The last time he had done something like this, Dai Linxuan had been far more nervous and awkward than Lai Li.
After all, he was not a doctor who had “seen it all.” His only prior contact with someone else’s body in that area had been on the night Lai Li first lost his virginity, when he had pressed against his back to relieve himself—and because of that, he had self-indulgently assumed his little brother liked him.
He was careful not to hurt Lai Li, while feeling a mix of heartache and bashfulness.
But as the saying went, most experiences in the world could be summed up as “awkward the first time, familiar the second.” Three years later, Dai Linxuan handled it almost effortlessly, as calmly as a professional medical worker.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“Mm.”
His wrist was gripped tightly, but Dai Linxuan’s movements remained steady. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lai Li’s brows furrowed tightly—he was clearly enduring it with great difficulty.
Dai Linxuan no longer naively thought, as he had three years ago, that Lai Li was just uncomfortable—
“In my opinion, it’s not just pain, is it?”
Lai Li showed no sign of angry embarrassment. Instead, he lifted his eyelids and stared intently. He was not as thin-skinned as most ordinary people; nor was his skin particularly thick. He simply did not think there was anything shameful about having feelings.
“This isn’t a hobby you can develop—it harms the body,” Dai Linxuan said deliberately. “Don’t get too into it.”
With a soft “pop,” the tube came out smoothly. Dai Linxuan grabbed two pieces of tissue paper, wrapped it up, and wiped Lai Li clean. But then he was yanked hard, nearly colliding with Lai Li. He barely steadied himself by bracing his wrist against the bed, struggling to lift his fingers that still held the paper.
Lai Li’s face suddenly drew close, but instead of kissing right away, he rubbed his nose against Dai Linxuan’s tip and murmured, “Bro, everything you do makes me feel it.”
In the instant his breath was blocked back into his mouth, Dai Linxuan’s mind blanked for a moment, his fingertips trembling slightly.
Lai Li had slept for seventeen days, so the car accident might have felt like it had just happened to him. But Dai Linxuan had truly spent more than half a month alone.
Ten days after the accident, the doctor had euphemistically said there was still hope of waking, but they should prepare mentally.
Dai Linxuan had been through this before. At eighteen, his father had become a vegetable in a car crash. Relatives had eyed the family covetously, his mother had immediately taken over the company and been overwhelmed, his grandfather had busied himself suppressing her and spinning conspiracy theories. The only two who truly cared about Dai Enhao were him and Dai Yi.
But Dai Yi had been only ten that year, naive and clueless about life and death. He had been left alone outside the ICU, tormented as he processed those inexpressible emotions.
After a week, the doctor had offered comfort, saying there was still hope.
Twenty days later, the doctor sighed.
Three months later, the doctor just shook his head.
So this time, when the doctor hesitated to speak for the first time, Dai Linxuan calmly returned home, spent the night accepting the worst possibility, and made arrangements for everything that followed.
The next day, he acted as if nothing had happened, changed into formal attire, and attended He Chengze’s sixtieth birthday banquet.
The banquet was filled with elegant dresses and handsome suits, extravagance and revelry. Dai Linxuan seemed to have drained himself of all emotions, even responding mildly and objectively to everyone who mentioned Lai Li, whether casually or pointedly: “I believe in Little Chestnut. He’ll wake up.”
Those words might have convinced others, but not himself.
He kept it from everyone and transferred Lai Li to this isolated sea island.
He even harbored a despicable thought: it was fine if he didn’t wake. Finally, he could be unburdened and rightfully claim the child he had raised as his private possession.
From then on, life or death—only his.
…
Dai Linxuan suddenly raised his hand, gripped the back of Lai Li’s neck, and forced him to tilt his head back. Before Lai Li’s displeasure could surface, his lips were pried open, and a storm of plunder descended.
Aside from the period right after returning to the country, this was the first time Dai Linxuan had shown such unyielding dominance. Even though it was just a kiss, it was as if he wanted to devour Lai Li alive.
Lai Li’s hands froze in midair, but only for a second before he wrapped them around Dai Linxuan’s shoulders, offering himself deeper.
In the brief pause to catch their breath, Dai Linxuan nipped at his lips and whispered, “Little Chestnut, close your eyes.”
Lai Li obeyed perfectly.
But Dai Linxuan opened his eyes, watching Lai Li’s face impassively even as he kissed him fiercely. He was immersed yet detached, as if split in two—
Reason told him to stop. Lai Li was a patient who had just woken after a day, and he himself had a fever that might be contagious.
But the other half of him had been numbed by seventeen days of torment, casting aside all ethics and propriety. The hand clutching Lai Li’s neck tightened uncontrollably, pressing him forcefully closer.
He wantonly violated the child he had raised, committing every crime.
He wished he could chew him up and swallow him whole.
Dai Linxuan was feverish, his breath scorching hot.
Lai Li was kissed breathless, the base of his tongue starting to ache sourly, but he had no desire to struggle—not even when Dai Linxuan’s hand gripped his waist, covering the wound exactly.
It was Dai Linxuan who suddenly snapped back to his senses. He released him abruptly, pulled away, and said, “Sorry.”
Lai Li licked his lips and leaned in slowly. “Bro…”
He wanted to continue, but Dai Linxuan’s reason had fully returned. He pushed Lai Li’s shoulders away. “Any more and I’ll infect you.”
Lai Li grumbled, “Fevers aren’t contagious.”
“But viruses are.” Dai Linxuan tossed the tissue into the trash and lightly tapped his lower abdomen. “Can you hold it now?”
“…”
Lai Li was swollen and aching to the limit; the lightest touch nearly made him surrender.
Without another word, he climbed up. Dai Linxuan supported him off the bed and to the bathroom toilet.
“Go ahead. I’ll wait at the door.”
The first urination after catheter removal was undoubtedly torture, but since he had held it beforehand, it came out smoothly—though it stung a bit.
Dai Linxuan helped him back to bed. “We need to change the dressing later…”
Lai Li said, “You do it.”
Dai Linxuan was not surprised and agreed readily. “Then how about wiping you down and changing clothes while we’re at it?”
Lai Li was not in a hospital gown but soft, fine pajamas—clearly his brother’s taste.
“You changed me into this one too?”
“After we got here. Hospital gowns are too drab; they make you look unwell.” Dai Linxuan sighed. “You lay there motionless, letting me maneuver you. Except for when you were ten or so, I haven’t seen you this obedient.”
Lai Li’s gaze flickered. “Do you like me more obedient?”
“I like you.” Dai Linxuan smiled. “Obedient or not, I can’t help it.”
Lai Li looked at him. “Bro, same for me.”
Dai Linxuan said, “…No manners.”
He fetched a basin of warm water from the bathroom and set it on the bedside table. He soaked a towel, then pulled up Lai Li’s shirt and unwrapped the bandages.
The surgical incision, overlaid with crash wounds on top of old scars, looked shocking.
Dai Linxuan avoided them, lifted one of Lai Li’s arms, and wiped gently.
“I used to bathe you like this when you were little,” Dai Linxuan chuckled. “If I let you do it yourself, you’d just splash water everywhere. Your hands were so small and skinny—it was more like a drizzle.”
Lai Li said without blushing, “He almost never let me bathe… ‘Cricket’ had no need for baths.”
If cleaned too much, it would lose its “ferocity,” diminishing its spectacle value.
That was for other crickets, though. Lai Li could bathe if he wanted, but no one ever gave him the opportunity, since it wasn’t seen as a necessity of life.
Not until he met Dai Linxuan.
All of Lai Li’s habits came from Dai Linxuan’s influence—even how to act human was learned by imitating him.
Humans ate three meals a day and bathed before bed.
When close to humans, it wasn’t just about fighting to the death; they could simply embrace, feel body heat, listen to heartbeats.
Dai Linxuan’s fingertip brushed the scar on his lower abdomen, his voice turning hoarse. “You seem to remember everything before age ten very clearly?”
Lai Li’s muscles tensed slightly.
Dai Linxuan noticed first and set down the arm to wipe the other side. “Little Chestnut, you’ve only forgotten these twelve years, right?”
Lai Li’s Adam’s apple bobbed dryly as he quickly pondered how to answer without hurting his brother.
Dai Linxuan already knew from his reaction and soothed him. “No pressure. I just want to understand you more.”
“…Can you tell your bro? Besides that night, what else have you forgotten? Or rather, what do you still remember?”
Lai Li looked at his brother, his throat suddenly clogged, unable to speak.
Even with countless scenarios in mind, Dai Linxuan’s heart still sank. “Nothing?”
Lai Li grew agitated. “Bro, I…”
“I know you didn’t forget on purpose.” On some level, Dai Linxuan understood him far better than Lai Li thought. “It hurts me, but because I feel sorry for you.”
Lai Li paused, then leaned in slowly and hugged his brother’s back.
Dai Linxuan turned his head and kissed his hair. Because of the head surgery, the previous wolf tail had been shaved off; now his hair was very short, prickling his lips.
He held Lai Li loosely, careful of the wounds, while his other hand gently stroked the back of his neck. “The past two years when I avoided you—must have been hard to bear?”
Lai Li affirmed without hesitation. “I thought of you every day until I was going crazy.”
Dai Linxuan asked, “Then why didn’t you come find me?”
Lai Li closed his eyes and nuzzled his neck. “I didn’t dare.”
Dai Linxuan couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Our young master has things he doesn’t dare do?”
Of course Lai Li didn’t dare. He feared that if he went, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing something irreversible.
For two years, he constantly wondered if he had become someone Dai Linxuan disliked, earning that distance and coldness.
Dai Linxuan had wanted him to be free and unrestrained, had silently permitted his willfulness—yet now rejected him like outsiders?
He had nurtured countless dark thoughts, only to suppress them brutally each time.
“I was afraid you really didn’t want me anymore.”
“…If I could bear it, I wouldn’t have gone abroad.” Dai Linxuan smiled with a sigh and pinched the back of his neck. “Finish wiping down and get dressed first. Don’t catch a cold.”
After the upper body, Dai Linxuan changed his dressing, then dressed him like a child in pajamas before wiping the lower half.
His legs had no major wounds, just minor fractures, so they were done quickly and covered with pants.
Dai Linxuan said, “The doctor I scheduled left an opening—can come here anytime. You pick a time?”
Lai Li stared at him. “Bro.”
“Mm, what is it?”
“Even without the car accident, I would have ended up on this sea island, right?”
“Why do you think that?” Dai Linxuan’s expression didn’t change. “Without the accident, we would have taken the eight o’clock flight that night to the doctor, then gotten checked together the next morning.”
Lai Li’s face grew cold. “After the checkup, you’d force me to stay here under the pretext of treatment.”
Dai Linxuan caught the unspoken words and raised a brow. “You think I could force you?”
Lai Li remained unmoved. “You could have had the doctor come to Danshi to see me. Why make me come abroad?”
“Did you know that in the country, if it’s…” Dai Linxuan exhaled long, then rephrased calmly, “Once a serious mental illness is diagnosed domestically, it has to be reported?”
Lai Li truly hadn’t known.
“Once it’s on record, it affects your future life a lot. Even if we avoid it as much as possible, Danshi is small—walls have ears. If others find out, they might use it against you.”
Dai Linxuan’s gaze fell gently on him. After a moment, he leaned in and straightened his collar. “Little Chestnut, you’re my brother no matter what. But I don’t want to give anyone a chance to hurt you.”
Lai Li wasn’t stupid; he instantly grasped the subtlety—
Whatever dangerous thing you’re planning? Afraid I’ll get in the way, afraid it’ll implicate me, so you want to lock me up. But you were still one step too late.
Yet Dai Linxuan’s tone was too gentle, soaking him like honey until his head spun. He had no desire to confront his brother now.
Dai Linxuan raised a hand to his temple.
Lai Li caught the small gesture. “Feeling really bad?”
Dai Linxuan said, “It’s fine.”
Lai Li: “I’ll call the doctor—”
“No need.” Dai Linxuan lifted the blanket and lay down, patting Lai Li’s leg. “Sleep with me a bit more.”
Lai Li sensed his brother was changing the subject but was powerless. His face darkened, yet his hand unconsciously reached to rub his temple.
Dai Linxuan closed his eyes and smiled. “Do you even know how?”
Lai Li said, “I’ve never eaten pork, but I’ve seen pigs run.”
Dai Linxuan curved his finger and flicked Lai Li’s leg. “Scolding me?”
“You’re my brother—how could I bear to scold you?” Lai Li replied expressionlessly. “Have someone bring my phone over.”
Dai Linxuan said, “No problem.”
Lai Li added, “Tomorrow, have that psychiatrist you found come over.”
Dai Linxuan’s heart was suddenly pierced. He opened his eyes and grasped Lai Li’s fingertip. “……Okay.”
