Chapter 55#

Extra Chapter 8

PS: This is a New Year’s Day bonus story chapter. The content in this chapter may be morally questionable. Those who are uncomfortable with the Third Young Master or with themes of pederasty are advised to proceed with caution. (Covering face)

That was a period of great glory for Ren Dingbang, also known as Master Ren.

Back then, in the eyes of outsiders, Master Ren was nothing more than a handsome, modern gentleman, the owner of a large company and various smaller enterprises. The Ren family mansion was vast, its exterior resplendent and grand. In that era when the political situation had just begun to stabilize, the Ren family was considered a rather prominent Chinese clan.

Ren Dingbang was nearly fifty, with a handsome and refined face. His ancestors had once been a prominent family inland, then moved the entire household to Southeast Asia. They had started by mining tin to build their fortune, and after many twists and turns, Ren Dingbang managed to expand the family business, proving he was no ordinary man.

However, the most shameful act of Ren Dingbang’s life was likely abandoning his first wife to marry the daughter of the Wang family, whom he had met in England.

Very few people knew about this, for at the time, it wasn’t considered such a big deal.

What kind of man was Ren Dingbang? He was the son of a great clan. His first wife, however, was a woman whose name no one even remembered—illiterate and backward in her thinking. She had been betrothed to him in their youth by his father back inland, and he married her before going abroad. Whether she truly loved Ren Dingbang or simply had no other support, when he returned with a well-dressed, beautiful woman by his side, she silently accepted it. Mrs. Wang became Ren Dingbang’s legal wife. The first woman, in her haste to marry Ren Dingbang, had never even gone through proper registration.

What happened afterward was simple: that woman became pregnant, suffered a difficult labor, and died.

Her eldest son, Ren Xiaoyang, was left behind. Whether out of guilt or not, Ren Dingbang still doted on him.

Mrs. Wang Jinrou, the new wife, subsequently gave birth to two children.

The second child, Ren Junya, was a healthy, beautiful girl, the apple of Ren Dingbang’s eye. But Mrs. Wang was determined to have another son—perhaps she felt uneasy about the stepson who wasn’t hers. In any case, she gave birth to another son the following year.

All the problems stemmed from this youngest son, Ren Xiaoyun.

He was indeed a strikingly handsome child, even more refined than Ren Junya. But he was difficult to raise. At birth, he had a hole in his heart; after surgery, they thought he was finally fine, only to discover he also had a blood disease. It was as if he had come into the world solely to torment them.

But still, he was their own flesh and blood.

Mrs. Wang was a formidable woman, yet she still possessed the maternal instinct of a mother. Over the years, her feelings toward this youngest son shifted from initial hope to a kind of half-numbness—on one hand, she wished for him to live; on the other, she hoped he would simply pass away and suffer less.

In one respect, she had completely given up: pitting this beautiful, bedridden, half-dead son against the son of another woman in a fight over the family fortune.

Ren Dingbang also seemed to have given up on this youngest son, focusing his attention on raising the eldest. However, no one dared say that Ren Dingbang did not love the Third Young Master of the Ren family.

Ren Xiaoyun had been bedridden from a young age. He didn’t learn to walk until he was three or four, and when it came to speaking—they once thought he would never speak at all.

In the eyes of outsiders, Ren Xiaoyang was the son with the most promise. Only a few knew that the one Ren Dingbang truly cherished was this youngest son, kept hidden away in the inner chambers.

After the Third Young Master of the Ren family struggled for ten years, a critical moment finally arrived. Even with surgery, there was only a fifty percent chance of success. This time, Mrs. Wang didn’t want her son to die. Looking at him lying there, barely alive, she saw her own eyes in his. Suddenly, she realized she deeply loved this youngest son and begged the doctors to save him by any means.

Ren Dingbang, however, left the decision to Ren Xiaoyun himself.

He didn’t understand what was going on in his youngest son’s mind.

The Third Young Master had several tubes inserted into his body; even after removing the oxygen mask, he had to take several deep breaths before he could recover. But the Third Young Master didn’t say much—or rather, he had no strength left to make a sound. Trembling, he held a pen and signed the consent form himself, only managing to write the character “yun.”

Looking at that unsteady “yun,” Ren Dingbang felt an unprecedented stir in his heart, along with a deep sense of regret.

The surgery was a miracle. The Third Young Master struggled back to life.

In truth, living is a beautiful thing.

Being able to breathe, to feel the pulse of life.

Yet, for Ren Xiaoyun, this was merely existing.

After a year of recuperation, Ren Dingbang began to let his youngest son engage with things he had barely been allowed to touch before. It could be languages, mathematics, commerce, or art. Anything he wanted to learn, there were no restrictions.

Four or five years passed in the blink of an eye. The eldest young master of the Ren family had grown into a promising young man, but the Third Young Master was still confined to his room. His pale, gaunt figure could only be seen during holidays and festivals. Especially when he was asleep, if one wasn’t careful, it seemed as if he might simply sleep away forever.

If there was any change, it was in Ren Dingbang.

He sat blankly on the sofa, a lit cigar forgotten in the ashtray.

Finally, Ren Dingbang rubbed his face vigorously with both hands—he had only just left his youngest son’s room that morning. The father-son bond wasn’t particularly deep, but the thought that his son could leave at any moment still made his heart ache.

But today, his youngest son had said something that shocked him.

Sometimes in the morning, he would have breakfast with his youngest son. They wouldn’t talk. To avoid the silence, Ren Dingbang would occasionally bring company documents into the room—just like how ordinary people read the newspaper with their breakfast.

Later, he realized he had left some documents behind. Before heading to the company, he rushed back upstairs to retrieve them. This youngest son had a strange temper; few could tolerate him, and few dared to enter his room casually. Even Ren Dingbang himself sometimes hesitated before stepping in.

After all, being around someone on the verge of death day in and day out was not easy.

When Ren Dingbang entered, he saw Ren Xiaoyun flipping through the documents, his expression focused.

“Three-er,” he said, walking over and gently stroking his youngest son’s head. With this son, even his words had to be carefully chosen.

Ren Xiaoyun looked up, returned the documents, and suddenly asked, “Are you busy?”

Ren Dingbang thought he had misheard. He turned back to look at his youngest son, just as he was about to step out the door, he abruptly pulled his foot back.

Those eyes—they didn’t seem like the eyes of someone who had been chronically ill for years.

That day, Ren Dingbang stayed in his youngest son’s room all morning and had lunch there as well.

When he came out, he held onto the banister of the stairs. The servants following him heard Master Ren muttering under his breath—

“Ah… this is fate…”

From that day on, Ren Dingbang truly understood: his third son was no ordinary man.

But when he saw Ren Xiaoyun leaning back in a soft chair, slowly swallowing those dozen or so pills, he still felt that this son was truly failing.

Yet, Ren Dingbang never expected that he himself would leave this world faster and more suddenly than his youngest son.

After Ren Dingbang’s death, it was Mrs. Wang who took control of the household.

She held power tightly in her own hands. The true eldest son, Ren Xiaoyang, became a vice president in name only. Most unexpectedly, in the will Ren Dingbang had left behind just in case, it was explicitly stated that the Third Young Master, Ren Xiaoyun, would be the general manager of the Ren Corporation, holding the same percentage of shares as his mother, Wang Jinrou.

On the surface, the eldest young master of the Ren family showed no sign of displeasure, but deep down, he was unhappy—and this wasn’t unreasonable. Outsiders also felt something was fishy: how had all the power gone to the Wang family? The truly capable eldest son only got ten percent of the shares, while the second young lady, Ren Junya, had five percent. It was truly baffling.

During that period, the Ren household seemed to be shrouded in a strange, dangerous atmosphere.

The source of this tension was Ren Xiaoyun’s frequent appearances at the Ren Corporation office building. Though he didn’t always show his face, and his timing was irregular, seemingly casual, every action he took was shocking.

Yet, there was no direct conflict between the brothers. Everything was balanced in a remarkably delicate equilibrium.

The one who broke the deadlock was likely the Third Young Master himself. When he was in his early twenties, his condition, which had been thought to be under control, suddenly worsened. For ordinary people, illness comes like a mountain falling; for the Third Young Master, it was like putting one foot in the coffin. He was hospitalized for a year, but his condition only grew more dire.

When the attending physician finally suggested giving up, the Ren family matriarch, Mrs. Ren, broke down in tears—a complex emotion, with factors beyond just being a mother.

But just when everyone thought the Third Young Master would not survive, he miraculously lived on, even finding the most suitable bone marrow donor in the vast sea of people. This was a long-term guarantee; his life could be extended.

Others might not know, but the Third Young Master himself had a strange attachment to life.

If an ordinary person had endured what he had over the past twenty-odd years, they would probably rather die than go through such torment.

But the Third Young Master of the Ren family thought differently. He wasn’t exactly proactive in seeking treatment, but he was very attentive to his own health, so he managed to drag himself through life.

After a long period of recuperation, he returned to the main Ren residence. The mansion, which had become even colder after Ren Dingbang’s death and Ren Junya’s marriage, seemed to have gained something new.

That something was the little young master of the Ren family.

If there was anything that could catch the attention of the Third Young Master, it was probably those healthy, vibrant, and vigorous lives.

The relationship between the Third Young Master and the eldest young master wasn’t good, but he surprisingly enjoyed teasing his little nephew, who was only a few years old.

Teasing—that was indeed what it was.

In the past, the Third Young Master rarely left his room. But after a child came into the house, this cold, stiff master seemed to gain a bit of life, awkwardly carrying his wailing little nephew around the yard—thank goodness the child wasn’t a chubby baby, or the Third Young Master’s back might have given out.

The uncle and nephew did have a good relationship. Seeing this, Mrs. Ren’s attitude toward her eldest daughter-in-law softened a bit, saying, “Since Three-er rarely takes an interest in anything, let him look after Riri for a few days. It won’t hurt.”

These words were as casual as a joke. Lin Zixin lowered her head but couldn’t find the words to argue.

She was a patient—a psychiatric patient. To be honest, she had even less justification to personally care for her own son than the Third Young Master did.

But this harmonious period didn’t last long.

About a year later, a major incident occurred in the main Ren residence.

A major incident indeed.

If anyone ever doubted whether the Third Young Master, this seemingly cold, half-dead man, had any temper, that day it was fully displayed.

The little young master of the Ren family was three years old. He looked terrified, held in his mother’s arms, biting his thumb as he stared ahead in confusion.

The Third Young Master’s face was ghastly pale. Sitting across from him, the eldest young master Ren Xiaoyang and Mrs. Ren also looked far from good.

Ren Xiaoyang was the first to jump up, his face ashen, saying, “Third Brother, you can’t do this. Qiqi is my son.”

The Third Young Master suddenly stood up. He seemed to have never spoken with such force before. His eyes were sharp and fierce. The fragmented words that came from his voice box formed a single sentence.

—You are not worthy.

What kind of words were these?

Ren Xiaoyang’s face changed. He suddenly realized he was afraid of this dying man, which seemed ridiculous. He forced himself to speak sternly, “I’m not worthy? And what about you? What right do you have? Ren Xiaoyun, you are the one who benefits the most!”

The Third Young Master’s hand gripping his cane moved. His will seemed even more determined—he was going to fight for custody of Ren Qiri!

The two brothers suddenly erupted into a loud argument. Even Mrs. Ren couldn’t get a word in.

In the end, it was the little young master’s crying that stopped them.

The eldest young master and the Third Young Master both looked at the child crying and clinging to his mother’s skirt. The Third Young Master moved faster and more decisively than ever before. Gasping for breath, he walked over, bent down, and hugged the child tightly.

Ren Xiaoyang’s face was cold. Suddenly, he called out, “Qiqi.”

A father’s voice was still different. The child immediately looked up and called out hoarsely, “Daddy.”

“Qiqi, come to Daddy.”

Perhaps a father and son were indeed irreplaceable, no matter how others tried.

The Third Young Master clearly felt his little nephew struggling in his arms. He held on tighter, almost unwilling to let go. Then the little nephew suddenly burst into loud sobs, reaching out toward his father as if caught by a villain, crying, “Daddy—Daddy—”

Ren Xiaoyang angrily walked over, snatched his son from his stunned brother’s arms, and shouted, “You’re hurting him, don’t you know?!”

The child immediately rushed into his father’s arms, sobbing pitifully.

Lin Zixin also came to her husband’s side. She had kept her head down the whole time, biting her lower lip until it bled, silently pulling her son close.

Mrs. Ren also said, “Three-er, listen to your mother. Everything… it’s not as bad as you think—it’s all for your own good.”

Wen Jing stepped forward to help his master back to his room. But when he touched the Third Young Master, the latter shook him off as if insane, suddenly rushing forward as if to snatch the little nephew back.

Everyone screamed. Ren Xiaoyang stood between his wife and son and the Third Young Master, struggling to handle this suddenly frenzied brother.

“Qiqi! Qiqi—”

The little young master was terrified. He let out a loud cry and buried himself in his mother’s arms.

“I don’t want Uncle! I don’t want Uncle!”

…After that, the Third Young Master left Singapore.

Just a few years later, the eldest young master, Ren Xiaoyang, died in a plane crash.

Many who were thought to live long lives had passed away, while the Third Young Master, carrying his ailments, endured for over twenty years and ultimately survived.

In the blink of an eye, the little young master of the Ren family had grown up.

But he didn’t remember the events of his childhood.

When he faced the Third Young Master, he would only timidly call out, “Third Uncle.”

Yet, living under the same roof for years, many things changed.

Including people… including events…

And including emotions.

By then, the reputation of the Third Young Master of the Ren family was known to all. He looked down from the window—the rosy-cheeked youth below was chasing after the proud, beautiful boy ahead of him. The two of them formed a beautiful picture.

Slowly, he leaned against the windowsill.

Standing in the sunlight, he felt blinded; when the wind blew toward him, he became dizzy—he could not follow that figure.

This was the first time Ren Xiaoyun felt something akin to “resentment” sprouting in his heart.

Yet, his face remained as calm as a still pool of water.