The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 84 - - My son Jian wang

After breakfast they quickly got ready and got in the car. the car smoothly gliding down the road toward the Wang mansion.

Silence filled the space between them.

Xing Yu kept stealing glances at the young man in the passenger seat, but Jian remained unaware, his gaze fixed outside the window. The familiar scenery passed by, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of what awaited him at home.

"By now, Bian must be ecstatic."

Jian's fingers tapped idly against his knee as a grin stretched across his face.

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"He must've thought I'd be done for at the hands of those kidnappers. He probably thinks he's won everything."

He scoffed internally.

"Sad for him... I'm still alive."

The mere thought of Bian's reaction sent a surge of satisfaction through him. He imagined his dear brother's face twisting in shock, disbelief painting his every feature. Would he stutter? Would he go pale? Or—better yet—would he faint?

A laugh bubbled up before he could stop it.

It wasn't loud—just a small chuckle, quiet but filled with amusement.

The car swerved slightly.

Jian blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, and turned to look at Xing Yu.

"Everything okay?"

Xing Yu looked... tense. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his grip far too tight. His shoulders were stiff, his posture unnaturally rigid.

"Y-yeah..."

Jian narrowed his eyes.

That wasn't convincing. Not in the slightest.

The car rolled to a stop at the grand gates of the Wang mansion. Even now, Xing Yu maintained that stiff, expressionless face, his grip on the wheel firm.

Jian didn't bother asking what was wrong.

His own thoughts were occupied elsewhere—specifically, with a certain dear brother of his.

"Bian oh bian...."

He could already imagine the arrogant smirk his brother must've worn when he thought he'd won. The certainty. The pride. The absolute conviction that he had finally erased his biggest obstacle.

Only for Jian to walk back in, perfectly fine.

"He's going to lose his mind."

He fought back a smirk just as the security guard approached their car, blocking their path. Xing Yu lowered the window, his cold gaze meeting the man's.

"Tell Mister Wang that Mister Yu is here to drop—"

A gentle tug at his wrist made him pause.

Jian, without a word, shook his head.

Xing Yu frowned but didn't argue. He glanced back at the guard and smoothly changed his request.

"Just tell him I'm here to meet him."

The guard hesitated before nodding. "Yes, sir." He turned and hurried toward the intercom to contact the main house.

As they waited, Xing Yu's sharp gaze flickered back to Jian.

"You ran away from home," he stated, voice unreadable, "and your parents didn't even bother to look for you?"

Jian leaned back against the seat, tilting his head slightly. His fingers idly tapped against his thigh as he let out a quiet scoff.

"They wouldn't waste their time on something so trivial."

Xing Yu's frown deepened.

Jian met his gaze with a light smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, my disappearance must've made them very happy. Why would they ruin his mood by looking for me?"

Xing Yu remained silent, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel in a slow, controlled rhythm. The answer clearly didn't sit well with him.

The security guard returned, nodding toward them. "You may drive in, sir."

The car smoothly pulled into the grand entry driveway, stopping before the mansion's towering main doors. The familiar sight of the Wang estate stirred nothing in Jian—no sense of belonging, no warmth. Just cold walls and colder people.

A servant rushed to open the car door, but before he could, the mansion doors swung open abruptly.

Mister Wang stepped out.

His pace was hurried yet controlled, his face unreadable. His sharp eyes swept over Xing Yu before flickering to the young man standing behind him. For a split second, his expression wavered—his eyes widening ever so slightly.

Xing Yu, unaffected by the subtle shift, spoke coolly.

"I have your son with me. I came to drop him off."

Even though he said this, he walked straight past the man into the mansion, his presence filling the grand foyer as if he had been here a thousand times before. He sat down comfortably on the luxurious couch, exuding effortless authority.

Jian followed behind him, mirroring his ease.

Mister Wang, left standing by the door, looked at Jian intensely. He didn't speak. He simply stared, his eyes sharp with something unreadable.

Xing Yu, as if amused by the tension, tilted his head slightly. "Mister Wang, this is your home. Please don't stand for us." He gestured to the chair opposite him.

With a slow inhale, Wang Bushen finally moved, sitting down across from them. His movements were smooth, practiced, like a man used to hiding his emotions behind polite restraint.

A servant stepped forward to pour tea, but Xing Yu lifted a hand, silently dismissing them.

He turned his gaze back to Wang Bushen, his tone steady yet firm.

"I understand you have your own ways of raising your children," he said, tapping the wooden table gently. "But allowing your young son to roam outside alone, without any adult supervision, is not how it's done."

The words, though spoken with civility, carried an unmistakable weight.

Wang Bushen's fingers twitched slightly on the armrest, but his face remained impassive. Slowly, his gaze shifted to Jian, his scrutiny deepening.

"O-oh, yes..." he muttered absentmindedly, as if snapping out of some daze. "I had no clue what was going on, Mister Yu."

Then, he straightened his posture, his voice cooling as his eyes narrowed.

"What is your name?"

Jian met his gaze without blinking.

"Jian Wang."

A long, heavy silence stretched between them.

Xing Yu, sensing the shift in the air, looked between the two men, a flicker of curiosity in his usually unreadable eyes. Something was happening here, something unspoken.

Wang Bushen's hand clenched slightly. His gaze lifted toward the grand staircase, a cold glint flashing through his eyes.

"If you are my son," he said slowly, his voice like ice, "then who is upstairs in your room?"

He turned to a nearby servant, his expression dark.

"Bring the 'young master' down. We need to have a talk."