The Rise of a Special Forces Soldier Abandoned by a Wealthy Family

The first light of dawn had not yet completely dispelled the shadows inside the villa, but the kitchen area on the first floor was already filled with warm light and subtle sounds.

Lin Xiaoya, Tiezhu, and Ye Feng remained like three dutiful yet clumsy guards, fixed at the kitchen door, their eyes fixed on the busy, thin figure inside—He Jing.

He Jing was facing away from the door, intently cooking porridge in front of the stove, the rising steam blurring her slightly thin figure.

Her movements were skillful, something she had learned from many chefs, but her slightly bent back and the occasional gesture of gently patting the back of her neck betrayed her fatigue.

Just then, a very faint, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps came from the direction of the stairs.

Lin Xiaoya and the other two, who were immersed in complicated emotions, suddenly woke up, like cats whose tails had been stepped on, their muscles tensing up instantly!

They turned their heads abruptly, their gazes all fixed on the source of the sound—only to see Zeng Long standing silently at the top of the stairs!

He had clearly not slept all night; there were faint dark circles under his eyes, and his face appeared somewhat pale under the restaurant's cool lighting.

He held an empty water glass in his hand, his gaze first sweeping over his three companions, who looked like they were facing a formidable enemy and whose expressions were stiff, with a hint of confusion!

Immediately, his sharp, hawk-like gaze passed over them and precisely focused through the half-open door onto the kitchen, where he saw the busy woman with her back to him.

Zeng Long's brows furrowed instantly.

A strong sense of unease, like a cold snake, instantly coiled around his heart.

The tense, almost panicked expressions of Lin Xiaoya and the others, and the unfamiliar yet vaguely familiar figure in the kitchen...

"Boss... Boss!" Lin Xiaoya was the first to react, her voice trembling slightly.

She instinctively took a step forward, seemingly trying to block Zeng Long's view with her body, forcing an extremely unnatural smile onto her face:

"You...why did you come down? Do you want some water? I...I'll get you some!"

Tie Zhu was so flustered that he was at a loss for what to do. His huge body shifted unnaturally, his lips trembled but he couldn't make a sound. He could only lower his head like a child who had done something wrong, and unconsciously rub his toes against the clean floor.

Ye Feng was relatively calmer, but his eyes flickered quickly. He took a deep breath, as if he wanted to explain something.

But it was all too late.

Zeng Long completely ignored their clumsy attempts at cover-up.

The doubts in his heart swelled to their maximum at this moment.

He didn't say anything, but simply started walking, step by step, resolutely toward the kitchen door.

His footsteps were exceptionally clear in the quiet morning, each step seeming to tread on the hearts of Lin Xiaoya and the other two.

"Boss!"

"Boss!"

Lin Xiaoya and Tiezhu almost simultaneously let out a pleading cry.

Zeng Long seemed not to hear.

His gaze was fixed on that figure's back, and his heart began to pound uncontrollably...

A strange surge of emotion, mixed with panic and a premonition, rushed through his chest.

He walked to the kitchen door, and Lin Xiaoya subconsciously wanted to reach out to stop him, but was forced back by Zeng Long's cold, emotionless gaze.

His eyes were filled with an unquestionable inquiry and an unfathomable chill.

Then, he suddenly reached out and pushed open the slightly ajar kitchen door, which seemed to be shut out some huge secret.

"Squeak—"

The sound of the door hinges turning startled He Jing, who was tasting her bland porridge.

She turned around instinctively, still holding a small soup spoon in her hand, a satisfied and gentle smile on her lips, and looked towards the door.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Eyes facing each other.

The air instantly became thick and heavy, almost suffocating.

All the expressions on Zeng Long's face—the exhaustion of a sleepless night, deep doubt, and icy sharpness—

The moment I saw He Jing's face clearly, it was like glass shattering under a heavy hammer, collapsing with a deafening roar!

His pupils contracted to their limit in an instant, then suddenly dilated, filled with disbelief and shock, as well as the excruciating pain of an old wound being ripped open and bleeding profusely!

That face... that face he caught a glimpse of at the airport, yet it was etched deeply into his mind!

It's her! How could it be her!

The woman he couldn't help but imagine countless times when he was alone!

Why are they here? Why are they in his kitchen?

"Clang—!"

A crisp, piercing cracking sound abruptly shattered the villa's deathly silence.

The glass of water slipped from Zeng Long's hands as he instantly lost all strength!

He crashed to the cold, hard floor tiles, shattering into pieces. The shards of glass scattered across the floor mirrored the sudden collapse of his heart, reflecting the warm kitchen light yet radiating a chilling gleam.

He stood frozen in place, as if under a spell, completely still.

Only those eyes, fixed intently, almost greedily, and with immense pain, stared at He Jing's face, which had also instantly lost all color.

The moment He Jing turned around and saw Zeng Long, she felt as if she had been struck by lightning.

The gentle smile on her face froze instantly, then shattered like fragile porcelain, leaving only boundless panic, guilt, and a tremendous fear of having her secret suddenly exposed.

The soup ladle in her hand fell onto the stove with a "clatter," splashing a few drops of scalding hot porridge, but she was completely unaware.

Her lips trembled violently as she tried to say something, but no clear syllable could be uttered.

Only those eyes, which bore a resemblance to Zeng Long's, instantly filled with tears. Within them surged pent-up longing, heart-wrenching pain, helpless apology, and a despair bordering on humility, a fear of being pushed away again.

Looking into her son's eyes, filled with shock, pain, and conflict, she felt as if an invisible hand was gripping her heart tightly, making it hard to breathe.

She realized that the care she had carefully maintained and silently provided in the shadows had been completely shattered at this moment.

Lin Xiaoya, Tiezhu, and Ye Feng held their breath, barely daring to breathe, and nervously watched the mother and son.

They could see Zeng Long's hands hanging at his sides, trembling slightly uncontrollably, the veins on the back of his hands bulging from the extreme force.

At this moment, his tall and straight body seemed to be swaying precariously.

Do I hate it? Yes! Eighteen years of pain, eighteen years of loneliness and being "abandoned," and countless brushes with death on the battlefield—which of these wasn't related to that initial "negligence"?

Does it hurt? Yes, it hurts! Seeing his biological mother right in front of him, the deep-seated bond of blood was like an awakened volcano, scorching his internal organs.

Seeing the undisguised maternal love and guilt in her eyes, which were almost overflowing, he felt a sharp pang of heartache.

The immense contradiction, like a raging vortex, raged wildly in Zeng Long's mind, almost tearing his reason to shreds.

His eyes shifted unpredictably, sometimes cold as iron, sometimes filled with painful struggle, and sometimes bewildered and helpless.

Looking at the intense struggle on her son's face, He Jing felt as if her heart was being torn apart. She could no longer hold back, and tears streamed down her pale cheeks like broken pearls.

She took a small step forward, reached out her hand as if to touch her son, but then froze in mid-air, her voice choked with sobs, broken and fragmented:

"Little...Little Dragon...I...I'm sorry..."

That tearful cry of "Xiao Long" was like the last straw, completely shattering Zeng Long's fragile composure.

He abruptly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was a deep, suppressed chaos and exhaustion.

He avoided He Jing's burning gaze, filled with both expectation and despair, and instead focused his attention on the mess of broken glass scattered on the ground.

He did not respond to He Jing's calls, nor did he look at her again.

He managed to utter a few words with difficulty, his voice hoarse and almost distorted:

"...You can leave now."

After saying that, he turned around abruptly and strode towards the stairs as if fleeing.

His back was stiff and resolute, each step heavy as if he had used all his strength, yet it carried a sense of panic.

"Boss!" Lin Xiaoya couldn't help but call out.

Zeng Long didn't pause at all and quickly disappeared around the corner of the stairs.