Chapter 491: Day 19 into the Alien War Story
Chapter 491: Day 19 into the Alien War Story
Chapter 491: Day Nineteen in the Alien War Story
An Qionglan stood there, looking at the boy who was already taller than her—this kid who never cried easily, always steady and restrained—now sobbing, yet still fighting to keep his face calm.
Her heart clenched painfully.
That night, An Qionglan couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, listening to the steady rhythm of the waves outside, her mind replaying An Cheng's tear-streaked face on a loop.
Xiao Cheng's feelings for Xiao Yi... had shifted.
It wasn't brotherly love anymore.
It was...
She sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
The dim yellow light flickered shadows across the wall, just like her thoughts.
As a mother, she instinctively wanted her child to take a "normal" path—fewer bumps, more ease.
She didn't care about homosexuality; that wasn't the problem.
But legally, socially, and in everyone's eyes, they were brothers.
This path would be too hard—the stares, the gossip, the pressure... she didn't dare to think about it.
And from what she saw today, Xiao Yi must have figured it out, and then... rejected him.
And Xiao Cheng was hurting badly.
What was she supposed to do?
Step in? Pretend she didn't know? Or...
She had no idea.
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An Cheng didn't have the headspace to wonder if his mother had already picked up on his secret.
He was lying in bed, the room pitch black, only the glow of his phone screen lighting up his face.
He had his earphones in, listening to a recording on his phone on repeat.
He'd secretly recorded it earlier.
Earlier, they'd been sitting in the courtyard, the sea breeze rustling the leaves.
An Yi was leaning back in the rattan chair, phone in hand, apparently replying to someone.
Was it that friend from elementary school? Lin Yiduo?
Or that Shu Tiantian?
The screen's glow lit his face, his usually calm eyes lowered, lashes casting long shadows in the light.
An Cheng couldn't stop watching him.
Watched his slender fingers glide across the screen, watched the light dance on his lashes, watched the clean, pale nape of his neck above the T-shirt collar...
On a whim, he pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and hit record.
Then he asked, "You wanna go surfing tomorrow?"
An Yi finally looked up at him.
His eyes were light amber in the glow—clear as glass, yet impossibly deep.
He looked at An Cheng for a few seconds, then said, "Sure."
Then he paused, as if remembering something, and added.
The words were soft, but above the waves, in the wind, against An Cheng's frayed nerves, they hit like a thunderclap.
"An Cheng... you're my brother."
An Cheng's heart stopped in that instant—
He hit stop on the recording, put his phone away, and nodded, saying:
"Mm."
His voice was as calm as if nothing had happened.
Now, he plugged in his earphones and hit play on that recording.
After a faint crackle of static came the soft sound of a screen being tapped, then his own voice: "You wanna go surfing tomorrow?"
Then An Yi's voice: "Sure."
A beat.
"An Cheng... you're my brother."
An Cheng closed his eyes and played that sentence ten times, twenty times, a hundred times...
"An Cheng."
"An Cheng."
"An Cheng."
Every time he heard it, his heart clenched, his eardrums vibrating at those two words.
He wasn't calling him "bro" —he was saying his name.
Then using "you're my brother" to draw the line.
He was his big brother.
An Cheng knew Xiao Yi was telling him: I've noticed the shift, I get what you're feeling, but I don't want to change what we are.
We're brothers. We were, we are, and we always will be.
An Cheng opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling.
In the dark, only the phone's glow remained, reflecting off his blank face.
From the earphones, over and over:
"An Cheng."
"An Cheng."
"An Cheng."
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The flight from Haiqi City back to Xinglin City landed on time at three in the afternoon.
The moment the cabin door opened, the humid, stifling air surged in like a wave, instantly overwhelming the dry air-conditioned coolness inside.
Passengers rose from their seats to retrieve their luggage, the aisle filled with soft sounds and hushed conversations.
Getting off the plane, An Qionglan once again walked at the front.
Today she wore a pair of brown-tinted square sunglasses with oversized lenses that covered most of her face, leaving only her tightly pressed lips and jawline visible—making it impossible to read her expression or guess her current mood.
An Cheng followed, pushing a luggage cart.
His hands rested on the cart's handle, knuckles whitening from the tightness of his grip, the faint blue veins on the back of his hands clearly visible.
He pushed steadily, but his gaze remained locked on the figure in front of him.
An Yi was holding the cart with one hand while his other hand was on his phone, eyes lowered to the screen.
The cold white lights of the airport terminal poured down from above, falling across his face and giving his skin an almost translucent, unreal quality.
His eyelashes were long, casting delicate fan-shaped shadows on his eyelids when lowered, trembling gently with each blink.
People passing by turned to look at him.
More than one.
Some even raised their phones, trying to snap a photo on the sly.
It was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a T-shirt bearing some band's logo. The way he raised his phone was subtle, but An Cheng caught it.
In an instant, An Cheng's eyes hardened.
His stare cut through the air like a blade. The young man's raised hand froze mid-air, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face before he sheepishly lowered his phone and hurried away.
"Xiao Yi, Xiao Cheng."
An Qionglan turned back, her voice carrying a forced cheerfulness—so forced it was like a thin sugar coating, ready to crack at the slightest touch and reveal the bitterness underneath.
"Come on, the car's already waiting outside." She turned and continued walking, her high heels clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm. "We'll drop our bags at home first, then have a big dinner tonight—a nice treat for our long journey."
An Yi looked up.
He put away his phone, turned to An Qionglan, and smiled at her as if nothing had happened.
The smile was natural, eyes curving slightly, a gentle warmth in them.
"Sure, Mom. What are you in the mood for?"
His voice was clear, his tone relaxed—as if the hours of silence on the plane had never happened, as if that night by the sea had never occurred, as if the invisible rift between him and An Cheng were just an illusion.
An Qionglan's heart clenched.
Xiao Yi... seemed totally unfazed.
She recalled the scene she'd witnessed in the villa courtyard—Xiao Cheng's silently weeping face, and Xiao Yi calmly turning and walking away.
One drowning in pain, the other walking away in peace.