The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 126 - Definitely brain damaged

The bowls were nearly empty now. Only the fading warmth of the broth lingered in the air as Dican leaned back slightly, his fingers still loosely holding the chopsticks. Bian sat across from him, watching quietly as the alien man methodically placed his utensils back on the tray.

"Do you eat stuff like this often?" Bian asked after a pause, keeping his tone light. "You said you’ve been on this planet a while."

Dican shrugged slightly. "When I have to."

"Do you like human food?" Bian tilted his head curiously, searching for something — anything — that could spark a longer conversation.

Dican nodded once. "Some of it is tolerable."

"That’s... the nicest thing you’ve said so far," Bian muttered under his breath, just enough to be heard.

Dican arched a brow but didn’t comment. The silence between them stretched, calm but charged.

"So... who were you talking to on the communicator earlier?" Bian asked suddenly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It sounded... urgent."

That did it.

The shift was immediate. Dican’s posture stiffened, his gaze hardening as he looked away, jaw tensing slightly. Whatever openness he’d shown in the last few minutes vanished like mist under a sudden wind.

"That’s none of your concern," he said quietly, voice like stone.

Bian blinked, then looked down at his hands. "Okay," he murmured. "Sorry."

The door to the kitchen creaked open and the noodle shop lady walked out, wiping her hands on a towel. She offered them both a smile.

"It’s getting dark," she said gently. "The city’s not safe anymore. You boys should rest here tonight. I’ll set up the room upstairs — it’s dusty but it’ll do."

Bian glanced up in surprise, but before he could answer, Dican was already standing. He adjusted his long coat, careful not to strain his healing leg.

"Thank you for the offer," he said, polite but distant. "But I have someone I must find. I can’t stay."

The woman frowned. "But—"

Before she could finish, Dican reached into the inner pocket of his coat. For a brief second, his fingers hesitated. He scratched his temple, the gesture almost sheepish — a subtle flash of discomfort.

Then he withdrew a small object and held it out to her.

It was a chunk of solidified gold, shimmering faintly even under the dusty lights. The surface glinted with an unnatural polish, almost like crystal, and radiated a faint warmth.

The woman stared at it, eyes widening. "Wha... what’s this?"

"Payment," Dican said with a half-smile, the edge of his lip quirking up in that effortless charm. "For the food, and for the kindness..."

She blinked, still holding the golden pebble in both hands as if afraid it would disappear.

"But this... this is too much—!"

Dican turned away without answering, coat flaring softly as he made his way to the door. "It’s just the right amount," he called over his shoulder, voice calm, almost teasing. "Thank you for the meal."

The bell above the noodle shop door jingled softly as he disappeared into the growing twilight.

The woman turned to Bian then, eyes searching. "You should stay, child. It’s dangerous out there. You can sleep in my son’s old room."

Bian stood slowly, brushing invisible dust off his shirt. He gave her a long, unreadable look.

"...I..," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "sorry, I can’t stay."

He didn’t explain why. He didn’t need to.

He turned and followed after Dican without looking back.

The woman watched the door swing shut, the golden pebble still warm in her hand.

So they walked and walked until they reached the city.

Bian could not even remember how long he walked.. maybe a day.. he still had no clue. But the sun was high up in the sky.

The broken skyline of the city loomed closer with every step.

Hollow buildings stretched upward like jagged teeth, smoke rising in the distance from collapsed structures.

Sirens had long since stopped wailing, and in their absence, the city breathed in silence.

Bian followed close behind Dican, his eyes flitting nervously to the shadows between buildings. He gripped the hem of his sleeve tightly, half-expecting another Grayling to slither out of the wreckage and attack them. But strangely... nothing came.

The first time it happened, Bian had thought it was a fluke—a Grayling had crept up behind Dican with a sickening hiss, tentacles raised, ready to lunge. But the moment Dican turned, just slightly, the creature froze mid-lurch. Then, with a choked shriek, it turned tail and bolted into the ruins.

The second time, a pair of the beasts stood at the far end of the street. They twitched with anticipation—until they caught sight of Dican’s silhouette. Both screeched and fled.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It was fear.

’They’re scared of him,’ Bian thought to himself with a grin. With this guy beside him his survival was guaranteed.

A heavy gust of wind pushed past them, carrying the smell of ash and blood.

Dican didn’t seem to notice.

Bian’s eyes lingered on him. ’General Xing.. how did this guy know him really...?’

His resolve hardened. Whatever this Farian was, sticking to him meant safety. Protection. And—if Bian played his cards right—maybe a life of security and luxury.

Just then, Dican came to a stop, pulling out the small phone once again. He tapped in the familiar number frustrated flick before pressing it to his ear.

Bian subtly inched closer, pretending to inspect a cracked wall nearby. His ears strained for sound, but all he heard was the static beeping of no response.

Dican frowned deeply. "What’s keeping him busy...?" he muttered under his breath. "Tsk. He asked me to meet him in the city, but didn’t even give an exact location."

His voice lowered to a pout as he sighed, hand dropping to his side.

The expression caught Bian off guard.

That small pout, the flicker of irritation in his eyes, the way his brows tugged together—it was... almost endearing.

Without thinking, Bian let out a soft laugh.

Dican immediately looked back, brows rising. "Why are you laughing?"

Bian shook his head quickly, a smile still lingering on his lips. "No reason. You just... looked kind of cute."

Dican blinked. The word cute hung in the air like a foul curse.

"...What?"

"You looked cute. You know, like a grumpy kitten," Bian clarified, lips twitching with amusement.

There was a pause—long enough that Bian almost worried he’d gone too far. But instead of getting angry, Dican just gave him a long, baffled stare.

"...This human is definitely brain damaged," he muttered, loud enough for Bian to hear, before rolling his eyes and turning back toward the city.

Bian bit his lips holding back the curse that was forming and followed quickly.

But as the silence returned between them, his smile faded slowly. He glanced again at the phone still clutched in Dican’s hand. ’where is general xing... I must meet him soon... I have to charm him soon!’