Cultivation Daddy-Chapter 113: This - is a mistake, don’t bother reading
DO NOT READ, IT’S NOT RELATED!!!
Th$e sports car slid to a stop#$& in front o&&f the Whitmore :"$estate, one of the t:&op estates in the land. The car has black glass, and soft glow along the rims. The gates had already scanned the plates and opened before the driver touched the horn.
As soon as the c;:ar pa;;rked, the passenger door^#% opened and Tristan Li stepped out.
He was sixteen&%-%#&&: and beautiful in a way that made people stare and then look away, unsure if they were allowed. His hair fell just so. His jacket was custom and his face frowned, showing that he was in a terrible mood.
Two maids hurried from the entryw&&-^"ay to greet him: "Welcome back Young Master Tristan, allow us—"
He tossed his leather duffel bag without looking. The bag fell into the hands of the maid who rushed forward%"$^@ to catch it.
The maid br@#$%eathed a sigh of relief when she caug^&%&&@ht the bag. The young master has always been polite and rarely gets angry. Now that he wa@s, something big really might have happened.
Tristan walke%$%#@d past them and didn’t even slow down. He crossed the polished stone, kicked off his shoes at the threshold, and walked%$@&# straight into the living room.
He stood for a moment and slammed the edge of the long marble table.
His fist came down hard and the impact cracked through the room. He hiss in pain. He unconsciously hit the table so hard that blood was on his knuckles.
"Someone’s not in a good mood." Said a calm voice.
His dad, Sebastian Cole Whitmore was seated on the cream sofa. His legs crossed, and he was holding a tablet with floating light in one hand. H##:$&$%e looked up, the corner of his mouth softening.
Most@#;$ people forgot he was in his mid-thirties when they s$$#@&@aw him. He did not seem to age. His eyes were gentle and maddeningly clear.
Tristan stood there in surprise. The glass walls reflected his shock expression. He didn’t expect his dad to be here.
Sebastian set the tablet aside and sat up: "Come here." He waved his hand for Tristan to come forward.
"I’m fine." Tristan said, shaking his head.
"You are not." Sebastian nodded to a footman, who qu@@&#%ickly left and returned with a slim first-aid wallet. "Sit."
Tristan has no choice but to come forward and sit@&#%#. He watched his father’s elegant hand check his knuckles and his wrist. He placed an ice pack on the hurts and held it there. The cold from the ice pack helps to numb the burning heat.
"What happened?" he asked.
Tristan dragged in the air: "He said we weren’t right for each other."
%$$!^#
Sebastian’s brows lifted a little: "He said that today?" He was aware who his son was talking about.
"This morning." Tristan opens his phone and shows the message to his dad. He didn’t need to read it again. The word@#$&s were very eye-catching. *We’re not right for each other. Instead of wasting your time on me, it’ll be better if we part ways now. Sorry, You’ll be fine.*
The more Tristan looked at the massage, the angrier he became.
Sebastian was quiet for a moment: "And when did you last sleep?"
Tristan stared past him, through the glass, to the clipped hedges and the distant fountain. "I don’t remember."
Sebastia@#$$n saw that he was lying but he di@#$dn’t point it out.
"Then we will start there." Sebastian said. "But first, why did you punch the table?"
Tristan shrink his neck: "I wasn’t thinking right."
"Okay..@@." Seb@$$$astian paused. "And the staff?"
Tristan looked toward the entryway. The two maids stood just out of sight, pretending to be absorbed in the shoes he had kicked off. His chest tightened: "I shouldn’t have thrown the bag."
"No," Sebastian said, gently: "You should not have. They are not the reason you are hurt. How many times %!&@"have I told you? When you are angry, you can’t take it out on random people and especially not on yourself."
"I know." He admitted his mistake and walked across to the doorway. The maids straightened, uncertain of what to do.
"I’m sorry," Tristan said, meeting their eyes. "About the bag. I was a bit edgy."
"It’s all right, Young Master." The maids shook their heads, how dare they accept an apology from the young master?
Seeing that the maids were frightened by his apology, he said nothing more and returned to the sofa and sat again.
Sebastian watched him and felt a bit distressed: "Do you want to talk about him?"
Tristan laughs half mockingly: "What’s there to say? People love the idea of being close to me because of the benefits." He rubbed his jaw: "Everyone says the ones with less hold love tighter. That they are serious because they know the cost. But who doesn’t want anything in return? Some people are just better at acting than others.
Sebastian tilted his head: "Is that what you think of me?"
Tristan was starting: "What? No." The answer came fast: "I’ll never think of you like that."
"What about your father?"
"Never him either," Tristan said, and the anger in his voice surprised him. "I hate when they imply you bought Father. I hate when they smirk at family dinners and pretend this house is a favor. Dad, I...?" He stopped and sighed.
He really doesn’t like topics that put his dad on the spot. It’s all that stupid guy’s fault. He folded his arms: "We weren’t right for each other, That’s it. I was the one thinking too much."
Sebastian nodded as if Tristan had said something profound. "There’s something I was waiting to discuss with you."
Tristan gave him a look. "Please don’t say school charity gala."
"Not this time." Sebastian smiles helplessly: "We are going back to your father’s homeland for a while."
Tristan was taken aback: "What? Come again?"
"Yichen and I agreed last night." Sebastian’s voice was even without any emotion: "You know this has been coming. We postponed, and postponed many times. It is about time we meet his family."
Tristan’s stomach went cold: "You want to travel to Lianzhou alone?" He held his dad’s face with his uninjured hand: "Now, are you serious?"
"As soon as we can get seats. I have been wanting to tell you for the past few days now, but you were always preoccupied." Sebastian put the ice pack in Tristan’s hand so he could squeeze it himself.
"Your father is still on a business trip near Azure Port, but he will meet us there. We will go ahead and get familiar with the place."
Tristan shook his head: "They don’t want you." The words were blunt and ugly. "They barely wanted me the last time. You remember that, right? The way they looked at you. Like you were a rumor their son Yichen had picked up in a city he should never have visited."
Sebastian did not flinch: "Don’t talk about your father like that." He taps Tristan’s noise lightly.
"I don’t understand why you’ll want to walk back in and smile at people that hate you. All they do is talk Father into divorcing you."
"I want to stand next to the man I married," Sebastian said simply: "to receive the blessing of his parents, with our son beside us, and say: this is our family. It’s traditional. I am not asking them to like me. I am asking them to give us a chance, to get to know me."
"And if they say no?" Tristan looked away. His throat felt tight. "You don’t even have a family to stand behind you."
"I have you and your father. That is enough." Sebastian said. "This is a big step for me. Can’t you be more encouraging?"
Chapter 2:
Lucien prowled the crowded exam hall like a lady in distress. He’d searched high and low for Hisoka after the earlier chaos, but the man had vanished into thin air.
He clicked his tongue and folded his arms: "He slipped away really fast."
Although Lucien was a little anxious to see Hisoka, he wasn’t worried. The plot had a way of pulling key characters back into its orbit, no matter how much they danced around the edges. The canon fate, or correction mechanism wouldn’t let them drift apart for long.
Besides, he remembered a scene from the plot. A specific moment right after the main cast arrived. An idiot bumps into Hisoka without apologizing. Then the idiot loses both arms into petals.
Lucien grinned to himself. So instead of running in circles or trying to force another encounter, Lucien did what he thought was best. He turned and calmly walked back to the entrance where the elevator was. Those who witnessed his crazy moment avoided him on the way. Most had already labeled him as dangerous and possibly crazier than Hisoka, which was exactly the reputation he wanted.
Lucien thought it’s easier to avoid trouble when people are wary of you.
He found a spot along the edge of the hall, near the elevator where few stood. It was quiet and had a perfect view. He doesn’t want to miss the protagonist’s entry.
He sat down cross-legged, and closed his eyes, ignoring the mutterings of nearby applicants. The presence of over 400 people didn’t bother him in the slightest. Their excitement, nerves, ambitions was all just background noise that he tuned out easily.
Ding!
Fifteen minutes later, the elevator chimed.
Lucien’s eyes snapped open and he stared ahead.
The elevator doors slid apart and three figures walked in one after the other. Gon Freecss, walking at the front with wide, alert eyes. Kurapika was behind him with a calm face but wary eyes. And Leorio, tall and loud in a blue suit, looks out of place.
Lucien didn’t move, he just watched them as if he were witnessing a documentary that he’d already memorized frame by frame.
They looked the same but not cartoonish like on the tv.
Leorio: "Strange atmosphere down here"
Kurapika: "They clearly differ from the hunter applicants we saw at the port in the city. Each is a master, in their own right..."
Gon: "Everyone’s really tense."
When they reached the tunnel that led deeper underground, the green-headed administrator, Beans greeted them.
"Welcome to the Hunter Exam," said Beans, "please take a number, make sure to wear them on your chest at all times. Be careful not to lose it."
He handed them their ID numbers and gave the standard speech. Leorio got 404, Kurapika got 405, and Gon got 406.
As soon as Beans retreated, Tonpa, the Rookie Crusher, jumped down with a theatrical smile: "Haven’t seen you guys around here before."
Lucien tilted his head in amusement: This guy never gets tired.
Tonpa strolled over to the trio like a helpful uncle.
Lucien stayed seated, watching everything with interest. The scene was playing out perfectly.
Tonpa introduced himself, voice cheerful and welcoming. He was very proud of his achievements: "Been taking the exam for over 30 years! This will be my thirty-fifth attempt."
He told them to ask him if they had any questions. Gon then asked if there were other applicants who’d taken the exam many times like him. Tonpa claims he had the most experience but there are few others. Number 255, Todo, the wrestler who’s unmatched in strength and is smarter than he looks.
Number 103, Bourbon, the snake charmer who tends to hold grudges. Number 191, Bodoro the kung fu master. The three brothers Amori, Imori, and Umori who have excellent team work and fights in groups. And number 384, Gerreta, the huntsman who specializes in killing all manner of creatures by blow dart and club.
"See that guy over there?" Tonpa pointed toward the tall figure leaning casually against a pillar. "That’s number 44, Hisoka the magician. He nearly killed an examiner last year."
That’s when Lucien stood up. His gaze snapped toward the direction of the gesture.
There he was... Hisoka. Just as flamboyant, unreadable as ever. For the first time, Lucien was grateful for the plot correction mechanism.
Just then...
WHAM.
An idiot. One of the many brainless applicants shoved past Hisoka, brushing against him and not even looking back, not to mention apologizing.
Lucien held his breath waiting for one of his favorite scenes.
The idiot stood frozen for a second, then collapsed to his knees, screaming.
He watched his arms vanish into a swirling cloud of bloodied flower petals.
Gasps erupted all around the room. Applicants stared with wide eyes in shock, and immediately backed away.
Hisoka turned slowly, eyes half-lidded with amusement: "Oh, how peculiar... His arms seem to have become flower petals. No smoke and mirrors here." His smile widened: "Do take care. When you bump into someone, you really should apologize."
Just as Hisoka turned to walk away, a loud clap sounded from behind him. Lucien clapped his hands, stepping forward with a proud smile.
"Well done, brother." Lucien called out, approaching with a grin. "You’re absolutely right. People should learn good manners."
Hisoka’s expression cracked slightly. He turned his head slowly to look at Lucien, one eye twitching: "...You again?"
Lucien beamed with joy: "Me again. How can you leave your younger brother behind in such a dangerous place?" He complained as if they were familiar with each other.
Hisoka turned around and left not wanting to pay attention to him. Lucien also follows behind him casually.
Gon blinked in confusion: "Brother...?"
"His brother?" Kurapika asked with a furrowed brow.
"They do look a lot alike. The same creepy smile and everything..." Leorio muttered.
Tonpa sighed: "Another crazy first-time applicant. He’s been saying that he’s Hisoka’s younger brother."
Gon looked between Lucien and Hisoka, thoughtfully: "...Maybe they are related."
Kurapika nodded slowly. "Same eyes. Same presence."
Leorio adjusted his glasses: "Creepy, but yeah."
Tonpa realized that they’d just and hadn’t seen the scene from earlier. He pointed to the applicant still rolling on the ground from earlier, the one who’d been screaming and tearing his skin like a madman.
"Do you see that guy over there?" Tonpa said: "He did that. Just because the guy insulted Hisoka."
The three fall into an awkward silence. They looked at Lucien, expressions shifting from surprise to uncertainty.
Lucien, meanwhile, was standing proudly next to Hisoka, hands behind his back like a child who’d just received candy.
"I’ve been looking for you," he said with a bright smile. "You keep disappearing."
"I’ve told you kid, you’ve got the wrong person." Hisoka replied dryly: "I don’t have siblings."
Lucien held up the hand mirror again.
Hisoka rolled his eyes: "That again?"
"Tell me that’s not a shared bloodline. Go ahead. Lie to my face."
Hisoka opened his mouth, then paused: "...Fine. You look like me."
Lucien beamed with joy but Hisoka next word poured cold water on his heart.
"I still don’t have siblings. It’s a coincidence that we look alike."
Lucien pouted: "Denial is a sad thing, brother."
He felt the others watching him and returned their gazes. He cast a glance toward Gon, who was watching him curiously.
Lucien stared with narrowed eyes.
The boy looked just as bright-eyed and naive as he remembered from the screen. But something about that warm smile didn’t sit quite right.
Lucien tilted his head, ...Genuine?...
Could someone actually be genuine in a world like this?
Lucien’s mind began spinning possibilities. Protagonists as a whole are masked with the halo of their plots. Therefore, one could only see the picture that is painted by the author. But are they really pure?...
He tilted his head with a smile, calculating. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to remove the masks of the so-called pure and innocent: What are you hiding, Sunshine?
Ambition is ambition, there’s no such thing as pure ambition.
Lucien thought excitedly, but before anything could escalate, a familiar itch tickled his skull.
[SYSTEM WARNING: Emotional Deviation Approaching OOC. Adjust Immediately.]
Lucien scoffed: Relax. I was just teasing.
The warning faded.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the system huffed like an annoyed parent.
Lucien rubbed his temples: Even my thoughts are monitored. This is abuse.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Hisoka slipping away again, heading toward the far end of the hall.
"Hey-! Don’t leave me..." He shouted and darted forward, vanishing into the crowd, leaving the others blinking in confusion
.
"
rounds in a row. He did not care. The score was not the point. The screen kept his hands busy while his mind ran in circles.
They crossed at night. The cabin lights went dim. Tristan tried to sleep. He could not. He listened to the sound of air sliding past the plane. He listened to his father’s keys move. He watched the word PAUSED float on his game screen and did not unpause it.
He must have drifted at some point, because the next time he opened his eyes the sky outside was darker. A soft chime sounded.
"Seat belts, please," the attendant said. "We begin our descent to Azure Port."
Tristan buckled. He rubbed his sore knuckles with his thumb. The pain had settled into a dull line. It felt honest. It kept him awake.
The city below was a ring of light around a darker center where the river ran. The plane touched down like a hand on a table. The wheels hummed. The jet rolled through pools of blue.
They taxied to the private terminal. It was late, the kind of late that makes everything sound softer. The door opened to a small lounge with pale chairs and a wall of glass. No one waited inside.
Tristan looked around. "Are we early?"
"We are on time," Sebastian said, checking his messages. "But we crossed two time zones. It is late for everyone."
Tristan’s phone was still quiet. The group chat had finally fallen asleep. He put the phone in his pocket. He did not want to look at it anymore.
They collected their bags. They were alone with their luggage and the soft hum of the air system. Tristan felt the weight of the space and the fact that no one had come. He looked at Sebastian.
Sebastian was calm. He slid his laptop into his case and zipped it. As he did, his phone played a small chime he used for voice mails.
He tapped it. A woman’s voice filled the quiet.
"Hello, Brother-in-law. This is Xinyi. I am Yichen’s younger sister." The voice was bright and warm. "I was waiting, but the flight time changed and I missed you. I booked a room for you at the hotel next to the airport. It is under the name Whitmore-Li. Please rest there tonight. I will pick you up in the morning. Welcome home."
The message ended. Tristan let out a breath he had not known he was holding.
Sebastian typed a short reply: We’ve arrived. Thank you for the arrangements. See you in the morning. He hit send and turned to Tristan. "Shall we?"
They walked through a quiet corridor to the hotel next door. The lobby smelled like lemons and clean sheets. The night clerk did not ask for names after he saw the reservation. "Welcome," he said, smiling. "We hope your flight was smooth."
"It was," Sebastian said.
Upstairs, their suite was cool and simple. The windows looked down at the runways. Far away, planes moved like slow stars. Tristan put his bag in the bedroom and went straight to the shower. He stood under the water until his skin felt new. He dried off and put on a soft shirt.
Sebastian ordered dinner. It came fast. Clear soup. Steamed greens. Rice. Fish with ginger. They ate at the small table by the window.
"Tomorrow you will be tired," Sebastian said. "The body does not care about bookings or plans. It cares about time and light."
"I know," Tristan said. He looked at the runway lights again. "Do you think she will like me?"
"She already booked the room," Sebastian said. "She likes us enough to start."
Tristan nodded. "Do you think the elders will try to test you?"
"They will test us," Sebastian said. "We will be ourselves."
Tristan ate a bite of fish. The flavor was soft and clean. He did not know what else to say, so he did not say anything. After dinner, he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling until sleep took him without asking.
—
Morning came with a knock and a voice. "Good morning. You have a visitor."
Tristan sat up. He looked at the clock. It was early but not cruel. He pushed his hair back and stood. "Please ask them to wait in the sitting area," Sebastian said to the worker at the door. "We will be just a moment."
They washed their faces and changed. Tristan chose a simple black jacket and clean sneakers. He put on the thin chain with a small charm. He took one breath and then another.
When they stepped into the sitting area, the young woman stood at once. She was about twenty, maybe a little older. She had a neat bob and bright eyes. She wore a pale blouse and a skirt that made her look both proper and ready to run. She smiled with her whole face.
"Brother-in-law," she said, and then looked at Tristan. "And you must be Tristan."
"Yes," Tristan said.
"You are both more beautiful than the photos," she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth as if she had told a secret. "Sorry. I am too direct. I am Li Xinyi. It is very nice to finally meet you."
Sebastian smiled. "It is very nice to meet you, Xinyi. Thank you for last night."
"It was nothing." She waved a hand. "The airport staff called me after you landed, and I almost ran here, but the shuttle was slow. I am glad you rested. You look good. You look like yourselves."
Tristan relaxed a little. Open people made it easier to breathe. "Good morning, Aunt Xinyi."
Her eyes went soft. "I will allow that," she said, teasing, "even though it makes me sound old."
"I won’t say it again," Tristan said, deadpan. "I will call you Xinyi."
"That is better." She glanced at Sebastian and lowered her voice a little. "Forgive me. I am excited. I have been asking my brother for years. He always said, ’Soon.’ Now it is soon."
"Now it is today," Sebastian said.
They sat and ordered breakfast to the room because Xinyi refused to let them leave on empty stomachs. "We have a long ride," she said. "Traffic will be kind for the first hour and then it will not be kind. Eat now."
Breakfast was eggs, porridge, fruit, and strong tea. Xinyi picked at a slice of melon, then gave up and talked.
"I booked a driver," she said. "He is safe and quiet. He knows the estate roads. I did not ask any cousins to come. I want you to breathe before you speak to too many people."
"Thank you," Sebastian said.
Xinyi studied him. "You are calm," she said. "I worried you would be angry with me for making plans."
"I am grateful," Sebastian said. "And I am very calm when other people are kind."
Xinyi looked pleased. She turned to Tristan. "Your hair is good like that," she said. "Do you style it yourself?"
"Sometimes," he said. "Sometimes Dad Seb does."
"He has skill," she said. "Of course he does."
Tristan caught Sebastian’s small smile and looked down at his tea to hide his own.
When they finished, Xinyi stood. "The driver is here. Shall we?"
They followed her downstairs. The car was large and dark. The driver stepped out and bowed his head. He took their bags and set them in the trunk like he was placing something fragile on a shelf.
Xinyi slid into the front. Tristan and Sebastian sat in the back. The hotel fell away behind them. The road opened.
As they drove, Xinyi talked them through the day in simple terms.
"Our family is large," she said. "You know this. It is also old. It likes to move as if it is one person, but it is not one person. It is many people pretending to agree."
Tristan watched buildings give way to low warehouses, then to fields with neat rows of trees. "Who is the most difficult?"
"The ones who smile the widest," she said. "You will learn their names at lunch." She glanced back. "I will sit beside you. If I pinch your sleeve, it means someone is coming who will try to make you small. You must not become small."
Sebastian nodded once. "Understood."
"And the good news?" Tristan asked.
Xinyi’s smile returned. "The good news is that you are family. That never changes unless someone wants to be foolish. Some cousins are very excited. Some aunts are curious. Your grandmother pretends to be only practical, but she has already ordered the cook to prepare peony buns because she heard that Brother likes them."
Sebastian’s expression softened. "He does."
"Then he will have them when he arrives," she said. "He will reach the river house by evening and join us at the main house tomorrow."
They crossed a bridge. Water shone gray under the morning light. The air changed. It smelled greener. The sky looked wider.
Xinyi leaned her elbow on the window. "There is something else," she said. "You should know where you are driving. Our family is one of the top five power holders in this country. That is not bragging. That is a map. It means we have many friends and many people who pretend to be friends. It means people watch us even when we are asleep. It means some rules are real and some rules are only for show."
Tristan met her eyes in the mirror. "And which am I?"
"You are my nephew," she said, warm and even. "You are not a rule. You are a person."
That answer sat right in his chest.
Sebastian looked out at the fields, then back at Xinyi. "Thank you for speaking plainly."
"If we do not speak plainly with each other," she said, "we will get lost."
The driver turned onto a narrower road lined with old trees. The branches made a green tunnel over the car. The light broke into small pieces on the windshield.
"Almost there," Xinyi said.
Tristan smoothed his jacket and checked the chain at his throat. He felt the dull ache in his hand again. He let it be. It reminded him that he could feel things and still sit up straight.
He looked at Sebastian. "Ready?"
"No," Sebastian said, with a small smile. "Yes."
