The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 85 - - The Face of Treachery

A servant rushed in, his hurried footsteps echoing through the grand hall. Jian watched him approach with a curious smile, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. His gaze flickered toward the staircase as anticipation curled in his chest.

"Oh, Bian... what will you do now?" he murmured to himself, amusement glinting in his eyes.

It took ten long minutes before the servant returned, now accompanied by a young man. Dressed in a loose linen white shirt and well-fitted brown trousers, the newcomer had an effortless elegance to him. His short hair curled slightly away from his forehead, and a charming smile graced his lips as he conversed with the servant beside him. The air around him was calm, self-assured—until his gaze dropped downward.

"Father, did you—" His words caught in his throat. His eyes widened in unmistakable horror, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled on the stairs. His feet slipped, sending him skidding down a few steps before the startled servant caught him, steadying his fall.

For the first time in his life, Bian looked utterly, truly shocked.

Jian let out a small, knowing laugh. "What is it, 'Bian'?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Oh—should I call you Jian now? Did you get surprised seeing me?" He tilted his head playfully. "We have a guest. How could you act so improperly?"

Bian's lips parted, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, struggling to regain his composure. His gaze darted toward Wang Bushen, his so-called father, his expression betraying desperation and disbelief.

"Father... I'm Jian. He is Bian!" he burst out, his voice unsteady. "Why did you let him in?! He is a treacherous, dirty fellow—"

"Ah, tsk tsk..." Jian leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other with practiced ease. "You shouldn't dirty your own name like that, Bian." His voice turned sharper. "But it is true, isn't it? You are treacherous." His smile faded, replaced by a glare that could pierce through steel.

A cold shiver ran down Bian's spine. He had seen many sides of his supposed 'brother' before, but never this. Never this unyielding stare, filled with such loathing.

Jian's voice lowered to a near-whisper, his words carrying an edge sharper than a blade. "A person who dares to send his own brother straight into the hands of kidnappers... so treacherous indeed."

The room fell deathly silent.

Xing Yu, who had been quietly observing the exchange, furrowed his brows. "Kidnappers?" His voice was deep, laced with confusion and growing concern.

Jian's gaze flicked toward Wang Bushen before settling back on Bian, his expression unreadable. "He was desperate," he said, voice almost lazy, as if recounting a dull memory. "Well... what can I say? He must have thought I was a thorn in his path. That I had stolen something that was his." He let out a humorless chuckle. "So, he planned an elaborate kidnapping. Thankfully, I have a few skills of my own. Otherwise..." His fingers traced the rim of his water glass as he took a slow sip. "I would have been found a few days later in a ditch somewhere."

Bian felt the blood drain from his face.

Xing Yu's fists clenched at his sides. His sharp eyes darted toward Jian. He had something last night—the slight bloodstains near the collar of his oversized shirt. The way the fabric sat awkwardly on his frame, as if it wasn't his own.

"...Is that why you were out wandering in the dark?" Xing Yu's voice was lower this time, a dangerous edge creeping into it.

Jian merely smirked but said nothing.

Xing Yu exhaled sharply, his hand tightening against the armrest of his chair. He had noticed the small details but had dismissed them as insignificant. But now, to realize that Jian had been in real danger, fighting for his life while they had been none the wiser...

His nails dug into his palm.

Bian, on the other hand, was frozen. His mind raced, searching for words, for excuses—for anything that could save him from this moment. But no words came. Because there was nothing he could say.

Jian had returned.

And he knew everything.

"I didn't do anything!" Bian's voice cracked as he scrambled down the stairs, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. The moment his feet hit the floor, he collapsed at Wang Bushen's feet, grasping the hem of his robe with shaking hands.

"Father, I—I only wanted your love," he gasped, his face contorted with desperation. "I only wanted to be your son! So I got into the car and came here. I didn't do anything as he said! He's a liar to the bone! Do not believe a word he says!" His breath came in sharp gasps, his fingers tightening around the fabric. "This—this is why I was so shocked when you chose him to adopt. He is not a good person, Father. He will do anything for power. He will even go as far as to hurt you!"

His eyes burned with hatred as he turned his gaze back to Jian. "Look—even now! He seduced someone to support his cause!"

Jian's fingers clenched so tightly around the edge of the chair that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked as he let out a slow, deliberate breath. "Don't be absurd," he bit out, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone. "I'm not like you, holding men in each of your fingertips." His lips curled into a sneer. "First, it was my school bully, and now construction workers? Tsk. How is it that you find men to do your bidding so easily?" His gaze darkened as his words dropped to a near whisper. "I bet it was you who seduced them, after all..."

"Fucking shut up!" Bian screamed, his voice raw with fury. "You shut the fuck up!" His entire body trembled, his face twisting into something almost unrecognizable. "You are a fucking leech! You never should have been born! You shouldn't even exist! In fact, are you even hum—"

Before he could finish, Jian's hand moved swiftly, grabbing his glass of tea and tilting it forward in one smooth motion.

The warm liquid cascaded down Bian's face.

"AHH!" Bian howled, stumbling back, his hands flying to his drenched face. His chest heaved violently as he glared down at Jian, pure, unfiltered rage flashing in his eyes.

Jian, meanwhile, remained utterly composed. He placed the empty glass down with deliberate slowness before standing, brushing his hands off as if he had merely dusted away something insignificant. His lips curled into a smirk.

"There. Now you match the image you've set up." His voice was cold, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "A fucking green tea bitch who can twist black and white at will."

The room hung in tense silence, thick with the weight of unspoken truths.

Jian turned his gaze toward Wang Bushen, his expression neutral but his words sharp. "Mister Wang... I don't feel secure with him around." He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his movements unhurried. "Please have security escort him out."

He didn't want to see Bian's face for a moment longer.

And he certainly had no interest in listening to his desperate lies.

Wang Bushen gave a silent nod, and immediately, the servants moved forward, their hands gripping Bian's arms tightly.

"No!" Bian thrashed against their hold, his voice rising in sheer desperation. "I'm the real master! He is the fake! Father, you must believe me!" His shrill cries echoed through the hall, his legs kicking wildly as they dragged him backward. "I'm your real son! I'M THE REAL SON! Ahhh!! Let go of me!!"

Jian merely sat there, watching impassively as his so-called brother was hauled away. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden table, his expression unreadable.

But just as Bian's wails began to fade down the hall, another voice cut through the tension.

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"Wait."

Xing Yu's voice was firm as he stood abruptly, his sharp gaze locked onto Bian.

Jian's brows furrowed as he glanced up at him.

Bian's struggling slowed for a moment, his wide, bloodshot eyes darting toward the tall, white-haired man. There was a flicker of hope in his gaze, a glimmer of desperation that he latched onto.

"Please..." His voice came out weaker now, trembling. "Tell everyone that I'm the real son. You can even do a DNA test if you want—I'm the real one." His chest rose and fell heavily as he whispered, his pitiful expression dripping with false vulnerability. "Please... help me."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then—

Xing Yu's expression darkened. His once-neutral gaze turned ice-cold as he stared down at Bian with nothing but contempt.

"You think you can get away so easily?" His voice was sharp as a blade. "For consorting with kidnappers, you must be apprehended and punished."

Bian's entire body stiffened.

Before he could react, Xing Yu smoothly pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear. "Hello, I wish to report a kidnapping and the assault of a young man." His voice remained eerily calm as he spoke, his piercing gaze never leaving Bian's.

The color drained from Bian's face. His mouth opened, then closed, his mind scrambling for a way out, an excuse, a lie—anything.

"No... no, no, no... this is wrong!" he choked out, shaking his head violently. "I—It wasn't supposed to be like this! It was him! Jian set me up! He's framing me! Father, please! Please!!" His voice cracked into a sob as his head whipped toward Wang Bushen, pleading with wild, desperate eyes.

But the man who once might have listened to him remained still, his gaze unreadable.

The moment stretched unbearably long, before Wang Bushen finally exhaled and turned his back to him.

That was all it took.

Bian's entire body sagged in the servants' grip, his face contorting into something wretched.

He had lost.

Jian stood up, straightening his cuffs. His lips curled into a small, satisfied smirk as he gazed down at his brother—no, at the pathetic excuse of a person who had once dared to call himself his equal.

"You know..." Jian mused, tilting his head. "You scream an awful lot for someone who claimed innocence just moments ago." His smirk widened, taunting. "How unfortunate."

Bian let out a strangled sound—half sob, half growl—as the servants dragged him away. His cries grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared entirely.

Jian exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he turned to Xing Yu. "That was unexpected," he murmured, glancing at him with mild curiosity. "You didn't have to go that far, you know."

Xing Yu pocketed his phone, his expression unreadable. "People like him don't stop until they're forced to." His tone was cold, decisive. "Consider this... cleaning up a mess."

Jian chuckled, shaking his head. "Brutal."

But there was no denying it.

This was exactly what Bian deserved.