In the upper circles of Danshi, many people believed in Buddhism.
Wangshan Temple had been built eighteen years ago under the leadership of the Dai Corporation, with funding from the He and Huo Families, at a cost of 1.8 billion.
They had specifically chosen an existing ancient temple on Wang Mountain as the foundation and expanded it into its current grand scale. With the original site’s long history and cultural heritage as a gimmick, plus heavy promotion, pilgrims never stopped coming.
Dai Linxuan had grown up amid the clash of rites, music, and science, so he had always maintained an attitude of “respect without seeking, learn without believing” toward such matters.
That changed twelve years ago, when he brought Lai Li home.
Lai Li back then was the complete opposite of who he was now—his body was so frail that he suffered major illnesses every five days and minor ones every three. Dai Linxuan was on the verge of getting a VIP annual membership at the hospital; it had worn him down completely.
Several of his friends were so terrified by Lai Li’s condition that they feared marriage and children, worried they’d end up like him—with no private life, wishing they could embed their eyes into their little brother twenty-four hours a day.
Even by New Year’s, little Lai Li’s health showed no improvement.
Dai Linxuan knew some elders went to the temple on New Year’s Eve to chant scriptures with the monks and pray for a prosperous new year. He’d always thought it was pointless, just psychological comfort. But at eighteen, he was truly at a loss with Lai Li. Terrified that he’d fail at raising a child for the first time and actually kill him, in his desperation, he turned to any possible help.
That year, not only did Dai Linxuan bring Lai Li to the temple to see in the New Year, but he also “shamelessly” competed with a bunch of middle-aged and elderly folks for the first incense offering.
He didn’t ask for anything else—just that Lai Li would have a life of health, smooth sailing, peace, and joy from then on.
This was probably the stupidest, most meaningless thing Dai Linxuan had done in his thirty years of life—
But what if it worked?
“I wasn’t comfortable leaving you alone at home back then, so I brought you along,” Dai Linxuan recalled. “It was cold on the mountain with strong winds, but luckily you were so tiny, I could wrap you up in a down jacket.”
Lai Li hadn’t thought he remembered, but as soon as Dai Linxuan spoke, those hazy, dreamlike images in his mind shed their flashy colors and became vivid and real, weighing heavily on his heart.
The temple at year’s end was packed. Pilgrims queued in long dragon-like lines, hugging themselves and stomping their feet against the piercing cold wind.
Dai Linxuan was at the front of the line. For the first incense, he’d waited over twenty hours.
Even though the temple was built by his family, prayers couldn’t take shortcuts.
Lai Li clung to Dai Linxuan’s neck, nestled in his arms, his little body wrapped tightly in the thick down jacket—not cold at all, his small face flushed red from the warmth.
During those twenty-plus hours of waiting, Dai Linxuan held Lai Li the whole time. When he got sleepy, he slept; when he woke, he peered over Dai Linxuan’s shoulder at the colorful array of pilgrims in the damp predawn dew. When he got hungry, he’d softly call for his brother and be fed some hot food.
“A lot of people thought you were my son, born with a serious illness and brought to beg the Buddha for help when there were no other options. They were too embarrassed to compete with me for the first incense,” Dai Linxuan said, his tone tinged with amusement, though his fingertips inexplicably stung.
Perhaps due to his sincerity, or maybe because of Dai Linxuan’s year of round-the-clock care without undressing, the next year, Lai Li’s health truly improved, and his mental state gradually brightened.
At first, Lai Li ignored everyone but Dai Linxuan. Slowly, he started bickering occasionally with Dai Yi, and he’d even grudgingly call Jiang Qiujun “godmother” when she returned.
Because of this, in the following years, though they no longer fought for the first incense, spending New Year’s Eve at Wangshan Temple became their annual tradition.
“After that, I started thinking there might really be Buddhas in this world,” Dai Linxuan said, a indescribable gentleness emerging in his eyes, like two deep, serene pools.
Unfortunately, by the time Lai Li turned back, it had vanished, replaced by the usual composed mildness.
“You back then…” Lai Li looked at him and paused. “Never thought about abandoning me?”
Dai Linxuan replied, “I did.”
It felt like a nerve connected to his fingertips twitched, making Lai Li’s arm jolt along with it.
“There was a time when I seriously doubted myself—whether I was so useless that I’d turned a perfectly fine kid into this. I wondered if sending you to an ordinary family, with a dad and mom, might have been better for you than my care.” Dai Linxuan slowly strolled over to Lai Li, vaguely lifting a hand halfway before letting it drop inexplicably. It brushed past Lai Li’s shoulder as he tried to continue walking.
“No,” Lai Li said after exhaling in relief, stating it without hesitation. “Without you, I wouldn’t have survived to today.”
He grabbed Dai Linxuan’s descending hand, hesitated for a second, then placed it on his own head.
Dai Linxuan was stunned and speechless for a moment, but it passed in a flash.
“Bro,” Lai Li said, staring into his eyes emphatically. “No one else but you.”
“Got it.” Dai Linxuan ruffled Lai Li’s hair accordingly. “Let’s go, little…”
The last word lingered on his lips. Lai Li inexplicably felt that Dai Linxuan had been about to call him something—not the irritating “Little Chestnut.” He must have heard that name before, and he missed it.
The Welfare Home was lively that day too, with many volunteers there to keep the orphaned children company for the Mid-Autumn Festival.
Dai Linxuan brought some mooncakes and even bought gifts out of his own pocket for every child. Plus, the donations collected at the temple today needed to be coordinated with the home to identify aid recipients.
The children here were truly pitiable; many suffered from congenital difficult illnesses. Disabilities like deafness or cleft lip were relatively easier to address and didn’t cost as much.
The kids knew Dai Linxuan well and weren’t strangers to Lai Li either. They chattered around him, calling him “big brother.”
Dai Linxuan had to discuss matters with the dean, so the children crowded around Lai Li instead. Though he didn’t engage much, he didn’t shoo them away either.
“Big brother, eat… eat mooncake.” A little girl with a stutter came running over, her grubby little hands offering crumbled mooncake.
Lai Li said wryly, “This is leftover from your pretend tea party, right?”
“No! Ah!” The little girl widened her eyes. “Tasty!”
From the corner of his eye, Lai Li saw Dai Linxuan and the dean approaching from the connecting corridor. The kids scattered in a whoosh, all rushing to Dai Linxuan’s side, waiting eagerly for a hug.
The little girl clearly wanted to go too, but since Lai Li hadn’t eaten the mooncake yet, she craned her neck toward him, hand raised high, trying to shove it into his mouth.
“…”
Lai Li reluctantly picked up a piece and put it in his mouth. It was sickeningly sweet.
The little girl tossed out a garbled “Happy Mid-Autumn” and happily dashed toward Dai Linxuan.
This was the first Welfare Home connected to Dai Linxuan’s foundation—even Lai Li recognized several kids. That little girl, for instance, had been just a few months old when she arrived and could now run and jump.
Under the connecting corridor, Dai Linxuan welcomed every child, picking them up briefly and asking about their recent situations.
Lai Li watched for a bit, then turned his head away and kicked a pebble on the ground into a trash bin.
He kicked thirteen in total.
“Nice aim. Should’ve sent you to play soccer,” Dai Linxuan’s voice came from behind.
Before Lai Li could turn, he was pulled into a warm embrace. Dai Linxuan’s chest pressed against half his back, one arm loosely around the other shoulder, their body heat tantalizingly close yet distant.
“Come on, big friend, your hug too.” Dai Linxuan’s laughing breath tickled his ear. “But at your height now, to get both feet off the ground like them, it’d have to be a princess carry…”
“No problem.” Lai Li glanced at him. “I can carry you.”
“Better not.” Dai Linxuan released him and checked his phone. “I donated a batch of new books. The driver’s at the south gate—go help move them.”
Lai Li: “Why should I—”
Dai Linxuan pinched the back of his neck. “Didn’t you say you’d help me out?”
Lai Li shot him a cold look over his shoulder and walked off.
The farther he went, the more irritated Lai Li felt.
He was Dai Linxuan’s little brother.
The only one, raised by his own hands.
Even if he and the Welfare Home kids were both beneficiaries of Dai Linxuan’s grace, he held a special, irreplaceable position.
So—why should he be balanced on the same scale as these brats?
He was closest to the sun and deserved the most nourishment.
At the south gate, the driver opened the rear door and waved to Lai Li from afar. “Just you? We’ll have to make several trips then… Hey! Where are you going!?”
Lai Li pivoted on his heel, leaving the driver with a gloomy view of the back of his head.
“Not happy?” Dai Linxuan handed a Mid-Autumn gift to the little girl in front of him, bending down to ask. “Fight with the other kids?”
“My best… friend got taken away… by dad… and mom—” The little girl looked down and asked, “When will I… have a dad… and mom?”
Dai Linxuan asked, “Not happy here?”
The little girl replied, “Happy! Everyone… is good.”
“That’s good. Nothing’s more important than being happy and healthy.” Dai Linxuan patted her head. “Having parents doesn’t guarantee happiness.”
The little girl looked up in confusion. “Are you… not happy?”
Dai Linxuan summoned his habitual smile, about to deflect with another topic, when a figure burst into view, spraying spittle as it raged at him: “You bastard Dai! Go die!”
The man’s tone brimmed with hatred. He gripped a white bottle, aiming its mouth at Dai Linxuan and splashing—
“Pedophiles deserve to be struck by lightning! Torn to pieces!!”
In the nick of time, a figure lunged from the side. Caught off guard, Dai Linxuan was pinned beneath, his body and face completely covered in protective shadow. Not a single hair was exposed.
“Lai Li!”
The sharp pain in his back made Dai Linxuan’s vision blacken, but the woody scent filling his nose instantly identified the person on top. Before the pain even faded, he arched his back, trying to shove Lai Li off.
But it all happened in a flash—too fast for any real reaction—
Dai Linxuan’s hand had just gripped Lai Li’s waist when Lai Li seized it and pinned it back down firmly. The unidentified liquid arced in a half-parabola, splashing entirely onto Lai Li’s back with a sizzling corrosive sound.
Lai Li ignored the pain completely, staying shielded over Dai Linxuan. He turned his head, his icy, piercing gaze stabbing straight at the attacker.
Chaos erupted around them. The children screamed in panic, volunteers rushed to call the police and restrain the assailant, while the dean and assistant hurried over, forming a protective circle around Dai Linxuan and Lai Li.
Dai Linxuan pushed Lai Li up, his face darker than it had ever been. “Take off your clothes, now!”
The attacker realized he’d hit the wrong person, panic flashing across his face, but he was quickly subdued. Unrepentant, he shrieked curses: “Dai Linxuan! May you die a horrible death—!”
