Jiang Tong’s unique, self-created characters genuinely startled Jiang Huan for a moment. He finally realized what the issue was, shook his head, and placed his right hand gently over Shen Shanwu’s.
When their hands lay together in comparison, Shen Shanwu noticed how slender and delicate his own hand was, pale and adorned with five perfect little crescents on his fingernails. In contrast, Jiang Huan’s fingers were long and well-defined, with a healthy tan and a rough callus on each fingertip—a hand shaped by years of holding guns and training with blades.
Jiang Huan guided him through writing “Jiang Tong” once more, this time in proper calligraphy—precisely horizontal and vertical strokes, with graceful, tapered ends. Dutifully, Shen Shanwu followed along, attempting to rewrite “Jiang Tong” a few more times on his own, eager to show his willingness to learn. After producing a row of squiggly, worm-like characters, he finally revealed a mischievous side, tossed the pen aside, and declared, “I got it, I’m done.”
Jiang Huan picked up the pen, wrote his own name beneath “Jiang Tong,” then handed the pen back to Shen Shanwu, making it clear: the simple version was over; this time, he’d face a more challenging one.
Are you really putting a kid through this?
“No,” Shen Shanwu murmured, eyes closed, squirming in Jiang Huan’s arms in imitation of how young Jiang Huan used to act spoiled when he was pushed too hard. “I don’t want to write. It’s too complicated. I don’t want to.”
Of course, Shen Shanwu had never forced young Jiang Huan to practice writing. By thirteen, this well-bred young master already had beautiful, elegant penmanship that surpassed Shen Shanwu’s own as a university student at twenty-three. But he had once made Jiang Huan walk 30 kilometers a day.
Toward the end, Jiang Huan was crying and shouting that his legs were going to break and he couldn’t take another step. Shen Shanwu, soft-hearted, carried him on his back for a while. But when he told Jiang Huan to get down and walk on his own, the boy clung stubbornly to him just like this—his lotus-like arms wrapped around Shen Shanwu’s neck, his little body squirming and his hips wiggling as he refused to let go.
“No! I’m not walking anymore; my legs hurt. Brother Shanwu, carry me. Carry me!”
The boy, who hadn’t yet reached his voice-changing years, called him “Brother Shanwu” in a soft, delicate tone. Wild and tough as he was, Shen Shanwu had never encountered anything like this and couldn’t possibly resist. So, he had no choice but to patiently carry the boy all the way back to their lodgings.
Luckily, in the dead of night, Jiang Huan didn’t actually intend to push Jiang Tong to the point of pulling all-nighters like ancient scholars. Seeing that the kid didn’t want to write, he didn’t insist and simply closed the notebook, asking, “Ready to sleep?”
What else could they do if they weren’t going to sleep? Shen Shanwu worried that if Jiang Huan stayed awake, he might suddenly feel like making him recite Tang and Song poetry from memory. If that happened, how on earth was he supposed to convincingly play the fool, like a landlord’s dim-witted son?
As for going to XiaoWen’s place, that was out of the question; if his identity were ever exposed one day, he didn’t want to leave the poor girl traumatized.
“…Can I sleep with you?” Shen Shanwu leaned over to Jiang Huan’s ear, asking earnestly, his face full of sincerity and pleading as he blinked at him.
“Why?” Jiang Huan couldn’t resist pinching his cheek. Despite the playful gesture, his expression remained as serious as ever.
“Because… because you’re the one who adopted me.” Shen Shanwu racked his brain and finally came up with a reason.
He’d said it casually, but Jiang Huan’s gaze flickered, and even his breath caught for a moment.
This child… was he seeking comfort from him? Trying to rely on him? Longing for his attention?
Yes, I’m the one who is his legal guardian, the one who forcibly took him away from the place he’d lived for ten years, the one who barged into his life and left him no room to refuse.
All for my own selfish reasons…
But these past two days, the one caring for him and spending more time with him had mostly been Zhang Xiaowen. It felt less like he had adopted a child and more like he’d adopted a pet, handing over the feeding to a subordinate and only stepping in to play or pat him when he had the time.
Would Jiang Tong misunderstand his attitude? Would he feel afraid, or timid, or start to distance himself…?
After a long silence, Jiang Huan quietly said, “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to pay more attention to you from now on.”
What? This time it was Shen Shanwu’s turn to be startled. He’d just been comfortably settling into Jiang Huan’s arms, trying to find a good spot to fall asleep, but Jiang Huan’s apology left him bewildered. He couldn’t understand what he might have said that had led Jiang Huan to such deep self-reflection about his own shortcomings.
But surely it wasn’t a bad thing, right? Shen Shanwu nodded, shamelessly accepted Jiang Huan’s apology, and contentedly closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.
Half-asleep, he vaguely felt Jiang Huan steady his head and pick up something. Too drowsy to move, he only faintly heard the scratch of a pen on paper.
If Shen Shanwu had opened his eyes at that moment, he might have seen Jiang Huan writing slowly on the last page of his notebook, adding a character in front of “Jiang Tong’s” name.
He’d pressed so hard, it nearly went through the paper.
The next morning.
Shen Shanwu woke up to a clamor around him. He opened his eyes to find Jiang Huan’s cloak draped over him, and not far away stood the cloak’s owner, talking to the lieutenant with his back turned. As they spoke, Jiang Huan was using his left hand to knead the muscles along his right shoulder and neck, swinging his arm back and forth to loosen up.
“Let Jiang Tong sleep on you all night, and now your arm’s gone numb?” The lieutenant sounded both amused and exasperated. Jiang Huan shook his head. “No, later on I let him sleep on my legs.”
“Oh, so your arm went numb in the first half of the night, and your legs in the second?”
“…”
“If you’re so worried about him, why didn’t you just let him sleep in your sleeping bag? You’ve got a cloak anyway, and that way he’d be comfortable lying down, and you’d be comfortable sitting.”
“…”
“Got it, so it’s that kind of feeling where a cute little creature rarely gets close to you, and you’d rather be half-numb just to be near him? …You deserve it, Captain.” The lieutenant said this while giving Jiang Huan a knowing wink. “Look, your little bargain son is awake.”
At the sound of this, Jiang Huan turned around and saw Shen Shanwu sitting on the ground, hugging his cloak, looking dazed with unfocused eyes. Immediately, Jiang Huan brushed past the lieutenant, crouched down, and gently ruffled his hair, softly asking, “Did you sleep well?”
Shen Shanwu found it quite jarring how gentle Jiang Huan had become, but recalling the promise Jiang Huan made last night to pay more attention to him, he forced himself to adapt. “…It was okay.”
“Come on, get up. Put on your clothes, and I’ll take you to wash your face.”
“You’re taking me…? That’s not necessary.” Shen Shanwu’s lips twitched. Even though Jiang Huan had promised to pay more attention to him, there was no need to get so personally involved. After all, he was the captain and had a lot of responsibilities to handle. It would make more sense for someone like Sister Xiaowen, who managed logistics, to take care of the child-rearing tasks.
“You can be closer to me,” Jiang Huan said seriously. He picked up the cloak, folded it neatly, and casually set it aside. Then he took Shen Shanwu’s hand and led him toward the washroom with their toiletries in tow.
Even without the aura of the captain of the Shanhai Unit, Jiang Huan’s face alone would make him the center of attention wherever he stood. Especially now, as he held the hand of a delicate-looking young boy with smooth, dark hair and flawless skin, who tilted his face up obediently while Jiang Huan gently wiped behind his ears and along his jaw with a towel.
Young, distinguished, powerful, and unyielding, coupled with the completely contrasting behavior of a doting father, Jiang Huan’s stark contradictions made him even more eye-catching and coveted. The eager gazes of those who passed by, whether intentionally or unintentionally, felt almost as if they could devour him alive.
Everyone wanted to be the one receiving such careful attention from Jiang Huan, to bask in the warmth of his soft concern, and to enjoy the service of having their fingers delicately wiped by him—except for one person: the child himself. Perhaps he embodied a line from a song: “What you can’t have will always stir restlessly, while those who are favored are bold and unafraid.”1found in the song “The One That Got Away” by Katy Perry.
“You’re washing hands, not oiling a firearm. And this is a hand, not a weapon!” Shen Shanwu said, glancing at his hand, which was turning red from being rubbed. He quickly reminded Jiang Huan, “Be gentle, be gentle! It’s not dirty; there’s no need to scrub it to death.”
It was clear that this was Jiang Huan’s first time taking care of a child. He pressed his lips into a tight line, holding Shen Shanwu’s hand with concern and saying, “Your nails are too long.”
“I can trim them myself!” Shen Shanwu quickly snatched back his little paw, joking that washing his face had nearly scrubbed his skin off. If he let Jiang Huan cut his nails, he might end up taking a big chunk of flesh with it! Without missing a beat, Jiang Huan pulled a small Swiss Army knife from his waist and flicked out the nail clippers, handing them to him.
Watching Shen Shanwu obediently standing to the side trimming his nails, Jiang Huan quickly began to wash up and tidy himself.
At that moment, three people entered the washroom, quietly discussing something among themselves. They shook their heads occasionally, expressing their dismay and sighs. Shen Shanwu paused his movements, catching a few important keywords: “beaten to death,” “gruesome scene,” “girl”…
Putting it all together, it seemed there was a girl who had been beaten to death, and her condition was quite tragic. After trimming the nails on his left hand, Shen Shanwu switched the knife to his other hand and then heard them say, “No one knows who killed her; the murderer hasn’t been found yet.”
“Where are you going to find that? It’s the middle of the night, and are we expecting surveillance footage to just drop from the sky? That girl must have known she was doomed.”
“I heard that the girl stole food from the mercenaries. I suspect she was killed by them.”
“Shh, keep your voice down. Those two standing over there, one big and one small, are from the team.”
“Even if they can’t hear us from this far away, I heard that the girl was clutching a small piece of packaging from a compressed biscuits in her hand when she died.”
“Compressed biscuits? That’s definitely something only mercenaries can afford to eat.”
“So, I’m guessing that the girl was starving. After all, she was pregnant. She probably had no choice but to steal food from the team and was caught in the act. You know how mercenaries are—one or two punches, and they can kill someone without a second thought.”
“…” Shen Shanwu furrowed his brow tightly, forming a very unsettling suspicion. There were only two teams that had checked into this rest station last night: the Shanhai Unit and the Cobra under Captain Wang’s command.
The three people nearby, unfamiliar with their resting area and unaware of the teams’ vigilance, were rashly speculating that the girl had stolen food from the team. However, Shen Shanwu was certain that it was impossible for anyone to approach the two teams without being noticed.
—Unless they were their mutants, but that possibility was zero.
So, the only explanation for the fragment of packaging paper in the girl’s hand was that someone had actively given her the food.
Shen Shanwu instantly thought of Wang Yanyan.
Just as Jiang Huan finished washing up, Shen Shanwu had also cleaned his nails. Jiang Huan took both of Shen Shanwu’s small hands and carefully examined them, confirming that he had done a good job and feeling quite satisfied.
The team members had already packed their belongings and were waiting to set off. When they saw the captain and his precious little one returning, Sister Xiaowen hurried over to take the toiletries from them and then handed over the prepared pills and some clean water.
The lieutenant held the cloak in one hand and quietly said to Jiang Huan, “There’s been some trouble over at the Cobra.”
“Hmm?” Jiang Huan didn’t even turn his head, signaling for the lieutenant to continue. He bent down, seriously watching as Jiang Tong took his medicine, and at the right moment, personally helped him drink water, as if Shen Shanwu taking a radiation protection pill was a hundred times more important than the entire Cobra team’s situation.
The author has something to say:
35: You are embarrassing me, Pang Hu.2It should be that a person’s appearance or personality is more like a fat tiger, and the Pang character expresses a kind of familiarity. Many people like to add an old character before their surname when addressing a familiar friend. Here, character Pang expresses familiarity with a character from Jiang Huan’s name: Hu. The prototype of the fat tiger is a male character in the Japanese comic “Doraemon” and its derivative works. It is the fattest and tallest of all the children in the comics. He has a rough personality and is easily impulsive. He thinks of using force to solve everything.
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