Before the checkup, Lai Li asked in the car, “Bro, is there really nothing you want to tell me?”
“The script?” Dai Linxuan guessed. “That’s a long story. Can we talk about it when we get back?”
Lai Li gave him a deep look before opening the door and getting out.
Dai Linxuan felt uneasy, as if he’d guessed wrong. He wanted to call out to Lai Li but received a work call instead. Later, when faced with Lai Li’s probing, Lai Li ignored it entirely.
The quieter Lai Li became, the more Dai Linxuan’s eyelid twitched.
Now, he had to chat alone with Doctor Ye, only to be shut out completely.
Fortunately, Dai Yi sent some work matters, distracting part of Dai Linxuan’s attention. But the more he replied, the more her tone seemed… formulaic.
It was just text, so there wasn’t really any tone.
Was it because of what he’d said in the office a few days ago, calling He Gan trash?
Dai Linxuan knew she didn’t really want to be with He Gan, which made him even angrier—like how Lai Li had deliberately gotten himself hurt. Both made his blood boil.
But Dai Yi wasn’t as straightforward as Lai Li. She wouldn’t do it just to attract attention.
That was something the little Dai Yi from childhood would do.
In twelve years, Lai Li hadn’t changed much in personality or mindset, aside from life experience, height, and weight. Dai Yi was different; she’d become far harder to read than Lai Li over the past two years.
【Dai Linxuan】: Are you free tomorrow night? Let’s have dinner.
【Xiao Yi】: At home?
【Dai Linxuan】: Out, just the two of us.
Dai Linxuan thought for a moment and sent the address of a private cuisine restaurant, perfect for Dai Yi’s taste in oily and spicy food.
【Dai Linxuan】: How about this place?
【Xiao Yi】: Good.
And that was it.
Dai Linxuan typed and deleted, with no ideas, unsure what to say or what he could say.
Lai Li was the one he’d brought home; there was a direct responsibility between them. But Dai Yi…
“Buzz—”
Dai Linxuan glanced down. He Xunzhang, who’d been quiet for a while, messaged him. To celebrate Lai Li’s successful surgery and recovery, he’d organized a gathering and invited him and Lai Li.
Dai Linxuan recalled his previous insinuation, and coldness flashed in his eyes.
Actually, the best approach was to publicly confirm his relationship with Lai Li, so others wouldn’t dare act rashly… And since he’d raised Lai Li single-handedly, and Lai Li had only just turned adult, given the “guardian” and ward dynamic, even if outsiders cursed, they’d only curse him.
But after learning about Lai Li’s illness, Dai Linxuan didn’t dare act rashly.
Lai Li clearly cared too much about his reputation.
Though the false rumors would eventually be debunked, Dai Linxuan still didn’t want Lai Li to face that shock prematurely. This was probably the trickiest issue in Dai Linxuan’s thirty years, aside from Lai Li’s “feelings”—something he had no good countermeasure for.
Lai Li rejected his gradual warming-up approach, seeing it only as him splashing dirty water on himself. Every mention triggered an emotional meltdown.
Beyond that, Dai Linxuan couldn’t think of a better way to make him accept it.
His phone buzzed again. He Xunzhang sent another message, saying Huo Shuang and Huo Wenhai would be there, along with some of Lai Li’s peers.
Dai Linxuan snapped back to reality, realizing he’d been lost in thoughts of Lai Li for over ten minutes.
【Dai Linxuan】: I’ll ask Xiao Li’s opinion first. Don’t organize it yet, in case he doesn’t want to go—it’d waste your effort.
【He Xunzhang】: OK.
Lai Li finished reviewing all the physical exam reports, confirming everything Ye Qingyun had summarized was true. His brother really didn’t have any major illness, but the mentions of gastritis and arrhythmia still darkened his expression.
“What caused the gastritis?”
“According to Mr. Dai, it’s due to poor eating habits.”
Lai Li sneered. “He told me before that for the past two years, he’d had three meals a day, on time without fail.”
Ye Qingyun: “…When did he say that?”
Lai Li closed his eyes briefly. “About two months ago.”
Ye Qingyun’s brow arched slightly. Wasn’t his memory sharp?
Actually, Lai Li showed some dissociative symptoms. Dissociation usually split a patient’s emotions, allowing them to process external shocks in a detached state—appearing calm, indifferent, and prone to forgetting painful, stimulating memories.
But Lai Li was the opposite.
From several meetings, Ye Qingyun gleaned from Lai Li’s partial honesty and clinical analysis—
Aside from memories anchored to specific points, Lai Li forgot almost everything that brought him “pleasure,” while retaining everything uncomfortable, doubtful, or painful.
Of course, Lai Li didn’t see it as pain.
He believed that was reality.
Lai Li remembered his childhood ordeals with crystal clarity—the non-human experiences. He even recalled the appearance of the first kitten he killed, how many white hairs were on its tail; the depth of the slum district’s underground alleys, their twists and turns, a tiny graffiti on a nearby wall; what food he’d scavenged from trash bins when hungry… like reciting from a catalog.
For a moment, Ye Qingyun suspected these were fabricated details Lai Li invented to bind Dai Linxuan.
Not that he was lying outright—his childhood experiences were real—but subconsciously, to make them more believable, more heartbreaking (especially to Dai Linxuan), he’d instinctively filled in non-existent details like completing a puzzle.
Ye Qingyun knew well that memories lie, and the subconscious does too.
Lai Li was deeply contradictory, in a way even he likely didn’t realize. Dai Linxuan might miss it, but to an experienced doctor, it was somewhat obvious.
Lai Li’s therapy aimed to tether Dai Linxuan, yet even when describing calmly and detachedly—like a “normal patient”—a weird exhilaration leaked through the minutiae.
Extremely pathological.
Ye Qingyun didn’t think he was born this way, which made her ache for him. To her, patients weren’t normal or abnormal.
When she’d first received Dai Linxuan’s invitation, she’d assumed it was a rich person making a fuss or an “investment.”
She’d heard of Dai Linxuan’s charitable foundation, which brought him and his family endless reputation and hidden benefits. But their contract boldly stipulated: no public disclosure of funding sources, no leaking even a hint of the patient’s privacy.
She took it seriously, imagining it might be Dai Linxuan’s family—a mother, sister, or even the grandfather rumored to be paralyzed for over a decade… Never expecting the outwardly arrogant Lai Li.
Could a child endure such things and emerge as composed and thrilled as Lai Li appeared—no helplessness, no fear?
Probably not.
At least, not by Ye Qingyun’s experience.
But through years of extreme trauma, Lai Li’s initial terror had been ground away. Then came Dai Linxuan’s crafted, beautiful twelve years, overlaying even those dark early memories with a pallid filter.
His nature was also exceptionally self-centered and admiring of strength. Dai Linxuan became his first model for “normal” people, so he believed he should be like his brother: inwardly strong, tolerant, handling everything with ease…
He began judging his younger self from on high, erasing that vulnerability and helplessness.
Many patients did this—they couldn’t accept their past selves.
Over time, healed by Dai Linxuan, Lai Li somehow grew sicker.
Because Dai Linxuan became the only one he fixated on. Standing between reality and illusion—the latter tugging at him endlessly—only Dai Linxuan connected him to the real.
The joys he later forgot and pains he remembered all revolved around his brother without exception.
As for others, he neither deliberately forgot nor remembered them—they were irrelevant.
…
Lai Li’s case was too complex; it needed more observation. Without the confidentiality agreement, Ye Qingyun would have written a paper on him post-treatment.
“Done observing?” Lai Li noticed her gaze and asked again. “What about the psychological report?”
Ye Qingyun dictated: “Mr. Dai has mild anxiety.”
Lai Li: “That’s it?”
Ye Qingyun affirmed: “That’s it.”
Lai Li clenched his fist. “Give me the scale.”
Ye Qingyun probed: “Do you want him to be sick?”
Lai Li lifted his dark eyes. “My brother is sick. If you didn’t find it, your medical skills aren’t up to par.”
Ye Qingyun: “…”
She had no doubt that even seeing the scale, if it didn’t match Lai Li’s expectations, he’d lose control and disbelieve.
Whether Dai Linxuan was truly sick mattered less now; it was more Lai Li projecting his own anxiety and pain. Only if Dai Linxuan was sick could he rationalize the changes.
“Mr. Dai is really fine.” Ye Qingyun pulled out the scale—Dai Linxuan had said it was okay to show Lai Li. “Much of the anxiety stems from your* illness.”
Lai Li snatched it, his emotions growing more volatile page by page, though his face remained outwardly calm.
He could judge the truth of the answers but not interpret what they meant.
But Ye Qingyun hadn’t lied.
“You’re all lying to me.” Veins bulged on Lai Li’s forehead. “Would a healthy person lose their appetite, stay up sleepless without sleeping pills?”
“Excessive stress, poor routines, sudden events can all cause insomnia or poor appetite—not necessarily psychological.” Ye Qingyun persuaded. “Lai Li, relax. Your brother is very healthy.”
“I won’t believe it.” Lai Li stepped back. “You’re people he hired. Whatever he says goes.”
Ye Qingyun patiently assured: “I guarantee everything I say upholds my professional ethics.”
Lai Li: “Your guarantee is worthless.”
Ye Qingyun shifted tactics: “Believe it or not, insomnia proves nothing. At least from the scale and physicals, your brother isn’t sick. Any other evidence?”
Lai Li lowered his gaze to a beam of sunlight on the floor.
Ye Qingyun coaxed: “Psych evals differ from physicals—no CT scan spits out data. Scales can be faked, experiences fabricated.”
“Trust me, give me more references, and we can analyze together if your brother’s sick.”
Bang!
Lai Li couldn’t hold back. He hurled a nearby water cup at the wall behind Ye Qingyun, missing her head by inches.
Shards scattered silently on the floor. Amid the jumble of ambient noise, a sharp buzz rang out.
Lai Li didn’t understand why he’d dragged Dai Linxuan for the checkup. Even if his brother was sick, outsiders—especially mental health issues—shouldn’t know.
But only medicine could cure it, and he wasn’t a doctor; he couldn’t prescribe.
He should have studied medicine.
Why hadn’t he pursued his brother’s old dream back then?
Oh, right—
He knew he was sick. If a medical mishap happened, his brother would get angry discovering it.
…
Dai Linxuan heard the commotion and burst in. Lai Li was frantically tearing up his scale, destroying nearby items.
Ye Qingyun was unhurt and whispered, “Recommend a shot of diazepam…”
But Dai Linxuan shook his head, strode forward past her objections, grabbed Lai Li’s waist, and forcibly pulled him into an embrace.
Ye Qingyun watched, heart pounding. The terror ceiling of a dissociative patient in breakdown was unimaginable.
Lai Li still gripped a vase tightly, as if ready to smash it over Dai Linxuan’s head any second.
But he didn’t.
From the moment Dai Linxuan held him, Lai Li’s violence ceased. Though his face twisted ferociously out of recognition, his actions shifted dramatically—
He froze rigidly in Dai Linxuan’s arms like a stiff doll, battling the violent emotions controlling him. Struggles flickered intensely in his eyes.
In the end, he lost.
Lai Li lunged straight for Dai Linxuan’s neck, biting down with force enough to sever an artery.
Ye Qingyun immediately called for bodyguards, but Dai Linxuan raised a hand to stop them.
He let Lai Li bite the most fatal spot, his arms passing under Lai Li’s armpits to pull him into an extremely tight embrace, murmuring something softly over and over.
Ten minutes later, Lai Li finally released his teeth. His sclera was bright red, fully bloodshot.
Dai Linxuan glanced back slightly. “Doctor Ye, could you step out for a moment?”
His neck remained pristine white, with only a faint bite mark added—no skin even broken.
Ye Qingyun paused in silence for a moment but complied, closing the door loosely behind her as she left.
Dai Linxuan asked softly, “Why did you suddenly get angry?”
Lai Li went limp in his arms, his chin resting on Dai Linxuan’s shoulder. His voice was extremely faint, dissipating powerlessly into the air almost as soon as it left his mouth—
“Dai Linxuan, isn’t it because I’ve given you too much leeway?”
“…”
Lai Li closed his eyes and continued, “That’s why you had the confidence to deceive me again and again, never showing any remorse no matter what?”
“You just don’t believe that I’m not sick?” Dai Linxuan began to consider that if Lai Li thought taking medicine would make him “better,” then indulging him wouldn’t hurt.
Lai Li shoved him away fiercely. His face flushed purple from agitation as he roared, “If you weren’t sick, why would you instruct someone else to pour sulfuric acid on yourself!?”
Dai Linxuan’s mind went blank. A numbing sensation fled from his heart all the way to his fingertips.
So that was it.
Lai Li had truly lost control, not even caring if Ye Qingyun outside could hear.
His tone calmed, but his breathing grew even heavier and more erratic. The veins and arteries in his neck bulged like twisted, thick earthworms: “I’ve always been afraid to confront you about it. I fantasized that one day you’d tell me yourself—at least proving that it was just a past idea of yours, and that you’d since realized your mistake and changed.”
“But you didn’t.” Lai Li said, “Bro, I’ve given you so many chances, right up until this morning when you saw the doctor and got checked. You were still trying to deceive me.”
Dai Linxuan opened his mouth. “I…”
Lai Li cut in, “See? Even at this point, you’re still not giving up.”
“…”
“The shelf life of dilute sulfuric acid is only three to five years, but Zeng Wenzhi claimed his came from a fertilizer factory over a decade ago.” Lai Li stared dead into Dai Linxuan’s eyes. “If he wasn’t lying about the source, then it means he processed the sulfuric acid on the spot—”
“Bro, tell me: why would a father who utterly hated a pedophile go out of his way to dilute concentrated sulfuric acid to attack a ‘pedophile’!?”
Dai Linxuan closed his eyes briefly.
“You didn’t think of that either, did you?” Lai Li sneered. “You told Zeng Wenzhi to splash you with concentrated sulfuric acid, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he diluted it on his own initiative before acting. He never imagined it would leave such a flaw!”
At this point, Dai Linxuan had no idea how to explain anymore. Every word felt powerless and pale. Back then, Lai Li hadn’t noticed, so he’d despicably breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he could stall for a while, confess after everything was over, and even feeling grateful that Zeng Wenzhi had diluted the acid—
Because the Lai Li he’d sent away had suddenly doubled back and blocked the “attack” for him.
That day, he hadn’t planned to bring Lai Li along at all. But the “outing with classmates” that Lai Li mentioned turned out to be at the very temple where he was. After lunch, Lai Li insisted on going to the Welfare Home with him.
He’d refused tactfully twice, but Lai Li wouldn’t budge. Pushing further would have seemed suspicious… Everything that happened afterward haunted Dai Linxuan’s dreams almost every night.
In his dreams, Zeng Wenzhi often splashed the original concentrated sulfuric acid onto Lai Li.
Lai Li’s body corroded into festering blood blisters, not a single patch of intact skin from head to toe. Sometimes he’d tremble and cry, “Bro, it hurts so much.” Other times, he’d say, “I definitely won’t let the culprit get away.”
But he was the culprit who had hurt Lai Li.
As long as Lai Li didn’t ask about it, Dai Linxuan could still hide it. But once Lai Li brought it up, no matter the reason, Dai Linxuan couldn’t deny the fact that he’d caused Lai Li harm—harm that had nearly been irreparable.
…
Dai Linxuan took a step forward, but Lai Li retreated one. He hesitated, then pleaded softly, “Xiao Li…”
Lai Li pointed at his own body. “Bro, do you want to ruin yourself and end up like me?”
“You want to destroy your face, your body, your reputation—turn yourself into something unrecognizable, is that it?”
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