The brief pleasure that had risen in Lai Li sank instantly. “What proposal?”
Dai Linxuan pondered, eyes down. “The one for acquiring Huo Family Shipping Company.”
Lai Li asked no more, went to the bathroom for a shower first. When he came out, Dai Linxuan was already immersed in work. Lai Li lay on the bed, propping himself to watch for a bit. His brother’s expression was calm and focused, blurred slightly by the midday sun.
Dai Linxuan looked up. “Blinding? Or is the typing too loud?”
Lai Li shook his head and closed his eyes.
He slept until three in the afternoon, waking right on time. The room was empty, only a sticky note on the armchair arm fluttering in the breeze, rustling against the fabric.
Dai Linxuan’s bold, vigorous handwriting: Gone. Not back tonight.
Lai Li’s face was expressionless as he opened his phone, pulled up the monitoring app from a hidden folder, and accessed his room’s feed. He scrolled back the recording until he saw his brother’s figure—
Dai Linxuan had finished the proposal at two-twenty, glanced indifferently at the bed, then left without a backward glance.
“Bro, you’re doing it again…” Lai Li murmured. “All talk, no follow-through.”
How to punish someone out of control, who didn’t keep their word?
First, he had to bring them back into controllable range…
The next day, Lai Li met Jing Zixiao at Cloud Summit.
Jing Zixiao spread his hands helplessly. “The chance of dropping the charges is low. Your brother’s stance is firm, and he won’t agree to leniency.”
Though Zeng Wenzhi had hurt Lai Li, Dai Linxuan had been the point of contact. Without his approval, police and lawyers couldn’t easily reach Lai Li.
Besides, Lai Li couldn’t possibly sign a leniency agreement—that would outright tell his brother he planned to get Zeng Wenzhi out and torment him.
“Anything else?”
“I didn’t find anything off about Zeng Wenzhi—” Jing Zixiao looked puzzled. “You okay? Why are you keep shifting in your seat?”
“No issue is the biggest issue.” Lai Li ignored the second half, shifting his weight to his right side again, face darkening. “You don’t actually believe his accusations, do you?”
Jing Zixiao shrugged it off. “Of course not. I might not know your brother, but don’t I know you? If your brother had that kind of fetish, you’d be the first he’d go after. Could you tolerate him having such a major flaw?”
Lai Li stared at him.
Jing Zixiao wisely skipped the topic and continued about Zeng Wenzhi. “But that case with his daughter back then… it’s kinda interesting. Not the best way to put it—kinda weird, right?”
Lai Li: “Don’t tease.”
“I went to a lot of trouble to dig up the ins and outs of this, and you won’t even let me gloat a little?” Jing Zixiao tsked. “You should know the crime scene was in the old West Bank District slums—what’s now Saibo City, right? That little thug raped Zeng Wenzhi’s daughter and managed to stay free until twelve years ago, when your family bid on the Slum District redevelopment project. Working with the government, they cleared out all the unemployed vagrants and criminals in the area, and that’s how the thug finally got nabbed. But the charge wasn’t rape—it was intentional homicide.”
Lai Li narrowed his eyes. “He actually killed someone?”
“Someone did die, but whether he did the killing is anyone’s guess.” Jing Zixiao said, “Anyway, the judge sentenced him to fifteen years. Once inside, he got tormented with ‘invisible violence’ by his fellow inmates, both openly and covertly, for a year. Then he died at the hands of a prisoner who suddenly went mentally ill—and that guy ended up ‘blessed by misfortune,’ getting out of prison and into a mental hospital instead. Weird, right?”
Lai Li followed Jing Zixiao’s train of thought. “You think some big shot avenged Zeng Wenzhi back then, and now he’s framing my brother to repay the favor?”
“Just a hunch, but the odds are low.” Jing Zixiao said, “If there really was a big shot like that, they couldn’t have planned to frame your brother twelve years ago, could they?”
Lai Li leaned back against the sofa. “What if Zeng Wenzhi’s been working in the shadows for this person all these years, and framing my brother is just one of his jobs?”
Jing Zixiao shook his head. “Under pressure from your brother, the police turned Zeng Wenzhi’s social connections upside down—online and off. Not a single suspicious link. His life’s as bland as an NPC in a game, you know?”
As if Zeng Wenzhi were truly just a victim’s father, a righteous man who couldn’t stand the world’s injustices.
“Whatever. I’ll ask him myself.” Lai Li downed half a glass of whiskey. “My injury report says minor injuries. Even if he sues, the judge will probably go easy on him because he’s a victim’s father—suspended sentence at worst.”
Jing Zixiao sighed. “That’s true enough, but because of his accusation, the police have to investigate whether your brother really committed a crime. Zeng Wenzhi’s not budging an inch, and with no hard evidence, how long will it take for his case to even go to the prosecutors if they keep digging like this?”
Lai Li gently rubbed the rim of his glass, sensing an inexplicable unease. Without actual evidence, why were the police clinging so stubbornly to his brother?
Unless the person framing his brother had ties to the police too.
Jing Zixiao said, “Personally, I think the rapist just pissed off some big shot on his own, got offed in prison as payback, and it conveniently avenged Zeng Wenzhi too.”
“A lowlife who could only afford to live in the slums, offending some big shot…” Lai Li’s eyes drooped slightly at the corners, his voice soft, more like musing to himself than a question.
The base of the glass was divided into countless diamond shapes, reflecting a distorted, blurry face.
“Who knows? Don’t forget, he got caught because Dai Corporation won the Slum District bid, so that big shot could very well be from the Dai Family… Hey!” Jing Zixiao waved a hand in front of Lai Li. “You listening?”
“…Yeah.” Lai Li glanced at the time. “Gonna hit the bathroom.”
“Fine.” Jing Zixiao stretched lazily. “No more business? I’ll call in some karaoke girls then.”
Lai Li reached the door, then turned back suddenly. “My brother has a venture capital fund overseas. Check all the LPs under his fund for me and make a list.”
Jing Zixiao choked. You still remember he’s your brother? In their circle, digging into someone’s background like this either meant you wanted to hook up with them or you had a grudge. Even as an outsider, Jing Zixiao felt a bit sorry for Dai Linxuan.
He pondered for three seconds, then held up three fingers. “International investigation—extra charge.”
“Why not just rob a bank?” Lai Li scoffed. “One percent of the bonus, tops.”
Jing Zixiao beamed. “Mission accepted!”
For the video from overseas, Dai Linxuan’s explanation was that it was an LP group event. The “cigarette” had been swapped for a cigar, which he hadn’t even smoked.
Whether out of reason or emotion, Lai Li wanted to believe him.
But he preferred stripping everything bare, laying it all out naked and exposed—that was the best way to build deeper trust, wasn’t it?
Lai Li’s gaze darkened, and he licked his sharp canine tooth… Bro, you’d better not be lying to me.
The restroom was still as spacious and quiet as ever. Some private rooms at Cloud Summit had their own bathrooms, so the public ones didn’t see much traffic.
Last time, Lai Li had slapped Dai Linxuan in the first stall—too impulsive, but at least he hadn’t ruined his brother’s face.
Lai Li lingered at the door, reminiscing, when impatient stomping came from the farthest stall. He sauntered over and entered the second-to-last one.
A voice came from next door. “Little Chestnut?”
Lai Li sat on the gleaming toilet lid and recognized it. “It really is you, Third Uncle.”
“I’ve been waiting in this bathroom for an hour!” Dai San Shu gnashed his teeth. “Didn’t you say seven o’clock? It’s eight-ten now!”
“If we came in one after the other, wouldn’t that draw attention?” Lai Li said considerately. “Keep it down—bad if someone hears.”
“My guy’s watching outside. He’ll warn me if anyone approaches.” Dai San Shu twisted his sore waist and hips, frowning. “Does it have to be this convoluted just to meet? Dai Linxuan can’t be watching you twenty-four-seven, can he?”
Lai Li spread his legs, one braced against the door, the other bent with foot on the floor, his face expressionless. “Spit it out. Why tell me all this?”
“I’m your real Third Uncle!” Dai San Shu said angrily. “How could I stand by while you get persecuted by that mother-son pair without even a name or status!?”
The paternity test report Dai San Shu had sent Lai Li listed Dai Enhao as Party A and Lai Li as Party B. The final result: parentage probability greater than or equal to 99.99%.
Lai Li asked, “You bring the report?”
“Brought it.” Dai San Shu said, “I’ll toss it over from the top.”
Lai Li looked up as the document dropped from above, landing on his leg before flipping to the floor, revealing the final conclusion.
—Supporting that Dai Enhao was Lai Li’s biological father.
Lai Li’s eyesight was sharp. From his vantage, he traced and engraved those words with his gaze, over and over—this meant he was Dai Linxuan’s blood brother. The same blood ran through their veins.
Dai San Shu couldn’t help asking, “You done looking?”
Lai Li calmly raised his hand to his lips, rubbing gently, then signaled: “I’m taking the report.”
Dai San Shu hesitated, then replied, “Fine, but don’t let Dai Linxuan see it until your identity’s public.”
Lai Li didn’t pick it up right away. Like a hunter eyeing prey, he swiftly nipped his own finger between his teeth. His sharp canines pierced the pad, and blood welled up instantly.
Lai Li sucked the blood from his fingertip, the faintly sweet, metallic taste spreading across his tongue… His brother’s flavor.
The wound throbbed with each suck, but he ignored it, opening his palm as his tongue trailed downward, lapping up the escaping blood, not missing a single crevice between his fingers. Finally, he tilted his chin up, licking from the base of his palm back to the tip, curling away the fresh blood with a satisfied sigh: “Bro…”
Not a drop wasted.
An irresistible thrill surged through Lai Li, a sickly obsession tinting his eyes. Uncontrollable shivers radiated from his heart to every limb, quaking endlessly, bringing ecstasy ten times more intense than climax.
All the while, he stared fixedly at the report. If it was real… that would be perfect.
“I know it’s hard to accept all at once, Little Chestnut. You’ve suffered these years.” Dai San Shu sighed. After a wait with no response, he asked, “What are you doing in there?”
