After the Young Master’s Death, He was Kissed by His Mortal Enemy! (BL) - Chapter 22

As the old wooden door creaked open, sunlight poured in, causing Shen Ran to squint against the brightness.

The director’s office was spacious, but also run-down, with an outdated layout and furnishings that made it clear the room had been around for decades.

What was unexpected, however, was that the director was a very young man.

He had long hair and a slightly slender frame.

When he turned to look at Shen Ran, his amber eyes glowed gently in the sunlight, as warm and mild as his smile.

For a moment, Shen Ran was almost stunned.

He had never seen someone like this before—handsome, exuding a softness that didn’t belong to his age, yet tinged with an inexplicable coolness.

Like snow just beginning to melt under the hesitant spring breeze of March.

“Director, hello. I’m here to…”

Just as Shen Ran was about to explain his purpose, he noticed that this “Director Xiao Ai” was looking at him with an oddly familiar gaze.

The director stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, as if recalling something. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over.

“—Shen Ran!”

…?

Shen Ran widened his eyes in surprise. Before he could react, the handsome man had already pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Director… you know me?”

Cheng Yi raised an eyebrow in amusement at the scene.

The director didn’t expect Shen Ran to say that. He gently cupped Shen Ran’s face, frowning slightly, yet still speaking with warmth:

“Shen Ran, what are you saying? I’m Ai Ziqing! You came here looking for me—how could you forget me? It’s been so many years since we last saw each other, I’ve really missed you!”

Ai Ziqing.

Shen Ran silently mouthed the name in his mind, then shook his head honestly. “Director Ai, I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

“How could that be?”

The beautiful smile on Ai Ziqing’s face vanished, replaced by anxious urgency:

“I’m your Brother Xiao Ai! When we were kids, you and I… we grew up together. Later, when you were adopted, you cried and promised you’d come back to visit me. Don’t you remember? Not even a little?”

Ai Ziqing seemed quite emotional. As he spoke, he gripped Shen Ran’s shoulders and shook him repeatedly, as if he wouldn’t give up until Shen Ran remembered.

Feeling overwhelmed, Shen Ran instinctively tried to step back—and accidentally bumped into Cheng Yi behind him.

“Careful.” Cheng Yi reached out to steady him and subtly positioned himself between Shen Ran and Ai Ziqing.

“Director Ai, hello, I’m Cheng Yi. We do have something important to discuss with you, but could I ask both of you to calm down first? Let’s take our time and talk things through, one step at a time.”

Ai Ziqing seemed to realize his earlier outburst and said, “…I’m sorry, I got too anxious. Ranran was so little back then. It’s understandable he doesn’t remember me.”

Cheng Yi gave a faint smile. “Then let’s sit and talk properly, Director Ai.”

——

Now calm, Ai Ziqing had lost his earlier urgency. He gazed at Shen Ran with a soft, almost nostalgic expression.

“Ranran, you’ve grown so much. You’ve changed so much, I could hardly recognize you.”

Shen Ran didn’t know how to respond.

Ai Ziqing’s demeanor made it clear that he genuinely knew him—knew him as a child.

If that was true, he no longer needed confirmation.

He must have grown up in Qingshan Welfare Home.

Shen Ran could feel Ai Ziqing’s sincere warmth toward him.

Though they were seated, Ai Ziqing leaned forward slightly, his gaze on Shen Ran gentle and focused, full of affection like that of an older brother.

But Shen Ran truly had no memory of Ai Ziqing.

He didn’t know how to speak without disappointing him.

“Director Ai, I’m really sorry… I truly don’t remember anything from back then. If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me a bit about it?”

Shen Ran noticed a fleeting dimness in Ai Ziqing’s eyes.

“…When you were little, you used to call me Brother Ziqing, Ranran.”

Now he was being addressed as “Director” instead—not a hint of familiarity remained, as if they were complete strangers.

Though disappointed, Ai Ziqing nodded and retrieved a photo frame from the same old bookshelf beside him.

It was an old photograph—a record of Shen Ran’s early childhood, one that didn’t exist in the Shen family’s collection.

Ai Ziqing showed the photo to Shen Ran and Cheng Yi, and began reminiscing softly:

“You were abandoned at the gates of Qingshan Welfare Home right after you were born. It was my father—the former director—who took you in.”

“You were so small at the time, we kept you at our house for a while. Later, when you grew a bit older, we stayed together here at the welfare home.”

“You were a mischievous yet timid child—loved playing pranks but cried easily. I and Luo… I often had to comfort you after you got scolded for your mischief. This photo was taken of us back then.”

Shen Ran looked at the photograph.

In it, three boys were playfully roughhousing. Two of them appeared about the same age, while the third, noticeably younger, was clearly himself as a child.

Squinting slightly, Shen Ran could make out the more delicate-featured boy—his childhood playmate—was Ai Ziqing.

But the other boy, younger yet solemn, felt strangely familiar, and no matter how hard Shen Ran tried, he couldn’t recall who he was.

Who was he…? And who exactly was Ai Ziqing…?

Did he truly have such a past…?

“You used to call me Brother Xiao Ai all the time. I told you not to, but you’d follow me everywhere shouting it non-stop—nobody could stop you. Thinking about it now, it’s really nostalgic.”

Chasing after someone and calling them ‘Brother’ non-stop…?

Cheng Yi swore he wasn’t getting irrationally jealous, but he felt like he’d just caught a glimpse of Shen Ran’s personality.

No wonder Shen Ran now called him “Daddy” every chance he got—he’d been fond of calling others “Brother” since he was young… He wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Definitely not.

Cheng Yi was just about to poke Shen Ran’s waist and tease him a little when he noticed something off about Shen Ran’s expression.

“What’s wrong?”

Cheng Yi’s voice carried a hint of urgency, snapping Ai Ziqing out of his nostalgia and bringing the pale-faced Shen Ran back to reality.

“I… I’m fine,” Shen Ran replied blankly. “I just feel a bit unwell—my head hurts, and I feel a little nauseous.”

For some reason, as he stared at this tangible, real photograph and tried to recall his childhood, Shen Ran felt as though those memories were shrouded in a veil.

Blurred, unreachable… yet undeniably there.

“How about this,” Ai Ziqing offered gently, “I’ll take you around for a walk. Maybe something will come back to you.”

Shen Ran nodded, and the three of them prepared to head downstairs. But as they opened the door, Ai Ziqing’s gentle expression abruptly turned cold.