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

Hearing her son say with pain and inner turmoil, "Go away!" He Jing felt as if her soul had been ripped out.

Her eyes were vacant, and she staggered, almost instinctively, as she moved step by step out of the villa's entrance and into the cool, damp air outside.

The chill of the early morning felt like fine needles pricking her thin clothes, but she was completely unaware.

She slowly turned around, tilted her head back, and with a precise gaze, filled with an almost desperate plea, cast her eyes towards the tightly closed window on the second floor—

That was Zeng Long's room. Behind the window, all was dark, as if swallowing up all the light and her hope.

Tears streamed down her face again, leaving cold marks on her pale, haggard face.

With trembling, extremely slow movements, she stretched out her withered hands and raised them towards the window, as if from a great distance, carefully cupping her son's conflicted and resistant cheeks.

Her head tilted slightly toward that non-existent "cheek," her movements as gentle as if she were protecting the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

That was a mother's most instinctive and intimate gesture toward her child, filled with endless love, deep longing, and unspeakable guilt.

The faint morning light outlined her thin, slightly hunched figure, casting a long, lonely, and sorrowful shadow on the ground.

She stood there, frozen, like a sculpture steeped in sorrow and helplessness, murmuring listlessly, her voice so soft that only she could hear it:

"Long'er... my child... Mommy is so sorry... so sorry..."

Then, she maintained that pose of cupping her face in mid-air and tilting her head affectionately...

Stumbling along the quiet path, like a lost lamb, I walked alone, my steps uneven, as if banishing myself into the boundless cold and darkness.

Crystalline tears, with each staggering step, fell one by one onto the cold cement pavement, spreading out small, dark, wet patches.

Inside the room on the second floor, Zeng Long was hidden in absolute darkness.

He didn't turn on the light; his tall figure seemed nailed to the window, and behind the gap in the curtains were his eyes, burning with the intensity of a violent storm.

He witnessed everything that happened downstairs.

He saw her distraught back, the despair in her eyes as she looked up, and the way she trembled as she reached out her hands to make that intimate gesture that made his heart stop…

Every detail was like a red-hot branding iron, searing the depths of his soul.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked from the excessive force, sounding particularly jarring in the deathly silent room.

His other hand pressed so hard on the cold wall that it almost left a fingerprint.

My heart is experiencing an unprecedented and intense internal struggle.

A voice coldly reminded him:

Eighteen years of loneliness and trauma—why did he have to endure such a hellish experience from birth? This thorn is deeply embedded in his heart!

Another voice, however, roared with uncontrollable heartache and anxiety:

Look at her! Look at the woman who gave birth to you! She too is experiencing boundless pain and torment; she is so thin, so miserable and helpless!

The way she's cupping the air in her hands is like she's cupping your face! She's crying! But for whom are her tears?

Was all the meticulous care in every corner of this villa, and the familiar and comforting taste of home-cooked meals, just an illusion?!

As He Jing staggered, still maintaining that illusory, intimate pose, tears dripped continuously onto the path!

Zeng Long's mind flashed back to that anxious figure at the airport, filled with heartache and guilt!

Flashback to every detail of how everything was quietly and meticulously arranged after moving into the villa!

That warmth that seeps into the cracks of life, almost painful to the bone...

These images, like a surging warm current, instantly breached the cold dam he had forcibly built.

Hatred and pain still exist, but at this moment, the inseparable bond from the depths of blood, and the immense heartache from witnessing his mother's miserable state, overwhelmed everything!

"Ugh—!" A suppressed growl, like that of a trapped beast, escaped from deep within Zeng Long's throat.

He could no longer endure this torment within his heart!

He turned around abruptly, his movements so fast they created a gust of wind! In the darkness, he precisely flung open the door and, like a bolt of lightning out of control, dashed down the stairs in a few steps!

"Bang!" His figure appeared in the first-floor living room like a demon, his gaze like a red-hot knife, instantly piercing Lin Xiaoya, Tiezhu and Ye Feng, who were still frozen in place, their faces full of worry and helplessness.

Zeng Long's chest heaved violently, almost roaring at them. His voice was hoarse and strained from the extreme emotional turmoil, carrying an undeniable command and a hint of panic that even he himself was unaware of:

"What are you three standing there for?! Go after her! It's freezing cold this early in the morning?! Bring her back to me!!!"

The last word was almost roared out, echoing throughout the entire villa.

Ye Feng was the first to react!

The instant Zeng Long finished speaking, his eyes suddenly sharpened, and his figure transformed into a blurry black shadow—

Without the slightest hesitation, he shot out of the gate like an arrow released from a bow, so fast that he left only a blur in the air!

Lin Xiaoya and Tiezhu were jolted by Zeng Long's roar, and then, a huge surge of joy exploded in their minds like fireworks!

"Ah...good! Good! Good!!" Tie Zhu's face turned red with excitement, his massive body trembled slightly with excitement, and he responded incoherently!

Then, like a wild bear awakened, he strode out and charged forward, the floor seemingly trembling under his footsteps.

Lin Xiaoya was so surprised she almost jumped up. She covered her mouth, her eyes instantly reddening. Without any hesitation, her petite figure, like a light swallow, followed Tiezhu out the door.

On the path outside the villa, He Jing remained immersed in her own world of sorrow, seemingly oblivious to the footsteps rushing towards her from behind.

She just numbly maintained that heartbreaking posture, moving forward step by step.

"Aunt!"

Ye Feng was the first to arrive, his figure appearing silently in front of her like a ghost. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were filled with urgency.

Immediately afterward, Tie Zhu and Lin Xiaoya caught up, panting, and surrounded her from both sides.

He Jing raised her head blankly, looking at the three of them through tear-filled eyes. She forced a bitter smile, her voice broken and desperate:

Good children... go back... Auntie doesn't blame Xiaolong, it's Auntie's fault... it's all Auntie's fault... I just... just seeing him like that, my heart... my heart aches so much...

Don't worry about me, let me walk around by myself... Being able to secretly take care of him during this time has been the happiest time of my life...

Her words were filled with a resigned sorrow, as if she had already accepted an ending that would never be forgiven.

"No! Auntie! It's not like that!" Lin Xiaoya could no longer hold back and rushed forward, tightly embracing He Jing's cold and frail body—

His voice trembled with tears, yet was filled with boundless joy and excitement as he spoke loudly in her ear:

"Auntie! The eldest son... he's forgiven you! He just sent the three of us out; he's determined to bring you back! He's worried about you! He feels sorry for you!"

"..."

He Jing felt as if she had been struck by a huge electric current, and instantly froze on the spot.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment.

The sadness and despair on her face froze, replaced by an extreme sense of bewilderment and disbelief.

She slowly, very slowly, pushed Lin Xiaoya away a little by little, her empty eyes staring intently at Xiaoya's face, as if trying to find any trace of a joke.

Her lips trembled violently, her voice as soft as a dream, filled with immense fear, as if afraid to shatter this fragile illusion:

"What...what did you just say? Xiao...Xiaoya? Repeat what you just said...again? Did I...was I hallucinating?"

Her eyes were full of pleading, like a person dying in the desert who sees a mirage, both longing to get closer and afraid that it will shatter if touched.

Tears streamed down Lin Xiaoya's face, but she smiled radiantly, shaking her head vigorously and repeating each word clearly:

"Auntie! You're not hallucinating! It's your eldest son! He suddenly rushed downstairs. He was very nervous and concerned about you. He got angry with us, saying that in this freezing weather, he insisted we chase after you and bring you back! He wants you to come back!"

The words of confirmation, like a final, heavy blow, shattered the thick layer of ice in He Jing's heart and the bottomless despair.

The next second, He Jing's reaction shocked all three people present, bringing tears to their eyes.

She didn't immediately become ecstatic; instead, she suddenly seemed to fall into some kind of extreme frenzy.

She suddenly raised her hand, trembling as she grabbed a few strands of hair from her temple, and then, under the astonished gazes of the three, she ripped them off fiercely and resolutely!

A distinct stinging sensation came from her scalp, and several strands of hair with follicles were clearly visible in her palm.

She looked down at the few strands of her own hair in her palm, then suddenly looked up at Lin Xiaoya, then at Tiezhu, and then at Ye Feng.

"Heh...hehe..." She first laughed softly, her laughter carrying a kind of liberated madness, but tears flowed out like a burst dam.

"It's not a dream...it's not an illusion...it's real...it's real!!!"

She laughed and cried at the same time, clutching the few strands of hair she had pulled out tightly in her hand, as if they were the only proof that this was not a dream.

His crying and laughing at the same time was filled with heartache, ecstasy, and the release of emotions that had been suppressed for eighteen years. It was incredibly heartbreaking to watch.

"Yes! It's true! Auntie, it's true!" Lin Xiaoya nodded vigorously, tears streaming down her face.

Even the tough guy Tie Zhu couldn't help but tear up. He wiped his face hard and mumbled, "Yeah! It's true!"

Even the usually calm Ye Feng turned his head slightly, took a deep breath, and concealed his slightly reddened eyes and fluctuating emotions.

He Jing finally stopped her heartbreaking crying and laughing. She carefully, as if holding a priceless treasure, pressed the hand that was clutching her hair against her violently heaving chest.

Looking at the three young people in front of her who were genuinely happy for her and her son, her eyes regained their light—a light of something lost and found, of something brought back from the brink of death.

The morning sun finally pierced through the clouds, warmly bathing the four people in its golden light, dispelling the chill and seemingly melting away all the previous sorrow and gloom.