Yet somehow. No one else seemed to understand why he loved that place so much.
The child's shoulders slowly slumped.
His little hands tightened into fists.
His lower lip quivered.
"...You always say that. So what if it's dangerous?"
Neither man answered immediately.
Their silence hurt far more than being scolded.
A-Hua stomped his foot. It made a loud thump that echoed throughout the room. Only then did both men look up fully.
They saw a little boy standing there with tears already welling in his eyes.
His tiny fists trembled at his sides.
"A-Hua?" Concern immediately entered his elder brother's voice.
The young man quickly pushed back his chair and stood.
But before he could take another step, his younger brother turned and ran.
"A-Hua!"
He hurried after him.
"Wait!"
He managed to catch his young brother's wrist just before he reached the doorway.
"Let go!"
The little boy struggled with all his strength.
"Let go of me!"
His brother knelt in front of him despite his resistance.
"Tell Ge what's wrong first, hm?"
The child opened his mouth to answer. Instead a sob escaped.
His elder brother's expression immediately softened.
Without another word, A-Hua threw himself forward and buried his face against his brother's chest.
His small body shook uncontrollably as the tears he had been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over.
"I don't like it..." he cried between broken sobs.
"You and Dad are always busy… I just wanted to tell you about the ant. I thought... I thought you'd be happy too..."
His tiny fingers clutched tightly at his brother's clothes, afraid to let go.
"I was lonely..." he whispered.
The words were so quiet. Yet they struck far deeper than any loud cry ever could.
"So lonely..."
A tear slipped from the corner of Gou Feng's closed eyes.
"It hurts… my heart hurts…"
His voice was barely more than a whisper, fragile and broken, as though he were speaking to someone in a distant dream.
Still fast asleep, and lay motionless on the bed, unaware that the quiet confession had escaped his lips.
The scene began to blur. Colors bled into one another, and the voices that had once been so clear faded into distant echoes.
The child remained standing alone. Then, without warning, a warm light emerged from the darkness and enveloped him.
When it faded, the child was gone. In his place stood a young man. The years had passed in the blink of an eye.
The little boy who had once cried in his brother's arms had grown into adulthood.
The world shifted once more, and the forest returned. But this time, it was different. Gone were the warm rays of sunlight, the singing birds, and the colorful flowers he had loved as a child.
Only darkness remained, with towering trees blocking the moonlight overhead, leaving the woods shrouded in shadow.
Branches clawed at his clothes as he ran through the undergrowth.
His breaths came in ragged gasps. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, each beat louder than the last.
Behind him, voices broke the silence.
"A-Hua!"
The desperate cry echoed through the forest.
He didn't dare look back. Instead, he ran harder.
His foot caught on an exposed root, sending him stumbling forward.
He nearly fell, but managed to catch himself before forcing his exhausted legs to keep moving. Panic coursed through every part of his body.
Leaves and twigs cracked beneath his hurried footsteps.
Someone was chasing him.
No. Several people were after him.
"A-Hua!"
The voice rang out again.
It was desperate. Desperate enough to make his chest tighten with fear.
His breathing grew more erratic. His vision blurred.
He could no longer tell whether the pounding in his ears came from his own heartbeat or the footsteps closing in behind him.
Then unexpectedly, a gunshot rang through the air.
Bang!
The stillness of the forest quickly shattered.
A flock of birds burst from the treetops, their frantic wings cutting through the night.
The young man's eyes widened. His body froze.
For one terrifying heartbeat. Everything fell silent, then came a scream.
"A-HUA!"
It was filled with such overwhelming terror and despair that it seemed to shake the entire forest.
The sound pierced straight through him, and in the next instant everything shattered.
The trees, voices along the darkness, all of it splintered apart like broken glass before dissolving into an endless void.
Gou Feng's eyes flew open.
A sharp breath escaped him.
For a moment, he couldn't tell where he was. The cause of the dream still lingered on his consciousness, and the echoes of the gunshot still rang in his ears.
His heart was still pounding violently against his chest as he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above him.
The dream was gone, but the fear it planted inside him remained.
"A-Feng?"
A warm hand suddenly settled on his shoulder.
Gou Feng flinched violently.
"No!"
His voice came out sharp and panicked.
He recoiled instinctively, his breathing uneven as he turned toward the source of the touch.
Only then did he realize someone was sitting beside the bed.
It was Hei Bao.
Yet the look in Gou Feng's eyes made it seem as though he didn't recognize the man before him at all.
The Pact Leader now had changed into a loose set of night clothes, the collar hanging slightly open to reveal the firm line of his collarbone and part of his chest.
A book rested in one hand, as though he had been reading quietly by the bedside before Gou Feng's sudden awakening interrupted him.
The moment their eyes met, Hei Bao's brows drew together.
Not because Gou Feng had instinctively recoiled from his touch.
But because the young man looked deathly pale again.
Cold sweat dampened his forehead and trickled down the side of his neck.
A nightmare?
The thought crossed Hei Bao's mind.
Without a word, he quietly set the book aside, and focused his attention entirely on the young man before him.
His eyes calmly observing Gou Feng, silently assessing his condition before deciding what to do next.
The fear lingering on the young man's face wasn't ordinary.
It wasn't simply the unease of someone who had awakened from a bad dream.
It was the kind of fear that came from reliving something one had desperately tried to bury.
Gou Feng's hands trembled faintly. His breathing remained shallow and uneven.
Even though he was awake, he looked as though a part of him was still trapped inside that nightmare.
Whatever he had seen in that dream. It had shaken him deeply.
A quiet sigh escaped Hei Bao.
What am I supposed to do with you kid…
He moved slightly closer, intending to check on him.
Yet the moment he raised his hand, the young man's eyes squeezed shut.
His shoulders tensed. His entire body stiffened, as though bracing for something painful.
Hei Bao's hand stopped halfway. His hand remained suspended in the air for a long moment before he slowly withdrew it.
Comforting people had never been his strength.
Even in his younger years, he had never known what to do with another person's grief.
To him, pain was something one endured until time gradually dulled its edges. Words offered little comfort against suffering.
But then his late mate entered his life.
Without realizing it, he had quietly taught him the things he had once dismissed as unnecessary.
How to comfort someone without trying to solve everything. How to reassure them with nothing more than a gentle touch.
How simply remaining beside someone could sometimes mean more than any advice.
Those lessons had become so natural that he had stopped noticing them. Until the day he lost him, and their only son.
Along with them, those quiet habits disappeared, buried beneath years of grief and responsibility.
There had been no one left who needed that side of him.
Cheung Qi had grown into an independent man long ago. Though they remained close, his younger cousin rarely sought comfort from anyone, choosing instead to shoulder his burdens with laughter and relentless optimism.
As for Gou Feng...
Hei Bao's gaze settled back quietly on the young man beside him.
Has this child ever asked him for comfort?
He searched his memory, but nothing came.
Even as a child, Gou Feng had rarely let him see his tears. He had known fear, of course, but he always recovered quickly, refusing to let it linger for long.
Whenever he fell, he climbed back to his feet without complaint. When he was injured, he bore the pain in silence.
And if something troubled him, he would quietly slip away for a while before returning with his usual calm expression, as if nothing had ever been wrong.
When had he learned to hide everything so well?
Or had he always been like that?
Hei Bao realized something he had never considered before.
It wasn't that Gou Feng had never needed comfort. He had simply learned, long ago not to ask for it.
The realization settled heavily in his chest.
Before he realized what he was doing, he had already reached forward and pulled the trembling young man firmly against his chest.