Huang Hao suddenly remembered their recent private discussion: whether Lai Li using his brother’s photo as wallpaper meant he liked him.
Dai Linxuan was so exceptional, gentle and caring to his brother—who wouldn’t like that? If he had such a non-blood-related brother, he might bend into a mosquito coil himself.
Jiang Xiao smoothed things over. “There are still photos from that day on the school forum.”
Dai Linxuan smiled. “Can I see?”
“Of course.” Jiang Xiao quickly pulled up the post and handed it over.
The top-liked photo showed Lai Li holding the ring in his mouth, propping up on the sandy ground for push-ups. It was a GIF: his camouflage T-shirt shifting up and down, revealing a glimpse of waist, smooth and full muscle lines glistening with sweat.
The next one was after the push-ups, his hand just touching the ring, lips still red, a bead of sweat sliding from his face. In the sunlight, he seemed to glow.
Dai Linxuan’s gaze lingered on the ring before he chuckled lightly. “That impressive? Do it for me next time.”
An ordinary sentence, but to a listener with ulterior motives, it sounded intimate and ambiguous.
The post had tons of comments. Lai Li’s background had been dug up, but college students were relatively innocent—mostly envying his luck. As for the rest…
[13th Floor]: This body… aren’t you drooling? Lick lick lick!
[16th Floor]: Why no one lying under for this year’s push-ups? Solo act is boring.
[21st Floor]: Haven’t seen such a sexy dog waist in ages. Bet it could thrust you to heaven.
[25th Floor]: A hundred push-ups nonstop! Makes my abs clench—can’t imagine how long he’d last in bed…
Dai Linxuan raised an eyebrow.
Lai Li snatched the phone and tossed it across the table. Jiang Xiao fumbled to catch it and nearly curled his toes in embarrassment upon seeing the screen—he’d forgotten how wild netizens got!
Jiang Xiao said shakily, “They’re just joking…”
It felt like getting caught on a porn site by a classmate’s parent… Though Dai Linxuan was only thirty, his aura was too upright, making these crude jokes feel profane.
“I know. Everyone’s freer online,” Dai Linxuan said understandingly, then turned to the silent Song Zichu. “Why isn’t Xiao Chu saying anything? Is the food not to your taste?”
Huang Hao and Jiang Xiao also noticed Song Zichu’s silence, which felt a bit strange. Chatting with Dai Linxuan was actually quite comfortable—he actively engaged with topics they knew about, without any sense of looking down on them or superiority. It shouldn’t have left Song Zichu silent from the moment he sat down.
“No, it’s delicious,” Song Zichu replied reluctantly. “I’m just feeling a bit unwell.”
Dai Linxuan suggested, “Shall I call the temple doctor to take a look?”
Song Zichu shook his head and refused. “It’s just my stomach acting up—a childhood ailment. I’m used to it, and even doctors can’t do much.”
Lai Li watched coldly, his inner irritation layering on another level. He didn’t usually contradict Dai Linxuan in front of outsiders; otherwise, he would have dragged his brother away long ago.
“Then after we go down the mountain, have Xiao Li take you to buy some stomach… medicine,” Dai Linxuan said with a barely perceptible pause.
Under the table, Lai Li placed his hand on Dai Linxuan’s leg. The black suit pants wrinkled seductively under his grip, the thin fabric revealing a firm, smooth touch beneath.
Lai Li stiffened for a moment and loosened his fingers, but he didn’t pull away. “No time. I’m going to the Welfare Home with you this afternoon.”
Song Zichu couldn’t get a word in edgewise and grew even more silent.
Dai Linxuan pressed Lai Li’s hand down. “I’ll be busy the whole time there. Why don’t you go out and explore with your roommates?”
Lai Li turned his head, biting out each word heavily. “I’ll keep you company while you’re busy.”
“Mid-Autumn Festival is definitely for spending with family first,” Huang Hao chimed in. “We have plenty of time later—pick any weekend to hang out. But Mid-Autumn only comes once a year.”
These were just polite words; they probably wouldn’t have many chances to hang out together. They’d realized that the moment they saw Dai Linxuan at the temple. Today, if it weren’t for him, Lai Li wouldn’t have come hiking with them at all.
Lunch ended hastily in an atmosphere of surface-level harmony. Dai Linxuan had his assistant bring over a few boxes of mooncakes for Jiang Xiao and the others.
“These are the temple’s special mooncakes. Thanks for carrying them back to school,” Dai Linxuan said, wishing them a happy Mid-Autumn. “There’s not much in each box—they shouldn’t be too heavy.”
The group immediately chorused “not heavy, not heavy,” forgetting all about polite refusals.
Lai Li stared at the box in Song Zichu’s hands, looking like he was about to snatch it away at any moment.
Dai Linxuan pressed down on his shoulder and watched the three figures disappear down the stairs. He deliberately said, “Don’t worry, no poison.”
Lai Li wasn’t buying it. “The only reason I’m still attending this damn university is because you wanted me to go—so don’t do unnecessary things. I don’t need these social connections.”
Dai Linxuan sighed. “Three years of grueling study to score six hundred points on the exam…”
Lai Li turned his head to look at him.
After holding eye contact for a moment, Dai Linxuan actually read the unspoken meaning in Lai Li’s gaze. His dear little brother attended school obediently, studied honestly for three years of high school, and even put in the same effort as other kids—all just because he hoped Lai Li would live a normal life like any ordinary child, so Lai Li was willing to go along with it.
He frowned slightly, feeling unsettled.
Lai Li reminded him, “Ten minutes to one o’clock.”
Dai Linxuan made a brief appearance at the charity donation area on the front mountain, posed for a few photos with the philanthropic entrepreneurs, then apologized and said he had to leave first—the kids at the Welfare Home were waiting for their Mid-Autumn gifts. The Huo siblings had already left without making a show of themselves.
Wangshan had no cable car, so they had to hike down. Fortunately, it wasn’t too high; they could reach the foot in about half an hour.
Dai Linxuan and Lai Li walked side by side down the steps, with the foundation’s secretary and assistant trailing far behind. Dappled light and shadows danced through the woods, occasionally falling on the two of them.
Dai Linxuan seemed to suddenly remember and asked casually, “What did you do when you took Xiao Zhou away earlier?”
He had naturally noticed the scene where Lai Li dragged Xu Yanzhou off, but with so many people watching him at the time and no worry that Lai Li would do anything extreme, he hadn’t intervened right away.
Lai Li’s tone turned icy. “Why do you care so much about him?”
Dai Linxuan replied, “If you don’t like someone, don’t get handsy.”
“I only used a stick,” Lai Li said impatiently. “And if you don’t like it, don’t call him so affectionately.”
Dai Linxuan laughed. “Who? Xiao Zhou, or Song Zichu?”
Lai Li said, “Both.”
“Jealous?” Dai Linxuan reassured him. “Xiao Chu isn’t my type.”
Lai Li sometimes wondered if Dai Linxuan liking him was all in his head—Dai Linxuan seemed utterly indifferent to who he liked. He furrowed his brow, then forcibly smoothed it out. “Don’t say things like that to disgust me. You know full well I have no interest in him.”
Dai Linxuan didn’t feel any pleasure from Lai Li’s words. Who did Lai Li have interest in, then?
Dai Linxuan plucked a leaf from an overhanging branch and casually placed it on Lai Li’s head. “How would I know? I’m not a worm in your belly.”
Lai Li snorted coldly. “You can’t have interest in anyone either—Song Zichu, Xu Yanzhou, all males.”
No sooner had he said it than the leaf on his head fluttered to the ground with the wind. His brother gave no response to his domineering declaration and kept walking ahead. Lai Li bent down to pick up the leaf and quietly tucked it into his pocket.
Dai Linxuan glanced back. Lai Li quickened his pace to catch up to his shoulder and suddenly asked, “After the auction that day, I drank a bit too much. What happened that night?”
“Let me think.” Dai Linxuan narrowed his eyes, following the light and shadows on the distant steps. “I helped you book a room. Then I wanted to freshen up, but you grabbed me and wouldn’t let go, so I had to…”
Lai Li whipped his head around.
“…so I coaxed you to sleep before going to wash up.” Dai Linxuan slammed on the brakes, leaving him hanging breathlessly.
“That’s it?” Lai Li didn’t believe it. It was the morning after that night that Dai Linxuan said he’d try to hold back and let go of his feelings for him.
“What, were you expecting me to take advantage of you, get drunk and disorderly?” Dai Linxuan stared at the air ahead and chuckled for a bit before glancing at Lai Li. “You don’t remember anything?”
Lai Li said nothing.
“Really nothing…” Dai Linxuan suddenly recalled something and curved his lips. “If you want to know what happened that night, trade for it with another question.”
“What?”
“That morning after the auction, you came into the secondary bedroom where I was sleeping—in a state of morning wood—and stayed for two hours before leaving.” Dai Linxuan’s smile turned teasing as his gaze swept over Lai Li’s face, carrying a subtle scrutiny. “What did you do, little chestnut?”
Lai Li’s breath hitched, and he tensed his facial muscles. Otherwise, every tiny change on his face would be instantly captured by Dai Linxuan, leaving him nowhere to hide.
He calmly turned the tables. “How did you know I entered your room?”
Dai Linxuan said lightly, as if discussing something perfectly innocuous, “Isn’t that normal? When you like someone, you want to track their every move at all times—see what they’re doing, whether they’re lying down or sitting, reading or gaming… So I just installed a camera in your living room.”
“You fucking…” Lai Li took a deep breath, brushed past Dai Linxuan, and strode down the steps ahead, leaving him with a view of his irritable nape.
“Angry?” Dai Linxuan drawled. “Guess if there’s a camera in the bedroom?”
Dai Linxuan had only brought it up casually to shut down Lai Li’s questioning, but watching his back now, he suddenly realized… That morning, Lai Li might really have done something.
“You…” The words circled in his mouth before Dai Linxuan swallowed them. “Do you still remember the first time we came to Wangshan Temple?”
