CHAPTER 131: LUTHER’S STORY

"Let’s go." Luther took Joshua’s hand, speaking softly.

Joshua nodded without saying much.

Outside the mansion stretched a vast garden, encircled by blooming roses, each blossom releasing a rich, fragrant scent.

A breeze swept past, and the mansion felt almost impossibly quiet.

Just then, an older woman dressed in a tailcoat-style suit stepped out from within. When she saw Luther and Joshua, she seemed a little surprised.

She quickly approached and spoke in a gentle voice, "Miss, you returned without sending word. Madam has been waiting for you."

Then she glanced at Joshua, smiling. "And this is...?"

Luther didn’t let Joshua speak. She simply answered, brisk and concise, "A friend of mine. Lead the way."

Hearing this, the woman fell silent, turned around, and guided them inside.

Joshua remained quiet the whole way, only holding Luther’s hand tightly.

As if worried he might be nervous, Luther tapped lightly against his hand with his pinky.

They entered the mansion.

Inside, it felt even more empty. Despite being furnished with various luxurious items, the place seemed utterly devoid of any trace of daily life.

They ascended to the second floor and finally stopped in front of a wooden door adorned with beautiful gold-trimmed patterns—shimmering, ancient motifs that didn’t belong in this era.

Joshua blinked.

The woman paused, pressing her lips together before finally speaking with some hesitation, "Madam does not have much time left, young master, you..."

Luther halted. "You called me wrong, Housekeeper."

The housekeeper froze for a moment, lowered her head, and softly corrected herself, "My apologies, Miss."

Luther continued, "I came precisely because I know my mother doesn’t have much time left. I’m not going to do anything foolish. Stop worrying so much."

The housekeeper smiled faintly and said no more. She simply opened the door.

Her gaze lingered on Luther, then finally stopped at Joshua’s back, before shifting to their hands—intertwined and held tightly.

Who would’ve thought... that their young master would bring a friend here... and hold hands so intimately at that...

The housekeeper shook her head, finally letting out a sigh, and stood outside, waiting.

Earlier, Joshua had sensed something unusual.

Why did the housekeeper call Luther "Miss"?

And they said the "Madam" didn’t have much time left. Madam could only refer to Luther’s mother, yet her time was running out...

Joshua couldn’t help but glance at Luther, silently tightening his grip on his hand.

At that moment, everything in the room became clear to him. The room wasn’t huge and was decorated in a bright, cheerful style. On the ceiling was a dazzling, sparkling sun motif. The dressing table was filled with various jewelry and cosmetics.

But on the largest bed in the room lay a completely different scene.

The bed was soft and pure white, and on it lay a woman.

She was so emaciated that she seemed almost nothing but skin and bones. Her face was haggard and decayed. She wore a cap, and her arms were pierced with countless syringes. The machines beside her groaned constantly, desperately trying to prolong the life of this miserable woman.

Joshua’s heart clenched. Almost instinctively, he took a small step back, his breathing slightly chaotic. His fingernails dug into his palms, as if trying to draw blood.

At that moment, Luther suddenly turned to look at him, his expression full of worry.

Joshua froze for a moment, as if being pulled out of a nightmare.

He swallowed hard, finally gritting his teeth. His tongue was bitten, blood trickling in his mouth, the pain and metallic tang somehow sharpening his awareness.

"Joshua, if it doesn’t work..." Luther muttered, feeling guilty. She clearly knew he would be frightened, yet she had still brought him here.

Joshua forced a smile and shook his head vigorously. He swallowed, let the blood in his mouth slide down, and pressed his hand against Luther’s, then gave him a little push forward, trying to show that he was okay.

It’s alright, it’s okay... isn’t it, Joshua?

These things were keeping Luther’s mother alive—they weren’t torturing her.

Those tools could bring life and hope, not just pain. The suffering he’d felt from the start had come only from the cruelty of others.

The woman on the bed suddenly opened her eyes, very slowly. They were slightly cloudy.

Her eyes moved slightly, and she tilted her head, gazing at Luther and Joshua.

A few seconds later, the corners of her mouth curved up, and her eyes filled with gentle, maternal love.

This must be a mother’s love, Joshua thought silently.

"My... my daughter..."

Luther lowered his gaze toward his mother and suddenly said, "I heard you don’t have much time left, so I came to see you one last time."

The woman smiled at this, though her cloudy eyes continued to study Luther’s face.

She was so weak that she could hardly speak, her voice reduced to hoarse, barely understandable tones.

At that moment, Joshua was suddenly pulled closer by Luther. His large hand wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly.

Joshua shivered, looking at Luther with a hint of confusion.

But it was Luther’s following words that truly astonished him.

"This is my lover, Joshua."

Joshua was shocked, but outwardly remained calm, nodding toward the woman on the bed. "Hello, ma’am. I’m Joshua."

Luther parted his lips, seemingly surprised that Joshua would cooperate so willingly.

The woman on the bed didn’t need words—her joy nearly overflowed from her eyes. It was as if she could close her eyes and pass away right now without any regrets.

"This... this is what I always wanted, isn’t it?"

Luther didn’t move too close to his mother, speaking slowly instead.

He paused, squeezing Joshua’s hand tightly, as if never intending to let go. "Rest now, mother. Finally, I’ve done what you always wished for."

The woman trembled slightly. For a moment, there was a flash of lucidity in her eyes, but in the end, she simply closed them. Her lips quivered as she whispered two words: "Be... happy."

Luther smiled faintly, a smile both hazy and inscrutable. "Of course."

With that, he took Joshua’s hand and slowly stepped out.

The door slammed shut. The housekeeper watched Luther’s departing steps and hurriedly called out, "Miss, aren’t you going to stay a little longer?"

Luther shook his head and spoke in a low voice, "You go in to see my mother. Maybe there are still a few final words to say."

The housekeeper understood Madam’s condition better than anyone. Hearing this, she didn’t pay attention to Luther anymore and quickly stepped into the room.

Luther held Joshua’s hand as they walked through the corridor, down the stairs, and left the place smoothly.

Inside the room, the housekeeper held the frail, over-dry hand of her mistress, tears glistening in her eyes.

The woman on the bed curved her lips in a smile.

The housekeeper cried again.

"Perhaps... Luther hates me? But she... she really did fall in love with a boy. Haha... in the end, I was right, wasn’t I?"

Even in her final moments, Madam couldn’t be fully lucid. The housekeeper said nothing, only holding her hand tightly, feeling the warmth gradually slipping away.

"His mother was the last generation of a clan that worshipped women to the extreme. Only a daughter could be the heir. Those who couldn’t bear a daughter were considered useless."

And Luther’s mother was precisely such a person.

She had been expelled from her clan. She had nearly gone insane. She couldn’t bear it.

So from the beginning, she had treated Luther as her beloved daughter.

She let Luther grow his hair long. Fortunately, Luther’s face looked exactly like hers—beautiful, almost impossible to tell the gender.

She wanted Luther to have the voice of a girl forever. She had clearly borne a daughter... so why, why did the clan dare to abandon her!

From a young age, Luther had known he was different from others. In the poor neighborhood they lived in, whispers and gossip reached his ears constantly.

Luther had never wanted to appear like that.

He hated it, utterly hated it—the femininity that existed in a man was disgusting. Especially when those who loved him saw him as a girl—that was even more repulsive.

But he could not defy his mother.

Until he turned ten, when an aunt came to take him and his mother away, the clan was reorganized, and the extreme rules were abolished.

But Luther’s mother had already gone mad.

Her child... Luther... he didn’t know.

He kept his long hair, but he had a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular body and a deep voice that left no doubt about his gender.

He despised his feminine appearance, but he didn’t cut his hair either. Even Luther didn’t know what he was trying to prove.

When Leonard confessed to Joshua, the first thought in Luther’s mind was disgust, repulsion. He thought he hated gay men, but no—he was just irritated. Irritated that it was Leonard, not him, who kissed Joshua.

A man who despises gay men is now in love with another man, generating filthy thoughts about him. Luther, you are truly revolting.