Chapter 1

"Go back to the study."

After dinner, Jason, still wearing his apron, cleared the table without giving me another glance.

I silently stood up, straightened the chairs, and headed to the study.

I waited for about an hour before Jason entered.

Droplets of water still clung to his hair, a towel wrapped around his neck.

Every time he got mad at me, he cooled off first with a cold shower.

"Stretch out your hand."

I bowed my head and raised my right hand.

He scoffed coldly, "Left hand. Don't think you can avoid your homework."

I glared at him, nearly an adult now, tired of being treated like a child.

I lifted my right hand again.

He slapped my palm hard, the sting spreading like a prickly heat.

I flinched back.

"If you dodge again, I'll double it."

I dared not move, and Jason, with a stern face, gave me another slap on my palm.

It hurt until I couldn't stop tears from welling up in my eyes.

"Bullying classmates and skipping classes, what else is there that I don't know about?"

I felt both fearful and wronged, my fists clenched and hanging down.

Jason looked at me sternly. "Just a month into your senior year and you've already caused so much trouble!"

I stubbornly glared back, retorting, "I didn't."

Jason snorted coldly, his laugh bitter. I watched nervously as he walked to the drawer and pulled out a thick black whip, stepping back in fear.

I had seen him snap a wooden post with that whip.

Was he going to use that on me?

Jason slightly lifted his chin, his voice deep. "Take off your clothes."

My hands trembled as I raised them, my eyes pleading.

But his dark eyes were unyielding, and I quickly stripped.

He swung the whip.

My back felt as if it was on fire, waves of pain washing over all my senses.

I could barely suppress my tremors.

After a few hits, Jason stopped. "Keith, do you admit your wrongs?"

My nose tingled, thinking of him as my gentlest foster father, and I couldn't harden my heart anymore. "I'm sorry. I admit my mistakes..."

Jason squatted down and lifted my face, his hand wet.

I tried to wipe it, but he held my hand.

“Do you know why I’m punishing you? Because you don't see your mistakes. Skipping classes and early romance. I might overlook those. But assaulting a classmate?"

"What severe grudge makes you want to break his legs?"

I bit my lip looking at him.

Jason gently pushed away my teeth, sighing softly, "I really hope not to raise a child who's cruel, a misfit."

Cold light flashed in his pupils.

Just like the night I saw him after I was injured, and he broke that man's jaw with a punch.

Feeling this pressure, I quickly looked away.

With a heavy heart, I said, "I'm sorry. I won't do it again, Dad."

He stared at my face for a long time, his gold-rimmed glasses casting a cold grey circle of shadow.

After a while, he patted my head. "It's good you admit your mistake."

He put away the whip and walked toward the door.

His usual footsteps echoed.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come with me to the hospital tomorrow to apologize. I've prepared the bathwater downstairs."

Watching his descending back, I realized he might be upset, and I had crossed the line.

He returned home two days ago, likely having another argument with his parents.

I felt sorry, yet couldn't intervene.

He didn't like the younger ones meddling in his affairs.

I got up and went to the bathroom, took off my clothes to check my back in the mirror, whip marks swollen, slightly oozing blood.

Touching them brought burning pain.

Feeling wronged, I carefully washed up and then lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

I grabbed a pillow and knocked on Jason's door.

"Dad, can I come in?"

No response.

I opened the door myself, the room pitch black except for some pale moonlight streaming through the window.

Jason sat on the window seat, his left leg propped up, his profile towards me. "Aren't you going to sleep? Can you get up for school tomorrow?"

I set the pillow down, walked over, and handed him a tube of ointment, mumbling, "It hurts. I can't sleep."

He took it without expression.

I self-consciously lifted my shirt and lay across his lap for him to apply the ointment.

Having been punished often since I was small, Jason never truly harmed me.

Compared to the wounds he had endured, my pain was trivial.

The cool sensation on my back eased my discomfort.

Comfortably, I stretched out completely on Jason's lap.

Feeling his touch and warmth made my ears burn.

My feelings for Jason were of a secret, deep affection.

Growing up in an orphanage, adopted and returned twice, I eventually ran away, preferring to wander, thinking I'd likely freeze to death on some street corner.

Then Jason appeared.

He pulled me from a pile of trash.

Despite his family cutting ties, he took me in as a single father.

They said being loved made the one grow wildly.

But it wasn't just me that grew wildly but hidden cruelty and possessiveness.

The better he treated me, the more I wanted him all to myself.

We had each other, accompanying each other for a lifetime.

But this wasn't a normal life.

Nor did I dare let him see that my view of love was twisted, that I was not quite normal.

Deep down, he was very traditional. He once hoped I would grow up, marry, and have children, leading a happy and fulfilling life.

So all I could do was timidly, cautiously maintain everything, trying hard to be a good kid.

"Your teacher said you have a girlfriend. What's she like?" Jason broke my train of thought.