Chapter 25

Duan Baisui drew his gaze back inside and smiled. “You flatter me.”
“Our Xiao Qi… he suffered quite a bit here,” Director Xia said, eyes crinkling kindly. “But fortunately, Mr. Zuo and his partner came along. And now he has you as well. You’re all good people. You’ve treated him very, very well.”
“Good children are blessed,” she added with a smile.
“Was his life here really that hard?” Duan Baisui asked.
The first time he’d met Zuo Nian, the boy had already been dressed up adorably—
Wearing pricey clothes and little leather shoes, looking dewy‑eyed and fresh, nothing like the stereotypical orphanage kid. He’d seemed more like some rich family’s cherished young master.
Duan Baisui had never dug into his past. Seeing how deep his attachment to the orphanage was and how close he was with the younger children, he’d always assumed life here had been good to him.
Director Xia looked out at the drifting snow, as if slipping back into distant memories. “I always hoped that once he walked out of here, he’d never come back, never think of this place again. But he’s such a kind, sentimental child.”
By the time Zuo Nian finished handing out the snacks, it was already lunchtime.
The children all trooped to the cafeteria, and he came back to the office.
He found Duan Baisui standing at the director’s desk, leafing through a photo album.
Curious, Zuo Nian went over—and froze when he spotted himself in one of the group shots.
Back then, he’d worn ill‑fitting hand‑me‑downs, standing in the corner with a big, gap‑toothed grin.
Pointing to the picture, he said happily, “That’s Nian‑nian.”
Director Xia patted his head. “Yes. You see? Nian‑nian is a very blessed child.”
Closing the album, Duan Baisui handed it back to her. “Thank you for taking care of him all those years,” he said. “About what I proposed before—that’s my sincerest wish. Please don’t refuse.”
“What proposal?” Zuo Nian asked, blinking.
“Your Alpha wants to donate money to rebuild this place,” Director Xia told him.
“Really?” Zuo Nian turned to him in surprise.
“Mm,” Duan Baisui confirmed.
Rebuilding the orphanage and improving the children’s living conditions would take a great deal of money.
In the past, Zuo Nian had done what he could within his limited means. He could bring them bits of warmth, but never the sweeping change he dreamed of.
He’d never imagined that Duan Baisui would be the one to fulfill that wish.
“Gege…” he said, so moved he could hardly find the words.
Director Xia dipped her head slightly to Duan Baisui. “On behalf of the children, thank you.”
They stayed to have lunch at the orphanage.
The dishes were very simple: one meat, two vegetables, and a soup. There was barely any aroma of oil or spices.
The kids ate with gusto, but Duan Baisui found it hard to swallow.
He’d grown up in comfort, never once imagining that for some people, eating meat was a luxury.
Back then, even a meal like this had been something the young Zuo Nian had to fight for—
He’d been bullied, had his food stolen, and lay in bed at night so hungry that he’d sneak to the bathroom to drink tap water.
And yet he had *never* once bad‑mouthed the orphanage. He’d always spoken of it with gratitude and returned whenever he could to see everyone.
While Duan Baisui sat lost in thought, Zuo Nian quietly picked all the green peppers out of his bowl and then transferred every piece of meat from his own bowl into Duan Baisui’s.
“Gege, you eat the meat,” he said.
That afternoon, when they got back home, Zuo Jun and Duan Yan were in the middle of a chess match.
Xu Yi and Ason had taken the grandparents out shopping.
The board was deadlocked, each move made with deliberate care.
Sitting off to the side, Zuo Nian tried to follow along and see which of the two men was the more skilled player.
He could handle Gobang and board games, but Chinese chess was beyond him.
Before long, his eyelids drooped and bobbed.
He’d stayed up late the night before and gotten up at dawn today. Now he was simply exhausted.
Within minutes, he’d dozed off against the back of his chair.
Unable to resist, Duan Baisui prodded the soft curve of his cheek with a finger. It yielded under his touch, making him want to squeeze it again.
Still, Zuo Nian didn’t wake, his curled posture looking more and more uncomfortable.
Standing, Duan Baisui scooped him up and carried him over to the sofa, asking the housekeeper to bring a throw blanket to tuck around him.
By the time he returned to the chess table, the match was over—
Duan Yan had won.
Satisfaction written all over his face, Duan Yan was basking in his victory.
Unwilling to concede, Zuo Jun demanded a rematch after a short break.
It was then that Duan Baisui spoke up. “Dad, there’s something I want to discuss with you.”
“What is it?” Duan Yan asked.
“I’d like to rebuild Qingshan Welfare Home.”
The hand Zuo Jun had been using to set up the pieces paused. He, too, lifted his head to look.
Sipping his tea, Duan Yan lounged back in his chair. “Qingshan Welfare Home? The place you two went today?”
“Mm.”
“You don’t need my approval to do charity work,” Duan Yan said. “If you want to do it, do it.”
“All right. After the holidays I’ll send someone over to assess things and then talk it through with Director Xia,” Duan Baisui replied.
“How’s her health these days?” Zuo Jun asked.
“She looked fine,” said Duan Baisui.
Zuo Jun nodded. “She truly is an extraordinary woman. She’s protected so many children.”
Qingshan Welfare Home had been founded by Director Xia and her late husband.
The man had been highly respected and deeply involved in charity work. Yet, as the saying went, good people didn’t always meet good ends; he’d died young in a car accident.
Afterward, Director Xia had stayed on to care for the children.
She gave them the very best she could.
When they reached school age, she’d run everywhere on their behalf, applying for spots so they could receive an education.
In the beginning, it wasn’t that no one wanted to adopt Zuo Nian.
Ordinary families were hesitant, wary of his condition—but several wealthy businessmen and officials had repeatedly approached Director Xia about taking him in, promising large donations in return.
They’d crossed paths with her husband several times when he’d been alive.
Director Xia had already heard disturbing rumors of their particular… tastes.
For a strikingly beautiful, slow‑reacting, underage Omega like Zuo Nian, she didn’t dare imagine what would await him if he fell into their hands.
She had rejected their applications outright, telling them in no uncertain terms that the answer was no.
Lighting a cigarette, Zuo Jun took a drag before continuing, “When Ason and I went to the orphanage that day, Nian‑nian was being chased by a group of older kids who were pelting him with sandbags. The poor thing had a nosebleed all over his face. He ran straight into my arms, but not a single tear fell. Instead, he kept tilting his head back and smiling, apologizing over and over, using his sleeve to wipe the blood off my clothes.”
“I could see he was different from the other kids. I’ll admit, I hesitated.”
“In the end, it was Director Xia who begged me—begged me to give the child a way out. She said he was constantly bullied here, and now a pack of wolves had set their sights on him. She was getting old and couldn’t keep an eye on him every moment. She was terrified he’d be ruined if he stayed. She wanted me to take him away, to give him a bowl of rice and a chance to live.”
“Ason liked him. I liked him, too. Different or not, so what? He was a gift heaven sent us.”
At that, Duan Baisui’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward the sofa.
From Director Xia’s stories and from Zuo Jun’s, he pieced together a picture of the bleak childhood Zuo Nian had endured.
Yet Zuo Nian himself seemed to have a selective memory; he only remembered the good and discarded the bad.
He remembered how Director Mama had sewn him a rag doll to sleep with. He’d forgotten that he’d been locked in a storage room by a group of kids and left there until night fell, when the headcount for bed revealed someone missing and the caregivers finally found and freed him.
The ordeal had traumatized him. He’d been afraid of the dark and of ghosts ever since, too scared to close his eyes at night, crying silently under the covers.
To comfort him, Director Xia had told a white lie: that the doll was his friend and would protect him through the night.
And Zuo Nian had believed that, all the way into adulthood.
He treated that ugly little doll like a treasure.
“Maybe because she refused to bow her head, there’ve been fewer and fewer reports about Qingshan over the years,” Zuo Jun sighed. “There were supposed to be government subsidies, too, but who knows if they ever arrived.”
“Ason and I send money every year, but it’s really just a drop in the bucket.”
Pulling out his phone, Duan Yan said, “Then what are we waiting for after the holidays? I’ll have people deliver a batch of supplies tomorrow—food, clothes, school supplies. At least let them have a good New Year.”
“I’ll handle it,” Duan Baisui said.
“Handle what?” Duan Yan snorted. “Tomorrow you’re taking Nian‑nian on vacation. Since when has my company been short of people to run errands?”
“All right,” Duan Baisui conceded.
Compared with the damp, bone‑deep chill of City A, S City was bathed in warm sunshine year‑round.
Because of a delayed flight, they didn’t reach the seaside villa until after six in the evening.
The housekeeper had already aired out the rooms, and the staff had dinner prepared.
The villa sat right by the ocean; the roar of waves rolled in nonstop, and in the distance, sea and sky merged into an endless blue.
After changing into lighter clothes, Zuo Nian leaned over the balcony railing, gazing out over the water. “It’s so beautiful,” he breathed.
“It smells like the sea everywhere.”
In shorts and a T‑shirt, Duan Baisui came out to join him, resting his arms on the railing so that they stood pressed side by side. “Let’s just rest today,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll take you out to explore.”
“Okay~” Zuo Nian replied.