Chapter 49: Vulnerability (9)

49 – Vulnerability (9)

The rain grew heavier. Lin Ting walked up behind him and opened a white umbrella.

Raindrops soaked the white flower petals, giving them a crystalline translucence.

The cemetery was shrouded in misty rain, utterly silent.

In the memories of both Lin Xun and Lin Ting, there were very few fragments of their parents—they had been raised by their grandfather.

After their grandfather passed away, whenever Lin Xun stood before the tombstone, thinking of how that kind and wise old man had simply vanished from the world, leaving only a stone marker to stand in his place through wind, frost, rain, and snow, he would feel a certain… illusion about life and death. He thought, human death seemed to happen in just an instant.

He rarely allowed himself to be sentimental; the few times he did were reserved for the old man. It was like how he had always been a staunch materialist, yet when he thought of his grandfather, he wished that souls truly existed in this world.

Lin Ting stepped forward and spoke softly to their grandfather. She said she was about to graduate, her studio was getting on track, everything was going well—it all added up nicely. As she spoke, her eyes reddened once more.

A long while later, Lin Ting wiped the corners of her eyes and said to Lin Xun, “Let’s go.”

Lin Xun took one last look at the tombstone before turning to leave.

As they walked to the cemetery exit, they saw that beside the lone Jetta parked there earlier, a Phantom had now appeared.

A man in a black suit was stepping out of the car. He was tall, his clothes impeccably fitted, with shoulder-length hair that curled slightly.

The man carried no umbrella, simply walking forward. When he lifted his head, a face with sharp, deeply etched features and striking contrasts pierced into Lin Xun’s vision.

He appeared to be around forty, not yet showing signs of age, with perfectly proportioned, sharply defined features. However, the whites of his eyes were overly prominent, and his gaze was fixed and intense, giving off an obsessive, almost mentally unstable aura.

Lin Xun knew this man’s face.

Not only knew it—in some ways, it felt strangely familiar.

—This was Dong Chen, the pianist hailed as a devil, Dong Jun’s father, and the man who had directly or indirectly caused his wife’s death before abandoning his child. Just last night, the “Little Flirts” group chat had been flooded with messages saying, “dc is dead.”

Lin Xun passed by him—Dong Chen’s eyes seemed to see nothing, or perhaps he glanced at Lin Xun, perhaps not.

Lin Xun looked back.

Dong Chen had also come to this cemetery. Who was he here to see?

As far as Lin Xun knew, those buried here were all from the surrounding residential areas.

Lin Ting asked, “What are you looking at?”

Lin Xun turned back and said, “Nothing,” before continuing forward.

He thought perhaps Dong Chen’s wife was also buried here, and now that the man had finally returned to the country, he had come to see her.

As for Dong Chen’s marriage, it was a piece of gossip in its own right. During his school years, Lin Xun had spent a lot of time in the “Little Flirts of Dong Jun” group chat, where he had picked up quite a few rumors.

This particular story might not be true—Lin Xun felt it was exaggerated and fantastical, reading like a third-rate novel. It was said that the woman came from a prominent, wealthy family, fell in love with Dong Chen at first sight, and after they fell in love, she cut ties with her family to marry him. Marrying someone with mental instability is rarely easy, and six or seven years later, she indeed took her own life. By then, Dong Chen had already established himself in the music world. After her death, he left the country and stayed abroad for twenty years.

As for Dong Jun—he did not take him along. Similarly, his wife’s maternal family did not extend a helping hand. Dong Jun and his Galaxy remained a legend to this day.

Of course, if Dong Jun had been taken in and raised by his maternal family, then used their resources to found Galaxy, that could also have been achieved, but it would have lost a bit of its charm. The internet industry is like a great wave washing away the sand—in the end, only technology is truly reliable. Building a foundation with existing resources is impressive, but starting from scratch is what makes a true legend, and Dong Jun was exactly that—which made people even more curious about where and how Dong Jun spent his childhood and teenage years. Unfortunately, to this day, no one knew anything about it.

He got into the car and remained silent the whole way. At this hour, returning to Chaoyang District would be too late, and the journey too long. Following their usual habit from past years, he and Lin Ting headed back to the old house from their childhood, about an hour and a half’s drive away.

The old district hadn’t yet undergone modernization. Passing through the alley shaded by lush plane trees, they arrived at the old house. It was a two-story building, as were the neighboring houses. The walls were densely covered with ivy, and the pomegranate tree in the yard hadn’t yet bloomed.

The neighboring houses were lit up, and the aroma of rice wafted through the air—except for the house opposite, which seemed to have no one home.

Lin Xun tried to recall but found his memory hazy. He could only vaguely remember that this family had moved away many years ago.

After having a simple meal with Lin Ting, he went upstairs. Lin Xun’s room was on the second floor—small but cozy. The lighting was warm yellow, and opposite the bookshelf was a computer desk. The computer was a model from over a decade ago, grayish-white, with a small and bulky monitor that had long since aged. Whether it would turn on or not was a matter of luck—it ran the outdated XP system, long obsolete, but Lin Xun was sentimental and had kept it all this time.

Zhi Zhen was let out of the cat carrier, meowed once, then jumped onto the bed and settled down comfortably.

Lin Xun confirmed once again that this little cat truly wasn’t shy at all. In such an unfamiliar environment, anyone would think it had been a long-time resident.

Lin Xun set up the cat bowl and litter box, gave it some treats, wrapped it up like a caterpillar to brush its teeth, then held it in his arms and opened his laptop, feeling slightly conflicted.

He didn’t dare to video call Dong Jun.

It wasn’t because he thought the trending topic had affected Dong Jun, but… he had some other feelings.

Now, whenever he thought of Dong Jun’s Weibo post and the “^^” emoji, he couldn’t help but overthink.

After wrestling with his thoughts for a while, he still didn’t reach out to Dong Jun. Instead, he opened Weibo.

A whole day had passed, and the hype had finally subsided slightly. The heartbroken “wifey fans” were gradually recovering and coming to terms with reality… Wait, why were they all assuming Dong Jun really had a boyfriend?

Continuing to read the comments from netizens, opinions were clearly divided into three groups.

One group was jealous of Dong Jun, saying how great it was to be rich—you could pick any pretty boy you wanted.

Another group was jealous of him, saying how great it was to have good looks—you could attract a handsome and wealthy male god.

The third group had overly active imaginations and were spinning tales about a sugar daddy and his kept lover. They even dug up that Galaxy’s venture capital and funds had invested in several film and media companies, speculating that Dong Jun’s “little friend” was about to be launched into stardom—they completely ignored Galaxy’s investments in other industries.

Lin Xun: “?”

How did it come to this? Being called a boyfriend was one thing, but why was he now being portrayed as a kept, looks-dependent little star?

This was nothing short of a disgrace. For a programmer, code and algorithms were his true face—physical features were merely external. Even for someone like Dong Jun, if he couldn’t write elegant code, no matter how handsome he was, he wouldn’t be considered a god-like figure.

How shallow.

He calmly closed the social media platform, bidding farewell to the internet.

—No, not yet. Because the very next moment, he received a video call invitation from Dong Jun.