Mu Bo Extra Chapter: The Lost Language (Part Two)

Ten minutes after stepping outside, Mu Si already regretted it.

The manor glowed softly in the night, the air rich with the scent of blooming phalaenopsis orchids. Clad in black, Mu Si leaned against the railing on the second floor, biting on an unlit cigarette stub.

“He’s not good to me at all.”

His brows lowered slightly, dark bangs shadowing the corners of his eyes, his heart steeped in a sour lime bitterness.

Mu Si took the cigarette away, but didn’t light it.

In truth, he had a habit of smoking but had restrained himself since youth—his master detested the smell, and so Mu Si had grown accustomed to eating candy instead.

He rummaged through his pocket, selecting from a handful before peeling open a lime-flavored sweet and popping it in his mouth.

“Mr. Mu?” A maid watering flowers downstairs looked up in surprise, seeing Mu Si at a time he was usually nowhere to be found. “Is that really you?”

Mu Si draped his arms over the balcony railing, his refined features gazing downward lazily. He responded with a faint voice, explaining to the maid’s curiosity: “Got chased out by the grumpy little turtle.”

The maid couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

Only Mu Si would dare refer to his master that way.

“So, where will you sleep tonight?”

Normally Mu Si shared the room with his master. The maid considered tidying a spare room for him, but Mu Si waved her off casually.

“I’ll find a place to rest myself.”

A manor this large would never lack a place for him to sleep. The maid smiled and nodded but hesitated to add, “Master’s temper is bad, but he probably didn’t mean it.”

Everyone knew of the master’s foul temper, but only Mu Si found him easy to soothe, even endearing.

The night breeze grew cooler. After finishing the candy, Mu Si went to the entrance of Bo Yu’s room and sat down, bending his legs and leaning back. He planned to make do like this for the night, lest Bo Yu wake up and find it inconvenient to move.

It was only a quarrel.

It didn’t mean he stopped loving him.

—

Unexpectedly, the night passed without a sound. Bo Yu rarely woke at night, almost always sleeping soundly in Mu Si’s arms.

At dawn, estimating the time, Mu Si quietly opened the door. The bed was still and silent. He tiptoed forward, afraid his master was still asleep, only to meet a pair of cold, calm amber eyes.

Awake? Or just sleepless?

“Awake, huh.”

Mu Si’s temper flared and faded quickly. Despite being ignored all day yesterday and scolded without reason, looking into those reddened amber eyes made all his anger vanish.

No choice.

He just liked this bad boy.

“Want to go—”

“Bring my wheelchair up here,” Bo Yu said expressionlessly.

Mu Si froze.

Bo Yu’s manor lacked an elevator, especially the one most suitable for growing phalaenopsis. Since they had been together, Bo Yu had never mentioned needing a wheelchair.

Mu Si stiffened for several seconds, then slowly crouched by the bed, gripping Bo Yu’s half-lowered hand and gently wrapping those slender, elegant fingers.

“Don’t be like this, Master.”

The handsome young man lowered his gaze.

Bo Yu could see he was upset.

Bo Yu turned his gaze coldly away, his cool hand unmoving, letting Mu Si hold it.

Mu Si edged closer, but Bo Yu didn’t react. He inched forward again; still no response. He moved even closer—

Finally, Bo Yu couldn’t hold back: “What are you doing, crawling around like some insect in a cocoon?”

Mu Si’s eyes curved into a smile. He bent down and pulled him out from beneath the soft blanket, cradling him and striding toward the bathroom. This time, he was very careful choosing the toothpaste.

“Hm?” Strawberry flavor.

“Hm?” Mint flavor.

“Hm?” Peach flavor.

Bo Yu snatched the peach-flavored toothpaste from his hand, coldly warning, “If you keep ‘hm hm’ing, get out.”

But his expression softened a bit. Bo Yu had a little-known quirk—he liked it when Mu Si made strange sounds, like a little lamb bleating, a casual “hm?”, or a surprised “wah,” something both crude and childishly adorable.

“Good morning kiss—can I still have one?”

Bo Yu washed his face. That proud, disdainful face was sculpted to perfection, flawless, with an inexplicable allure.

Mu Si dared not provoke him today and asked tentatively.

The answer was no. Bo Yu said coldly, “No.”

He dried the water from his hands and, still aloof and arrogant, was about to order Mu Si to carry him downstairs.

Mu Si caught his neck, suddenly pinched the back of Bo Yu’s head, forcing him to look up, and pressed his soft, minty lips against his.

Bo Yu opened his mouth to curse, but the firm lips silenced him. His teeth ached slightly from the pressure, his back pressed against the mirror, resistance fading.

“Just want to kiss you. Spoiled you.”

Mu Si couldn’t break the habit and finally felt satisfied after licking him all over.

Beneath the good-tempered mask was an extreme nature. Mu Si had been clingy since childhood. When Bo Yu brought him home, he stuck to him day and night, following everywhere. Even when left alone at the training camp, he crawled back no matter life or death, serving as Bo Yu’s bodyguard without leaving his side—a puppy that would run back no matter how many times it was abandoned.

The consequence of such boldness was often a cold glare from his master.

Just as Mu Si thought Bo Yu would say “brush your teeth again,” Bo Yu pursed his lips, red and bleeding, and said coldly, “Carry me downstairs. Now.”

Mu Si licked his lips and obeyed.

But the sweetness didn’t last long. Seeing Chen Yi strolling in the garden with the spring breeze brushing his face, the smile on Mu Si’s lips faded. He placed Bo Yu in the wheelchair and looked down, hands resting on the armrests, eyes fixed silently on Bo Yu.

Bo Yu didn’t understand and met his cold gaze.

After a few seconds, Bo Yu spoke: “Get lost.”

With that, he maneuvered the wheelchair toward the garden. Mu Si didn’t want to repeat yesterday’s scene, turned, bit into a piece of bread, and left. The wheelchair was automated; Bo Yu didn’t need him so much downstairs.

“He really has a terrible temper,” Mu Si complained to the doctor in the transparent glass chemistry lab, bread in his mouth. “He doesn’t care about me at all.”

The doctor was still diligently researching ways to help Bo Yu stand, complex data scrolling before his eyes. Without looking up, he replied, “It took you nineteen years to finally realize this obvious fact?”

“I thought love had completely blinded you. If you really want my advice—break up.”

“Get lost.” Mu Si snapped.

The doctor shrugged helplessly as if he had expected this answer. “See? You asked for it.”

Mu Si bit into the milky-flavored bread, staring hopelessly at the domed glass house. “I am asking for it. You don’t know how much I like him.”

In the past, the master’s gaze was always fixed on the young master, and Mu Si could only watch silently from the side. Now that his wish was finally fulfilled, Mu Si never thought of parting with Bo Yu—unless Bo Yu no longer wanted him.

Thinking of that, Mu Si recalled the lively scene in the garden yesterday.

He had been digging up soil with a shovel, unable to understand the language spoken, as if torn between two worlds under the same sky.

Mu Si bit the bread, eyes suddenly stinging. “Do you like fairy tales?” he asked the doctor.

The doctor turned away. “Fairy tales? I haven’t heard one since I stopped wetting the bed at age three. You want to use fairy tales to get the master’s attention? That’s pretty stupid—”

Mu Si finished the last bite of bread and pressed the reset button on the doctor’s intricate computer data.

The doctor was stunned for several seconds before yelling, “Ahhh! You really are a ruthless little cake. I’m going to kill you, Mu Si—”

But no one could beat Mu Si. Even top experts had no chance. The doctor looked at Mu Si’s tall, slender back, hands on hips, and finally sighed.

What was he so insecure about?

Everyone has their specialty. If the master wanted someone outstanding, he could have anyone he wanted.

But after all these years, Mu Si was still the only one by his side.

Data showed that after the first night spent in separate rooms yesterday, the master had not slept all night.

—

In the garden swaying with spring light, rich with the scent of phalaenopsis orchids.

Bo Yu’s learning was swift. He wrote in Northern Polaran script almost indistinguishable from printed text, the strokes sharp and elegant, even his scribbles were beautifully vigorous.

Chen Yi praised without reservation, “So beautiful, this is the most authentic Northern Polaran I’ve ever seen!”

Bo Yu raised a brow, savoring the praise.

A tall, long-legged youth approached. Bo Yu calmly covered his favorite work. Mu Si saw this and, half-lidded eyes lazy, said indifferently, “I don’t understand it anyway.” And refused to look.

Bo Yu replied coldly, “You don’t need to understand.”

The dangerous tension from yesterday subtly returned. Chen Yi smiled and stood quickly to ease the stiff atmosphere. “Mr. Mu, if you want to learn, you can join. Sir is really amazing—he’s mastered Northern Polaran completely.”

“No, thank you.” Mu Si nodded politely but distantly. “I’m not interested.”

Bo Yu’s lowered hand twitched slightly.

Mu Si stepped past the historical linguist, crouching before Bo Yu and smoothing the wrinkles from the gray blanket on his lap. As usual, he looked up and asked gently, “The kitchen asked me to ask what you want to eat today…”

His voice was as gentle as dripping water.

“Fasting.”

Bo Yu interrupted, steering the wheelchair away from the garden. The phalaenopsis brushed against the gray blanket draped over his knees. His cold tone seemed born without emotion. “From today on, I’ll live on the first floor. You don’t have to come at night anymore.”

After a night of cold distance.

He didn’t want him anymore.

The wind turned the pages of the paper on the stone table. Mu Si saw the elegant handwriting, those hands born noble, every stroke exuding an air of aristocracy.

“Is that love?” Mu Si asked.

Chen Yi was shocked. “You can understand? Northern Polaran is one of the rarest lost languages.”

“Just guessing.” Mu Si turned and left the garden.

His master understood love.

But his master no longer loved him.

Hearing this, the doctor smiled. Night seeped through the transparent glass. Without looking back, he resumed working on the data and suddenly said, “Do you know I love you?”

“?” Mu Si frowned. “Stop it.”

“Just because you let me sit here for a full 72 hours recovering data and still dare show your face, I haven’t killed you—that’s love,” the doctor said, his refined face breaking into a fierce expression.

“Sir hasn’t spoken to me for three days.” Mu Si lay on the recliner like a hopeless, dried-up little cake.

“Doctor, help me,” Mu Si pleaded.

The doctor thought about it—Bo Yu was Bo Yu. Who dared defy him?

“You think highly of me. I’m not even as important as a hair on your head. How can I help…”

Mu Si’s handsome, refined face stared into the night. His eyes were dark and deep, filled with a stubbornness beyond his youth, like a pool of ink.

Suddenly, the doctor guessed something. “Are you crazy? We’d both be beheaded and hung under the overpass as dried little biscuits!”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Mu Si lowered his gaze, black hair falling across his forehead, his profile pale and striking. “I miss him so much.”

—

One more chapter to go, next—sweet and tender.