The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]
Chapter 177 - The black hole

Chapter 177: Chapter 177 - The black hole

As Jian stood there, utterly confused and tense, the circular platform in front of him began to glow. Light spilled outward from the center, the hum growing louder. He instinctively took a half-step back, watching warily.

Then—small particles of light began to rise from the floor like fireflies. They floated gently, swirling upward, slowly gathering, clustering, shaping.

Jian’s breath caught in his throat as the light began to take form—first a silhouette, then limbs, then features. It was like watching a 3D figure being printed in real time from glowing dust.

Long blond hair.

Pale, elegant face.

Sharp, symmetrical features.

And then—a blue gem. Not round, not perfect, but jagged and deep in hue, embedded in the man’s forehead like a glowing irregular blueberry-sized crystal. It shimmered with depth and seemed almost alive.

Before Jian fully realized it, a man now stood in front of him. he was completely formed of light—but unmistakably detailed.

His clothes, his movements, even the anxious crease between his brows looked real.

The holographic figure stood still for a moment, then took a breath as if trying to steady himself.

His eyes locked on Jian, scanning him from head to toe, gaze filled with a frantic sort of relief—like someone seeing something they weren’t sure they’d ever see again.

"Why is it taking this long to connect?" the blond man asked suddenly, his voice sharp but worried, directed at someone unseen beyond the holographic projection.

"They’re in a different galaxy, Your Highness," another voice answered from somewhere beyond the visual field.

Jian blinked, stunned, his mouth opening slightly.

The blond man froze, all movement stilled. His eyes—sharp, piercing—fell directly into Jian’s. And then his expression cracked, all regal composure melting into something raw and vulnerable.

"...My little one..." the man whispered, reaching out instinctively. His hand, though made of light, lifted as if he could really touch Jian’s face—could really hold him like something precious.

Jian flinched.

His body moved without thinking, stepping back just slightly. But it was enough.

The man’s glowing hand hovered in the air a second longer before slowly lowering, his fingers curling inward. His face twisted into something tired and quietly pained. He gave a small smile—bitter, full of grief. "I never thought I would see you again... my little one..."

Jian stared at him silently. Something in his chest felt heavy and tight. He could tell. He already knew from the look in this man’s eyes—he could feel it. But he still needed to hear it.

"Who are you?" he asked softly. His voice was strained, thin.

The man’s sad smile deepened, eyes clouding.

"I’m your father," he said, and there was a tremble in his voice now. "Your worthless father."

Jian had already guessed it by now.

So he stood still.

He didn’t know what to say to this so-called father of his.

Back in his past life, when he had thought Wang Bushen was his father, he had been excited. Desperate even. That excitement had died slowly—when he learned he wasn’t adopted but abducted, when he found out he had been experimented on, and when he realized the very people who claimed to be his family had helped orchestrate his suffering. He had been kidnapped and killed by that same supposed father’s forces. The word "father" meant nothing now. It didn’t bring trust. It didn’t bring warmth. It didn’t bring safety.

But this man was his real father.

A Farian.

An alien.

Jian quickly looked at him again. The man had sharp, distinct features. His pale green eyes weren’t cold like Wang Bushen’s. They seemed... softer somehow. Tired. But that didn’t change anything.

The two of them stood there, facing each other, neither moving. Neither knowing what to do. Jian’s fists curled at his sides. Since he found out he was an alien, he’d had so many questions building inside him. Who was he? Why was he here? Who abandoned him? Why was he left behind on Earth?

He never got answers. No one ever told him the truth.

And now, suddenly, his supposed father was standing in front of him. Not Wang Bushen. Not anyone pretending. But his real, actual father. A man made of light and silence and guilt.

And Jian felt... nothing.

No warmth. No recognition. No connection.

No attachment.

But he wanted—no, needed—to know the truth.

He looked the man in the eyes and finally spoke.

"...Why was I left on Earth?"

His voice wasn’t loud. It was quiet, almost too quiet. But it cut through the space between them like a knife.

The man’s expression shifted. There was a faint flinch in his shoulders, and his glowing hand lowered slowly to his side, fingers twitching as if trying to hold on to something that wasn’t there.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes fixed on Jian, as if searching for words that didn’t exist.

The man finally spoke up again, his voice quieter now, but firmer, as though settling into something he had rehearsed in his mind a thousand times.

"The story begins ten thousand human years ago," he said. "The planet you call Earth... was once under our possession."

Jian didn’t react outwardly, but every muscle in his body tensed.

The man raised his hand. Slowly, the floating lights around them shimmered, then began to swirl together. They formed a small rotating sphere, glowing blue and green. It took Jian a moment to recognize what he was looking at.

Prehistoric Earth. Spinning gently in the hollow of the man’s palm.

"We Farian were travelers. Scientists. Gene masters. The humans you see today—your kind—are, in part, our creation."

Jian’s eyes widened.

"We found the native species—primitive, struggling to survive," the man continued. "We altered their biology. Enhanced them. Helped them evolve using our blood, our DNA, and our technology. We raised them as one might tend a garden."

The projection changed. The miniature Earth expanded into glowing scenes—Farian ships descending from the sky, surrounded by light. Beings that resembled early humans stared up in awe. Then flashes of experiments—blood being shared, genes merging, fire being given to man not as a discovery, but as a gift. A monkey-like creature took a Farian’s glowing hand. The next scene showed it standing straighter, eyes brighter.

Jian stared, barely breathing.

He had always wondered where he came from. Why he was different. Why he was stronger. Why he healed faster. Why he never fit in anywhere on Earth. And now the answers were playing out in front of him like a dream.

But the man’s expression darkened.

"Then... the black hole appeared. It swallowed the sector, sealing Earth off. We lost all contact with the planet and its evolution. For thousands of years, Earth was lost to us. Forgotten."

Jian’s voice was hoarse. "Until now?"

The man nodded.

"It all changed... sixteen human years ago."

Jian felt a strange shiver run through him. That was the year he was born.

The man’s hand closed, and the lights shifted again. This time, the projection showed the blackness of space. A small tear, like a ripple in fabric, opened in the void. Glowing particles spilled out.

"A small black hole opened," the man said, watching the image with pain in his eyes. "It led directly to Earth. A planet we hadn’t touched in millennia. We had no idea how much time had passed for them... how far they’d come."

His voice grew softer, more personal now.

"Your mother was three months pregnant with you when it happened. She wanted to go explore..."