Chapter 36: Potted Plant

Lai Li had always believed that the human world was filthy, and people were dirty.

This world was nothing but a massive sewer. People came and went, already covered in enough grime, yet they still sought mates everywhere, looking for others to copulate with—adding filth upon filth.

His brother was different.

His brother was up in the heavens.

Pure and clean, with moonlit whites and clear breezes.

So, it was perfectly normal for him to desire his brother, and he would only ever desire his brother.

But that didn’t mean he had to become his own sister-in-law. That would taint Dai Linxuan too, leaving him fragmented and broken.

Polluting and destroying was certainly amusing, but he preferred to watch and admire from the sidelines. Everyone could see Dai Linxuan, but Dai Linxuan would only ever be his personal collectible.

“Hmm…” Dai Linxuan frowned and buried his face deeper into the sheets. When his fingers withdrew, the sticky white fluid still lingered in his mouth.

Lai Li watched as he unconsciously licked it away and swallowed, a pleased expression crossing his face.

This didn’t count as pollution.

No one saw it, which meant it wasn’t dirty. Only he knew.

“But, bro…” Lai Li leaned down and bit Dai Linxuan’s Adam’s apple punitively. “You’ve been so disobedient lately. Do you want to fall?”

Dai Linxuan shifted uncomfortably, letting out a faint, barely audible moan.

“No.”

“Don’t let those people touch you. Not even a single hair.”

“I really will kill them.”

“That Yan An—did he hold your hand?” Lai Li lifted Dai Linxuan’s hand and played with it carefully. “I hope not. Otherwise, once I chop off his hand, he won’t be able to make money for you anymore.”

Lai Li kissed Dai Linxuan’s fingertips.

Suddenly, a line of text popped into his mind—the support claiming Dai Enhao was Lai Li’s biological father.

Lai Li liked being the little brother: intimate and unique, but not seen as one entity. Even if he committed the most heinous acts, Dai Linxuan wouldn’t be implicated.

Blood ties made it even better, just as Dai Yi had said: break the bone, and the tendons still connect—impossible to sever forever.

Lai Li couldn’t help but open his mouth, pressing his sharp canines against Dai Linxuan’s fingertip, barely restraining the urge to taste his brother’s flavor.

Would it taste the same as his own?

It would…

Dai Linxuan suddenly opened his eyes, looking at him with cold, clear detachment.

Lai Li’s breath hitched, his heart nearly leaping into his throat. “Bro—”

Unaware for a moment, Lai Li felt Dai Linxuan pull his hand away. A trace of weary disgust appeared in Dai Linxuan’s expression. He rolled over, adopting a posture that rejected any approach, and fell back asleep.

Lai Li froze in place, his face growing colder than ever.

Reactions after drinking were often the most honest. Dai Linxuan was truly rejecting him, body and soul.

“Bro, don’t reject me.”

The darkness Lai Li had suppressed began to stir. He itched to strip Dai Linxuan bare, pry his body fully open, and embed himself seamlessly into his embrace.

His eyes darkened as he slowly clasped Dai Linxuan’s wrist, intending to pull him close. But he noticed something off about his brother’s palm.

Compared to the other exposed skin, the palm was more private, rarely noticed, and usually kept clenched.

When suddenly touched, it instinctively curled, wanting to hide.

Lai Li forcibly straightened Dai Linxuan’s fingers, fully exposing the palm. The pale skin lacked color, making the faint red spots stand out—

They were small wounds that hadn’t fully healed, covering nearly every inch of the palm and fingertips.

Lai Li furrowed his brows and probed gently, discovering that the pad of Dai Linxuan’s middle finger felt hard, as if something was embedded.

He pressed the skin on either side and squeezed toward the center. Dai Linxuan flinched in pain but didn’t wake. With more pressure, a thin, long thorn emerged—like part of a plant.

Lai Li pulled it out carefully, recalling the cactus in Dai Linxuan’s office a few days ago, the one he’d smashed.

Had Dai Linxuan pricked himself while cleaning up the mess?

It was a holiday, the company was empty, and Dai Linxuan always took care of his employees. It was normal for him to handle it himself.

But how had it gotten this bad? Why hadn’t he seen a doctor right away?

Lai Li pressed a few more spots and found other hard lumps. He called the family doctor and asked him to come over.

Liao De replied helplessly, “I’m on vacation right now.”

Lai Li frowned. “Aren’t you on call twenty-four-seven?”

“I get annual leave and public holidays too, okay?” Liao De sighed. “Open a video call and show me the situation.”

They switched to WeChat. Liao De took one look at Dai Linxuan’s hand and couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Don’t tell me you reverted to your true form and your bro grabbed a handful—that’s how it happened?”

Lai Li stared at him expressionlessly.

Liao De coughed a few times. “No big deal. Squeeze out the big thorns, disinfect, and you’re good. The small ones can stay; they’ll work their way out eventually.”

Lai Li asked, “Will it scar?”

“Palms don’t scar easily.” Liao De tsked. “It’s covered so thoroughly—must’ve been a full palm slap on the cactus. Accidental or did he lose his head in anger?”

“Hung up.”

Lai Li tossed his phone aside and looked at Dai Linxuan’s sleeping face. In just that short time, the color had drained from his brother’s lips again, adding a fragile vulnerability.

Lai Li asked troubledly, “Bro, what are you doing…”

Dai Linxuan, of course, gave no response.

Lai Li had checked the surveillance from that Vacation Villa two years ago. Backups only lasted a year, but there were indeed records of him and Dai Linxuan checking in, opening a suite on his twenty-eighth birthday.

Beyond that, no more info. Two years—over eight hundred days—had erased all traces.

He still needed to get that camera.

After this interlude, Lai Li’s arousal had subsided by half.

He first helped Dai Linxuan clean up, removing his shirt and outer pants, wiping him down simply. Then he took a quick shower himself, only to find there was no second bath towel.

He didn’t mind using his brother’s, but when he opened the closet, he saw there was only one set of pajamas too.

This meant Dai Linxuan hadn’t even had anyone stock this place with daily necessities.

He’d been back in the country for so long…

Lai Li scanned the closet: just a few scattered clothes, and an unpacked suitcase nearby.

It didn’t look like a home at all.

The master bedroom was sparsely furnished too. Despite being a fifty-square-meter suite, it only had the basic developer-installed fixtures—no sofa, nothing.

It didn’t seem meant for long-term living.

Lai Li even doubted himself. Had he gotten it wrong? Was this really his brother’s place?

He held the only set of pajamas and hesitated between “naked hugging Dai Linxuan to sleep” and “hugging naked Dai Linxuan to sleep,” choosing the latter.

His own body wasn’t exactly aesthetic; no point in being naked.

Besides, his brother hadn’t worn this set yet.

…

Dai Linxuan lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

It was too bright.

His head throbbed painfully, eyelids heavy as if weighted with lead. His stomach burned, and his throat was parched.

He frowned, instinctively rolling over to fumble for the bedside drawer—only to feel a chill at his back. He wasn’t wearing clothes.

Dai Linxuan’s eyes snapped open, sobriety hitting him hard.

There were signs someone had slept on the other side of the bed, but no one was there now, and the spot had cooled—probably up for a while.

Dai Linxuan threw off the covers and got out of bed. His shirt and pants from yesterday lay on the floor, mixed with a few clothes that weren’t his. At a glance, it looked like some drunken hookup had happened.

He immediately recognized the extra clothes as Lai Li’s—more trouble than anyone else.

Last night’s memories flooded back: Li Zheng force-feeding him drinks, staggering to the parking lot, Lai Li appearing, and them coming back to the nearest place together…

Midway, he’d seemed to say, “Don’t touch me.” What had the little punk replied?

“Why not? I’m touching anyway.”

Then he’d lost consciousness.

If it had been anyone else, he could’ve held out until home, or at least stayed outwardly sober to send them away. But trusting Lai Li was etched into his bones.

His brain hadn’t had time to warn him before his body signaled safety.

Dai Linxuan pinched his brow and casually grabbed a bath towel from the bedside, tying it around his waist.

Lai Li wanted that ring and the camera. He’d probably already ransacked the house… So, had he seen the meds in the bedside drawer?

Fortunately, sleeping pills and stomach meds were easy to explain—harmless. The other stuff was trickier—

Dai Linxuan opened the bedroom door and glanced into the wide-open study opposite. Lai Li, wearing his pajamas, crouched thoughtfully by an old safe.

The safe was a developer giveaway; the code wasn’t hard to crack.

Too far away for Lai Li to hear him. The morning light softened his features, tempering his sharp arrogance.

Dai Linxuan leaned against the door and watched quietly for a moment before speaking. “The camera’s in my suitcase.”

Lai Li had apparently been squatting too long. He staggered rising, steadying himself on the table.

“I know.” Lai Li walked out of the study toward the kitchen. “I hung the clothes from your suitcase in the closet.”

Dai Linxuan was speechless, too lazy to ask why Lai Li had undressed him—could chalk it up to the alcohol smell. His dear little brother would probably never learn boundaries.

Dai Linxuan said good-naturedly, “Thanks.”

Lai Li seemed distracted, not even getting mad at the “thanks.” He even added, “You’re welcome.”

“Sobering soup.” Lai Li ladled a bowl from the pot. “I tried it. Tastes normal.”

Dai Linxuan took it, stirring with the spoon. It had apple slices, orange, and dried tangerine peel. “Where’d the ingredients come from?”

The place wasn’t stocked with food regularly, so the fridge only had instant meals—otherwise empty.

Lai Li said, “Woke up early, went down to shop.”

Dai Linxuan’s stomach still churned. He suppressed the spasms in his throat impassively and downed the soup quickly. “How’d you find me last night?”

“My car’s parked there too. Saw you on my way back.” Lai Li furrowed his brow. “Gotta find time to retrieve it.”

“If you don’t wanna go, have Uncle Ren drive it back.”

Dai Linxuan stood, taking the bowl to the kitchen sink. On his way back, he passed Lai Li and ruffled his hair. “Perfect timing—nothing much today. I can trim your hair for you.”

“Tools here?”

“I’ll have Uncle Ren send some over. Don’t worry—even if I mess up, your face’ll carry it.” Dai Linxuan smiled, patted Lai Li’s shoulder, and prepared to leave.

Lai Li grabbed the hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. “What’s in the safe?”

“Nothing. Developer freebie—every unit has one.” Dai Linxuan said lightly. “Did you get the camera? Memory card’s in the bedside drawer.”

Lai Li shook his head. “Didn’t notice. Get it for me later.”

Dai Linxuan was a bit surprised. Hadn’t Lai Li torn the place apart?

That was rare.

“Gonna shower—reeking of booze.” Dai Linxuan smoothed his neck casually. “Freezer has dumplings. Or call the restaurant for delivery if you don’t want those.”

Lai Li said okay.

Too quiet.

Dai Linxuan wasn’t sure what mischief Lai Li was plotting next. He went to the room, grabbed Lai Li’s camera and the two memory cards. “Here, check it—should be fine.”

Lai Li knew it was fine. Camera in the suitcase, cards in the drawer—meant Dai Linxuan had viewed it on another device.

From Dai Linxuan’s location data the past two days, he hadn’t had time to tamper.

Plus, Lai Li had checked the door lock app on Dai Linxuan’s phone last night. No one else had entered since he’d last mentioned the camera.

Faint water sounds came from the bedroom.

Lai Li inserted the two cards. The most recent footage stopped at two years ago—Dai Linxuan’s twenty-eighth birthday… daytime.

No evening video. Not a single photo.

That didn’t make sense.

Lai Li shot to his feet, quickly rechecking. Both cards were full, packed with content from his teens up to twenty—except that night’s.

How could it be missing!?

Lai Li’s eyes darkened inscrutably. He glanced toward the bedroom but reined in his emotions, sitting down to watch the daytime footage from that day.

The lens shook unsteadily; they were on a hiking trail, surrounded by lush greenery, with faint sounds of flowing water.

Dai Linxuan shouldered a backpack and walked ahead, climbing a fairly steep slope. He turned around and extended a hand toward him. “Tired?”

“I could carry you back and forth with ease.” He chuckled nonchalantly, grasped Dai Linxuan’s hand, and climbed up. Then he unscrewed Dai Linxuan’s water pouch and took a sip.

“Don’t you have your own?” Dai Linxuan laughed, his tone carrying an undeniable fondness. “You have to drink mine?”

“Yours is sweeter,” he said.

In the video, Dai Linxuan was speechless for a moment. Then he reached out—judging by the posture, he must have pinched the back of his neck.

They walked a bit further before he suddenly asked, “Bro, why didn’t you hold a birthday party this year?”

“Didn’t feel like it,” Dai Linxuan said. “I never feel like it every year. Too extravagant.”

“Why were you so insistent this year?”

“Hmm.” Dai Linxuan pretended to think for a moment. “Can’t it be because I wanted to spend it alone with you?”

“You’re not.” He saw through it instantly. “You’ve been in a bad mood lately.”

“Really bad? Just a little.” After a pause, Dai Linxuan sighed and opened his arms softly. “Come here. Give your bro a hug.”

Both the Lai Li in the video and the one watching froze. It was rare to see Dai Linxuan seeking comfort in such a relatively “vulnerable” posture. The him from two years ago immediately walked over and was enveloped in Dai Linxuan’s tight embrace—

The lens was squeezed between their bodies, and the screen went completely black. But the unfamiliar yet familiar conversation still resonated with fragments deep in Lai Li’s mind.

“I’m in a bad mood because…” Dai Linxuan paused. “That cactus you gave me seems like it’s dying.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” There was a rustling sound of fabric rubbing together. Lai Li guessed that he must have nuzzled into Dai Linxuan’s neck. “I saw it in your office last week. I’ve never seen anything so vibrantly green. It pricks the hand.”

Dai Linxuan laughed. “Isn’t that just like you?”

At the dining table, Lai Li abruptly hit pause, his whole body turning ice-cold.

He stood up and walked into the bedroom, waiting for the sound of water from the bathroom to stop.

When Dai Linxuan emerged, he had already changed clothes. He was slightly startled to see Lai Li waiting at the door. “What’s up?”

Lai Li blurted out suddenly, “I’m sorry.”

Dai Linxuan chuckled. “What? Did you sleep with someone at the party last night?”

Lai Li ignored the deflection and was silent for a moment before saying, “That day, I was so angry I lost my head. I completely forgot that the cactus was from me.”

Dai Linxuan paused, instinctively glancing down at his palm. A few days ago, when he’d played billiards, he’d deliberately worn gloves so no one noticed the wounds. But last night, when he’d punched Lai Li, he’d used this hand, causing the tiny wounds to swell red again. The thorns embedded in his skin dug deeper, and they still faintly ached now.

But it was completely negligible.

“It’s just a potted plant,” Dai Linxuan said casually as he brushed past Lai Li, his tone indifferent. “Nothing to apologize for. If you really feel guilty, just replace it with another one. It’s not some expensive thing.”