The real young master thought he was hated by everyone - Chapter 91

Bai Ruan got the information, even before everyone in the Xie family did.

Over the years, not only had the Xie family been searching for the missing child, but he had also been conducting his own search privately—using the wealth of the Xie family to build his own network.

Of course, while Bai Ruan valued wealth, it was far from the most important thing to him. Compared to the family fortune or even the more intangible inheritance and shares, what he cherished most was the identity of being “the young master of the Xie family.”

This identity offered countless conveniences, whether it was access to resources or connections, allowing him to easily approach otherwise unreachable people, explore their hearts, and then toy with them as he pleased.

If the real young master was successfully found, he knew that, whether out of guilt or a desire for compensation, the benefits he could reap would undoubtedly shrink significantly.

He wasn’t about to let that happen.

He fabricated false information to confuse everyone. While the Xie family’s attention was diverted by the fake leads, searching for more likely candidates, he made some changes to the real information during this interval.

He bribed certain people.

Among them were envious classmates, teachers who had old grudges and couldn’t resist the lure of money for long, and caretakers who were dissatisfied with the orphanage director.

Truth be told, bribing these people took more time than he had anticipated, and the number of people willing to cooperate was fewer than he expected.

The original “Xie Qi,” now “Li Heng,” had always been exceptionally likable, from childhood to adulthood, making it difficult for Bai Ruan to find people who would fabricate “facts” as he wished.

Perhaps this was the so-called “born of good influences, one stands upright without support”?

But this minor hiccup didn’t significantly affect the overall plan. In the end, what the Xie family saw was a dossier with subtle but deliberate tampering.

A teacher testified that he had secretly taken his deskmate’s pen and eraser. Classmates said he was antisocial and gloomy. Caretakers at the orphanage mentioned that he often relied on the director’s favoritism to take more than his fair share of items meant to be distributed equally.

These weren’t major issues, and when mixed into an otherwise largely genuine dossier, they wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

The Xie family wouldn’t bother to investigate such seemingly trivial matters by traveling north.

They would merely feel a subtle discomfort and harbor a slight distrust—or perhaps a sense of regret—that a child who had seemed so obedient in their memories had turned out less perfect due to a lack of proper guidance.

This subtle discomfort wouldn’t change their overall attitude, but it would plant a thorn in their hearts, sinking deeper over time.

In their minds, the child who had been lost at such a young age was perfect, without a single flaw—an impression Bai Ruan had deliberately reinforced every time the subject came up over the years.

The greater the disparity, the deeper the disappointment.

And then, on top of that disappointment—why not pour fuel on the fire?

Before the boy was officially brought into the Xie family, Bai Ruan was already observing him from his room with a telescope.

He watched him being led by the butler, crossing the well-manicured lawn and fountain in the front yard. He noted the unease and doubt on his face, realizing that the boy was even easier to read than the dossier suggested.

He orchestrated a situation where he was pushed down the stairs by the boy and noted the guilt and regret that followed. The unease that had been present since the boy’s arrival at the Xie family became even more apparent.

He had no doubt that, during his reflection, instead of wondering, “Did he fall on purpose?” the boy would worry more about, “Did I accidentally bump into him? Will he think I did it on purpose?”

So easy to predict, so easy to understand.

Bai Ruan had a thousand ways to make him leave the Xie family and ensure he could no longer affect his position or become his replacement. After much consideration, he chose the most entertaining approach.

Taking advantage of the lack of communication and misunderstandings between the boy and the Xie family, he presented himself as a gentle and caring figure, appearing before the boy under the guise of “help,” all the while playing tricks on him.

He watched the boy stumble and mess up important matters while gradually creating the impression among other family members that he didn’t truly want to be recognized as part of the family.

The greater the Xie family’s expectations, the deeper their eventual disappointment.

Love could be worn down, consumed—and with so many misunderstandings already between them, how could it not?

The boy didn’t understand his family, and his family didn’t truly understand him.

The only one who truly understood him was Bai Ruan, who could exploit him.

Perhaps it was from this satisfying realization—or maybe even earlier, when Bai Ruan noticed how the boy resembled a loyal puppy, instinctively trusting its owner despite repeated harm.

In any case, he decided that the boy was different from everyone else.

He liked how, despite being guarded, the boy’s soft and innocent nature caused him to repeatedly reveal his vulnerabilities.

He thought, How adorable.

However, the boy didn’t have eyes only for him. He held hopes and expectations for his family, friends, and even strangers. While Bai Ruan liked this trait, he also deeply resented it.

When the boy came to him, confused and naive, asking if signing an agreement or taking an oath not to claim a single penny from the Xie family’s fortune would make things better between them, Bai Ruan was furious.

The boy still cared more about the Xie family. To the boy, Bai Ruan was just one among many—a dispensable figure.

But Bai Ruan didn’t want to be one of many. He wanted to be the one and only.

More than manipulatable affection or easily swayed emotions, he wanted to be remembered, etched deeply in the boy’s mind, an inescapable presence.

He needed the boy to see only him.

Through a small scheme, he convinced the Xie family to expel the boy.

The Xie family believed that by letting him endure some hardships, he would realize his dependency on family support, become more obedient, and understand their good intentions.

But in the boy’s heart, this act was already abandonment.

He had been forsaken—so who else could he rely on?

He arranged for his bank card to be stolen, ensuring that when the boy had nowhere to go, helpless and desperate, he would call Bai Ruan for help.

And Bai Ruan would generously extend his hand, taking him to a place only he knew, making him realize that he was the only one in the world who would treat him well.

Bai Ruan tampered with his phone so that no matter whom he tried to contact, every call would ultimately connect to him.

Although he hadn’t seen every detail of their future in his dreams, he was certain of one thing: in the end, the boy would belong to him.

After all, where else could he go? To long-lost classmates? To grandparents abroad who had no idea what had happened?

“Brother, are you going to tell me this is wrong, that this isn’t true love, and then argue with me using logic?”

Bai Ruan shushed him, a mischievous smile on his face. “But I know what you think love is like—just like how I acted in front of Lin Mo, right?”

Li Heng simply glared coldly at him, the overwhelming nausea eclipsing all reason—especially as Bai Ruan mentioned Lin Mo so nonchalantly.

He vomited all the bile from his stomach, leaving the sofa and the coffee table in front of him a complete mess.

Bai Ruan, however, seemed utterly unfazed by the mess. On the contrary, he carefully pulled out some tissues and wiped away the stains meticulously.

“Brother Heng, do you want some water?” He asked, his tone tender. “I can feed you if you’d like.”

Li Heng stared at him warily, but his mind was preoccupied. He was wondering how much longer Bai Ruan’s so-called “limited time” could possibly last and when this torturous conversation would finally end.

He had already given up on trying to discern his motives. The man’s behavior was so far removed from anything resembling normality.

“You have no right to talk about love,” Li Heng said hoarsely, his throat still raw from vomiting. “You only make people feel disgusted.”

“I don’t mind,” Bai Ruan replied, undeterred. Hearing the word “disgusting” didn’t even make him flinch. He appeared completely at ease. “Brother, you’ll just need to get used to it.”

“If you want, I could even treat you like I did Lin Mo,” Bai Ruan teased with a sly smile.

Li Heng couldn’t bear to hear another word. He loudly commanded him to shut up, but his body betrayed him, responding with another wave of nausea.

The overwhelming disgust was pushing him to the brink of collapse.

Bai Ruan simply watched him with a hint of pity in his eyes.

“Brother, what’s the point of the kind of love you yearn for?” Bai Ruan said, letting out a soft sigh. “It collapses under the slightest suspicion or misunderstanding, doesn’t it? Whether it’s friendship, family, or even romantic love—the kind of love you dream of—none of it can withstand the test of time.”

“But my love,” he continued, his voice laced with an eerie certainty, “is different.”

“You should understand this already.”

His tone softened, almost wistful. “Take our parents—oh, I suppose I should call them Auntie and Uncle, right?—or our elder cousins. None of them are any different.”

“And then there’s that fake impostor.”

He paused, tilting his head slightly as he unscrewed the cap of a bottle of water and took a sip. Then, he extended the bottle toward Li Heng.

“Brother, have some water,” he said again, his voice gentle but insistent. “Staying hydrated is good for you, especially after crying so much earlier.”

Li Heng resolutely shut his eyes, his rejection as clear as his icy demeanor.

Despite his chaotic thoughts, he had begun to piece together the situation. Bai Ruan must have experienced the same dreams as him. The difference was that he could distinguish between dreams and reality, while Bai Ruan seemed utterly incapable of separating the two.

“He should be here soon,” Bai Ruan remarked, seemingly unbothered. “I didn’t bother trying to hide my tracks.”

“Brother, do you think he likes you in that pure, brotherly way? Without any desire?”

When Bai Ruan mentioned Xie Duzhi, his disdain was palpable.

“You think he’s any different from me?” He sneered. “The reason he knows me so well, knows my every move, is because, in essence, we’re the same.”

“The things I want to do to you,” he said, his voice dropping, “he probably wants to do even worse. After all, unlike me, he demands your love—both physical and emotional. He wants to control you, bind you to him.”

“Even if that’s true,” Li Heng retorted, his voice trembling with restrained fury, “it’s still a thousand times better than your nonsensical, twisted logic!”

“And besides,” Li Heng added, “my third brother would never stoop to your level.”

The memory of Bai Ruan’s earlier insinuations hit him like a punch to the gut, and he struggled to suppress another wave of nausea.

“Disgusting?” Bai Ruan echoed with a faint smile.

“Despicable and vile,” Li Heng snapped, his teeth clenched tightly. He kept his eyes shut, refusing to look at him.

“Shall we make a bet, then?” Bai Ruan asked, glancing at the electronic clock on the wall. “Or perhaps consider it my second gift to you today.”

“In a moment, I’m going to do some of those despicable, vile things you just mentioned,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “I’ll start with something simple, like a kiss.”

He added, almost as an afterthought, “Though I probably won’t have enough time to get to the final step. Xie Duzhi moves too fast. Even with my foresight and all the obstacles I’ve set up for him, I doubt I can delay him much longer.”

“I’m going to leave marks on you,” he said, his voice now tinged with malice. He reached out to unbutton the top button of Li Heng’s shirt. “Brother, have you ever wondered how two men engage in intercourse?”

“Whether you’ve thought about it or not doesn’t matter,” he continued, unperturbed. “I know, and I’ve even dreamed of the way you’d cry.”

Li Heng’s attempts to resist were quickly subdued. The self-tightening restraints on him were impossible to undo without external help.

“Do you think I’d care about a dog bite?” Li Heng spat, his voice defiant even as his body trembled.

“I know how strong you are, Brother,” Bai Ruan said, his tone almost admiring. “But even if you don’t care, what about that impostor?”

“What do you think he’ll do,” Bai Ruan asked, his voice dripping with malice, “when he sees the marks I’ve left on you?”

“Shall we place a bet, Brother?” Bai Ruan said, his smile widening. “I bet that after this, he’ll avoid you, and your relationship will never return to what it was.”

“Even if you act like nothing happened, even if you pretend not to know he harbors feelings for you,” he added, his voice almost sing-song.

Just as he leaned in closer, the sound of the door being violently kicked open reverberated through the room.

Xie Duzhi stood in the doorway, his expression thunderous, his presence exuding a chilling, almost tangible aura of fury.

For the first time, Li Heng saw a side of him he had never imagined—blazing with anger, colder than the sharpest blade.