BL Ch126

The gathering clouds blocked the sunlight, turning the azure sea into an inky hue, like black silk unfurling. Endless small waves battered the yacht, the once-stabilized hull beginning to sway again.

Captain Sun’s eyes widened in terror, muffled cries escaping his tape-sealed mouth.

Lou Baoguo shushed him harshly, “Quiet! You’re not dying, don’t disturb the young master.”

No sooner had he spoken than his phone buzzed again—Zhao Feihua, calling back from thirty seconds ago. Lou Baoguo answered, snapping, “What the hell do you want? I’m busy taking out the trash!”

“…Lou Baoguo, how’s Duqiu?”

“!!!” Lou Baoguo nearly jumped out of his skin, instinctively groveling though Yu Jiangyue couldn’t see him. “Sorry, sorry! Madam Yu, I thought it was Feihua. The young master’s injured but safe now, don’t worry!”

“Good. The coast guard’s ten minutes out, and I’ve sent a helicopter. Stay on the deck and wait. Put Duqiu on—I need to tell him something.”

“Uh…” Lou Baoguo glanced at the tense standoff three meters away, hesitant. “The young master… he’s not free to talk right now.”

“What’s wrong? Haven’t you caught the culprit yet?”

“Sort of caught… but…”

But things had gotten more complicated.

The swaying ship mirrored Yu Duqiu’s spinning vision.

The two cops, ready to shoot Fei Zheng’s head, paused at his words, curious.

Fei Zheng was cornered, unable to cause more trouble. They could hear him out first—make the case report easier.

“You’re… Yang Yongjian’s son?” Yu Duqiu studied him, doubtful. “But your surname’s not Yang… you don’t look like him… How’d the police miss that? Are you making this up?”

Fei Zheng, holding Hong Liangzhang hostage, staggered back. “Heh… you think I’d wait for you to find me? Thousands of kilometers away, a few phone calls can’t sort truth from lies. What you found… was what I wanted you to know.”

The task force had planned a field visit, but the remote northwest village was a two- or three-day trip, and with the urgent arrest plan, they couldn’t spare the manpower. Fei Zheng’s crimes were solid; his backstory didn’t change that, nor excuse killing innocents, so it wasn’t prioritized.

“After my dad died, my mom remarried, and I changed my surname… cough! To avoid recognition, I even altered my face… Worked well—you and your mom never spotted me all these years… Hahaha…”

Yu Duqiu stared, conflicted—Fei Zheng’s features screamed northwest, high nose, sharp contours, but bore no resemblance to Yang Yongjian.

To remake himself unrecognizable for revenge wasn’t just warped—it was terminal.

“But… why act only now?”

If he’d planned this long and met him multiple times, why delay?

“You won’t believe it, but I’d given up on killing you… You and your mom were abroad, heavily guarded. Killing you was too hard, too easy to get caught… But that cop friend of yours had to provoke me.” Fei Zheng sneered. “I planned to let him die quick, like Wu Min. But what’d he say at his birthday party? Touching the watch you gave him, calling you loyal, a god who could do anything… Haha… Hilarious! Some ‘god,’ buying hearts with wealth, blinding the world with power, fooling everyone! And they worship you! Got a clear conscience? If you’re so divine, why couldn’t you save my father?!”

Yu Duqiu flinched subtly, only Bai Zhao, supporting him, noticing.

Fei Zheng’s last line struck Yu Duqiu’s rawest nerve.

Though he claimed to have moved on, Yang Yongjian’s death still cast shadows: paranoia, fear of darkness, guns, avoiding random foods, lavish treatment of close staff… The invincible Young Master Yu’s every weakness tied to that irreversible past.

People made him a god, but he scoffed at being the genius they praised, rejecting the police’s burden of saving others.

He knew he wasn’t a god. He couldn’t save someone he cared about, even “caused” their death.

Just a mortal with high expectations, he tried to save everyone he valued—Yang Yongjian, Mu Hao, Hong Liangzhang… But no mortal controls fate; failure was natural.

At least one person, he’d truly saved.

Yu Duqiu stared at the raging man, his face a mix of confusion and guilt, like a child who’d erred, unsure how to answer the accusations, or a guilty sinner facing the victim’s kin.

A staunch materialist, he suddenly felt Fei Zheng was Yang Yongjian reincarnated, bearing a tidal wave of anger and disappointment, demanding answers:

Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you tell the police my plight? Why couldn’t you see my struggles sooner?

Countless questions surged from his buried heart, like the intensifying waves around, clashing, creating a cacophony of noise and echoes.

His head throbbed, his broken bones ached fiercely. He bit his lip, head bowed, silently enduring this eighteen-year reckoning, shivering in the cooling sea breeze.

Suddenly, his ear warmed.

Yu Duqiu froze, looking up—Bai Zhao brushed his messy bangs behind his ear, gaze soft yet firm. “A god might not save people, but Yu Duqiu can. No one knows that better than me.”

Yu Duqiu gaped, speechless. The familiar warmth from his ear spread, banishing the chill.

Bai Zhao turned to Fei Zheng. “You used Mu Hao to lure him back, and he came. Isn’t that proof of his loyalty?”

Fei Zheng, struggling with his hostage, backed away. “Haha… he just found the case fun, not for Mu Hao.”

This guy was lost in his own delusions, beyond saving.

“Duqiu saved me, saved Mu Hao, and is about to save Hong-bo in your hands. Why he couldn’t save your father? Maybe heaven couldn’t stand it.” Bai Zhao’s words were sharp blades, cold and merciless. “You want to kill Pei Xianyong, so you know what he did. Would a truly kind, honest man follow Pei Xianyong’s orders? Stop kidding yourself—your father was a despicable, greedy coward who tricked a nine-year-old. He deserved to die!”

“He wasn’t! He just wanted a better life for us! What’s wrong with that?! Cough!” Fei Zheng’s lips twitched in fury, wounds bleeding faster from rage, dizzy, words stuck, his pale face grotesque.

Yu Duqiu snapped back, baffled. “What’re you saying… What’s Pei Xianyong got to do with it? Who tricked me? How do you know so much?”

Bai Zhao draped his suit jacket over Yu Duqiu, wrapping him. “We’ll talk later. Yang Yongjian’s death wasn’t your fault. You need treatment—rest over there. We’ll handle this. Hong-bo will be fine.”

As Bai Zhao led him away, Fei Zheng shouted, “Shuyan! Wait for me on the speedboat!”

Cornered this badly and still planning escape—the cops found it absurd.

Du Shuyan clearly couldn’t clear himself as planned; escape was his only shot. But at this life-or-death moment, his seasickness worsened, eyes vacant, spirit drained, oblivious to the chaos of the past few minutes.

Struggling to stand using the sofa arm, he vomited, a mess on the floor, unable to move.

The cops, ready to fire warning shots, exchanged looks—talk about a deadweight. Surviving this long was all Fei Zheng’s doing.

Bai Zhao, supporting Yu Duqiu, whispered, “Something’s off with Du Shuyan.”

Yu Duqiu, calming down, mind clearing, agreed.

Du Shuyan, a CEO, must’ve ridden yachts, even if he didn’t own one. How could seasickness hit this hard?

They hadn’t eaten lunch, ruling out food poisoning. Du Shuyan drank two glasses of juice—cops wouldn’t poison it, nor know which he’d pick… Wait.

Yu Duqiu’s eyes shot up, staring at the pained face of the hostage elder.

Only one person knew which glass Du Shuyan would drink from—the one who served it.

Du Shuyan wouldn’t touch drinks from others, but Hong Liangzhang was his trusted ally, so he drank without suspicion. Fei Zheng’s drink, also set by Hong Liangzhang, went untouched as he was busy messaging Hong Yuanhang to crash the yacht, narrowly escaping. Otherwise, they’d be caught by now, no fuss needed.

The wavering chariot didn’t tilt to the enemy but, after a hard choice, returned to its origin, guarding the young king with his frail, aging frame.

Yu Duqiu felt a rush of heat, quickly blinking it away.

Bai Zhao teased, “Not the time to cry, young master.”

Yu Duqiu shot him an annoyed glare but found courage to face it all.

The chess game neared its end, and he hadn’t lost a single piece.

He hadn’t repeated past mistakes; he’d protected everyone.

Fei Zheng wasn’t dumb, soon spotting Du Shuyan’s odd state, fury flaring, fingers tightening. “Old man! What’d you give him?!”

Hong Liangzhang, nearly suffocating, rasped, “What you gave the young master… I gave him…”

Hong Yuanhang gaped. “Grandpa, you took the ‘medicine’ from my bag?”

“Cough… Xiao-hang… No more mistakes…” Hong Liangzhang’s eyes were bloodshot, face ashen, voice trembling from his throat. “Worst case… Grandpa goes to jail with you… Following them, you’ll die… Urgh!”

Fei Zheng, choking him, backed toward Du Shuyan, goading Hong Yuanhang, “Don’t listen. You think they’re saints? That Young Master Yu will go easy? That cops play fair? Yuanhang, come with me—it’s your only way out. Grab the gun, now!”

The cops shouted in unison, “Don’t move!”

Hong Yuanhang froze, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.

“Haven’t you been used enough?” Bai Zhao cut in. “You didn’t want to ram the yacht, did you? He threatened to kill your grandpa if you didn’t join, right?”

Hong Yuanhang didn’t deny it, tacitly agreeing.

Bai Zhao pressed, “You crashed the yacht, brought guns, pushed yourself deeper into the pit, and got your grandpa taken hostage. Who caused this? Who’s the real culprit? Still can’t see it?”

Hong Yuanhang shuddered, struck hard.

Raised in indulgence, tied to the Yu family through his grandpa, he lived well, mingling with elites, never wanting.

But he wasn’t true elite, his education far from Yu Duqiu’s. Ignorant of wealth’s double edge, of earning or keeping it, he chased vanity, desperate for face. Unable to afford it, he mimicked rich kids—squandering, gambling, even drugs—falling from a cushy exec to a debt-ridden fugitive.

The first misstep should’ve been the turning point, not a spiral to a dead end.

Hong Yuanhang’s lips quivered, mustering defiance. “You… You’ve threatened me long enough. My obedience got what? You still won’t let us go!”

“…Useless.” Fei Zheng had no time to argue, retreating beside the vomiting Du Shuyan, hiding behind his hostage, eyeing them warily. “Bai Zhao, I thought we were alike… You disappoint me. Didn’t your father teach you how fake cops are? You chose their side.”

“Bo Zhiming was never my father. Before he fed me evil, someone taught me how to seek justice right.” Bai Zhao stepped closer. “I don’t stand with cops or anyone—I follow one person, no matter what he becomes, I’m with him. Unlike you, unable to accept your father’s crimes, twisting truth to blame others, self-righteously targeting the innocent. Vile murderer? Look in the mirror.”

Fei Zheng coughed, sneering, “I’m vile? Without me, you’d never find Bo Zhiming, kill Pei Xianyong, or spot Pei Ming’s ambition. You should thank me—your skills alone would’ve never done it!”

Bai Zhao opened his mouth, but Yu Duqiu raised his uninjured hand, stopping him. “Don’t flatter yourself. Your schemes were to use Bai Zhao to kill Pei Xianyong, me, and the cops. Too bad you didn’t count on Bai Zhao being mine.”

“Wrong. I suspected but couldn’t believe this beast lacks such spine. Barely knows you, yet plays your dog. Your bedroom skills that good, or is he just born cheap?”

Bai Zhao’s eyes chilled, but Yu Duqiu snapped, “You think you’re fit to call anyone a beast?”

Bai Zhao: “…”

Du Shuyan, recovering from vomiting, regained some clarity, grabbing Fei Zheng’s arm, shaking his head weakly. “Give up… Surrender… We can’t escape…”

Fei Zheng whispered, “Feeling better? Get to the speedboat, I’ll cover you. We can lose them.”

Hong Liangzhang was nearly lifeless, the priority was saving him. Yu Duqiu signaled the cops behind him, murmuring to Bai Zhao, “Help me over, make him expose himself.”

Bai Zhao subtly squeezed his waist, agreeing.

Yu Duqiu, supported, limped forward, each step agony. “Fei Zheng… I’m curious, how’d you erase your past so cleanly?”

Fei Zheng’s focus shifted. “Thank your mom—she and Du Yuanzhen wiped out all traces of my family.”

Lou Baoguo, hearing this, let out a long “Oh—,” guessing what Yu Jiangyue wanted to tell Yu Duqiu.

On the phone, Yu Jiangyue, waiting minutes with no progress, worried something was wrong, handed it to Peng Deyu. Peng Deyu grabbed it, barking, “Where’s Ji Lin? That punk okay? Put him on!”

“Captain Ji’s here! Captain Ji…” Lou Baoguo peered over the railing, not seeing Ji Lin, who’d leapt below earlier. “Weird, he was just here…”

“Mmff!” Captain Sun’s terrified eyes bulged like walnuts, his taped mouth jerking toward him.

“Stop fussing, I’ll untie you,” Lou Baoguo grumbled, fed up, freeing his bound hands.

Captain Sun, freed, tore at the tape, wincing as it clung tight, nearly ripping his beard off, howling in pain, still frantically pulling.

Lou Baoguo winced. “What’s the rush? Slow down, you’re safe—”

“The ship! The ship!” Captain Sun, ripping a gap, roared in sheer panic, “The ship’s sinking!!!”