Lai Li stared fixedly at Dai Linxuan for a long moment, and the irritation in his eyes suddenly dissipated for some reason.
“Fine.” He rummaged through the cabinet and tossed a pair of shirt clips onto the sofa. “I’ve never worn them. Do you want to fulfill your duty as a big brother and teach me?”
The moment the shirt clips landed beside his hand, Dai Linxuan flung his hand away as if he’d touched a hot potato.
Lai Li took off his suit pants and tossed them onto the sofa. “Hurry up.”
After a good while, Dai Linxuan finally picked up the shirt clips nearby and fastened them onto Lai Li.
“Too tight,” Lai Li said, furrowing his brow.
“Too loose, and they’ll show when you walk.” Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze, unfastened the clip, and said leisurely, “Then everyone in the entire banquet hall will know that Young Master Lai likes wearing shirt clips…”
Lai Li enunciated each word: “I don’t like them.”
“If you don’t like them, you don’t like them. Why get so worked up?” Dai Linxuan patted Lai Li’s right knee, signaling him to lift it. “It’s not like it’s anything shameful. So what if people know?”
Dai Linxuan’s tone was teasing, but his eyes and hands were very proper, without a single unnecessary touch.
Lai Li looked at the top of his brother’s head. The hand hanging at his side slowly lifted, and just as it was about to touch the back of his head, the shirt clips on both legs were secured. His brother straightened up, leaned back, and bumped into his hand.
Dai Linxuan didn’t notice and said absentmindedly, “If you want to look more formal, go pick out a tie. If you want to keep it casual, just stay like this.”
“…” Lai Li still hadn’t put his pants back on.
If he stayed like this, he probably wouldn’t even make it into the auction venue—tomorrow, he’d be on every newspaper and headline in Danshi.
Dai Linxuan returned to his original posture, elbow propped on the sofa armrest, chin resting in his hand. But this time, his gaze wasn’t focused on Lai Li; it wandered vaguely into the air at some point.
Lai Li interrupted his reverie. “What are you thinking about?”
Dai Linxuan unconsciously curled his fingers and scratched the side of his face twice. “I’m thinking about giving the little you from back then… a bath.”
Many elders liked to say things like, “When you were little, you were like this, and I even held you.” But Dai Linxuan had never said anything like that. Maybe he didn’t count as an elder yet, or maybe because even after Lai Li joined the Dai Family, the first few years weren’t easy for him, and it took a long time before he turned back into a normal kid.
Lai Li asked, “Was I hard to wash?”
Dai Linxuan smiled, a trace of pure warmth coloring his brows and eyes. “You don’t even remember what you were like? You could be called the most difficult child to raise, but I’ve only raised you, so no comparison.”
Lai Li said, “I don’t remember clearly.”
“Little ingrate.” Dai Linxuan hummed, stood up, and walked toward the door. “I’ll make a call. Wait for me outside.”
“I’ll give you five minutes to come up with an excuse. Don’t try to fool me.”
Lai Li hadn’t forgotten why he was wearing these tight shirt clips—they had such a strong presence, like a rope tied around him. He had first learned about shirt clips not from any etiquette class or proper guide, but from a piece of smutty manga that Jing Deyu had meant to send to someone else but accidentally sent to him.
In the comic, the protagonist had his knees spread open, kneeling on the ground, wearing only a black shirt with his lower half completely bare. The flesh of his thighs bulged slightly from the shirt clips, and his calves were clad in suit socks, with black garter clips a bit higher up.
Lai Li had scoffed at the time, thinking the mangaka had no common sense at all. A man’s legs couldn’t possibly look that plump and full unless he was a super high body fat fatty.
But if he imagined that outfit on Dai Linxuan, it might be even more erotic than in the comic… Though his brother was still better suited to a white shirt, preferably one made of soft fabric.
Lai Li drained the water glass on the coffee table in one gulp and walked out of the fitting room, but he didn’t see Dai Linxuan.
The makeup artist came over. “Mr. Lai—”
“Has my brother…” Lai Li paused. “Forget it. Get me a glass of water.”
He had originally wanted to ask if Dai Linxuan had ever worn shirt clips, but if he got a definite yes, it would mean his brother not only wore them but had been seen wearing them. Then he might want to commit a crime.
The makeup artist handed him the water and casually said, “Mr. Dai is in the restroom.”
Lai Li’s eyelid twitched. He pulled his hand back with the water, nearly smashing the glass on the floor, but the makeup artist quickly grabbed it steady. “Mr. Lai…”
Lai Li ignored it and headed straight for the restroom. Given Dai Linxuan’s various reactions since returning to the country, Lai Li had reason to suspect he was holding something back again.
He hadn’t gone far when he heard the sound of running water. Dai Linxuan stood with his back to him at the sink, probably washing his hands.
Lai Li stepped back half a pace, using the corridor wall to hide himself.
Dai Linxuan washed his hands for a very long time, with small movements. The figure in the mirror was completely blocked by himself, only faintly revealing a section of pale neck, cut off by his suit and the ends of his hair. Perhaps because of those smutty comics, Lai Li now looked at his brother’s black-and-white back and strangely found it alluring and seductive.
Did his impeccably dressed brother also have a pair of shirt clips hidden underneath? Did he wear them every time he attended all those formal occasions?
Lai Li tried to search his memory for any related scenes, but fortunately found none. Maybe influenced by the comics, he always felt this thing was improper, not matching his brother’s noble elegance.
Hearing approaching footsteps, Dai Linxuan asked without turning his head, “All done?”
Lai Li didn’t like mirrors, but he liked Dai Linxuan in the mirror—perfect, pleasing to the eye, and most importantly, untainted by the outside world, not easily ruined.
But as he got closer, he realized that the face reflected in the mirror was bloodless.
Lai Li’s heart jolted. He stepped forward quickly and grabbed Dai Linxuan’s arm. “Are you unwell?”
“My stomach feels a bit off.” Dai Linxuan pulled his arm free, unconcerned. “Probably ate something bad this morning.”
Lai Li naturally thought it was his fault and said displeased, “I told you not to eat that egg.”
“It was the first egg you fried. I wanted to try it.” Dai Linxuan flicked the back of Lai Li’s hand. “Even if you beg me later, I won’t eat it.”
“I won’t beg you.” Lai Li tugged at the corner of his mouth. If that day ever came, he wouldn’t beg.
Dai Linxuan drawled out an “mm,” obviously brushing him off. He really didn’t feel well.
Lai Li strode toward the parking lot. “Let’s go to the hospital first.”
“It’s not that serious.” Dai Linxuan bent down to get into the car and closed his eyes to rest. “I’ll be fine after a bit.”
Lai Li pinched his chin and forcibly turned his face. “Do you want to look in the mirror?”
Dai Linxuan didn’t open his eyes. He grabbed Lai Li’s hand, placed it at his side, and patted it. “This afternoon’s auction is hosted by the Group Foundation. I’m basically the host; I can’t be absent.”
Lai Li thought for a moment and understood. For scions of wealthy families like them, reputation was the most important thing after strength.
Dai Linxuan had been abroad for two years, almost disappearing from the public eye. Now back for just half a month, with the Group’s new board election coming up, he naturally needed to show his face in the media to refresh people’s impressions.
The birthday banquet for Dai Yi didn’t count; it wasn’t formal enough.
“So you’re just going to tough it out until you drop?”
“I said, it’s not that serious.” Dai Linxuan’s voice was light. He turned his head toward the car window, leaving only the sharp line of his thin jaw facing Lai Li.
Lai Li frowned. “Dai Linxuan, have you been eating properly these past two years?”
“Mm.” Dai Linxuan made a meaningless sound.
Because they were heading to the auction, Liu Zeng had switched to a Group business car. He couldn’t hear what they were saying in the back. Lai Li raised his voice. “Uncle Zeng—”
Dai Linxuan had no choice but to turn back and sigh. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
Lai Li’s chest heaved violently, his face darkening severely. “Alive is enough?”
Dai Linxuan opened his eyes and glanced at him.
Just as Lai Li thought Dai Linxuan was about to spout nonsense like “Does it matter to you whether I’ve been eating well?”, he heard a normal response instead.
“Three meals a day, basically on time, not too oily or spicy. Rarely drink unless it’s business.” Dai Linxuan said, “Satisfied now, Young Master Lai?”
“…Don’t call me that.”
“You wouldn’t be happy no matter what I call you. You’re really hard to please.” Dai Linxuan half-narrowed his eyes. “How about I call you big brother?”
An boundless irritability welled up in Lai Li’s heart, with no clear source. They should have a more intimate form of address, not the generic “Xiao Li” that anyone could use, or the teasing “Young Master Lai,” or just his full name.
Dai Linxuan met Lai Li’s dark gaze for a moment. Some words reached his lips but dissipated. He spent half a minute composing himself, completely concealing the faint fatigue and sickly pallor on his face. “Didn’t you want to know why I wasn’t happy to see Grandpa?”
Lai Li’s face was expressionless.
Dai Linxuan continued on his own. “What do you think of how he treats me?”
Lai Li’s tone was poor. “Who remembers.”
It should have been good; everyone said so.
Dai Linxuan’s birth banquet, hundred-day celebration, coming-of-age ceremony—all were the most elaborate and grand, surpassing predecessors and later juniors, except for the past two years’ birthdays.
Perhaps due to grandfatherly favoritism, or because among the recent two generations, Dai Linxuan was the most humble and gentle one. Apart from that stubborn insistence at eighteen to raise Lai Li, there was nothing to criticize. It would be abnormal not to like him.
So Dai Linxuan easily earned Dai Songxue’s favor and regard, unchanged for thirty years.
Dai Linxuan said, “Among my generation of cousins, there are seventeen in total, but only I was raised by him at the old residence from birth until his health issues arose.
“During those years, the Group faced a severe cash flow crisis. He was swamped with work every day, yet still made time to bring me interesting little trinkets.
“He always told me: Be a person with conscience, understand the big picture, distinguish good from evil, right from wrong.”
Dai Linxuan’s tone was leisurely, impossible to tell if it was nostalgia or mixed with something else.
Lai Li recalled Jiang Qiujun’s words: “In a place like the Dai Family’s deep compound, how did he end up so pure and upright without anyone deliberately guiding him?”
Her words conflicted slightly with Dai Linxuan’s account. Wasn’t this deliberate guidance?
Lai Li asked, “Why don’t you want to see him?”
Dai Linxuan raised a brow. “When did I say…”
“A stroke-afflicted old man came all the way to the company to find you. Isn’t it because you’re avoiding him?” Lai Li couldn’t help sneering. “Just like you avoided me.”
“If you’re referring to the decision to go abroad, it really had little to do with Grandpa.” Dai Linxuan hooked the corner of his mouth. “It’s all on you.”
“…”
Dai Linxuan had no intention of arguing the point and continued, “But I really don’t want to see him.”
“Why? Hasn’t he always been good to you?”
“Precisely because he was too good, I have no face to face him.” Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze and smiled faintly. “I was particularly… cowardly during that time.”
Lai Li’s fingertips twitched; he couldn’t tolerate Dai Linxuan describing himself that way.
Dai Linxuan said, “Though being a turtle hiding in its shell is immoral and irresponsible, at least it buys some time to breathe. What to do? I really didn’t know how to face it, so I thought, just hide. Hide as long as I can.”
This was so unlike Dai Linxuan’s character. Lai Li held back, trying to make his tone less pressuring. “What exactly happened?”
After a long pause, Dai Linxuan finally spoke slowly. “Grandpa told me that my mother was the mastermind behind Father becoming a vegetable in that car accident.”
Lai Li wasn’t surprised, just found it subtle. In that short sentence, Dai Linxuan had hesitated several times, though not obviously.
Moreover, since Dai Enhao’s accident twelve years ago, rumors of Jiang Qiujun murdering her husband to seize power had persisted for years. Even Lai Li heard them often. There was no reason for Dai Linxuan to only feel guilty about it two years ago and unable to face Dai Songxue.
“That’s it?” Perhaps Lai Li was too immoral, but he felt that even if Jiang Qiujun really caused her husband’s vegetative state, it was nothing much.
“Grandpa got evidence.” Dai Linxuan said. “The car Father was in during the accident belonged to the company, and all company vehicles’ maintenance was contracted to one auto shop. Grandpa found out that Mother had private financial dealings with that shop.”
“That only proves your mom had private money dealings with the shop.”
“Yeah, this evidence can’t directly convict Mother.” The smile on Dai Linxuan’s face slowly faded. “So he gave the evidence to me and wanted me to report Mother.”
Lai Li’s fingertips tightened involuntarily, digging into his palm, shadows darkening his brows and eyes. Regardless of whether Dai Enhao’s accident was Jiang Qiujun’s doing, Dai Songxue’s act of making his grandson denounce his daughter-in-law was utterly vicious. Even if it failed, it could still drive a wedge between mother and son.
Most importantly, Dai Songxue clearly knew what kind of person Dai Linxuan was. No matter how things turned out, it would leave a crack in Dai Linxuan’s heart, yet the old man still chose to do it.
He had inflicted real damage on Dai Linxuan. Lai Li found it somewhat intolerable.
Dai Linxuan didn’t notice Lai Li’s unusual reaction. His thoughts drifted back to that summer two years ago.
The sunlight had been pleasant that day, but the birds nesting in the Dai Family Old Mansion chirped noisily, their calls especially grating. Dai Songxue had sat in his wheelchair, with only half an arm left that could still move—and even that gripped with surprising strength. He clutched Dai Linxuan’s wrist and refused to let go, insisting that he squat down to listen.
Hemiplegia had impaired Dai Songxue’s speech, making every word a laborious effort, slurred and unclear.
“But I’d heard that line so many times before. The moment he started, I knew exactly what he was going to say.” Dai Linxuan mimicked Dai Songxue’s tone. “He said, ‘Linxuan, a person must have a conscience. They must understand the big picture, distinguish good from evil, and know right from wrong.'”
An indescribable chill ran through Lai Li. He waited a moment, but there was no follow-up.
“And then?”
“And then I went abroad.”
Lai Li frowned and quickly reviewed Dai Linxuan’s account in his mind. A nagging sense of incongruity lingered.
If that was all there was to it, then based on Dai Linxuan’s personality back then—even if it was unbearably painful—he would have thrown everything into investigating the truth behind his father’s car accident. Once he had the evidence, he would have sent the culprit to prison, even if that culprit was his own mother.
Yet Dai Linxuan had simply turned a blind eye and fled.
Lai Li narrowed his eyes. “Are you hiding something…”
Dai Linxuan spoke at the same time. “For a while after I went abroad, you didn’t call me even once. I figured you probably didn’t care…”
“I was pissed that you ditched me and left alone!” Lai Li interrupted through gritted teeth. “How many times did I beg you? You kept refusing to let me go with you, coming up with every excuse in the book to brush me off! You like—”
In the instant before his self-control shattered, Lai Li finally remembered the driver in the front seat. He barely managed to halt his roar. After calming down for a moment, he lowered his voice to a whisper that only the two of them could hear. “Is it my fault that you fell for your own little brother?”
Sunlight refracted through the window and stabbed at Dai Linxuan’s eyes. The car plunged into a silence as heavy as death.
The vehicle had stopped long before. Liu Zeng had been startled by Lai Li’s sudden outburst at first and stayed quiet. Only when the backseat fell still did he tentatively break the tension. “Linxuan, Little Chestnut, we’ve arrived at the venue.”
