Your Sweet Presence

On a London street filled with perfectly aligned mansions, a cold breeze passed through a black Maybach as it stopped there. The night sky filled with stars as the villas were decorated with the aesthetics of their masters. It had snowed that evening, but residents were still not used to the cold environment. Instead, the chaotic lane filled with apartments appealed to the eyes.

A man in an off-sleeved coat and wearing a grey suit with a greyish black tie took his right leg out. His customized black pointy boots and waterproof Rolex limited edition watch revealed his elegance.

The driver in a perfect black suit hurried with his umbrella as it started snowing again. The man's cold voice hit his face like a bowl of ice as he said, "Does snow must accompany me every time I leave the house or enter another?"

"How many times has it been?"

The driver's leg trembles as he answered in a shaky voice, "It's the Nineteenth time, sir. But I assure you. It's just a mere coincidence."

"A mere coincidence." The corner of his lips lifted as he took the classic black umbrella in his hand, standing before the Mansion and staring blankly. He had no idea what was waiting for him.

The man was startled and panicked to see his master taking the umbrella, "Sir, Please Let me." he spoke politely.

The man did not respond to the driver, completely ignoring him; he said to himself, "The Lord above me is reminding me of my sin as an unfilial grandson."

Taking a deep long sigh, he steps in; passing through the little garden, he enters the Mansion and finds no one to attend to him.

"Greetings! My dear nephew, How have you been all these days?" A strong cracking voice came across from the end of the enormous hall.

The living room of the Grand Mansion was decorated with several masterpieces of art and statues from China. Persian paintings on the walls and Arabic Calligraphy on the pillars were carved finely. The giant mat seemed to be from India. Poems of young artists were framed and hung on the walls alongside the paintings. It was clustered uniquely; however, not very appealing to the eyes.

"It's your first time here? isn't it?"

"So tell me, how is it?" The host of the Mansion walked toward him with loud tabbing noise.

"Weird." He said expressionlessly as his deadly eyes looked at every masterpiece that he thought required attention and care.

"That breaks my heart." He was finally standing before him in brown silk pajamas and a bottle of milkshake in his hand, rotating the bottle as if it was a wine glass.

The man turned to exit, and a yell disturbed his troubled heart. "I am your Uncle, after all. You should respect me."

The man smirked, turned to him, returned to his original position, and asked, "Don't tell me that you asked me to come here to show you respect, which I don't think you deserve."

"You...are...just a..." The man in pajamas pointed his index finger at him. Qian Jin grabbed his finger and forcefully rolled it back, which looked painfully, and the man growled.

"You and my father should be thankful that I wasn't suspicious of you two. But, instead, You want me to show you respect?"

"In your dreams." He let go of him and said.

His Uncle panted and sat down on the Carpet helplessly and looked straight into his eyes, "You are nothing more than an unfavored brat of my brother. Huh?"

"You have grown up, Jin." He said as a smile vanished his pain.

Jin settled himself down on the huge couch and removed his gloves. Qian Jin loosened the white bandage drenched in blood, and he, with his left hand, was trying to tie it again.

"Jin!! What's wrong with your hand?" His Uncle hurried up and came closer to take a look. Jin pulled his hand away and hid it behind his back. "Just an injury. I don't have time to talk frivolities with you. Will you please hurry up?"

His Uncle Qian Ying's face had turned pale. He nodded while sitting on another couch nearby. Then, after a while, he spoke, trying to manage his astonishment, "Did you consult a doctor?"

Jin stood to leave, but his Uncle pulled his left hand to make him sit again and said, "Okay! Okay! I won't ask about it again."

"I know you don't like to waste your time. So I won't beat around the bush.

Let me get this straight to the point. I am sincerely apologizing to you for everything. However, I want a tiny little favor from you." He spoke hesitantly.

Jin pulled his collar, loosened his tie, and asked, clearing his throat. He knew that tiny favor was as big as it sounds little. "What is it?"

"First, promise me you will do it." His Uncle was trying to make assurance before bombing his request.

"What are you? A woman? A kid? Speak as a man would speak," Jin was annoyed.

His cold gaze struck his Uncle's face, and in one breath, he raced his words, "I am getting married to a white model on the condition that I will send my Mumu away."

Qian Jin's icy face turned pale like a yellow river as he jerked his Uncle's hands away from him and stood up like a submerged dragon was disturbed. His tongue became heavy as he could not utter millions of cursing words in seven languages.

"You want to abandon your dear little son for a woman?" He spoke in his deep murderous voice.

Ying fell to the ground and grabbed his ankle as his helpless eyes went inside Jin's. Jin looked away and pushed him away. As he drew nearer to the exit, Qian Ying spoke loudly, "If you don't take him now. I will oust him with his luggage on this cold winter night. He will die in the same weather as his and your grandfather; my father died."

This did not make him stop, and he walked out of the Mansion and drove away with his driver Sheng. His driver noticed his untidy look as he returned from the Mansion. He didn't dare to ask but handed a clean tissue to Jin for wiping his cold sweat.

"Should we go back to the company?" He asked after driving aimlessly for a while. There was no answer from Jin at all. He was silent like the deep ocean, but his heart's tumult kept bothering his attempt to close his eyes for a bit of rest.

Five minutes later, when they were closer to his company headquarters. Then, finally, he said, "Drive back to the Qian Ying's mansion."

Sheng did not show any amazement and drove back as he was asked to. His life's simple rule was. 'People like us must think less and do more.'

The clock was about to hit midnight, and Sheng saw a toddler sitting curled up and trying to cover his body with the enormous suitcases like a small castle. But unfortunately, the footpath had no passerby who could help him.

Sheng was surprised and put a break before the car could pass by the boy. Jin looked at Sheng with questioning eyes; Sheng answered, "Sir, there is a little boy with his luggage outside." His words were shaking the same way as the branches of the tree were moving in the wind, followed by the snow.

Jin immediately got off his car, panicked, and ran to the boy with his jacket. His long limbs took long steps towards the boy who was mumbling something as his tears were freezing on his cheeks. Jin wrapped his long coat and zipped up the chain. He was familiar with the boy's face, but to confirm that his Uncle did what he had said, he asked the boy, "Are you Qian Mu?"

The boy could not open his lips to speak and nodded. His nails were turning blue, and Jin hurried to take him inside the car as he asked Sheng to load the luggage. Without a second thought, Sheng did so in less than a minute.

They drove to Jin's Private Secret Villa, which was only a few miles away, and He took his little cousin inside and called for a doctor.

After checking him for half an hour, He came out of the room with a disappointed look, dropped his neck on the ground, and stuttered, "It will be difficult for him to live through the night."

"I have to defy Qian Ying's words." Jin was flustered to realize that he should have taken his uncle's word seriously, who could have thought that a father would kick his son out? "Hang on, kid! I will not let you suffer more," Jin said as he asked Sheng to call for an ambulance.

A common man would never even imagine that people who live in homes like palaces would be like snakes to their offspring. A common kid would always dream that his parents would be as rich as other people so that their life would be easier and they would get everything they wanted. Will a rich kid ever want his rich father to abandon him just because he is a nuisance? It is the same as an Eagle wishing for a golden prison.