Lai Li crouched on the ground, slowly lifting the little milk dog by its neck, his eyes filled with hollow indifference.
“Little Chestnut?”
Footsteps drew closer, and just as he was about to be discovered, Lai Li abruptly let go, falling back onto his butt with a thud. He turned his head woodenly.
Dai Linxuan hurried over and scooped Lai Li up from the ground. “What’s wrong?”
Lai Li wrapped his arms around Dai Linxuan’s neck and buried his face deeply. “Brother, I’m scared.”
Dai Linxuan glanced at the puppy on the ground—it was barely bigger than his palm—and couldn’t help but chuckle wryly. “You got scared and fell by something this tiny?”
“Mm.”
“You’re that afraid?” Dai Linxuan lightly patted Lai Li’s back, soothing him as he spoke. “But what if Brother wants to keep a little dog?”
Lai Li was too clingy, and with his busy schedule, the child psychologist had suggested getting a pet. It might help Lai Li better accept the outside world.
“Don’t keep it.” Lai Li nuzzled into the crook of Dai Linxuan’s neck, then slowly lifted his small face, gazing at him with those pitch-black eyes. “You already have a little dog.”
Dai Linxuan was taken aback. “Where?”
Lai Li replied seriously and coldly, “Me.”
Dai Linxuan couldn’t hold back. He turned his head and chuckled softly.
Lai Li cupped Dai Linxuan’s face insistently. “I can do everything a little dog can do, and I can learn anything I can’t.”
Dai Linxuan laughed even harder, taking a good while to stop. “But little dogs are great eaters. Tell me yourself—how many bites did you take of lunch earlier?”
Lai Li buried his face back into the crook of Dai Linxuan’s neck. “Little dogs don’t eat much.”
Dai Linxuan teased deliberately, “I don’t care about other people’s dogs. I only keep ones that eat a lot.”
Lai Li asked, “Just as long as it eats well?”
“Mm, let me think—the requirements might be a bit much.” Dai Linxuan carried him along the manor’s path. “It also has to like drinking water, wear long johns obediently, make friends properly, and be happy every day…”
Lai Li kept his face buried, his voice muffled. “Got it.”
Dai Linxuan said to the butler approaching them, “Find another home for the little dog.”
Lai Li jerked his head up.
Dai Linxuan smiled faintly and pinched his cheek. “This one, I could never bear to give away. I’ll keep it for life.”
…
Lai Li opened his eyes and first saw the unfamiliar ceiling. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a shallow layer of gold on the bedside.
No one lay beside him, but the warm, lingering laughter echoed in his ears: “I’ll keep it for life…”
For a moment, Lai Li couldn’t distinguish dream from reality, unsure of the time or place.
Dai Linxuan holding him, saying his little dog had to be happy, to live freely and unrestrained—it felt like it had just happened.
Lai Li closed his eyes briefly, then slipped his hand deep under the covers, touching the bulge there. A ten-year-old wouldn’t have this size.
He scoffed, his gaze shifting to the paternity test and camera on the bedside table. The chaotic memories submerged at the bottom of his mind finally surfaced, simply sorting dream from reality.
Dai Linxuan had returned to the country… That was real.
After composing himself, Lai Li entered the bathroom. Amid the hazy steam, he gripped himself and closed his eyes, envisioning Dai Linxuan with his clothes disheveled.
He hadn’t been very enthusiastic about this sort of thing before, but lately, it had become unusually frequent.
His brother really was a walking aphrodisiac.
Forty minutes later, Lai Li dried his hair while opening the surveillance app. Two new feeds had been added—the house where Dai Linxuan had been staying lately.
One camera faced the study directly, clearly capturing the safe. To the left, it showed the farthest edge of the balcony entrance; to the right, half the dining table.
The other was in the bedroom.
The house had too little furniture, few places to plant bugs. In his haste, he’d only managed two cameras—a regrettable limitation.
Lai Li didn’t bother blow-drying his hair fully. He lounged in the single armchair by the window, running his slender fingers through the damp strands a couple of times.
Facing the bright sunlight, he squinted at the surveillance footage.
After he left last night, Dai Linxuan sat in the dining room for a long time. The camera only caught his back; at sixteen times speed, his posture barely changed, silhouetted in lonely black-and-white by the night.
Until late at night, when Dai Linxuan made a brief call. The camera was too far, audio poor—no clear dialogue.
Then he returned to the bedroom, bent down to take a pill from the nightstand drawer, and swallowed it with water.
Lai Li crushed the tip of his finger against his thumb.
He knew it was a sleeping pill.
He’d seen it in the drawer that morning but hadn’t brought it up—
Dai Linxuan would just say he couldn’t sleep, and he certainly wouldn’t elaborate on why his insomnia was bad enough to require pills.
Better to bide his time, peel away layer by layer the veils of secrecy cloaking his brother from the shadows, until he was utterly bare.
When the footage reached bedtime, Lai Li slowed the speed, clipping a video segment and photos into his encrypted album folder.
By morning, Dai Linxuan rose, washed up, went to the kitchen, and emerged with a plate of dumplings, eating them excruciatingly slowly, as if the food held no appeal.
Lai Li counted… eight.
For an adult man, that was pathetically little. Dai Linxuan clearly knew his limits—he’d only boiled eight.
The recording paused there.
Lai Li furrowed his brow. After he left, Dai Linxuan hadn’t approached the safe in the study once, as if there was truly nothing inside.
But that morning, Lai Li had distinctly seen specks of nutrient soil at the safe’s edge. It was the kind used for succulents like the cactus ball.
—Dai Linxuan had locked the shattered cactus ball inside the safe.
That was Lai Li’s first thought. Just imagining it sent thrilling shivers through his chest; he itched to pry open the safe right then, pin Dai Linxuan to the desk beside it, and force him to admit: “It’s not just a potted plant.”
Lai Li steadied his breathing and switched to live feed. His brother stood in the shadows behind the curtains, gazing out the window, lost in thought.
He muted the audio and called Dai Linxuan from his other phone.
In the feed, Dai Linxuan glanced down at the screen, didn’t pick up, and pocketed it.
“…”
Lai Li’s face darkened.
He hung up and called again.
This time, Dai Linxuan answered, tone normal. “Morning.”
Lai Li asked softly, “Why didn’t you pick up just now?”
Dai Linxuan replied casually, “Just woke up. I grabbed the phone and you hung up.”
Liar.
Full of lies.
Lai Li stared darkly at the feed, his voice gentle. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Pretty good.” Dai Linxuan hooked the curtain and pulled it aside; sunlight flooded over him. “Just had one dream.”
“What about?”
“Can’t remember. Something from when you were little, I think.” Dai Linxuan’s voice was mild. “You up already?”
Lai Li hummed, biting his knuckle. “Brother, I’m starving.”
“You’re a grown man now—still need me to feed you?” Dai Linxuan laughed. “There’s a great breakfast spot on the second floor across from your apartment. Give them my personal number. Or have them deliver if you don’t want to go.”
It wasn’t what Lai Li wanted to eat. He changed the subject. “Busy today?”
“Yeah, heading to the company soon for a handover with Vice President Zhang.” Dai Linxuan explained slowly. “After the board meeting, my focus will shift more to Dai Corporation. He’ll handle most things at the company.”
Lai Li held shares in Wanli Film Industry too. “I can help out at the company.”
“No need. Vice President Zhang is reliable—let him make money for you. Isn’t that good?” Dai Linxuan chuckled. “Enjoy your college life.”
Lai Li didn’t push. “Busy tonight too?”
“Meeting a friend in the evening.”
“Who? Not He Xunzhang again, I hope.”
Lai Li’s question toed the line, so Dai Linxuan’s smile faded slightly. “You’ve met her—Huo Shuang.”
“…Just the two of you?”
“Mm.” Dai Linxuan said, “Talking mergers.”
The Huo Family’s ultimate goal was marriage, so they’d handed the shipping subsidiary merger entirely to Huo Shuang, freeing up time for her to build a relationship with Dai Linxuan.
Dai Linxuan wasn’t lying to Lai Li. Around eight, he left for the company and stayed until four in the afternoon, then met Huo Shuang at a seafood restaurant. They chatted amiably.
A photo from an unknown number showed them facing each other—not intimate, but still giving off that perfect “talented man, beautiful woman” vibe.
Lai Li stared at it for a long time before deleting it.
After the holiday, the board meeting proceeded as scheduled. The new director appointments and Dai Linxuan’s merger proposal both passed smoothly. Now they just awaited the interim shareholders’ meeting in half a month.
That day, Dai San Shu wired Lai Li a seven-figure allowance, still without demands, his concern feeling genuine, as if he had no ulterior motives.
On the police side, Zeng Wenzhi stuck to his claim that Dai Linxuan had pedophilic tendencies, at the Welfare Home. Asked which child, he said he hadn’t seen the face clearly—same story to the lawyers.
The police had to question the kids one by one at the Welfare Home, but many couldn’t distinguish normal contact from sexual, and memories were fuzzy, slowing the investigation.
