Chapter 33 - The power of mutual need

Rege watched in exasperation as Cassia, who hadn’t even been invited, sat down calmly, removed her white silk gloves, and politely applauded the performance on stage.

Jian Qiao’s voice was impassive: “Three days ago we made an agreement. And three days later you broke our agreement. Since that’s the case, I won’t interfere in your affairs in the future. I shouldn’t have meddled.”

As he said this, he continued to gaze at the dwarfs without any expression on his face.

He had so little trust left in human beings. Reluctantly and with great trepidation he’d dared to believe in another person for the first time, and this was the outcome. What he thought of as care and protection might just be a burden for Rege.

“No, I didn’t! I didn’t even invite this woman! Butler, butler! Get over here!” Rege was so anxious his head was dripping sweat.

He took hold of Jian Qiao’s cold hand and explained urgently, “Jian, I’ll do what I promised you, I—”

Without waiting for him to explain further, and without waiting for the panicked butler to reach their table, the old Duke slowly said, “I invited her. When I saw she was not on the guest list, I added her myself. I didn’t want the servants to miss the most important guest. I thought you bought these dwarfs to make her laugh, and the reason you spent so much time rehearsing was to gain her favor.”

The old Duke looked at his son and said softly, “I wanted you to win the bet. And I wanted you to get back the ring engraved with the family crest.”

Clearly he was very informed about Rege’s affairs. He knew about the game, and he knew Cassia was the target his son was chasing.

He thought he was helping his son.

For a few seconds Rege was stunned. Then he revealed an expression of intense anger.

He suddenly approached the old Duke, oppressing him with his unusually tall body, and pointed at his nose. In a low growl he said, “You think, you think, everything is what you think! You impose your will on all of us, but never consider our feelings!

“Do you think I like war and killing? No, I don’t! When I was five years old I told you I wanted to become a wayfaring knight, but you said all the men of Grande have to be soldiers. So I became a soldier.

“Do you know what happened when I went to war for the first time and saw blood and hacked up limbs all over the ground? I vomited! And because of that, I almost got my head cut off by the enemy. When I left the battlefield I was still vomiting. I vomited for three days and nights and almost fainted! I was only fifteen years old at the time!

“But I had to overcome that fear because you wouldn’t approve! If I couldn’t be a brave and fearless warrior I wouldn’t be worthy of being your son. I’d be banished, even stripped of the Grande name! I didn’t want to be the good-for-nothing you said I was, so I forced myself to wade through blood, to wallow in killing, and finally became a monster born for war.

“But while I was giving everything, even my life, to win glory for Grande, Hall got your unconditional love without doing a thing. Hall enjoyed the power I brought and took away the wealth and land I won on the field of battle, because you loved him unconditionally! You didn’t ask him to do anything! He had only one identity—your beloved son. You were willing to give him everything, including what I and Moen had! So I came to understand there were some things I’d never have, like my father’s love.”

Rege shook his head and said with hatred in every word, “In my heart, my father is already dead! The only way you can help me is to never bother me!”

The old Duke looked at him in amazement. His muddy eyes trembled with tears.

He never knew his son endured so much pain the first time he went to war. And he never thought about how his younger son struggled to survive on the battlefield while his older son relaxed in a castle full of flowers, sipping afternoon tea.

It never occurred to him that these drastically different situations were unfair.

He never really thought about it….

“I’m sorry, my child, I’m sorry!”

Except for repeating these words over and over in a trembling voice, the old Duke was speechless.

The stage actors were reciting poetry and expressing their love, the audience was roaring with laughter and applauding wildly. No one noticed the war going on in the corner.

The opulent banquet hall seemed to be divided into two worlds by two extremes of emotion.

Rege’s low roar was the accusation of a traumatized soul. His sky blue eyes were no longer vast and clear-sighted, but dark with hostility and resentment.

Like a wounded lion he was growling at the enemy who threatened him.

The old Duke fell back, his expression remorseful and sad, and tears welled up in his eyes as if they’d fall any second.

Some people began to notice the tension between father and son, and looked away.

Jian Qiao finally realized he’d misunderstood Rege. He hurriedly put his arm around Rege’s shoulders and soothed him in a low voice, “Calm down, my dear, calm down.”

Sensing that this wasn’t enough, he cupped Rege’s face which was still distorted by anger, and looked deeply into his darkened eyes. He murmured, “ Everything is over, you’re here now, you’re fine. ” Then he began to caress Rege’s cheeks over and over, smoothing his tightly furrowed brow again and again.

The feeling of distress was getting stronger and stronger, so he took Rege’s head into his arms, gently rubbing his hair, and his voice was low and coaxing. “Shh, shh, it’s all in the past. Listen to the singing on stage, look at the merry performance, and you’ll be fine. No, you’re already better. You’re still standing, you’re still alive, and that’s the best.”

As he spoke, Jian Qiao’s eyes filled with tears.

His heart was breaking for the fifteen-year-old Rege. He’d thought such a bright and sunny person must have lived in happiness and joy. He never thought that Rege’s childhood and golden teenage years were actually spent in hell.

It wasn’t until then that he understood why Rege attracted him so strongly.

Rege had been in hell, but he’d walked out step by step. He overcame his fear of blood, of war, of death. He hadn’t lost his ideals, his faith, or his hope. He didn’t develop a gloomy, depressed, or fragile personality.

He’d saved himself.

Despite suffering so cruelly, he wasn’t broken. His mental strength was incredible, and that was what Jian Qiao needed most.

So, like a moth, he rushed towards this burning flame. He sought to feel the light and heat from Rege.

Thinking of this, Jian Qiao whispered with emotion, “Ray, do you know something? Because of you, I thanked God for the first time. I thank Him for sheltering you and allowing you to survive the war; I thank Him for letting us meet and become dear friends. I’m thankful for everything I have now.”

Hearing these grateful, rejoicing words, the flame of anger in Rege’s heart slowly extinguished. He had suddenly found the reason for his existence, and all the pain he experienced in the past became unimportant.

When he looked over at his father, Rege didn’t even think he was that hateful.

He regained his composure and calm.

“Jian, I’m fine,” he cleared his throat and spoke with great embarrassment.

Jian Qiao was lightly stroking his cheek and hair, the same gesture a mother would make when calming her young son.

With his gentle soothing, the last trace of anger in Rege’s heart disappeared. Scores of feathers were falling on him, tickling the tip of his heart, stirring up a tingling, numbing sensation.

After the eruption of fury, Rege didn’t feel empty or exhausted. Instead he gained the comfort and satisfaction of being able to reconcile his feelings.

This was the strength Jian Qiao gave him. His power was as gentle as water, and it made him want to indulge in it forever.

If not for Jian Qiao, Rege’s flame would have continued to smolder. It would have eventually burned him as well as others to ash.

He gave Jian Qiao a little hug and said again, “I’m really fine now. Thank you, dear.”

Only then did Jian Qiao release him. With his face still full of worry he peered down to see Rege’s expression.

Rege gave him an awkward and ingratiating smile. It truly was an example of “a temper that comes and goes quickly”. A moment ago he was like a grenade, wanting to blow up the old Duke, but now he was as mild as a ball of dough.

Jian Qiao nodded slowly. The haze in his dark eyes dispersed, revealing a glimmer of light.

The old Duke stood up from his chair and said in a trembling voice, “I understand. I won’t bother you again.”

His hunched spine seemed to be pressed down by something too heavy to bear, and he looked like he was about to collapse. Just getting to his feet took all his strength, so much so that his body was swaying slightly.

“Please sit down, sir. Everyone is watching.” Jian Qiao gently patted the back of the old Duke’s hand, reminding him not to let the guests notice anything amiss.

He felt obligated to maintain his best friend’s dignity.

The old Duke waved his hands with difficulty, tried to shift his chair with some effort, and almost fell down. The pain and regret in his heart robbed him of his strength.

The butler hurriedly came forward to assist, his expression worried.

Rege said coldly, “Sit down and watch the show. I wrote the next few scenes myself. To be honest, the plot is fantastic.”

His boasting provoked a teasing glance from Jian Qiao.

Rege really was a big tree growing in the sun. He’d never let himself take root in a dark corner.

The old Duke’s eyes suddenly lit up, but his expression still contained some disbelief. Did his son really ask him to stay?

Rege lifted his chin and said again, “Sit down.”

He didn’t know why, but as long as Jian Qiao was by his side, he could put up with all manner of distasteful people and things.

“Well, well, let’s watch the performance together.” The old Duke sat down quickly and his gaze moved to the stage. He was afraid he’d be driven away if he didn’t listen to his son.

The butler silently retreated to the corner.

The guests who’d craned their necks to see what was going on also returned their attention to the dwarfs’ performance.

Jian Qiao held Rege’s large hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Rege wrapped Jian Qiao’s fingers around his, gripping his hand firmly, then picked up his wine glass and took a mouthful.

All right, whatever Jian says is fine. He wants the old man to stay, so let him stay.

Meanwhile, Cassia, who never before had revealed any amusement in front of the powerful nobles of Grande, suddenly clapped her hands and let out a silvery laugh. She didn’t care at all what the family was fighting about or what grudges they had. She was completely absorbed in the performance.

To put it plainly, even if these people drew swords in front of her and cut each other down, even if one or two of them died, what did that have to do with her?

What game, what bet? Did they think she was merchandise?

She’d had enough of these bastards! Now she laughed when she wanted to and never held anything back.

So the entire hall heard the courtesan’s loud, unladylike laughter.

The faces of Prince Andrew and his gang of rabble all turned black. Exchanging glances they indignantly said, “Dammit, Rege wins again!”