After the Young Master’s Death, He was Kissed by His Mortal Enemy! (BL) - Chapter 25

Luo Mu wasn’t wrong—they truly had grown up together.

But the deeper the bond, the more painful the wound.

——

Ai Ziqing had grown up in Qingshan Welfare Home, but he was different from the other children there.

He was four years older than Shen Ran, the biological son of the previous director, Ai Wenchuan.

And he was also diagnosed with autism.

From an early age, Ai Ziqing stood out. He spoke little, disliked interacting with others, and spent most of his time quietly building towers with toy blocks.

He’d stack them up high, knock them down, then start all over again.

When he was three years old, his parents divorced after a violent argument.

“Ai Wenchuan! You spend every day holed up in this damned welfare home, earning next to nothing! And our son—he’s a little lunatic, not even normal! I can’t live like this anymore!!”

Back then, Ai Ziqing’s mother had shouted those words at the top of her lungs.

“Keep your voice down!” Ai Wenchuan hissed, trying to lower his tone. “Ziqing is in the next room. He can hear you. How can you say that about your own child?”

“What? Did I say anything wrong? Autism? Don’t kid yourself—Ai Ziqing is mentally ill, a little psycho! A monster! What’s the point of someone like that even being alive? If I had known, I should’ve smothered him at birth!”

Smack—!

The sound was loud—loud enough to pierce through the door—but Ai Ziqing didn’t seem to hear it at all. His hands continued stacking the blocks without pause.

Dragging her suitcase, his mother left without a second glance—and from that day on, she was gone from his life.

But it hardly made a difference. She had never truly been a mother to him to begin with.

After that, Ai Wenchuan had no choice but to raise Ai Ziqing on his own. Yet he couldn’t bear to give up on the Qingshan Welfare Home either, so he moved in with his son.

From then on, Ai Ziqing became—by default—just another child among the orphans.

And that winter, he met Luo Mu for the first time.

It was a snowy night. The fireplace crackled with warmth, and Ai Ziqing sat nearby, carefully stacking his blocks.

Before he could finish the tower and knock it over, he heard movement at the door.

His father had returned—but Ai Ziqing didn’t react. He simply picked up another block.

But this time, there was something new: the sound of a baby crying.

To Ai Ziqing, this sound was unfamiliar. He had never heard anything like it before.

So he left his blocks behind and walked to the door, looking up at his father, who was still busy.

“Come on, Xiao Mu, take off your coat and give it to Uncle. I’ll hang it up for you.”

It was then that Ai Ziqing realized it wasn’t just his father—there was another child with him, around his own age.

Ai Wenchuan was a gentle father. Even knowing his son had autism, he had treated him with unchanging warmth for years.

“Ziqing, come here. Let me introduce someone. This is Luo Mu—he’s your age.”

Ai Ziqing stared silently at the boy in front of him, who was about the same height. The boy, too, was silent, watching him in return.

Ai Ziqing turned his head away.

Ai Wenchuan, used to his son’s behavior, simply bent down and addressed Luo Mu with a smile:
“Xiao Mu, this is my son, Ai Ziqing. He’s a little shy and doesn’t talk much. I hope you don’t mind.”

But Luo Mu only nodded without saying a word.

One like wood, the other like stone—it left Ai Wenchuan a bit flustered.

“Um… haha! Come here, Ziqing. Look who Daddy and Luo Mu brought back today—a new family member!”

He patted the stroller beside him, from which the crying sounds had been coming.

Ai Ziqing leaned in to peek inside.

A tiny baby lay there, no more than a few months old, still sobbing off and on. His face was covered in tears and snot, flushed red from crying.

So ugly, Ai Ziqing thought.

But for some reason, as soon as the baby saw him, the crying began to subside.

The baby stared at him for a few seconds—then, miraculously, broke into a smile and reached out his hand toward him.

Small, soft fingers.

Almost without thinking, Ai Ziqing grasped that little hand—and after a long pause, he spoke two words:

“…Little brother.”

Ai Wenchuan’s eyes lit up, elated by his son’s sudden words.

“Ah, that’s right!” Ai Wenchuan suddenly remembered something. “He’s younger than you, which makes him your little brother! You have to remember—your little brother has a name. It’s written on the stroller. His name is Shen Ran.”

Ai Ziqing turned to look at Luo Mu standing beside him, then back at Ai Wenchuan.
“Little brother.”

“Uh… actually, not quite. Xiao Mu is two months older than you, so technically, he should be calling you little brother.”

But Ai Ziqing didn’t care. He pointed at Luo Mu again and firmly repeated,
“Little brother.”

To everyone’s surprise, Luo Mu suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand, his words brief and direct despite his young age:
“You’re the little brother.”

“Little brother.”

“You’re the little brother.”

The two boys went back and forth, both stubbornly refusing to back down, each determined to claim the role of older sibling. Ai Wenchuan felt a headache coming on just watching them.

Why were both of them so desperate to be the big brother?

Meanwhile, baby Shen Ran was still too small and needed formula. Ai Wenchuan busied himself boiling water and preparing the bottle.

Ai Ziqing rolled the stroller over to his block pile so he could keep building while watching the soft, tiny creature beside him.

Next to him, Luo Mu stood like a little sentry—silent, unmoving, and expressionless.

After his feeding, baby Shen Ran stopped crying. His large eyes wandered curiously, and suddenly, he let out a pair of clear, happy giggles in Ai Ziqing’s direction.

That childish, innocent sound seemed to stir something in Ai Ziqing.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. His eyes curved ever so slightly.

It was a smile.

Ai Ziqing tried to imitate the action, but his expression was stiff—maybe too unfamiliar. To tiny Shen Ran, it looked more like a grimacing ghost.

He burst into tears again.

With their father nowhere in sight, Ai Ziqing panicked. Clumsily, he mimicked what he’d seen his father do—bending down and gently picking up the wailing infant.

And strangely, it worked. Shen Ran calmed down almost immediately in his arms.

Ai Ziqing didn’t understand. Why did he keep crying and then suddenly smile? What a moody little creature.

Just as he was about to go back to his blocks, Ai Ziqing suddenly found himself being hugged—by Luo Mu.

He instinctively shoved him away. Just like he used to push away his parents. Just like he pushed away the other children who wanted to play with him.

Like he was pushing away the entire world.

But Luo Mu came forward again—this time, hugging him even tighter.

“When he’s sad, you hug him,” Luo Mu said. “When you’re sad, I’ll hug you.”

Ai Ziqing froze, staring at Luo Mu with eyes that slowly began to reflect light.

He had always carried a quiet sorrow. A kind of heavy, shapeless sadness that lingered inside him without explanation.

But he never spoke of it.

And no one had ever understood.

Until that snow-covered winter night—when someone, for the very first time, looked past his silence and saw straight into his heart.