BL Ch104

Bai Zhao walked slowly with the dogs, choosing his words carefully before circling back to the original question. “Whether you report this lead or not, you’re not an accomplice in delaying justice. You’re doing this to protect us. The mole might still be in No. 1 Palace. If you keep helping the police, what happened in Mogok could happen at home.”

Yu Duqiu ruffled his hair casually. “You get me. I’m a bit scared now. Before, the danger was aimed at me alone, making me think they played by rules. Clearly not. Killing is the Queen’s nature, and the King’s too weak to control this piece. They’ll lose, no doubt, but before they do, will they take others down? I can’t predict that, so I’m keeping you all away from this fight’s vortex.”

Bai Zhao looked up. “Think Ji Lin can crack the case?”

Yu Duqiu replied, “He’s got the answer already. With his skill and grit, he’ll find evidence without my nudge. He and Mu Hao are born heroes, never backing down no matter the odds. I’m just a selfish businessman, cashing out when the going’s good.”

Bai Zhao shook his head. “To me, they’re justice, but you’re a soft-hearted god. You could’ve stayed out but still lent justice a hand.”

“Haha, that’s too much, I can’t live up to that.” Yu Duqiu laughed, bending over the horse’s back, stroking its white mane. “If I were that great, I’d have solved all the mysteries by now. I still don’t know how they’re always absent yet know everything, or who that Rook sparing me is… Forget it, too lazy to think. I’ll stay home for now. Once the yacht’s paperwork is done, we’ll sail the world, and by the time we’re back, the case should be closed.”

Bai Zhao’s lips curved. “Fine. Wherever you go, I go.”

“Even if I didn’t let you, you’d stalk me, right?” Yu Duqiu’s playful side flared. He yanked the reins, and the white horse, taking the cue, reared with a loud whinny, then galloped forward. “Catch me if you can!”

Bai Zhao, caught off guard, heard Yu Duqiu’s whistle. The Dobermans’ ears perked, eyes gleaming, and they bolted after their master. The leashes jerked, sending Bai Zhao stumbling forward.

Yu Duqiu’s silver hair and the horse’s mane flowed in the wind, his form as swift and dashing as a whirlwind tearing through.

Bai Zhao, helpless against his whim, chased after, leashes in hand, sprinting from the back hill to the front, drenched in sweat.

At the garden’s edge, Yu Duqiu finally reined in, dismounting. “Look up, got a little surprise for you.”

Bai Zhao, panting with hands on knees, raised his head, eyes widening—

The garden’s snow-white roses and hibiscus had vanished, replaced by countless poppies—red, white, pink, yellow, delicate and graceful. The red poppies, especially, burned vivid, as if reborn from a baptism of blood, standing proud.

“Took you to the orchard to keep this secret. Decorated half the day.” Yu Duqiu hooked an arm around his neck, smirking with a wink. “Didn’t you say you wanted poppies on your grave? This is your graveyard now—alive, you’re mine; dead, you’re a handful of dirt in my garden.”

Bai Zhao didn’t know whether to laugh or be touched. “I get why Lu Jingyu ran. Normal people would flee your control freak vibes.”

“Tch, why bring up others now?” Yu Duqiu chided, pulling his head down for a kiss. “You’re not normal, are you? Dying to stay by my side, little beast… ugh, so sour.”

Bai Zhao, retaliating, gripped his chin, keeping him close, passing the lingering tangerine tang. “That’s… eating your own medicine.”

Yu Duqiu’s brows knit, tongue sticking out from the sourness. “I really hate kissing.”

“You say you hate things you might love,” Bai Zhao, knowing his quirks, kissed his cheek, smoothing the grumpy young master’s frown. “Like how you claim to dislike poppies, but that night I gave you flowers, your face screamed happy.”

Depends on who’s giving them. Yu Duqiu held back, not wanting to inflate the man’s ego.

The dogs and horse, sensing the mood, wisely steered clear of the shamelessly clinging humans, wandering to the nearby grass.

Poppies swayed in the breeze, petals soft as silk, thin as butterfly wings, dancing around them.

Bai Zhao recalled something, slightly ill-timed but necessary. “Since you planted poppies yourself, bring Xiao Yu back. The gardener post’s been empty too long.”

Yu Duqiu blinked, puzzled, then gave him an odd look. “It’s been months, and you’re still thinking of him? You two must be tight.”

Bai Zhao hesitated. “Are you… jealous?”

Called out, the obvious truth felt awkward to admit. Yu Duqiu, rarely flustered, dodged. “Hong-bo said he’s your friend. When I fired him, were you secretly mad at me?”

“No, I told you, I was just worried about you.”

“Oh, then why bring him back?” Yu Duqiu grumbled. “Plenty of gardeners out there. I just don’t want to hire newbies now—who knows if another Jiang Sheng’s hiding among them.”

At Jiang Sheng’s name, Bai Zhao’s brow twitched, and he asked cautiously, “Did you really fire Xiao Yu for planting poppies?”

Yu Duqiu dropped his arm from Bai Zhao’s neck, voice cooling. “Enough already.”

Bai Zhao, sensing the misunderstanding, pulled him back. “No, I mean I don’t think you’d fire someone over something so small.”

“I fire who I want, need a reason?”

“You’re not that capricious. That’s not my point, listen.” Bai Zhao rubbed his back, soothing him. Yu Duqiu relented, giving him a chance. “Fine, talk.”

Bai Zhao said earnestly, “I didn’t know why you fired him, but I figured you had reasons and didn’t ask. Recently, Old Zhou said you fired Xiao Yu for planting poppies. That felt off, since you told me you don’t hate them.”

Yu Duqiu huffed. “I don’t. You remember well. I didn’t fire him for the poppies. He was careless, forgot my rules, and someone ratted him out. I had to act, or how do I keep others in line?”

Bai Zhao’s face shifted, pressing, “Who ratted?”

Yu Duqiu frowned. “Why’s that matter?”

“Don’t you see the issue?” Bai Zhao’s expression grew grave, voice low and rapid. “I know Xiao Yu—he’s not careless. He remembers exactly how much water each flower needs. How could he forget your preferences? Yet he planted poppies. Accident? Or… someone tricked him, saying you wouldn’t mind, someone so trustworthy Xiao Yu didn’t question?”

Yu Duqiu, not fully catching up, looked confused. “Why trick him? Just to make him screw up so I’d fire him? You’re saying the rat set him up?”

“More than that.” Bai Zhao’s mind raced, spilling clues. “Think—how’d Jiang Sheng get in? Hired right after Xiao Yu’s firing, seamless. Why was Xiao Yu fired at that exact moment? Too convenient, no?”

Yu Duqiu finally grasped it, mouth parting, pupils contracting sharply.

“…You’re saying… we got it backward?”

It wasn’t a gardener vacancy that Jiang Sheng exploited. Jiang Sheng targeted the role, and Xiao Yu was ousted to make way, a perfectly orchestrated infiltration.

Memories flashed back, categorized and filed, zooming to June 30. That day’s countless details churned, until a face—familiar beyond measure—leaped from the chaos, starkly clear.

Yu Duqiu’s face drained of color, eyes wide with panic as he stared at Bai Zhao.

Bai Zhao gripped his shoulders. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you? Who is it?”

Who could make Xiao Yu trust blindly, obey without question? Who could sway Yu Duqiu to fire someone with a few words, hold sway in hiring? Who’d been lurking, feeding the enemy firsthand intel?

Whoever this “Rook” was, planted in No. 1 Palace, it was someone Yu Duqiu never doubted.

Even with glaring red flags, even knowing they were close, Yu Duqiu’s every deduction sidestepped this person.

That’s why the mole stayed hidden.

Because Yu Duqiu trusted them unconditionally, never putting them on the suspect list.

Time ticked by, flower and fruit scents wafting in the silence between them.

Bai Zhao didn’t press, but Yu Duqiu, mouth open, couldn’t speak, face frozen for nearly a minute, only shallow, rapid breaths showing he was alive.

Finally, he rasped, “Yeah… I get it.”

Why he faced mere warnings domestically but life-threatening danger abroad. Why Jiang Sheng drugged everyone during the kidnapping but left one person awake. Why their hunt for Bai Zhiming was tipped off…

He understood it all.

The world didn’t brighten with the truth’s rise. Its light was too blinding, scorching his eyes, forcing them shut.

Yu Duqiu tilted his head back, thin eyelids trembling, squeezing out a hoarse plea. “…Bai Zhao.”

“I’m here.” The called man held him tight, feeling the trembling body, heart clenching. He regretted bringing it up.

They’d agreed to step back, yet he’d pulled Yu Duqiu back into the vortex, forcing him to face cruel reality.

But they both knew the later such truths surfaced, the more devastating they were. The more trust given, the deeper betrayal’s wound.

“Whoever it is, it doesn’t matter. You’ve still got me.” Bai Zhao wasn’t sure if this comforted, but Yu Duqiu, never like this, clung to his shoulder, gripping his clothes like a drowning man clutching the last lifeline.

A choked whisper reached his ear, barely stifling a sob. “I don’t want… him to get hurt.”

Bai Zhao froze.

The betrayed, yet pained for fear of losing the betrayer.

In that moment, he glimpsed, across years, the young master kidnapped by a trusted driver, still scheming to save him.

Even steeped in the cutthroat world of fame and fortune, wearing a mask of callous indifference, looking down on the world, this soft-hearted god’s faint glow shone through layers of pretense, tangible to those close enough.

Yu Duqiu was still that Yu Duqiu from their first meeting.

“Don’t worry, you’ll both be fine.” Bai Zhao tightened his hold, making a shaky promise. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t be afraid.”

The man in his arms seemed to struggle breathing, gasping softly, silent, only gripping his clothes tighter.

Bai Zhao patiently patted his back, setting aside all thoughts to focus on soothing him.

Time passed, and distant chatter grew—the fruit-picking group returning. Among them were loyal comrades, family-like elders… and a hidden traitor.

Despite careful selection, comings and goings, vigilance hadn’t spared him the betrayal he dreaded most.

Perhaps true gods, before becoming invincible, must endure such heart-wrenching betrayals.

The noise neared, their laughter clear. Yu Duqiu, silent till now, slowly stood straight—

Bai Zhao touched his face, finding his light eyes ringed red, not with tears but with a fierce, vengeful resolve. “…Sorry, that vacation might have to wait.”

“Alright.” Bai Zhao agreed without hesitation. “What do you need? Will assassinating them cheer you up?”

“No, that’s too easy.” Yu Duqiu inhaled deeply, exhaling with a tremble of rage. “I want them to know the cost of stealing my pieces… This is my game, I’m the rules. Those who break them… will lose, and lose badly.”