Disciplinary Code chapter 24

If he could go back in time, Ji Yao probably wouldn’t have taken that step.

Throughout a person’s life, it’s impossible to break free from shackles. Freedom has limitations, the sky has an end, and one’s life is bound by invisible factors—birth, family, upbringing, and the countless choices made in the past—all of these factors shape a complete person and then confine the concept of an “individual” to a certain logical pathway.

Generation after generation, the cycle repeats.

Few people can escape the cage, go against their instincts and habits, and choose a different path.

Ever since Ji Yao’s parents somehow heard some rumors, they had become increasingly concerned about Ji Yao.

Ji Yao moving out of the school wasn’t a secret. His professor and his father were friends; they often played golf together and talked about Ji Yao’s recent situation.

His parents were very concerned about Ji Yao’s “abnormal behavior.” They had asked him a few times, and Ji Yao had only said that his dorm mates coming and going late at night disturbed his rest, so he had rented a place with a classmate outside school.

This answer clearly wasn’t enough to convince his parents, but at that time, Ji Yao’s studies were at a crucial stage. So, his father and mother didn’t say anything, nor did they delve deep into finding out who that “classmate” really was.

It was quite funny; they were afraid of Ji Yao’s sexual orientation, fearing that the rumors might turn into reality. They couldn’t resist trying to uncover his hidden life. But after trying time and time again and failing, they didn’t have the courage to directly ask him about it. It was as if they were afraid of poking a hole, giving Ji Yao a sudden realization.

A fragile balance was maintained between them, both carefully hiding their thoughts.

The only difference was that as time went on, Ji Yao’s parents contacted him more and more frequently and racked their brains to find ways to make him return home.

Sometimes they would claim to be sick and not feeling well, sometimes they had social engagements, sometimes relatives were visiting, and they needed their child to come back and meet them—These fragmented, vague reasons became their way of probing Ji Yao, gradually encroaching on every aspect of his life.

“… Leaving again?”

Jiang Heng pressed Ji Yao against the floor-to-ceiling window, nibbling on his earlobe softly, his voice somewhat muffled, “What’s the matter this time?”

“Don’t know, they didn’t say,” Ji Yao said uncomfortably, shifting his shoulder, but Jiang Heng pressed him tighter, causing him to give up struggling. He leaned against the cold glass, almost his entire body sticking to it, “My mom just said it’s urgent.”

Jiang Heng chuckled softly, his lips following Ji Yao’s earlobe down, leaving light kisses on his neck.

Ji Yao was ticklish. Subconsciously, he tilted his head to the side, accidentally putting himself in Jiang Heng’s grasp.

“… Don’t leave a mark,” Ji Yao said.

“Hmm?” Jiang Heng pinched his waist and said, “Is there not enough here already?”

“Don’t leave any on my neck. My parents might see it,” Ji Yao said, “You can mark anywhere else.”

Jiang Heng laughed again, then lightly nibbled on his earlobe as if in punishment. Ji Yao hissed, afraid Jiang Heng would leave bite marks on him that others might see. He struggled out of his embrace, walking to the inner room to change.

Jiang Heng didn’t follow him, instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the glass window.

“Do you have to go back?” Jiang Heng said, a smile that wasn’t really a smile on his lips, “There might not be anything urgent, actually.”

Though he was smiling, Ji Yao could tell that he was actually a bit unhappy.

It wasn’t surprising; Jiang Heng had just finished a case. They had planned to go to a hot spring in the outskirts of Beijing two days later. Now that their plans were disrupted, it seemed he was going to stand Jiang Heng up again.

This wasn’t the first time; ever since Ji Yao’s parents began calling him back for various reasons, Ji Yao’s plans had been disrupted numerous times. One or two times might not matter, but after a dozen or twenty times, it was normal for Jiang Heng to be unhappy.

To be honest, Jiang Heng’s patience in bringing it up now was quite impressive.

Actually, Ji Yao knew that his mother’s “urgent matter” might end up being trivial, just some petty excuse they had conjured up. However, despite this, he couldn’t refuse.

“What if it’s really something this time?” Ji Yao, without letting on, avoided Jiang Heng’s gaze, turned his head, and zipped up his jacket, “I’m just going back to check on them.”

Jiang Heng had anticipated that he would say that and didn’t appear surprised.

He could tell that Ji Yao was still the same as before—a kitten before his parents, not saying anything, just rebelling behind their backs.

His mind desperately wanted to go against his parents’ control, but in the end, it was still restrained by invisible threads, like an elephant in the circus tethered by a thin iron chain.

As they spoke, Ji Yao had already finished getting dressed and walked out of the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment between leaving and turned to look at Jiang Heng.

Jiang Heng generously provided him with a way out, indicating that he wasn’t actually angry about this small matter.

He spread open his arms, making a hugging gesture.

Ji Yao walked over after placing the half-packed luggage to the side and hugged him.

“I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?” Ji Yao said.

Jiang Heng seemed a bit surprised by him saying that, his eyes slightly widening.

But soon, he recovered from his surprise and smiled warmly.

“How about coming back earlier this time?” Jiang Heng said.

As he said this, as if he was a bit thirsty, he casually reached out to the small table on the balcony and picked up a small dark blue starry sky cup.

Two cups were side by side on the table, and Jiang Heng’s gaze was still Ji Yao. Unaware of what he had picked up, he didn’t notice until he was about to take a sip that he had mistakenly taken Ji Yao’s cup.

However, Jiang Heng wasn’t particularly fussy, he hesitated for a moment, and then, without much thought, naturally took a sip.

In that moment, Ji Yao finally, belatedly realized that he and Jiang Heng had been entangled for too long. They had become so intertwined that they shared personal spaces, social circles, and their lives.

The wardrobe in the bedroom was divided in two—half for his clothes, half for Jiang Heng’s. In the bathroom, kitchen, and on the dining table, all the utensils were for two people. No matter who came to look, they could tell that they had formed a miniature “family.”

At this moment, in this not-so-big house, their lives had become deeply connected.

He couldn’t quite put into words how he felt. Countless complex and hidden emotions gathered within him, finally turning into a seed.

“… Okay,” Ji Yao said.