdain whenever Xie Duzhi came up.

“That imposter…”

“My third brother is not an imposter,” Li Heng interrupted reflexively, still dizzy. “Even without him, my father would never have adopted you.”

“And he definitely wouldn’t be as disgusting as you.”

The thought of what had just happened made his stomach churn again. The urge to vomit returned.

Bai Ruan watched him with a strange curiosity, reaching out to pinch his face.

Li Heng, who had been on guard since the earlier incident, instinctively dodged.

“You’re only here because you realized that no matter whether it’s fair competition or shady tactics, you can’t touch him.”

He took a deep breath and shouted out the truth: “So you came to my school to kidnap me, ugh…!”

Bai Ruan covered his mouth, his expression suddenly cold, his smile vanished.

He was angry.

Whether it was Li Heng’s defense of Xie Duzhi or his dismissal of Bai Ruan himself, the latter found it intolerable.

Li Heng glared at him, biting down hard on Bai Ruan’s hand, trying to force him to let go. Yet, no matter how much pressure he applied, Bai Ruan didn’t so much as flinch, as if he felt no pain at all.

Eventually, he released him of his own volition.

He looked down at his own hand, now marked with clear bite marks, faintly oozing blood. His gaze was cold and unreadable, his anger barely restrained.

As expected, even though he didn’t want to pay attention to anything other than him,” that imposter would still jump into the picture in unexpected ways.

He didn’t mind Li Heng’s fear of him. What he couldn’t tolerate was that, compared to himself, Li Heng clearly cared more about that imposter.

Whenever he mentioned his so-called “third brother,” the terror seemed to dissipate.

That look was unbearable. He couldn’t accept it.

“How could you like that imposter?”

Li Heng felt a chill under his gaze. “If he hadn’t intervened, Father would have adopted me,” Bai Ruan murmured, almost to himself. “Then you would’ve been my older brother. I would have been the best, most loving younger brother, and you would have been mine.”

—Yes, that’s right. The imposter should never have existed. The problem lay with Xie Duzhi.

Bai Ruan thought back to the dreams he’d had, of the past he’d glimpsed within them.

He had been the most adorable and sensible child in the orphanage. So, without hesitation, the director had recommended him to the tall, clearly well-off man, urging him to take him into the Xie family.

That was the first time he had seen such a large house.

The mistress of the Xie family had been sitting on the sofa, looking dazed, tears brimming in her eyes, while the man who had brought him there seemed to hold his breath, speaking carefully around her.

Bai Ruan instantly understood who he needed to win over in that household, so he had stepped forward and sweetly called her “Mom.”

She seemed surprised, then suddenly realized something, stood up, and shot the household’s male head several sharp glares.

“I don’t know if you lost your mind along with Li Heng…” she had berated him, telling him to return the child and then come back to reflect on his actions.

Then she turned to Bai Ruan and gently explained that Uncle had just thought he was cute, so he had invited him over as a guest for a few days.

Bai Ruan clearly understood that he wouldn’t be kept. If it were an ordinary child, perhaps they would feel disappointed. But he didn’t.

He created many opportunities for himself over the past few days, testing the weaknesses of the people around him, and discovered that the lady of this house wasn’t in good mental health.

Using this, he deliberately faked a high fever, calling out “Mom” in his delirious state, telling her it was cold outside, reminding her of the son she lost. This moved Mrs. Xie, and she decided to adopt him.

And what right did that imposter have?

If Bai Ruan remembered correctly, the imposter didn’t even know how to smile at adults. How could he earn the favor of the Xie family?

“That imposter shouldn’t have existed in the first place. No matter what you want, I can do it better than he ever could.”

Bai Ruan emphasized, then asked him, “Does he know you prefer sour-sweet flavors to just sweetness? Does he notice that you always sneak out to feed stray cats and dogs? Does he pay as much attention to you as I do, no matter the time or place?”

His tone was filled with intense jealousy, “He doesn’t. His heart is made of machinery, he can’t pay attention to such insignificant details.”

But I know.

“The way he likes you is only…”

He sneered.

“Only what?”

Li Heng interrupted, still guarding himself against any possible actions from Bai Ruan, as he didn’t want him getting close again like before. “Bai Ruan, haven’t you realized that you’re contradicting yourself?”

He forced himself to speak through his disgust, “No matter how you twist it, he knows me far better than you. We respect each other, we like each other.”

Just hearing those words from him made him feel like vomiting, “… What right do you have? You don’t even have a heart, let alone one a human should have.”

“I never belonged to you, you’re dreaming.”

If he weren’t bound by restraints, he would have already rushed to the bathroom, scraping his throat with his fingers and vomiting everything in his stomach.

“But you were always mine.” Bai Ruan looked down at him, emphasizing once more, “I should have been adopted.”

The discrepancy that he had ignored earlier had been brewing for some time and had now reached a point where Bai Ruan couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

“Then what?”

Li Heng felt either Bai Ruan was mad, or there was something seriously wrong with his mental state. “Bai Ruan, if you had been adopted by my dad instead of him, would you have treated me like he did?”

“Would you have been kind to me?”

“You would only wish for me to die somewhere, never to be found again. Even if I were found, you would do everything in your power to make everyone hate me, so that I would never be a threat to you.”

He remembered the dream and could hardly control his emotions.

What Bai Ruan had said seemed to almost be a reality.

He could almost still feel the fear and pain from that dream, “You would try to force me away, then seal me off, making sure I…”

Li Heng couldn’t finish his sentence.

Because Bai Ruan was looking at him, his gaze growing more intense, and his expression shifted from gloomy to a familiar kind of innocent, carefree look.

Bai Ruan smiled.

“Brother, you’ve exposed yourself.” He said lightly.

… Exposed what?

“No wonder, when we first met, you didn’t immediately chase me but hesitated. No wonder after that, you always seemed to be on guard as if I might harm you.”

Bai Ruan sat down in front of him, his mood bright enough that he even started swinging his legs, “You know, don’t you?”

No wonder, he had thought, how could an imposter have such a huge impact with just a few words?

“… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Li Heng tried to stay calm, sarcastically replying, “Bai Ruan, if you have delusions, you should see a doctor.”

But his slightly trembling voice betrayed him.

Bai Ruan curled his lips into a smile, not refuting him, but instead purposefully switching to a more suggestive tone: “Then I’ll just assume that, like me, you want to know me as well as I know you.”

“But brother, the reason I did this isn’t because I hate you.”

Bai Ruan smiled, “It’s because I like you, that’s why I do it.”

Li Heng thought he was hearing a joke.

But then he realized he was serious.

Horror filled him, and the disgust that had been suppressed earlier surged back again—Bai Ruan was excited, and he didn’t hide it.

“Just thinking about how you would cry, no matter how scared or disgusted you are with me, yet you can only rely on my presence… it excites me.”

Bai Ruan couldn’t help but lick his lips, his voice dripping with malice, “Brother, do you think that imposter could be any better?”

Although, in the dream, he hadn’t started with such thoughts.

In the beginning, Bai Ruan had only wished that the imposter would die and never come back. To consume the feelings of the Xie family, he had done many things before the imposter was found.

From frequent “recognitions” to media reports, subtly amplifying the idea that “children raised outside their biological families tend to resent their parents when they grow up,” Bai Ruan had worked hard to push the narrative.

He had almost succeeded when, at that time, the Xie family discovered the imposter’s whereabouts.