“Yo, I’m still young, my eyes haven’t gone bad yet. It shouldn’t be that I’m seeing things wrong. Why do I feel like the atmosphere between you two young masters is a bit strange today?” At the dining table, the family was having breakfast. Only Chi Wei had gotten up early and eaten early. Now full and bored, he watched them like it was a show, standing with his hands behind his back, as if he were an all-seeing god who could pierce through everything.
He directly pointed out the stalemate between Li Ran and Chi Mo—neither acknowledging nor even looking at the other.
To be precise, only Li Ran ignored and avoided looking at Chi Mo, burying his face in his milk cup. Chi Mo’s face, accustomed to a cold, aloof expression like a king of dogs, didn’t smile, but Chi Wei could tell from the corners of his eyes and brows that he was feeling quite pleased.
His mood was obviously much better.
Chi Wei had been talking about neutering cats and people the night before, staying up late instead of sleeping. Yet this morning, he wasn’t sleepy at all. He didn’t say anything about not staying up late, being so blatantly hypocritical.
He had gotten up at five in the early morning, waiting for the hourly cleaner to arrive and tidy up the mess in the living room on the first floor.
Early spring, five o’clock, the sky just barely brightening. Even the most hardworking cleaners couldn’t be exploited like that—no one took the job.
Before five-thirty, an hourly auntie arrived right on time and accepted Chi Wei’s offer: five thousand yuan for one hour of cleaning.
After the door opened, she sneakily glanced several times at the foolishly generous Chi Wei, afraid he might change his mind, and worked extra fast.
Having slept little, Chi Wei’s temper flared. He glanced at Ye Chengwan, who was curiously eyeing the two young masters, then at Chi Mo’s smug dog-king face. Jealousy distorted his features as he jabbed, “Didn’t you hear me? Did you two fight? Spill it, make me happy.”
Chi Mo ignored him, his brows twitching upward slightly.
The sneaky glances from several pairs of eyes turned into outright staring.
Cheng Ai Mei asked, “What’s going on with you two?”
Ye Ze: “Yeah, what happened?”
Ye Chengwan had already perked up his ears.
Weren’t they fine last night?
From the moment he came downstairs, Li Ran had tried to make himself invisible. But his meddlesome little uncle pushed him into the spotlight amid the crowd’s eagerness for drama, making him the center of attention. He hurriedly whispered, “Nothing… It’s nothing…”
Those deep, dark eyes lifted slightly from the rim of the milk glass, guilty like a thief, the skin around them red like he’d applied eyeshadow. Before the adults could get a good look, he dropped them again in a futile attempt to hide it.
It was obvious—he had cried.
What good kid cries first thing in the morning?
Li Ran had indeed cried that morning.
But not for any other reason—just utter mortification that sent him to outer space.
Chi Mo didn’t know what had gotten into him, barging into the bathroom insisting on holding little Li Ran’s… Li Ran wasn’t a toddler who couldn’t pull down his pants and aim himself. The moment his brother said it, Li Ran’s eyes went wide, shock written all over his face, the pure innocence in his eyes turning to horror: “Who is this lunatic, and why is he possessing my brother’s body to do something so depraved to me?”
He bristled and backed away several steps.
The way he shook his head and tugged his clothes down looked just like a martyr guarding their chastity.
He said, “I don’t want…”
He desperately needed to pee.
He was about to burst.
But Chi Mo couldn’t read faces or listen to words, refusing to leave.
Li Ran’s expression must have been amusing because Chi Mo didn’t feel ashamed. Instead of suppressing his rising lust, he reveled in it, wanting to see more expressions from the kid.
If it weren’t for school organizing calisthenics and runs between classes every day—some exercise for high schoolers’ sedentary study bodies—all third-years would be fragile. Sure, they didn’t pant like “old folks” in college when climbing stairs, but escaping victory from an adult man who regularly vented through boxing and fighting? The odds were…
Better go wash up and sleep; don’t dream.
Li Ran treated the school’s mandatory exercises like he once treated studying: disliked but followed the rules.
His slim figure was always in the long lines, doing them fairly seriously. He also liked mountain biking daily, so his physique was decent—far from those college kids gasping after two flights of stairs.
But Li Ran was a loner. Besides school sports, he didn’t play basketball, flip walls to skip class, or hang with other boys. He never got chased like a rabbit by the dean for mischief, always quiet and obedient, physically weak.
And—
He was facing Chi Mo.
Chi Mo reached out, grabbed Li Ran’s elbow, yanked and pulled. Li Ran had no chance to resist and crashed into Chi Mo’s chest like a tidal wave.
He hit his lower belly first—not hard, but Li Ran immediately doubled over, face flushing red as he let out a low whine.
The sour ache intensified.
He nearly sprayed Chi Mo through his pants.
Before Li Ran could react, Chi Mo twisted his shoulders, spun him around, pinned his other free hand behind his back, and clasped both wrists tightly, not letting him flee.
Li Ran faced the toilet.
Chi Mo’s breath fell from above, brushing his neck— so itchy.
Li Ran trembled.
His sleepwear draped perfectly. When Chi Mo’s large hand lifted the hem, the dry warmth seemed to cover him.
Li Ran trembled.
“Bite it yourself. Otherwise, if the clothes fall and get dirty, don’t blame me.” Chi Mo lifted the hem to Li Ran’s mouth for him to bite the corner, making it easier for what came next.
Li Ran timidly opened his mouth and clamped the fabric edge.
Chi Mo’s hand went down again.
Li Ran trembled.
Li Ran was an extremely sensitive person.
Emotionally, physically.
□□
□□
Li Ran cried right then.
So mortifying.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, not daring to look at the “majestic” scene that could make him dig his own grave on the spot. His eyelids couldn’t hold back the tears streaming out.
If his ears were flexible enough, Li Ran probably would have yanked them down to cover his face too—out of sight, out of mind.
Even so, he didn’t spit out the cloth corner in his mouth.
Extremely obedient and professional.
His exposed belly trembled with tense breaths, like spasms.
Chi Mo watched from start to finish.
Then Li Ran ignored Chi Mo.
Wouldn’t even look at him!
This lasted until Chi Mo drove him to school.
Li Ran hugged his backpack, quietly huddled in the passenger seat, chin resting on the tightly clutched bag, still wanting to die.
Minutes later, they reached the school gate. As soon as the car stopped, Li Ran kept his position—eyes and head still—only his hand quietly reaching for the handle to swiftly open the door.
…It didn’t open.
Chi Mo had locked it.
The next moment, before Li Ran could react, the tall figure loomed over the center console oppressively. Li Ran’s fingers tightened on the handle; he started trembling again.
Afraid his brother would do something even stranger.
He wished he could abandon the car and flee.
…But escape required a door.
Li Ran’s little face was bitter, his eyes still red from the morning’s shame and fury, looking utterly pitiful.
“Say something to me. Hm?” Chi Mo was very close, his large hand gently hooking Li Ran’s neck, tone soft and low.
From the dark annoyance at little Li Ran’s lack of control making him lose face, Li Ran had blamed his brother and solemnly decided to ignore him. So he huffed angrily, “I’m not talking to you…”
Chi Mo nearly chuckled lowly.
If he didn’t remember the kid probably “hated” him to death, and laughing would really get him a death sentence, Chi Mo definitely wouldn’t hold back.
He handled everything effortlessly, unafraid of trouble—solve problems or people as needed. But foolishly angering the kid for his own amusement wasn’t his thing.
—On the bed, bedroom antics were another story.
That had to be separate.
Chi Mo kept his expression tight, acting exceptionally sincere, as if realizing how depraved and perverted he’d been that morning. Practically groveling, he said, “Don’t ignore me. Ignoring me is no different from killing me or taking my life.”
“Pay attention to me. Please.”
Li Ran stammered, “I-I won’t…”
Chi Mo kept the humble, gentle tone: “Pay attention to me, quick.”
Li Ran said, “Fine…”
As soon as he spoke, his eyes reddened visibly—this time, crying from frustration at his own weakness.
He wanted to get mad.
But he’d grown up without ever throwing a tantrum. Who dared in front of Bai Qingqing? Even half a questioning breath or punctuation got you barbecued inside out by her fiercer flames. As a kid, Li Ran was especially “cautious,” never testing if his mom would stir-fry him in rage.
His dad got “perfectly seasoned” daily—enough to “fill” him.
And Li Ang wasn’t someone you could vent on. Forever like a snail, slow, timid, never arguing with anyone.
At most, he’d frustrate people seeking emotional feedback, like Bai Qingqing always getting pissed. She said he couldn’t sweet-talk; one line made him blush and steam from the head, like it could kill him. Sometimes she’d want tender reminiscing when in a good mood, but Li Ang just smiled silently, no response.
Such a person could exasperate the impatient to death.
Not a slow-burn like Li Ran.
A year with Chi Mo, and Li Ran learned only “positive,” “active,” “study hard,” “improve daily,” “strive for a better tomorrow”—no “negative,” “anger,” “tit-for-tat,” “clawing back,” “bite the dog that bites me.”
The urge to rage at Chi Mo swirled, but Li Ran had no idea how, and couldn’t do something uncouth like biting his brother.
Then he heard himself say furiously, “You’re bullying me! A-apologize!”
Chi Mo: “…”
Chi Mo used his greatest restraint not to let his lips curve slyly. He lowered his gaze steadily, afraid of kissing the kid to death if he looked into his eyes: “Sorry.”
Parents couldn’t stint or be shy about apologies—kids needed to know adults weren’t always right; they had rights to anger and question.
“It was my fault, okay? Don’t be mad. In the future, for intimate stuff off the bed, I’ll strictly follow your wishes. If you say no, it’s no, alright?” Chi Mo was practically swearing on the heavens. He’d never coaxed anyone; all his coaxing went to Li Ran. “Forgive me this once, baby.”
“Fine.” Li Ran regained some dignity in his brother’s good attitude, unmocked, feeling cherished, and responded solemnly.
“I forgive you.”
The door unlocked. Li Ran got out, went to class with a lighter mood, tossed a final “hmph” of lingering shame at Chi Mo, and walked off.
Watching his back, Chi Mo rubbed the fingers that had touched little Li Ran that morning, savoring his expression then.
A truth that excited him immensely had been screaming in his mind nonstop since.
He thought: “Li Ran’s so sensitive—doesn’t that mean fuck once, pee once?”
He absolutely couldn’t let him go.
Wet sheets a few times? He’d change them a few times…
