The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 113 - Shimmering gem

On the other side of the hills, Jian watched the city collapse in eerie silence.

From the window of the cab, the flames looked like curling fingers clawing at the sky. The second blast had torn through concrete and metal like it was paper. Towers he remembered walking past just hours ago were now nothing but pillars of smoke. The shockwave still echoed in his ears, dull and distant, like the heartbeat of a dying beast.

His lips were pressed into a thin line.

He simply watched, a deep frown etched across his face.

Just like last time.

Nothing changed.

He remembered it all now—the speed at which destruction spread. The blinding light, the unbearable noise, and the silence that followed. The second blast was always worse. Unnatural. It hadn’t just flattened buildings—it had taken everything in its path. Lives, memories, entire futures.

There was no sound form the city. no screams.. nothing. just.. just everyone died. silently.

’Thank god that stupid Bian at least took Grandpa out of there,’ Jian thought bitterly. His fingers clenched around the seatbelt across his chest. ’If he hadn’t... I wouldn’t have forgiven him. Not even after death.’

The cab driver, a man in his late forties, was trembling. Sweat soaked the back of his shirt, and he finally pulled over to the side of the empty road, switching off the engine. For a moment, there was only the distant crackling of flames and the low hum of the wind.

The driver twisted in his seat, pale and breathless, holding his head in both hands.

"My god... Oh my god..." he whispered, voice shaking. "Oh my god..."

Nansich let out a curse. "shit! Do.. do you think anyone survived..."

"I don’t know..." jian replied softly.

"Gods...." the cab driver mumbled under his breath, his knuckles white as he clutched the steering wheel.

His eyes flicked from the blazing horizon back to the boys in his rearview mirror—no, men, maybe, but still so young. They hadn’t said much during the ride, but now, pieces of their short conversation echoed in his mind like puzzle fragments coming together.

******

Just an hour ago.

They had flagged him down by the edge of the main road—two boys, dusty and disheveled, faces grim with purpose. He’d been hesitant to stop at first. These were dangerous times, and he didn’t want trouble. But something in their expressions... something made him pull over.

"Please," the taller one had said, his voice calm but firm. "We need to get to the outskirts. Can you drive us?"

"But..." he had replied, scratching his stubble.

"please sir. We’ll even pay extra," The boy looked at him desperately.

"Fine get in. I’m not heartless enough to charge extra for kids."

They slid into the backseat. The shorter one, with sharper eyes and a lean frame, had leaned forward and asked softly, "Do you have family in the city?"

He’d blinked, surprised by the sudden question. "No. My folks run the farm on the edge of the zone. It’s not fouling season yet, so there’s not much to do. figured I’d make some cash. My cousins take care of the farm. We don’t come to the city unless we need to sell." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

The boy had nodded slowly, almost with relief.

"If there’s anyone you care about in the city," he had added, voice low, "you should tell them to leave. Tonight."

Back then, he had thought the boy was just being dramatic. Or maybe scared. But now... now the weight of that statement crushed his chest.

He swallowed hard, the smell of smoke reaching them even from here.

He turned to look again at the two boys in the backseat. The shorter one—was staring ahead, unreadable, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed the storm within.

The other boy, taller and broader with wide eyes, was pale and trembling, clearly struggling to process the destruction before them.

The driver’s voice cracked. "He... he knew. You... you knew this would happen, didn’t you?"

Jian didn’t respond.

The driver looked at him in horror and awe. "Why didn’t you say anything? You could have—"

"I did." Jian’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible. "But no one listens when it sounds like fear."

He opened the door, stepping out onto the gravel shoulder.

"Wait—where are you going?" the driver called out.

Jian turned, silhouetted against the dull red glow of the city ruins.

"To find someone before it’s too late."

Jian gestured for Nansich to step out.

Nansich’s feet crunched against the gravel as he stepped out of the car. He looked smaller than ever—frail, almost, next to the carnage in the distance. His wide eyes clung to Jian’s back like a child clings to the fading shadow of a parent walking into danger.

"Jian..." His voice cracked. "Did you really know that was going to happen?"

No answer came immediately. The road was quiet. The wind stirred the orchard leaves behind them. Somewhere, a cow lowed in distress. The city’s glow was no longer light—it was fire.

Nansich took a shaky step forward. It was getting late, and the outskirts had little light to offer. He couldn’t see Jian’s full expression—only the way the moonlight painted his side profile. And in that dim silver hue, Jian’s face looked almost inhuman, carved from sorrow and silence. Coldly beautiful. A figure from a myth too distant to touch.

Then Nansich saw it.

A faint shimmer between Jian’s brows.

A gem, no—something more alive than that.

It glowed with a strange iridescence, flickering between pale blue and green. The mark looked like it had grown from his skin. It pulsed ever so slightly, in sync with Jian’s breath.

"What..." Nansich whispered, eyes wide. "What are you?"

That finally made Jian turn his head. His lips curved into something that tried to be a smile, but didn’t quite make it.

"I wish I knew," he said quietly.

Suddenly the gem on his forehead disappeared. Like it was just a mirage. Nansich rubbed his eyes and looked again. It was not there...

’am I just imagining things...’