Part 3
Third Brother and the Captain hide it way too well.
Looks like I’m still an outsider.
He couldn’t control his sadness and let out an “Oh.”
Little did he know, Jiang Shulu’s mind was full of the content of that “night” he just read.
Jiang Shulu had grown up excellently even under the high pressure of his family; his memory was naturally very good.
Even in the idol industry, he learned everything instantly.
Though not top-tier, it was enough to make Yao Lixin, who had focused on dance for years, feel cut to the quick.
Several times, Yao Lixin wailed in pain about Jiang Shulu’s terrifying memory, then cursed him, saying that sooner or later, he would get blackout drunk and encounter a romantic escapade he never expected.
A mere page of an e-book, 500 words at most, was quick for Jiang Shulu to memorize.
But there was really no need to memorize it.
Explicit words, graphic descriptions.
Even though Jiang Shulu felt his expression management was always good, it was hard to control his shock in that instant.
If it were Yao Lixin reading it, he wouldn’t think anything of it. After all, that guy was a gay icon in the public eye, but in reality, his orientation was straighter than a steel beam—he only liked older sisters.
And that older sister had a boyfriend.
Resulting in fans later digging up evidence and seriously suspecting Yao Lixin of being a homewrecker for love.
But how could Tang Yue like reading…
The atmosphere was a bit strange. After the awkwardness came the awkwardness of suddenly looking away from eye contact, followed by a subtle ambiguity rising because of the content.
One liked him in his heart but couldn’t say it, so he could only lower his head and pinch his fingers.
The other hadn’t understood yet, just shocked that the seemingly dust-free Tang Yue had such moments.
But also a bit relieved; it seemed the extraterrestrial-like boy had the emotions and desires of an ordinary person, making Tang Yue seem more alive.
Jiang Shulu coughed lightly. “This… I can’t read this out loud.”
Tang Yue: “I’m embarrassed to listen to it anyway.”
Jiang Shulu: “But you should sleep. Don’t your eyes hurt? I thought you were crying from emotion, but it’s because your eyes hurt, right?”
Tang Yue said “Oh,” unaware that he looked a bit disappointed.
Jiang Shulu: “I’ll read you something else.”
But Jiang Shulu really hadn’t researched bedtime stories, nor did he have Liu Xichao’s proficiency in ghost stories. In the end, he made one up on the spot.
A story about the swapped life of a little boy growing up in an alley.
Tang Yue listened very earnestly, looking like he cherished this moment of someone reading him a bedtime story.
But his room really didn’t have any extra chairs, and Jiang Shulu was tall. Standing by the bed really didn’t look like he was telling a bedtime story; it looked like he was there to collect a debt.
Finally, Tang Yue invited Jiang Shulu to sit on his bed.
Jiang Shulu told the story plainly, but it made Tang Yue feel terrible.
So he asked many questions.
Like, was that boy happy?
Like, did his mother regret it?
Then they talked about the future.
Aliens from Planet 9787 had the chance to have their own children.
Although at the time, Tang Yue was convinced he had transmigrated into a book and planned not to date or have intimate relations with anyone.
Tang Yue was afraid of being seen as a monster.
Seeing him so conflicted, Jiang Shulu smiled and said, “You’re just a kid yourself. You don’t need to think about so much.”
Tang Yue: “But the mother in the story was also a kid, and she had a child.”
Old alleys, small attics, narrow stairs.
Jiang Shulu’s voice was incredibly gentle. The descriptions easily conjured images, giving Tang Yue the feeling that this was Jiang Shulu’s own story.
But how could that be possible?
Jiang Shulu was the main gong (top), a young master born with a silver spoon in his mouth.
His life should be smooth sailing, his love passionate. Even if the novel wrote that his character, “Tang Yue,” had a bad ending…
For the main couple, it was still a perfect Happy Ending.
Tang Yue was almost leaning against the wall, looking sideways at Jiang Shulu sitting on the edge of his bed.
This atmosphere was indeed sleep-inducing. His eyelids were fighting, but he unconsciously kept looking at Jiang Shulu under the dim light.
The young man, a few years older than him, looked steady and gentle as he smiled and said, “It’s just a story, after all.”
Tang Yue mumbled, “My child must be happy. Living in a great place is useless if they aren’t… happy.”
He fell asleep as he spoke, unaware that his hand was still gripping the hem of Jiang Shulu’s jacket.
The Captain, doing his late-night rounds, had draped a jacket over his pajamas, and it was now tightly clenched by Tang Yue.
The sleeping boy didn’t sleep peacefully either; his brows were furrowed, wrapped in light sorrow.
Jiang Shulu dimmed the night light to the lowest setting. Finally, he couldn’t resist using his fingertip to smooth Tang Yue’s furrowed brow.
That year, Jiang Shulu thought: What is he still worried about? Is it because he’s homeless?
The Tang Yue in the files was just surviving, looking a bit like a drifter. The eyes in his ID photo burned with ambition.
But with the same blue eyes, why did the Tang Yue on the bed give off a feeling of melancholy?
It was like a riddle Jiang Shulu couldn’t solve as a child.
He finally went to check the answer, but opinions varied, meaning there was no answer.
It made his heart itch, wanting to explore deeper.
Jiang Shulu watched Tang Yue for a while. When he tried to pull his jacket away, Tang Yue grabbed his hand.
He said, “Don’t go.”
He mumbled a complaint about wanting to sleep with someone.
Jiang Shulu raised an eyebrow. His mind raced through countless people Tang Yue had contacted recently, men and women, but there was no suitable candidate.
As if possessed, Jiang Shulu leaned down and asked, “With whom?”
But Tang Yue didn’t speak again. The boy’s breathing was shallow. In that moment, it almost merged with Jiang Shulu’s breathing, scorching Jiang Shulu so much that he fled in panic.
The next day, Tang Yue looked blankly at the jacket in his arms, thinking: Did I do something terrible?
Probably… not.
Years later, lying in Jiang Shulu’s bed, Tang Yue thought for a long time before finally remembering.
Jiang Shulu had just put on his slippers to go make breakfast when Tang Yue suddenly pounced on his back. Jiang Shulu was startled and hurriedly supported him.
Tang Yue: “I definitely didn’t invite you! Ge, are you lying to me?”
Tang Yue, having grown from a boy to a young man, still had that pleasant voice. Only now, it carried a slight rasp. Knowing the reason for that rasp made Jiang Shulu’s heart numb with affection.
He simply carried Tang Yue out on his back, saying, “Who is the one lying, me or you?”
Tang Yue felt guilty. “That was…”
He changed the subject and asked Jiang Shulu, “I just saw the interface on your tablet. Did something happen?”
To some extent, Tang Yue’s denseness was his greatest protection.
He didn’t care at all about the headlines in the media.
Back then, Away also had many anti-fans. Even someone with good psychological quality like Yao Lixin had been depressed.
But the most relaxed one turned out to be Tang Yue. He practiced when he needed to, slept when he needed to, indifferent to accusations of him being pretentious or hyping a genius persona.
The alien from Planet 9787 had a desire for the stage that far exceeded ordinary people. No one knew how much the obscure seventeen-year-old him had wanted an opportunity.
Jiang Shulu: “See for yourself.”
He put Tang Yue on the sofa and went inside to hand him the tablet.
Actually, Jiang Shulu’s mentality was also very good, but compared to Tang Yue, his state was still not as natural.
The fair-skinned young man slumped crookedly on the sofa, reading the most eye-catching headline on the screen—
“Jiang Shulu leaves the family with nothing for love; A billionaire CEO becomes destitute overnight?”
Tang Yue let out a “Wow.” “I like this title.”
Jiang Shulu laughed. “Is it like the novels you like to read?”
Tang Yue nodded vigorously. “The content should be about the CEO having no way out and selling his body to make a living or something…”
Jiang Shulu felt deeply empathetic. “I’ve already sold my body for a night. Is President Tang satisfied?”
Tang Yue: “Me? I’m the CEO now?”
His voice sounded a bit cheerful. Combined with the hickey on his collarbone, Jiang Shulu had to look away, afraid of doing it again as Tang Yue wished.
What exactly is Planet 9787?
Jiang Shulu thought: Is Tang Yue really an alien?
Probably because the impression of aliens was big heads, small bodies, and triangular eyes—really not complimentary.
Jiang Shulu was very puzzled. Are there such good-looking aliens?
An alien who can have children.
Does he reveal his true form every month?
Tang Yue: “I should sign the contract earlier. That way I can hold a concert sooner, make a big profit, and buy the little Western-style house I looked at before.”
He held the tablet, swiping through Jiang Shulu’s replies, while answering a call from Tang Mian.
A video call from the Genius Child Phone Watch Pro Version – Universe Invincible Little Mie Mie.
Tang Mian had probably returned to where they were staying and shouted “Papa” excitedly.
Tang Yue huffed. “You still remember me?”
Tang Mian bobbed his head. “Where is Little Yue!”
The next second, he saw Jiang Shulu in Tang Yue’s background and shouted again, “Uncle Jiang is there too?”
Tang Yue immediately choked up, thinking about how to tell Little Mie that Shulu-ge was his father.
Jiang Shulu came over to hand Tang Yue a glass of honey water and greeted the child on the phone.
Tang Yue was still racking his brains for a reason to explain men having children, when he unexpectedly heard his son’s loud voice—
“Good morning, Daddy!”
Tang Yue: “Aren’t you already with me…”
He suddenly paused, realizing Tang Mian was calling Jiang Shulu.
Tang Yue: “Didn’t you call him Daddy Shulu?”
Tang Mian: “But he is my daddy.”
Tang Yue: “Wait a minute.”
His own son bluntly pointed it out: “You adults are so troublesome; I’m suffocating.”
The curly-haired little guy bobbed his head, his eyes curving into crescents. “I knew long ago that Uncle Jiang was my real daddy. Little Yue, you dummy!”
Tang Yue looked at Jiang Shulu.
Jiang Shulu actually nodded in agreement and repeated—
“Little Yue, you dummy.”
—”Coat Inner Pocket” â‘¡
Tang Mian: Why did Papa use Daddy Shulu’s card before?
Tang Yue looked at Jiang Shulu: Why?
He even found his old employee card: It has my name on it.
It still had Tang Yue’s ID photo, taken after he was discharged from the hospital. It was actually quite easy to distinguish from the other Tang Yue.
Even Tang Mian could tell.
Jiang Shulu: You didn’t have money back then, so the expenses were charged to my card.
Jiang Shulu: Mine was the primary card.
Tang Yue’s pupils quaked: I thought there was money in my card.
Jiang Shulu: The balance you saw was my balance.
PS: Liu Xichao used Jiang He’s card. There was no balance; it was an unlimited card.
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