And... an absolute will that was almost paranoid and forced to suppress everything, which even he himself could not understand.
Can't collapse!
At least... not here! Not this way!
In the severe pain and confusion, the cold core of his consciousness only had this one brutal and unquestionable thought.
Outside the heavy door.
Mu Xinrong leaned against the cold door, his body sliding weakly to the ground. The shrill roar from inside the door, the muffled sound of electricity, and the deathly silence that followed were like red-hot irons, repeatedly burning his heart.
He covered his ears with his hands, but couldn't block out the horrific sound that replayed over and over in his mind. The overwhelming fear and helplessness were like an icy tide, completely drowning and freezing him.
He harmed him.
His approach and his existence are the source of Chao Youye's pain and the fuse that triggers this horrific collapse.
Qingliu is right.
He had to leave. Forever.
Just when this desperate thought was about to completely devour his sanity—
"Dad...don't...don't touch him..."
An extremely faint and unclear whisper, as if coming from a distant dream, penetrated the heavy door panel with great difficulty like a gossamer thread and entered Mu Xinrong's ears.
Mu Xinrong's whole body shook violently, and he suddenly let go of his hands that were covering his ears. He felt as if he was struck by an invisible lightning.
That voice... was Chao Youye's. Although it was faint and blurry, he would never mistake that unique voice with a hint of coldness.
What is he talking about?
"Dad...don't touch him?"
"Dad"? Heading south?!
"Leave him alone"? Who?!
A vague but extremely terrifying thought exploded in Mu Xinrong's confused mind like thunder!
Could it be... that sudden, cold and heartless breakup back then... wasn't it because Chao Youye was tired of him?
It wasn't because of a "spur of the moment" thing? It was... it was because of his father?!
The huge shock was like a cold tide, instantly washing away all of Mu Xinrong's despair and self-loathing.
He suddenly jumped up from the ground, his hands clinging tightly to the cold door, his ears pressed tightly against the crack of the door, holding his breath, his nerves tensed to the extreme! His heart was beating wildly in his chest, almost bursting out!
Inside the door, there was complete silence, with only the faint, regular beeping of the monitor.
It was as if the mumbling just now was just his hallucination.
But Mu Xinrong knew that it was not an illusion!
He pressed himself tightly against the door panel, like a prisoner awaiting sentencing, gripped by a huge shock and an almost suffocating hope!
He needs to know the truth! He needs to hear more!
Time flows slowly in the dead silence, and every second seems as long as a century.
Just when Mu Xinrong was about to give up——
“…………Don’t touch him…”
Another fainter and more broken whisper, with a heavy crying tone and fear deep in the bone marrow, floated out intermittently like a candle in the wind.
"boom--!!"
Mu Xinrong's mind felt like it had been struck by a mental bomb! It went blank in an instant! All the clues were forcibly connected at this moment!
photo!
Cold study!
The photo my father pushed over!
That cold "Explain?"
And... Chao Youye's instantly pale face and shaky calmness at that moment!
That cold sentence "I don't like you anymore" when breaking up!
His back as he fled in panic!
And... my own heart-wrenching, desperate pleas and screams...
So... so that's how it is!
He is not tired! He is not out of love!
He was being threatened! By his cold-blooded father! He was threatening his own...his own safety!
In order to protect him! In order to protect himself who loved him like a fool! He had no choice but to push him away with his own hands! In the most hurtful way!
The huge shock, the unspeakable heartache, the belated regret, and the overwhelming guilt... were like an uncontrolled torrent, instantly breaking down all of Mu Xinrong's defenses.
He could no longer hold on, and his body slowly slid down the cold door panel and fell heavily to his knees on the hard floor.
"Uh...ah..." A suppressed whimper, like a wounded beast, suddenly squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
He gripped the cold floor tiles tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white from the exertion, and rested his forehead heavily on the door panel.
The hot tears flowed out violently and uncontrollably like a flood that broke through a dam.
It's not grievance, it's not anger, it's overwhelming heartache and belated regret that goes deep into the bone marrow.
He misunderstood him!
He hated him for so long!
He even still carried those resentments of reincarnation and betrayal, and in this world line, he looked at him with eyes of pain and resistance.
And Chao Youye... He alone endured his father's threats, the pain of breaking up, the backlash of the collapse of the rules, and the secondary damage caused by himself!
His fearful cry of "Don't touch me" wasn't out of disgust, it was out of fear! He was afraid that if he got close, his father would retaliate again! He was afraid that he would be implicated again!
The immense pain was like countless blunt knives, repeatedly cutting Mu Xinrong's heart. He wished time could go back, and he wished he could rush in and hug tightly the young man who had endured so much.
Tell him, he knows! He knows everything! He won't misunderstand him again! He won't let him bear it alone anymore.
"Chao Youye... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Mu Xinrong's voice was hoarse and broken, filled with endless pain and regret. His suppressed cries were like the wailing of a wounded cub, echoing desperately in the cold and empty corridor.
With his forehead pressed against the cold door, tears streamed down his face, soaking the door frame.
Like a devout confessor, he knelt outside the closed door, enduring the overwhelming pain brought by the belated truth.
Inside the door.
Dead silence.
There was only the regular beeping of the monitor and Chao Youye's weak but steady breathing.
The faint blue mark on the wrist seemed to glow... extremely faintly... dimmed a little bit under Ye Qingliu's palm that pressed down as hard as a branding iron.
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