The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 175 - Up here

Chapter 175: Chapter 175 - Up here

Jian sat cross-legged on the floor, Quangya now curled up beside him, fast asleep with his head resting against Jian’s side. His grandfather remained seated in front of him, watching with patient eyes, waiting.

And slowly, Jian began to talk.

He told him everything—starting from the beginning. From the moment Bian changed. From when the small cruelties began, the manipulation, the lies. Jian’s voice stayed low, steady, but it trembled every now and then when certain memories surfaced too clearly.

He told him how Bian had used him, again and again. How every chance to twist the knife deeper had been taken. How Jian had once believed he could save his brother, had tried to be there for him, had even blamed himself for the hate he was shown.

He confessed how that delusion had broken the day Bian sold him out.

"He hired people," Jian said, voice tight. "Kidnappers. Thugs. They tried to sell me off... for my blood."

His grandfather flinched at that, his hand twitching.

"They didn’t care who I was. They only cared that my blood could turn into gold. And Bian...he planned it. Every step of it."

"He simply wanted me gone."

Jian looked down at his hands, fingers curling slightly.

"There were others too. I got away, but he kept trying. He.....he tried to kill me more than once."

He paused. His jaw clenched.

"I kept wondering what I did wrong. Why he hated me so much. But I stopped asking that now."

His grandfather reached out, clasped his shoulder tightly, grounding him.

Jian looked up, eyes dark but calm.

"I just want you to know... everything. I didn’t want to hide it anymore."

But he didn’t tell him the part about dying. About his past life. The memory of that cold, endless darkness still lingered in his bones. The pain. The loneliness.

He feared that if he told his grandfather that part—that he had once died—it might be too much. It might break something in the old man.

So he kept it to himself.

He just said: "I survived. Somehow, I did."

And his grandfather, eyes glassy with held-back tears, pulled him into a silent hug.

The old man’s hands trembled as he clasped Jian’s calloused ones in his own. His knuckles, worn from years of factory work, looked pale against Jian’s scraped skin. And then—he started to cry.

It was a quiet, painful sound, not loud or dramatic. Just soft, strained sobs that came from a place too deep for words.

He had known... he had known the child was suffering.

He’d seen the bruises sometimes. The way Jian flinched when his wife raised her voice. The fear that lingered behind his smile. He had tried—tried to stay home more, tried to reason with her, tried to protect Jian. But someone had to put food on the table. Someone had to keep the lights on. And so he worked long hours at the match factory, sometimes night shifts, sometimes double shifts. And when he was gone... Jian had been alone with her.

He always feared what might be happening when he wasn’t around.

But Bian? He never thought Bian would—

"Why..." he choked out, curling his thin fingers around Jian’s wrist. "How can Bian be so cruel? He... he has my blood. He’s my grandson too. How did he turn out this way?"

Jian moved forward, hugging him again, gently but firmly, pressing the old man’s shaking head into his shoulder.

"Blood doesn’t determine a person’s character, Grandpa," he said softly. "It never did. You’re kind. You’re the best person I know. But Bian... he’s just bad to the core."

The old man let out a quiet, broken sigh against his neck. "I’m sorry, Jian... I’m so sorry..."

Jian didn’t say anything else. He just held him tighter.

They talked for a long time after that. About small things. About nothing in particular. Sometimes they fell silent and just looked at each other, trying to make up for all the time that had been stolen from them. At some point, Quangya stirred beside them but didn’t wake. The little Farian boy remained fast asleep near the edge of the blanket, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Eventually, Jian felt the weight of his grandfather’s body grow heavier. The old man’s shoulders relaxed. His breathing evened out.

He was tired.

Quietly, Jian helped him lie down next to the Farian boy, pulling the blanket over them both. He adjusted the edge gently around his grandfather’s arms, brushing away the strands of silver hair from his forehead. The old man shifted slightly, murmuring in his sleep, then fell still.

Jian sat there, cross-legged once again, watching them.

The two most precious people in his life—finally safe. Together.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his chest didn’t feel like it was about to collapse. He didn’t feel like he was on the verge of breaking. His eyes were still swollen from earlier, but now they only held warmth as he gazed down at them.

And slowly, he allowed himself a small, tired smile.

Jian stepped out of the room as silently as he could, carefully shutting the door behind him so it wouldn’t disturb his grandfather or Quangya. The hallway was dimly lit, a gentle blue glow outlining the sleek metallic walls.

Then he turned his head—and froze.

The corridor curved slightly, and the entire side wall was made of reinforced glass. It stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing a vast, stunning view of space. But it wasn’t the stars that made his breath catch in his throat.

It was Earth.

His home.

He hadn’t noticed it when he’d first arrived—back then, his focus had been tunnel-visioned, directed only toward finding his grandfather. He must’ve rushed past this corridor without even glancing up. But now, standing here in the quiet aftermath of everything, the sight brought him to a full stop.

He walked slowly toward the glass, his boots making soft thuds on the polished floor. His reflection grew fainter as he got closer, until all he could see was the planet suspended in the void.

Earth was dark.

The world that once sparkled with life and movement was now a hushed, shadowy sphere. From this distance, it looked cold... lifeless.

There were silver-grey ships hovering over its surface—hundreads of them, maybe more. Sleek, alien vessels just like the one he was on now, silent watchers in the sky. They glinted faintly in the starlight, casting shadows across the planet’s curve.

Jian’s hand came up slowly and pressed against the glass.

This was the world he was born into. The same one he’d wandered through alone. The same one that had tried to swallow him whole.

And now it was quiet.

No fires. No explosions. Just that horrible, heavy silence.

His heart stilled at the sight. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.

What happened down there? How much had changed since he’d been brought to this ship? Were people still alive? Was anyone still fighting? Or had they all given up?

He leaned forward slightly, forehead resting gently against the cold glass.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. The Earth may have been cruel to him, but it had also held memories—his childhood with Grandpa, warm meals on winter nights, tiny moments of peace. It didn’t deserve to go dark like this.

His fists clenched at his sides.

Somewhere down there, there were people still trying to survive. People like him. Maybe scared. Maybe hurt. Maybe all alone.

And here he was, watching from above.