Chapter 6

The night was as dark as ink, enveloping the entire city in a dense, impenetrable blanket. In the study of the Song family's old mansion, the computer screen was still lit, the black screen, now silent, like a muffled mouth, devouring the last vestiges of warmth in the room. Song Mingye held Song Linchuan tightly, clearly feeling the slight trembling of the thin shoulders in his arms. The trembling traveled through his skin like countless fine needles, pricking his heart.

"Achuan, don't cry." Song Mingye gently patted his back, his voice hoarse and almost incoherent. He could feel that the front of his shirt was soaked with the boy's tears, the cold touch against his chest making each heartbeat a dull ache. "It's my fault, I should have found out sooner, I should have protected you sooner."

Song Linchuan just kept shaking his head, tears streaming down his face like broken beads, crashing onto Song Mingye's shoulder and shattering into cold fragments. He remembered his childhood, his parents holding his hand as they went to the park to fly kites, his father running until he was drenched in sweat, his mother standing by, smiling and handing him water; he remembered every winter night, his mother would cook a bowl of sweet red date porridge, warming him until he shivered; he remembered his father gently teaching him to write calligraphy, holding his little hand as he wrote the two characters for "peace" stroke by stroke. Those warm memories now turned into sharp knives, repeatedly cutting into his heart, the pain almost unbearable. The beauty mark at the corner of his right eye was stained with glistening tears, shimmering in the dim light of the computer screen, like a broken star, so fragile that it seemed it would vanish at the slightest touch.

"Brother, my parents... they died so unjustly." Song Linchuan's voice choked with sobs, almost incoherent, each word seeming to be squeezed from his throat, filled with the pain of blood. "Song Zhenhong... how could he be so heartless? They were his friends..."

Song Mingye closed his eyes, a surge of overwhelming anger and indescribable guilt coursing through his chest. He was Song Zhenhong's son, sharing the same blood as the murderer, yet he had been kept in the dark for years, even dragging Achuan to confront that demon in human skin time and time again, causing Achuan repeated trauma as he uncovered the truth. This bond of blood had now become the heaviest shackle, suffocating him. He could imagine the despair Achuan's parents felt in their final moments, and he could imagine them still thinking of their young son, a bond forever frozen in that deliberate car accident.

"I will make him pay the price." Song Mingye's voice was icy cold, his eyes filled with an unprecedented resolve, as if tempered with ice. He slowly opened his eyes, the raging anger in them almost burning him to ashes. "Tomorrow, I will take the evidence to him. I will make him pay the most painful price for what he has done."

Song Linchuan looked up at him, his eyes blurry with tears, long eyelashes still glistening with them like dew-kissed butterfly wings. His eyes were full of dependence, and a hint of barely perceptible worry. "Brother, you..." He knew how difficult it was for Song Mingye to be caught in the middle, with his blood-related father on one side and him, the one burdened with a blood feud, on the other.

“I know what you’re worried about.” Song Mingye grasped his icy hand, his fingertips pressing firmly, conveying a resolute strength. His fingertips caressed the smooth skin on the back of his hand, trying to dispel the chill. “But this is something I have to do. He not only harmed your parents and ruined your life, but he also destroyed the pure trust between us. More importantly, he doesn’t deserve to be a father, and he doesn’t deserve to live in this world with impunity.”

That night, neither of them slept a wink. Song Linchuan leaned against Song Mingye's chest, his body still trembling slightly from time to time. He would occasionally wake up in a fright, murmuring "Mom and Dad," his voice weak and desperate. Song Mingye would gently pat his back again and again, soothing him softly, like comforting a frightened child. His chin rested on Linchuan's soft hair, inhaling the faint, milky scent of the boy, but his heart felt like it was weighed down by a thousand-pound boulder. The sky outside the window gradually brightened; the first rays of dawn shone through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting a thin beam of light on the floor, but failing to dispel even a trace of the gloom in the room.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Song Mingye got up and copied the contents of the USB drive three times: one copy to his personal cloud drive, one locked in the safe in his study, and one placed in his briefcase. Only after doing this did he gently wake Song Linchuan. The boy's eyes were swollen and red like walnuts, and his face was still deathly pale, but his clear almond-shaped eyes held a determination beyond his years.

“Brother, I’ll go with you.” Song Linchuan looked at him, his tone leaving no room for doubt. His voice was still a little hoarse, but it carried a resolute determination. “I want to see him bow his head with my own eyes, to hear him admit his crimes with my own eyes. This is my parents’ wish, and it is also my wish.”

Song Mingye hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded. He knew that A-Chuan had to settle this matter personally; only by seeing the murderer brought to justice could the scar in his heart truly begin to heal. He reached out and gently brushed away the messy strands of hair from Song Linchuan's forehead, his fingertips still touching the slightly cool skin. "Okay, let's go together."

The two arrived at the Song family's old residence once more. As the car drove into the familiar courtyard, Song Mingye's eyes were devoid of warmth, filled only with cold indifference. In the living room, Song Zhenhong sat on the sofa, leisurely sipping tea. The blue-and-white porcelain teacup clinked softly in his hand. Seeing them enter, he showed no surprise, but rather a mocking smile, as if he had expected their arrival. "What? You were kicked out yesterday, and now you're back begging for mercy? Song Linchuan, I advise you to leave Mingye as soon as possible. The son of a criminal like you doesn't deserve to be around him."

"Plead for leniency?" Song Mingye sneered, throwing his briefcase onto the coffee table with a loud bang that shook the teacups. He pulled a USB drive from the bag and slammed it onto the coffee table in front of Song Zhenhong. The USB drive slid a short distance across the smooth surface before stopping beside Song Zhenhong. "Dad, take a look at this. Now tell me who should plead for leniency."

Song Zhenhong's mocking expression froze. He picked up the USB drive with a puzzled look, a barely perceptible hint of panic flashing in his eyes. He plugged the USB drive into the computer next to him, and when the familiar voice from the video started playing, his face instantly turned deathly pale. The teacup in his hand crashed to the ground with a loud bang, splashing scalding tea all over the floor, spreading like a pool of dark blood.

"Where...where did you get this?" Song Zhenhong's voice trembled violently, his eyes filled with panic, his hands unconsciously clenching the hem of his clothes, his knuckles turning white from the force. He stared intently at the computer screen, as if trying to see through the black screen.

Song Mingye didn't answer, only stared coldly at him, his eyes so chilling they seemed to freeze the air. "I also want to ask you, why did you kill A-Chuan's parents? They were your friends, people you once called brothers. How could you do that?"

"I didn't!" Song Zhenhong suddenly stood up from the sofa, his voice rising abruptly, tinged with a hint of hysterical denial. "This is fake! Someone framed me! It must be that little beast Song Linchuan, who deliberately made up this fake video to slander me in order to get revenge on me!"

"Framed?" Song Linchuan stepped forward, a surge of courage bursting from his small frame. His voice carried suppressed anger and an undisguised tremor, tears welling up uncontrollably again, blurring his vision. "Song Zhenhong, do you dare say that the person in the video isn't you? Do you dare say that my parents' deaths have nothing to do with you? Look me in the eyes and say it again!"

The boy's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a power that pierced the heart. Song Zhenhong looked into his bloodshot eyes, which burned with desperate anger, like a young beast driven to the brink. He felt a chill run down his spine, his eyes darting away, unable to meet Song Linchuan's gaze. He subconsciously took a step back, as if burned by that look.

"Now that things have come to this, you still want to deny it?" Song Mingye took out his phone, skillfully opened the backup video, his voice icy and devoid of any emotion. "I've already handed the evidence over to the police, they should be on their way now. Do you think you can still escape?"

Song Zhenhong's body suddenly went limp, as if all his strength had been drained away. He slumped onto the sofa, his face drained of color, his lips trembling, unable to utter a complete sentence. He knew it was all over. The secret he had carefully concealed for so many years, the truth he thought would never be revealed, had finally been exposed to the light of day.

"Mingye, Dad begs you, please let me go this time." Song Zhenhong suddenly jumped up from the sofa, grabbing Song Mingye's trouser leg without regard for his image, his voice filled with humble pleading, tears and snot streaming down his face, looking utterly pathetic. "I'm your father, you can't just watch me go to jail. If you let me go, whatever you want, Dad will give you. The company will be yours too, okay?"

Looking at the unfamiliar man before him, Song Mingye felt nothing but endless disgust and coldness. This was his father, a demon who would kill his own friend for his own selfish desires, a coward who would only grovel and beg for mercy after his crimes were exposed. He abruptly kicked Song Zhenhong's hand away, the force so great that Song Zhenhong staggered and fell to the ground. "Do you deserve to be my father? You killed A-Chuan's parents, destroyed a once happy family, and made A-Chuan an orphan from a young age. Now you want me to let you go? Song Zhenhong, you're dreaming!"

"They brought it on themselves!" Enraged by the kick, Song Zhenhong forgot all about pleading and suddenly became agitated, pointing at Song Mingye's nose and roaring, "Who told them to meddle and discover my secret of embezzling a huge sum of company money to cover gambling debts? If they hadn't found out, they wouldn't be dead! I was forced into this!"

"Forced?" Song Linchuan's voice was filled with desperate sobs, tears falling like broken beads onto the floor. "Just because you were forced, you can kill? Are my parents' lives so worthless? They were kind to you, treated you as a friend, and you treated them like this? You're not even human!"

Just then, the piercing sound of a police siren rang out from the doorway, growing louder as it approached, finally stopping in front of the old house. Song Mingye had already called the police; he knew that the only way to deal with such a person was through legal means, making him pay the price for his actions.

Several police officers entered the living room and presented an arrest warrant. Upon seeing the police, Song Zhenhong struggled violently, like a trapped beast. "I'm innocent! I've been framed! It was that unfilial son, Song Mingye, who conspired with outsiders to frame me!"

The police ignored his excuses, took out handcuffs, and cuffed his hands. Song Zhenhong struggled, turning back to look at Song Mingye, his eyes filled with venomous resentment, like a poisonous snake. "Song Mingye, you unfilial son! I don't have a son like you! You'll get your retribution!"

Song Mingye didn't turn around, but simply held Song Linchuan's hand tightly, feeling the coolness and trembling of the boy's palm. He knew that from this moment on, the father-son bond between him and Song Zhenhong was completely severed. Watching Song Zhenhong being escorted into the police car, the sirens fading into the distance, Song Linchuan's tears fell again, this time carrying a hint of relief, a sense of liberation.

Stepping out of the old house, the sunlight was blinding, but Song Linchuan felt as if a huge weight had finally been lifted from his heart. Years of pent-up grievances, anger, and despair erupted in that moment, only to gradually dissipate. He leaned against Song Mingye's chest, his voice soft, tinged with weariness, yet utterly relieved. "Brother, it's over."

"Yes, it's over." Song Mingye gently stroked his hair, feeling the fragility and strength of the boy in his arms. "From now on, everything will be alright."

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the two of them. Song Mingye looked down at the tear stains still wet on the corners of the eyes of the person in his arms, and at the glistening beauty mark under his eye. He silently vowed that from this day forward, he would do everything in his power to protect this boy and never let him suffer even the slightest harm again.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the second floor of the old house, a woman in a dark cheongsam silently observed everything. She was Song Zhenhong's second wife and Lin Yu's mother—Su Man. In her hand, she clutched a jade hairpin, worn smooth by countless touches, a birthday gift from Song Linchuan's mother. Her face was expressionless, only her eyes swirling with complex emotions: fear, guilt, and a barely perceptible hint of hatred. She knew what Song Zhenhong had done, but out of cowardice and greed for a life of wealth, she had chosen silence. Now that the truth had come out, she didn't know what her future held, nor how to face Lin Yu.