Chapter 55: Cricket

The abs under his palm tensed up instantly. Dai Linxuan didn’t rush him. He continued to knead with a deep, slow pressure, unhurried and equally irresistible.

He waited patiently. “Relax.”

Lai Li lay naked from the waist up on the bed, his breathing growing heavier. He subconsciously glanced at the bedding and clothes not far away, as if not only his body was completely bare, but also his mind and past.

Unbearable, ugly, reeking to high heaven.

In a daze, his mind split in two—

One half replayed those vivid yet bleak scenes from the past. Familiar voices echoed in his ears: “You’re up.”

“I’ve bet everything I have. If I lose, I’ll die, and you won’t live either. Got it?”

“Your hands and feet, your head, your hard teeth—they’re all your weapons.”

The stench of dead rat from the man’s mouth mingled with the sour, rancid sweat, faintly lingering at the tip of Lai Li’s nose.

These images and smells never truly faded. They always lingered vividly in “yesterday.”

But at the same time, the warmth from Dai Linxuan’s palm steadily seeped into the other half of his brain, linking him to the present reality. Gradually, it blurred those persistent scenes into a hazy mass. The foul odors were replaced by the faint scent of herbal medicine.

The muscles under his hand softened noticeably. Dai Linxuan reapplied the medicine and shifted to another spot. “Don’t want to say?”

Lai Li gripped the bedsheet, his deep gaze dropping. He suddenly wasn’t sure if Dai Linxuan’s morning tenderness and honesty were just a ploy to coax out his past.

Once he knew everything, would things revert to the previous “fake” big brother mode?

Dai Linxuan glanced at him. “Don’t want to say, or don’t want to say it to me?”

Lai Li jerked his head up. “What do you mean by that?”

“If it’s the former, you can’t even be honest with me—how are you supposed to communicate with a doctor? Doctors have to treat based on symptoms, right?” Dai Linxuan’s tone remained even. “If it’s the latter…”

Lai Li seized his wrist. “I’m asking why you can even come up with a question like ‘don’t want to say or don’t want to say to me’!”

Dai Linxuan paused. “I just want you to know it’s not mandatory, Xiao Li. You don’t have to feel press—”

Lai Li suddenly leaned in and pinned him down, slamming the hand that had been applying medicine onto the bed. His other hand clamped beside Dai Linxuan’s ear. His shadow loomed, amplified by the dim light, giving him a somewhat menacing, brooding air.

“—I’m really sick of you calling me that.”

Lai Li gripped too hard, making Dai Linxuan feel like his bones were creaking under the pressure. He struggled a bit, only to be pinned back down even harder.

As a grown man who’d also trained in fighting since childhood, if it came to a real fight, Lai Li couldn’t possibly dominate him completely, even if he couldn’t win outright—he wouldn’t gain much advantage either.

It was just reliance, taking advantage of favoritism. Deep down, they both knew they would never escalate to full-on brawling.

Bastard.

Dai Linxuan lowered his eyes. “What do you want to be called?”

“You know.” Lai Li arched his back, pressing his forehead against Dai Linxuan’s brow. “You call everyone younger than you like that—Xiao Chu, Xiao Zhou, Xiao Fei, Xiao Yi… and all those kids at the Welfare Home. Bro, why should I be the same as them?”

“…You think it’s the same?” Dai Linxuan couldn’t help but find it both laughable and exasperating.

“Of course I’m not the same, but I could be even more different.” Lai Li’s voice dripped with obsession. “You’ve already given it to me. Why take it back?”

Dai Linxuan was momentarily stunned. “Xiao…”

Lai Li directly sealed his lips, kissing him messily and without technique.

No desire, not like a proper kiss—more like after eight hundred-plus days of anxiety, finally finding a way to vent. He relentlessly drew in every breath from Dai Linxuan’s mouth, intending it as punishment.

He panted heavily, demanding, “Why didn’t you delete that video too? What are you keeping it for?”

He gave Dai Linxuan no chance to speak. Their lips and teeth clashed fiercely, producing wet smacking sounds. Dai Linxuan furrowed his brows, quickly scanning his memory before realizing it was the recording where he’d called Lai Li “puppy.”

He’d assumed Lai Li had blacked out that night and wouldn’t touch the other videos on the camera.

Lai Li’s wrist was suddenly twisted back. Thinking Dai Linxuan was resisting, he flew into a rage and pressed harder, his tongue delving deeper—

Suddenly, he felt Dai Linxuan’s response.

Dai Linxuan soothingly suckled his tongue tip. His mouth went numb, and he instinctively pulled back, only for Dai Linxuan to gently pursue, slowly grinding against his lips.

The dim light of the rainy day softened Dai Linxuan’s features, lending them a tender, lingering warmth.

“…”

Lai Li’s mind blanked for a moment. Was Dai Linxuan really kissing him back? Or was it a delaying tactic?

“I’ll teach you.” Dai Linxuan’s voice brushed his ear, guiding softly. “When kissing, close your eyes. It helps both sides relax more.”

Lai Li obeyed instinctively, amplifying every subtle sensation and touch. His lips were suckled, leaving a wet trail. Then, a feather-light graze swept his sensitive upper palate, leaving endless itchiness.

A surge of dissatisfaction and hunger welled up in Lai Li’s heart. He wanted more.

Before revealing his past, he desperately craved more tenderness to fill the void, to dispel those hazy images and voices—to prove Dai Linxuan would care, that he’d be bound by what Lai Li offered.

With ragged breaths, he invaded back, plundering Dai Linxuan’s mouth like a bandit—from palate to tongue root and underside, sparing nothing.

Dai Linxuan didn’t refuse. He simply stroked Lai Li’s tailbone, trailing up the spine with intermittent kneads. No erotic intent, no teasing flirtation—just pure soothing.

Lai Li knew his brother’s intent, yet it calmed him like a magical sedative.

He no longer propped himself up. He settled fully atop, burying his face deep in Dai Linxuan’s neck.

He mumbled, “What are we now?”

After a moment, Dai Linxuan’s voice came from beside his ear. “Whatever you want us to be.”

“You can’t say it, so I will!” Lai Li tightened his grip on Dai Linxuan’s wrist. “You’re my bro…”

Dai Linxuan’s breath hitched slightly. His expression didn’t change, but he closed his eyes briefly.

“…but also a bed partner you can kiss and make love with. A boyfriend.” Lai Li declared preemptively. “Our relationship hasn’t soured. It’s just gained more.”

Dai Linxuan was silent for a moment. “Wanting it all—isn’t that too greedy… domineering?”

“Even if I’m greedy, you raised me, bro.” Lai Li tossed the blame like a devil oozing malice. “Blame yourself for giving me too much, so it’s only right that I keep wanting more without satisfaction.”

“…” Dai Linxuan turned his face away, sighing with a chuckle. “You’d fit right in as a crown prince in ancient times.”

Lai Li pressed atop him, feeling the vibrations from his chest, accompanied by steady, powerful heartbeats. He rubbed gently twice. “Bro…”

Dai Linxuan thought Lai Li was still hung up on the nickname, his mind turning, when Lai Li spoke softly—

“For you, is it okay if I hide things from you, deceive you?”

“…” Dai Linxuan finally understood the sudden grievance.

“‘Not mandatory to say’—you should drop those first two words.” Lai Li rubbed his jawline with his lips, speaking slowly. “You raised me. Everything I have is from you. I should be completely bare before you.”

Dai Linxuan’s eyelid twitched. He tried to correct his values. “If every guardian in the world was this righteous…”

“It’s different, bro. I’m your possession.” Lai Li cut him off, his voice rising chillingly. “If you want to know something, you should forcefully strip away all barriers and order me to tell everything—I’d obey. Not permit ‘it’s not mandatory.'”

“Like two years ago, when you were hurt and upset, you should have locked me up and ordered me to love you—instead of locking me out of your world and walking away yourself.”

Dai Linxuan mulled over Lai Li’s words. He was wrong—not bandit logic, not crown prince, but emperor.

Beyond that, he tasted the expected meaning, though without the despair from two years ago… Importantly, Lai Li deeply resented their two-year separation.

But what was done couldn’t be undone. No compensation would suffice.

Dai Linxuan ground his fingertip, then followed Lai Li’s good mood. “I now order you: tell me immediately about your life before age ten, in every detail, okay?”

“Not okay.”

“…”

Dai Linxuan slapped Lai Li’s ass with a sharp smack.

“You hit me again.” Lai Li clutched his buttock, saying darkly. “Before, you only flicked me with your finger. Since returning to the country, you’ve hit me several times.”

After this fuss, the heartache lingering in Dai Linxuan’s heart dissipated completely. He gripped Lai Li’s shoulders, warning, “Keep nitpicking to change the subject, and you’ll get hit again.”

Lai Li eyed his brother with shifting gloom.

Dai Linxuan added, “Who was it begging me to beat him earlier?”

Lai Li asked suspiciously, “Did that happen?”

Dai Linxuan chuckled. “Relying on your bad memory to deny everything?”

“…” After staring, Lai Li figured it was something he’d do. He expressionlessly looked away, returning to the topic. “When you’re completely honest with me, then I’ll tell you every detail.”

Dai Linxuan watched him for a long moment, then touched his face gently. “Up to you. Telling the doctor is the same. I don’t have to know.”

He pushed Lai Li off and rose halfway, only to be pressed back into the sunken bedding by a hand on his shoulder. He met Lai Li’s displeased gaze.

“That’s enough playing around.” Dai Linxuan raised his hand. “This ointment is colored. Don’t get it everywhere—housekeeping will have a hard time.”

Pure nonsense. As a VIP guest, the hotel wouldn’t quibble over such minor damage.

Lai Li grabbed Dai Linxuan’s hand and rubbed his face against it.

Dai Linxuan looked down at him, waiting for him to relent.

Lai Li nipped his brother’s fingertip with his canine, grinding but not breaking skin. Dai Linxuan didn’t pull away, until the chestnut finally cracked open a sliver—

“Bro, have you ever seen packs of wild dogs?”

Dai Linxuan lightened his breathing. “No.”

He might have lacked some parental love, but materially, he’d never been strapped. Before eighteen, his food, clothes, and possessions were lavish, fit for bells and tripods. The places he frequented were “lofty towers and jade halls.” Where would he encounter wild dogs?

If not for stumbling into the Slum District twelve years ago, Dai Linxuan could hardly imagine such places existed in Danshi—children starved to skin and bones, eyes vacant and numb like walking corpses.

The first sight of Lai Li had struck him visually like lightning. Even years later, even with Lai Li transformed, that initial scene remained vivid—

Dilapidated buildings huddled together, blocking all sunlight. Cramped, dim, oppressive. Ten-year-old Lai Li stood behind the rusty iron gate, watching him, a fruit knife wider than his arm in hand.

“Bro, you’ll never guess what I’d have done if you’d come even a bit later that day.”

Lai Li murmured in his heart, not voicing it—and never would.

“I didn’t grow up in the same environment as Song Zichu.” Lai Li stared at his brother’s collarbone, his gaze soon losing focus. “As far back as I can remember, I had to snatch food from dogs’ mouths. He must’ve had a different treatment.”

Dai Linxuan’s breath caught just from the opening, despite mental preparation.

Lai Li continued, “At first, just two. Then three, four, five… more and more. Kill one, and more appeared. But food stayed scarce.”

“We were all starving mad.” His voice was light and slow, carrying a eerie “innocence,” like reciting a dark fairy tale—chilling to the bone.

Dai Linxuan sat up, pulling Lai Li’s shoulders into a hug, controlling his breathing steady and calm for soothing effect.

“Man-made?”

Lai Li knelt between his legs, meekly leaning against his shoulder as he nodded lightly. “We were kept penned up in one place for a very long time… to the point where I couldn’t tell the difference between myself and them.”

“I had to kill them, or else the wild dogs would tear me apart.” He spoke softly. “Brother, you can understand that, right?”

Dai Linxuan’s heart clenched into a tight knot, a thick wave of soreness flooding through his limbs and soaking every nerve.

“Of course.” His voice came out hoarse. “You survived. That’s impressive.”

At an angle Dai Linxuan couldn’t see, Lai Li curled his lips into a smile.

Brother, this is nothing yet.

You insisted on hearing it.

“They…” Dai Linxuan steadied his breathing once more. “What was the point of doing all that?”

“To raise a human-shaped, ferocious cricket.” Lai Li said softly. “For ‘cricket fighting.’”

Dai Linxuan opened his mouth, but it took a long while before any sound came out. “…Fighting what?”