The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]

Chapter 172: Chapter 172 - The mother ship

The distant hum of engines grew louder. Jian looked up just as a small ship descended from the sky, its sleek form glinting under the broken light that filtered through the clouds. It landed with a soft hiss on the flat ground nearby, the dust beneath it swirling from the force of its thrusters.

Jian’s grip on Quangya tightened.

Eren and Varon took the lead, stepping toward the craft with practiced ease. Xing Yu lingered behind them, but not too far—he was now walking a few paces ahead of Jian, stealing quiet glances back every so often.

Jian saw it.

He tried to ignore it, but he saw it.

Each glance Xing Yu threw over his shoulder was brief, almost shy. As if afraid to meet his eyes directly. The tall, strong man—so composed and commanding before—now looked... like a kicked puppy. It was pathetic, honestly.

Pitiful.

But Jian wasn’t going to pity him.

Not this man.

Not the one who had the strength to rip through a Grayling like it was made of paper. Not someone who could command soldiers and bring ships down from the sky with a word. That kind of power didn’t need sympathy. Not from him. Not from someone who’d spent years crawling his way back from hell.

He grit his teeth and straightened his back.

As they neared the small ship, Jian took a deep breath and climbed the ramp without hesitation, holding Quangya close against him.

The inside of the ship was compact, spotless. A single main console with controls and a screen took up the front. Beside it, there was only one other seat.

Jian froze.

”Only two seats?” he asked quietly, eyes scanning the limited space.

Xing Yu, who had already slid into the main seat at the console, looked over at him with a small nod. ”The scout ships can only carry smaller units,” he explained. ”They’re built for speed and flexibility. Faster, easier to maneuver. I’ll have another ship sent down for your cousin. Eren and Varon will remain behind with him for now.”

Jian’s eyes narrowed slightly, one arm tightening protectively around the small body in his grasp.

”And him?” he asked, referring to Quangya.

Xing Yu’s eyes softened. ”You can have him on your lap.”

Jian looked down at the boy, who was blinking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, clearly not understanding much of the exchange. He was just scared. And tired.

he lowered his head and kissed Quangya’s soft hair. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and took the remaining seat, adjusting the child gently onto his lap. His hands never left the boy’s sides, holding him steady as the door sealed behind them with a low hiss.

The ship began to hum around them as the engines kicked into motion. Jian could feel the subtle tremble under his boots, then the slow upward lurch as the vessel lifted off the ground. A moment later, the craft shot up into the sky, smooth but swift, cutting through the air like a blade.

Jian sat in the front seat, the glass canopy curving around his line of sight. From here, he could see everything.

Even though they were climbing rapidly—faster than any human aircraft he’d ever known—Jian’s vision tracked the landscape shrinking below with perfect clarity. Every bend of cracked road, every twisted ruin, even the Grayling carcass they’d left behind... he saw it all. That was how sharp his sight was now. His human eyes, altered by something he still couldn’t fully grasp.

It should’ve comforted him—having this edge, this power.

But it didn’t.

A small sound pulled him from his thoughts. Quangya had perked up on his lap, letting out an excited squeak as he reached for the transparent screen ahead of them. The boy’s small hands flailed, trying to get closer, mesmerized by the swirl of clouds and light beyond the glass.

”No,” Jian whispered, pulling the child back gently but firmly. ”Sit still.”

Quangya let out a disappointed whine, but quieted when Jian wrapped both arms around him again, drawing him closer to his chest. The boy curled against him, still watching the sky with wide eyes, but calmer now.

Jian swallowed hard.

To be honest, bringing the kid with him was a risk. A huge one.

He had no idea what was waiting for him up there—on that looming mother ship orbiting far above Earth. Xing Yu had said his grandfather was safe. Promised him that. But Jian couldn’t forget how easily people lied. How easily trust could be used to trap and cage.

And now, he wasn’t just putting himself at risk.

He glanced down at the child in his arms. Quangya’s tiny fingers had curled into the fabric of Jian’s shirt, his body warm and trusting.

Jian held him a little tighter.

He couldn’t leave him behind. He wouldn’t. Even if logic told him to. Even if the smart move was to keep the kid grounded, away from the unknown.

He was confident he could protect Quangya. At least, he wanted to believe that.

But could he protect himself?

That, he didn’t know.

Soon, the ship began to slow. The soft hum of the engines shifted pitch, turning into a gentler whir as their momentum eased. Jian felt the slight drop in his stomach as the vessel stabilized and came to a complete stop, hovering steadily in the vast openness of the upper atmosphere.

Outside the curved glass in front of him, the mother ship came into view.

It was enormous—eclipsing the horizon like a floating fortress. Its shape was elegant and elongated, like a curved crescent blade stretching through the sky.

The main body arched gently, with wide wings extending out on either side, their sharp edges curved downward like talons ready to fold in. The surface of the ship was crafted from smooth silver metal, gleaming with soft, cold light.

Etched along its body were intricate lines of gold—gilded details that shimmered against the silver hull, forming patterns Jian didn’t recognize. Some of them resembled writing, others shapes or symbols, arranged like constellations in motion.

Near the center of the crescent was a large, circular insignia—proud and bold, glowing faintly with blue light. Jian stared at it, his grip unconsciously tightening around Quangya.

This was no ordinary ship. It wasn’t made for humans.

It was beautiful in its own way. Alien. Regal. Silent.

And it scared him.

He held the boy a little closer.