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

In autumn, Harvard is carpeted with golden ginkgo leaves.

While Lin Que attracted most of his suitors and was playing pranks on them, Anna Luo Shi almost became Ling Ye's shadow.

Whether in a large lecture hall, a crowded cafeteria, or a quiet library, people could always see the young princess of the Luo family following closely beside that uniquely charismatic, mischievous Asian youth.

Anna was Harvard’s undisputed goddess; her family background, looks, and talent were all admired by everyone. In the past, her suitors could stretch from Harvard Garden to the Charles River.

Until Lin Que appeared, and then until Ling Ye appeared, from then on, she only had eyes for Ling Ye.

She would reserve his usual seat in advance, and would naturally tidy his collar, which wasn't actually messy. After he casually said, "The coffee is good," she would quietly study the roasting of coffee beans, just so she could brew one that suited his taste better next time.

Her presence silently deterred many girls who were interested in or curious about Ling Ye.

They discussed it privately:

"Anna Roth was keeping a close watch on him; he had no chance to get close to that mysterious Ling."

"Who exactly is he? Anna's eyes were filled with adoration and...love as she looked at him."

"Save your breath. Look at his eyes. Even when he smiles, there's an icy chill in them. He's only slightly warmer towards Anna and that colorful-haired Princess Lin Que Lin Du. He looks at everyone else like they're air."

Where is Ling Ye?

He enjoyed Anna's closeness, yet deliberately maintained a subtle distance.

He would smile wickedly and gently brush the ginkgo leaves that had fallen into Anna's hair with his fingertips, a gesture so ambiguous that it made Anna's heart stop.

When Anna is being harassed by unwanted advances, he will lazily put his arm around her shoulder and give the person who approached her a warning look that says, "She's mine, get lost," making Anna instantly immersed in that moment of possessive declaration.

He would also suddenly lean close to Anna when she stayed up late tidying up his messy room and scattered smelly socks, his breath brushing against her ear, and whisper, "Miss, you've gone to such lengths. I have no way to repay you but to offer myself to you?" This would make Anna blush, but he would laugh and back away, as if he had just made a harmless joke.

These sweet interactions were like icing on Anna's daily life. But she could sense that whenever the atmosphere was about to heat up, whenever her eyes revealed overly intense emotions, Ling Ye would always cleverly change the subject or cool it down with a more cynical attitude.

There was a wall in his heart that Anna could touch but could not cross.

On a moonless, late night, Ling Ye sat alone on the edge of his dormitory rooftop (he could always easily reach any place he wanted to go), a cigarette flickering between his fingers. The city lights in the distance were bright, but they couldn't illuminate the silence in his eyes.

The daytime hustle and bustle faded away, and all the pretense of wickedness and unruliness crumbled as well. At this moment, he was simply a lonely soul.

A cold wind ruffled the black hair on his forehead. He gazed in the direction of the Dragon Kingdom, recalling Anna's loving smile on the other end of the family video call earlier that day, and her mother's gentle words of advice. That ordinary, mundane warmth of family, like a fine needle, precisely pierced the softest, yet most desolate, part of his heart.

"Home..." He silently chewed on the word, but his tongue only tasted the bitterness of tobacco and the coldness of gunpowder.

When Tie Dun gets drunk, he talks about the stewed beef his mother used to make back home; Leng Ci talks every month about how his parents took him to the amusement park and ate ice cream when he was little; and now Xiao Ma Que calls his newly reunited parents every month to let them know he's safe and sound via secure satellite phone... They all have a place to come from and a place to return to.

And him? Zero. A number. A humanoid weapon.

His memory begins with a cold, metal box used to store bullets. There was no warmth, only a cold touch, hard edges, and the shallow scratches he unconsciously made on the metal with his tender hands. Endless pain, which only his young heart bravely endured, while no one pitied him.

Baroque made him, as a child, fight wild dogs for half a moldy loaf of bread. To keep warm, he huddled in an abandoned tin box, listening to the howling wind and snow outside, enduring the cold nights with the faint warmth from the bruises and wounds left by training. He didn't cry then, because tears would freeze, and no one would care.

Did he hate Baroque, Xue Yan, or the Silent One? All he felt was the helplessness and acceptance of reality that came with becoming stronger. After all, Baroque had taken him in and allowed him to gradually grow stronger in the dog-eat-dog world of the base.

He had suffered the most severe injuries, been poisoned the most deadly, and faced death countless times, but he gritted his teeth and endured it all without shedding a single tear. Pain and death were familiar "friends" to him.

But at this moment, facing the vast night sky, a pain deeper than any physical injury seized him. It was a sense of drifting like a rootless duckweed, a longing for a "normal" life, a profound emptiness and sorrow that even standing at the top of the world, possessing the power to overturn everything, he could not answer the question "Where did I come from?"

He longed for parents to miss, even if they were ordinary or even poor. He longed for a place he could call "home," however small and cramped it might be. He longed for someone to not only report on his progress when he was injured, but also to genuinely ask, "Does it hurt?"

These things, which he had never possessed and who didn't even know if they had ever existed, became incredibly clear and incredibly heavy at this moment.

Two streams of warm liquid unexpectedly breached his steely resolve, silently sliding down his cold, stern cheeks. He was even stunned for a moment before realizing they were tears.

This was the first time he had ever cried since he could remember. Not because of physical pain, but because of the emptiness in the depths of his soul, an emptiness he himself could not fill, an emptiness called "home".

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, trying to suppress the soreness in his throat with the pungent smoke, but he choked and coughed, his eyes reddening, making him look even more vulnerable.

Just then, the rooftop door was gently pushed open. Anna, wrapped in a coat, came up carrying a steaming cup of milk. She had guessed he would be here.

"Ling Ye? I knew you'd do it again..." Her words trailed off.

By the faint light in the distance, she could clearly see the tear stains on his face, and the deep pain and confusion that his eyes, which were always filled with evil and wariness, now revealed, which he had not been able to completely conceal.

At that moment, Anna's heart felt like it had been violently clenched, a sharp, throbbing pain. She had never seen Ling Ye like this before, so vulnerable, like a lost child. She longed to embrace him, but she knew Ling Ye would never accept such intimacy. He always openly accepted her love while subtly escaping his own feelings.

Ling Ye quickly turned his head away, wiped his face haphazardly, and when he turned back, he had already forced out his usual nonchalant smile: "Young Miss, why aren't you sleeping at night? Coming here to catch a cold? That's not exactly the behavior of a good student." But his voice had a hint of barely perceptible hoarseness.

Anna didn't call him out. She slowly walked over, placed the warm milk cup into his cold hands, and then sat down beside him, her shoulder gently touching his arm; she knew that was the only distance she could maintain.

"I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to look at the stars," she said softly, pretending not to see his tear stains, and just looked up at the night sky, which didn't have many stars. "But it seems like the clouds are a bit thick tonight."

Ling Ye held the warm cup, remaining silent. A silence fell between them, but it wasn't awkward; rather, a silent comfort flowed between them.

After a while, Anna spoke softly, as if talking to herself: "Ling Ye, do you know? Sometimes, home doesn't necessarily have to be the place you were born. It can be being with people who make you feel safe and needed."

She paused, mustered her courage, and slowly rested her head on his strong shoulder. She felt his body stiffen for a moment, but she didn't pull away.

"For me," her voice was as gentle as the night breeze, "two years ago, in that dark place, when you shielded me behind you; when you were injured but firmly told me, 'Don't be afraid, I'll take you home'... to me, 'home' took on a new meaning."

"It means safety, it means protection. And the one who brings that feeling is you."

Anna didn't say "I love you" directly, but her words were more profound and moving than a straightforward confession. She told him that he wasn't alone; he had unknowingly become an indispensable symbol of "home" in someone else's life.

Ling Ye's body slowly relaxed. He didn't push Anna away, but instead stubbed out his cigarette, and then gently covered Anna's hand, which was covered by the cool night dew, with his hand.

He didn't speak, but simply tilted his head back and took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. His eyes were still burning, but the overwhelming loneliness seemed to be slightly dispelled by the warmth emanating from the girl beside him.

The night breeze ruffled their hair, causing it to intertwine.

Anna's confession was sweet and heart-wrenching, while Ling Ye's silent tears and deep-seated pain revealed the pure heart yearning for belonging beneath the iron will. This longing for "home" is far heavier and more profound than any love story. He is still a passerby in this world, but perhaps, at this moment, he allows himself to stop briefly and draw a little warmth that is both confusing and real.