BL Ch129

If Fei Zheng’s face earlier looked dead, now it resembled a corpse baked under the sun for three days—gaunt, ashen, as if his soul and vitality had been sucked away with those words, leaving a husk awaiting annihilation.

Du Shuyan gripped the gun, turning to scream at the other speedboat, “Officer Ji! I was biding my time! I stayed silent to gather his crimes! I couldn’t stop his earlier sins!”

“…” Ji Lin sighed, “Birds of a feather—you two make the same pathetic excuses. Du Shuyan, stop your futile lies.”

“It’s true! He killed my dad—how could I join him?!” Du Shuyan begged Yu Duqiu, “Duqiu! You know how I grieved when Dad died, how I wanted the real killer caught! Say something for me!”

Bai Zhao held Yu Duqiu tighter, “Don’t listen.”

“That warning insults my intelligence,” Yu Duqiu leaned out, chin on Bai Zhao’s shoulder, addressing Du Shuyan, “Brother Shuyan, you learned the truth, weighed your options, and chose to use him for profit, ignoring past wrongs. Your dad’s spirit must be proud—his son’s become just like him, ruthless for his goals.”

Du Shuyan’s face crumpled, “Duqiu, we’ve known each other years—can’t you give me a break? Lingya’s lost her father; she can’t lose her brother!”

“If you truly cared for her, you wouldn’t have let her get engaged to me or pushed her to bribe Master Dong. You only see yourself.”

Jet skis sliced through waves, mere hundreds of meters away. Du Shuyan, knowing escape was impossible, glanced tearfully at the approaching police—

In that split second, Fei Zheng, frozen for moments, lunged at the distracted Du Shuyan!

Bang! Bang! Ji Lin fired twice, hitting Fei Zheng’s uninjured arm and leg. Now all four limbs were damaged—he couldn’t move swiftly even if he grabbed the gun.

If he resisted, Ji Lin was ready to shoot his head.

Du Shuyan, startled by the shots, snapped back, waving the gun wildly in panic but not firing.

Fei Zheng, crippled, dragged bleeding legs, staggering the final meter to Du Shuyan.

His bare hand pressed the gun’s muzzle aimed at him.

Du Shuyan’s legs shook, hands trembling, barely holding the gun, survival instinct forcing him to cling to his last lifeline, refusing to let Fei Zheng take it. Yet he feared this ruthless killer, his father’s murderer, terrified he’d die any second despite Fei Zheng’s weakness, tears streaming in cowardice.

Fei Zheng, taller, always loomed behind him. Now, legs shot, he couldn’t stand straight, slumping forward, as if bowing to his king one last time.

“No wonder… these past two years, you seemed more afraid of me…” Fei Zheng met his red eyes, laughing self-mockingly, “You’re too good—you fooled even me… How’d you find out?”

Du Shuyan’s fear was bone-deep, answering instinctively, “After my cousin died, I couldn’t let it go. He was one of Dad’s killers, but I needed the one who sold him the ‘goods’… I asked Xu Ming, checked my cousin’s old call logs, places he went, bank records… I dug, found a clue…”

Du Shuyan’s lips quivered, throat bobbing, words choking him, sobbing long.

But he spoke, voice hoarse and shrill, like a cheap violin scraping a shoddy dirge, “Do you know how hopeless I felt, standing at that door, seeing that familiar number? How could it be you… How?! You saved me, right there…”

His eyes reddened, hate blazing outward, “Later, I learned… those men after me were your lackeys…”

“Fei Zheng… I trusted you for years, saw you as good, as family… Thought meeting you was the luck in my wretched life… Turns out, all my misery started with you!”

“You hypocritical demon… Not turning you in was my utmost mercy!”

Memories flashed like a carousel. Fei Zheng closed his eyes, murmuring, “I thought we were kindred spirits… You’d understand me…”

Du Shuyan, tears streaming, lips trembling, barely coherent, “My ‘sickness’ came from you… Yours, from your dad’s own doing… How are they the same?!”

Fei Zheng gave a bleak laugh, hand brushing the gun, sliding forward, grasping Du Shuyan’s shaking hand, “Back then… I shouldn’t have saved you… Should’ve killed you myself…”

Even knowing it was an empty threat, Du Shuyan’s face blanched.

The coast guard’s jet skis closed in, a megaphone blaring, “You’re surrounded! Drop the gun! Hands on head!”

Du Shuyan wanted to comply, but Fei Zheng held his hand, trapping the gun. He pleaded, “Fei Zheng, if you’ve any conscience, don’t drag me down…”

Fei Zheng, at his limit, hollow eyes numb, gazed coldly at the tearful face, “This is… cough… your last wish?”

Du Shuyan nodded desperately.

“Fine… I’ll grant it.” Fei Zheng slowly released him.

Du Shuyan exhaled.

But the next second, Fei Zheng’s collapsing body fell toward him. Du Shuyan, slow to react, caught him instinctively.

Fei Zheng, with his last strength, raised crippled arms, patted Du Shuyan’s back, and whispered something in his ear.

Du Shuyan’s eyes widened, staring blankly at the blood pooling behind Fei Zheng.

His hands emptied as Fei Zheng pushed him back, falling onto a seat. He looked up, horrified—the gun was in Fei Zheng’s hand.

Ji Lin didn’t shoot, as Fei Zheng could barely lift it, but cautioned the trio, “Get down, I’ll handle him.”

Lou Baoguo ducked, gripping the boat’s edge, peeking out, waving a fist, “Go, Captain Ji!”

Yu Duqiu, less cooperative, rested on Bai Zhao’s shoulder, watching, “What’s he doing? He surrendered earlier—let me see.”

Ji Lin, exasperated, shifted to block Yu Duqiu and Bai Zhao, shouting at Fei Zheng, “Drop the gun! You’re done!”

He was puzzled—Fei Zheng seemed ready to give up, but now, this injured, without police aid, he’d die. Even if saved, he’d likely face execution, but he’d live longer.

Fei Zheng ignored him, swaying, as if a nudge would topple him, face turning to them, consciousness fading from blood loss, words disjointed, “Bai Zhao… you were… right… I learned from Du Weiming… my father… wasn’t innocent.”

Bai Zhao, back turned, ignored him, focused on shielding Yu Duqiu.

Yu Duqiu tugged his shirt, “Hey, he’s calling you—respond, I want the rest.”

Bai Zhao,无奈, let go, facing Fei Zheng blankly, “You knew but couldn’t turn back. You’d already sinned for revenge, so you kept lying to yourself, blaming others.”

Fei Zheng’s bloodied brows furrowed, confused, “How do you… know my past?”

Yu Duqiu asked, “Why do you seem to get him?”

“I guessed,” Bai Zhao said. “You did too, right? He wanted to go back, to the light, but he’s stained, can’t face it. Why else not reclaim his real identity?”

Yu Duqiu studied his resolute profile, understanding, whispering past Ji Lin, “That’s why you didn’t kill Bo Zhiming yourself, isn’t it?”

Bai Zhao froze, then nodded faintly.

Yu Duqiu chuckled, “Fei Zheng said you’re alike… He wasn’t wrong.”

Two queens, similar tragic paths, similar vengeful hate, destined for the same end, yet reaching opposite ones.

This chess game—he’d won from the opening move.

Because he had a queen who held the line for him, never blinded by hate.

[This tattoo won’t damn me to hell—it marks the only god I believe in.]

[It reminds me not to fall, not to err, for only the pure can stay by a god’s side.]

Yu Duqiu hugged him from behind, touching the tattoo, whispering, “You did well… I permit you to stay with me forever.”

Bai Zhao smiled softly, “Thank you, young master.”

Lou Baoguo, eyeing Yu Duqiu’s hand placement, sank into long silence…

Good thing Ji Lin faced away, or his gun might’ve turned.

Good thing Fei Zheng’s vision blurred. Hearing Bai Zhao, he coughed, forcing a smile, “Yeah… I can’t turn back… Thought I’d found solace…”

His neck jerked robotically, gazing at the cowering Du Shuyan, arm swaying with the boat, as if to raise the gun.

Du Shuyan sobbed, “Don’t… don’t kill me!”

“Shuyan… cough…” Fei Zheng, bloodless, face paper-white, cheeks sunken, as if drained, flesh unable to hold his ruined shell, “I thought… you were simple… would wish for… good things…”

“But every wish of yours… added to my sins…”

“Fine… I’ll grant… your last wish… Be a good man one last time… Haha…” He laughed wildly, chest shuddering, maybe a final surge, shakily raising the gun.

Ji Lin tensed, ready to shoot. Du Shuyan, thinking he’d die, screamed.

But Fei Zheng’s gun didn’t aim at Du Shuyan or them—

The black muzzle pressed against his own forehead.

Everyone froze, stunned, not grasping his madness. Fei Zheng, cornered, wasn’t one to die by his own hand.

Only Yu Duqiu, seeing this, pupils shrinking.

Despite altered features, Fei Zheng’s brow faintly echoed a haunting familiarity.

This sinful maniac, at death’s door, used his end to stir Yu Duqiu’s nightmares.

“Yu Duqiu… Don’t think I forgive you… You’re ‘sorry,’ huh?” His gaze, wretched and venomous, locked on Yu Duqiu’s rigid face, vengeance flooding his brain, numbing his wounds. Grinning, lips stretching to his ears, teeth blood-red, a monster craving one last feast, “Repent for life—”

Du Shuyan snapped awake, scrambling up, lurching toward him, stretching, roaring, “No—!!”

Bang!

Both boats shook, the gunshot’s echo lingering over the still sea.

A ringing buzzed in their ears, the air deathly silent.

Ji Lin lowered his gun, closed his eyes, sighing softly.

Without sight, hearing sharpened. He caught the gun clattering, a heavy splash, something scattering on the boat, and Du Shuyan’s gut-wrenching wails.

The murderous queen, like his victims, sank to the icy sea floor, deeper, farther, perhaps never to surface.

The sea breeze carried thick blood and a faint, odd sweetness. Ji Lin frowned, opening his eyes—Du Shuyan sat in blood, arm plunged into the water, shoulder-deep, futilely reaching for a sinking body, tears splashing into the churning sea.

Tears, denser than seawater, might reach Fei Zheng’s face.

The gun lay in blood, beside a tin candy box, lid popped open, colorful fruit candies spilled, coated in their owner’s blood, gleaming like red gems.

Du Shuyan, exhausted from crying, stared at the candies, grief surging, wailing dryly.

Years ago, that night, he’d sensed his cousin’s ambition. Alone, to gather proof, he tailed Du Weiming, stumbling into enemy territory, nearly caught. Fleeing, he crashed into a tall man.

Footsteps of pursuers neared. He clutched the man’s clothes, pleading, “Save me… Save me!”

The man eyed him oddly, like a curious, absurd toy, but opened his door, letting him hide.

Terrified, he saw a chilling painting inside, panicking more, staring at a bleeding lamb and the strange man, silent.

The man flipped the painting, saying calmly, “That’s for my dad’s sacrifice, since I can’t get the real one yet.”

Hearing this, his fear turned to kinship, tears welling, “I understand…”

The man laughed, “What do you know? You don’t even know who I am.”

“I don’t know you…” Crying, he neared, grief for his father and relief at survival stirring him. Impulsively, he hugged this fellow sufferer, “But you saved me. You’re good. Your father must be proud.”

The man froze, then chuckled, patting his back, “Fine, for that, I’ll save you.”

As he spoke, a knock came—his pursuers.

Terrified, he moved to jump from the window, but the man stopped him, calmly going out, saying something that sent the group away without suspicion.

He was beyond grateful, nearly kneeling. The man lifted him, smiling, “Been a while since someone praised me so sincerely. I’m in a good mood—three wishes, what do you want?”

Too shy to ask his savior, he shook his head, “No… I should pay you…” But he realized he had little money, his family’s wealth nearly stolen by relatives and board members, sobbing in rage.

“Hey, no crying, young master,” the man pulled out a tin, opening it, smiling, “Tears are salty, bitter. Life’s bitter enough—have something sweet.”

A ruby-like strawberry candy went into his mouth, sugary.

“Good?”

“Mhm!” He nodded hard.

“Haha… So naive.” The man, oddly pleased someone took his candy, ruffled his hair, “I’ll hold those wishes. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Months later, he made his first wish—for the man to kill his cousin, avenge his father, and reclaim the family wealth.

The man, silent long, asked, “You sure?”

Blinded by hate, he didn’t hesitate, “Of course. Police might not get him the death penalty. He has to die.”

The man gave a bitter laugh, “Not the wish I thought you’d make…”

But he did it, though his gaze held disappointment.

He felt guilty, as the man bore the crime. But learning his true identity erased that guilt.

It was owed compensation.

So he made his second wish—get “special goods” to please investors, rebuild the family, achieve his ambitions.

The man, already steeped in sin, would just add another mark to his ledger.

This time, no silence, just loud laughter, then, “If I grant this, will you still think I’m good?”

He lied, “Of course… You help me, I’m grateful.”

The man agreed.

Later, he found a seasoned dealer, once with the Pei family.

Furious, he questioned using Pei’s men. The man, unbothered, showed a new ring, “He offered it up. Look, like that candy I gave you?”

The ruby gleamed, indeed like the sweet candy.

Complex feelings surged—how to face this man who ruined, saved, and now aided him?

After days of thought, he made peace.

Fine—if the man helped him reclaim his peak, it was atonement.

Nine years bound them, his use of the man tying them together, rising or falling as one.

He had few loved ones left.

The last wish, he’d save for “later.”

…

Clouds cleared, autumn sun bathing the calm sea, each blood-soaked candy glinting.

Du Shuyan reached, took one, and put it in his mouth. Salty tears gave way to foul blood, then a faint sweetness spread, filling his mouth.

[I wish… you were still the you from that night.]

Fei Zheng had whispered that.

But they knew—there was no going back.

Their lives, two lines, closest at their meeting, drifted apart every second after.

The man who promised three wishes kept his word, granting the third—sparing his life—but, utterly disappointed, chose eternal darkness under the clear sky, never again believing anyone could pull him to light.

Du Shuyan closed his eyes, head tilted, thin lids quivering in the sun, tearless eyes drying with his soul.

Suddenly, the sunlight dimmed, as if cloaked.

He opened his eyes, unsurprised, facing several machine guns aimed at him.

Ji Lin watched the coast guard haul the unresisting Du Shuyan onto a jet ski, finally relaxing, kicking a seat, “You two, up! No shame in public?”

Bai Zhao rose, pulling off the jacket thrown over them in panic—Yu Duqiu lay on the seat, pinned, ears covered, sight blocked, senses stolen by a sudden, heated kiss, now gasping, clutching Bai Zhao’s shirt, dazed.

“It’s over,” Bai Zhao hovered, shading him, “From now on, gunshots, darkness—think of me, not those messy things.”

Yu Duqiu, coming to, gave a faint smile, “How’d I end up with a mad dog like you?”

“Mad or not, I’m your ‘love,’” Bai Zhao took his hand, kissing the back, “I heard it clear, etched in my brain—no denying.”

“I promised… after this, I’d give you a title. I keep my word… Hiss,” Yu Duqiu tried to touch his face, pain reminding him of his state, sighing, “Engagement stuff… wait till I’m healed, okay?”

“I’m not rushing,” Bai Zhao gently helped him up, Lou Baoguo pitching in once they were done.

Yu Duqiu, wincing from pain, gritted, “Who… during the escape, hinted I should marry? Dating a month… and says he’s not rushing…”

Bai Zhao dodged his teasing gaze, murmuring, “Dating’s short, but I’ve loved you long.”

Lou Baoguo stared skyward, wishing he were under the boat, icy water over his head, spared from this shameless couple.

Ji Lin strode onto a coast guard jet ski, not looking back, “I’m done with that boat.”

Yu Duqiu wanted to laugh but couldn’t, wounds stinging, lips curling slightly, gazing at the vast, clear sky and mirror-like sea, eyes distant, lids drooping in the sun, closing, “This isn’t over… Yang Yongjian, Pei Xianyong, Fei Zheng… and you… I’ll figure it all… out…”

Lou Baoguo saw his head tilt, unconscious, shouting, “Young—”

Bai Zhao slapped a hand over his howl, steering toward the nearby vessel, “Let him sleep. He’s exhausted.”

The man in his arms looked serene, silver hair dancing in the breeze, lips holding a faint smile, as if in a beautiful dream.

The god, exiled to the vast sea as an island, broke free of atonement’s chains, ending his long, lonely drift, soon to return to the world with his loyal believer, in freedom’s form.

When he opened his eyes, justice would bow, evil would flee.

But now, he cared for none of it, only wanting to rest in his love’s arms, hurrying home to admire golden ginkgoes, taste sweetening mountain oranges, feel the cool autumn breeze.

If every day could be like this, who’d bother being a damn god?