The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 103 - Initial blast

Jian sat stiffly in the far corner of the tractor’s bench, his back pressed against the cold metal side. The seat beside him was dirtied with dried leaves and a mud-caked glove, so he perched at the edge, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Nansich. His fingers dug into the edge of the seat, clenched so tightly the skin stretched pale.

"Ahmm... where are you going today, milord?" Nansich said in a ridiculous British accent, trying to lighten the heavy silence between them.

Jian turned his head slowly and stared at him blankly. His eyes were empty—not angry, not amused. Just... tired.

"The plaza," he said, voice low and without inflection.

"Oh, our old hangout spot!" Nansich chuckled nervously. "Who you meeting there? Got new friends?" His voice cracked slightly at the word "friends," like it wasn’t something he knew how to say without irony.

Jian didn’t reply. He looked out at the passing orchards, eyes fixed on the horizon. Trees blurred together—rows of brown trunks and green leaves. They reminded him of simpler times, when his only escape from home had been running through fields like those, breathing in air that didn’t hurt.

Nansich kept glancing his way, trying to read the silence. His eyes landed on the gold-splattered stains that shimmered faintly on Jian’s torn shirt. "Is... is that fashionable now?" he asked, almost whispering. "It kind of looks good..."

Still, Jian didn’t speak.

"I heard you got adopted by the Wangs," Nansich said, voice tentative. "Bian came crying to me that day. He wanted me to come beat you up."

That made Jian’s head turn.

His eyes narrowed.

"And?" he asked sharply.

Nansich kept his gaze on the road. He shrugged, but the movement was tight, almost self-conscious. "And I didn’t. I just... I don’t know. Something in me said no. I wanted to turn over a new leaf. I don’t like hurting people anymore."

Jian scoffed. It wasn’t a loud sound—but it was sharp enough to cut. "Says the guy who tormented me every day. Who laughed when Bian locked me in the trash pit. Who spit in my lunch tray and called me a dog."

Nansich winced. The steering wheel creaked under his tightening grip.

"I know," he said, voice barely audible. "I know I was a piece of shit. I was just a dumb kid, following Bian around like a stray mutt... I’m sorry. I know sorry doesn’t mean anything now. I just... I wanted to say it anyway. I am sorry, Jian. I really am."

Jian looked at him fully this time.

He saw the dyed yellow hair, faded at the roots to a soft, healthy black. He saw the same boy who used to pull chairs out from under him, now sitting with slouched shoulders and shame written across his face. There was a nervous smile tugging at his lips as he drove.

And Jian looked away.

He didn’t believe in apologies. Not anymore.

People only came close to him only to use him, abuse him or to kill him.

He had lost all his ability to trust another person in his life. Just his grandpa.. he was all that mattered. No one else.

So he retreated back into silence, resting his cheek against his knuckles, eyes gazing blankly at the blur of orchards racing past the roadside. fгeewebnovёl.com

Soon the tractor came to a rumbling stop at the faded red stop sign. Nansich tapped the steering wheel nervously, his fingers twitching as he scanned both ends of the road.

"I... I don’t have a license yet," he admitted under his breath. "I’m actually not supposed to drive this thing out to the city. If I get caught by the cops, my dad’s gonna kill me..."

Jian didn’t wait for him to finish. He reached for the rusted handle and pushed the door open with a loud creak.

"Hey! Wait!" Nansich called, alarmed.

Jian had already jumped off, his feet crunching against the gravel road.

The stoplight turned green with a faint click.

Nansich cursed and hurriedly drove the tractor forward, pulling up alongside Jian again. He leaned out the window, brow furrowed. "Why did you get down like that? Don’t you know how dangerous that was? You said the plaza. It’s far from here!"

Jian didn’t even glance at him. He threw his backpack over one shoulder and started walking briskly down the side of the road.

"I’ll walk," he said flatly.

"Shit," Nansich muttered, and rolled the tractor forward to keep up with him, the engine sputtering beside Jian like an annoying companion that refused to go away.

"Come on," he called, softer this time. "I really... I just wanted to give you a ride."

Jian ignored him.

He kept his eyes ahead, but every few seconds, they flickered up toward the sky.

The air had changed.

Above them, the alien ships loomed heavier now—descending slowly, humming with unnatural energy. A hatch had opened on the nearest one, revealing a chilling glow. People had stopped their cars, stepping out to point and record on shaky phones. Others, wiser or simply more afraid, were already reversing, speeding away from the city.

Smart people, Jian thought. If only I had that luxury.

He had wanted to leave too.

But Bian had dragged Grandpa into the war zone. And now he had no choice.

Jian took a sudden sharp turn into a narrow alley.

Behind him, he heard Nansich slam the tractor door shut.

"Fuck!" Nansich cursed and sprinted after him. "Hey! I think you’re going the wrong way!"

Jian paused mid-step, the realization stinging as he slowly turned back.

"You have no idea where the plaza is, do you?" Nansich said between breaths, a smug grin beginning to form on his flushed face.

Jian grit his teeth, humiliated.

"The plaza is not a hotel," Nansich added, tone lighter now, like he had the upper hand.

"Where is it?" Jian asked, flat but tense.

Nansich lit up with the attention, all too eager. "I’ll take you there. It’s just a hangout spot. We call it ’the plaza’ because it sounds fancy, but really, it’s just a backyard clearing with some chairs and an old shed. We smoke, drink, no one bothers us there."

He grinned down at Jian, mischief in his eyes.

Jian didn’t respond.

Instead, his eyes lifted again—drawn instinctively to the sky.

To the ship.

The glow had changed.

A ball of red light was forming at the hatch, pulsing with heat, spinning faster and faster like a miniature sun about to explode.

His heart slammed into his ribs.

Every nerve in his body screamed.

"GET DOWN!"

The words tore out of his throat, raw and panicked.

The world exploded a second later.

The red sphere shot down at breakneck speed, whistling through the air like a missile. It hit the street with a deafening boom, sending a shockwave of fire and ash ripping through the buildings. Glass shattered. Trees snapped. Cars lifted into the air like toys.

The force picked Jian up off his feet and flung him backward into the alley.

He hit the dumpster hard.

Metal met flesh.

Pain bloomed across his back like fire.

Next to him, Nansich crashed with a guttural cry, colliding shoulder-first into a pile of trash bins.

Then—silence.

Or what felt like silence.

There was ringing in Jian’s ears, sharp and shrill. Dust clogged his throat. Smoke curled through the alley like fingers. The sky above flickered orange, smeared with fire and falling debris.

He blinked.

His hands were trembling. His knees scraped open. His breath came in gasps.

But he was alive.

He turned his head to the side and saw Nansich lying against the wall, coughing, his arm shielding his face from falling ash.

Jian wanted to move.

But for a moment, he simply lay there.

Staring at the crumbled street beyond the alley