When Li Jue received the call, he was still deep in slumber. He groggily opened his eyes and bolted upright the moment he saw the caller’s name. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Young Master Lai?”
“Nothing happened,” came the voice of the bodyguard leader in charge of Lai Li’s security. “But today marks the third time Young Master Lai has gone to the psychological counseling center. Do you want to inform the boss?”
Li Jue was stunned. “Psychological counseling center?”
That reckless guy Lai Li could actually suffer from a mental illness?
The bodyguard leader continued, “You heard right. It’s only seven o’clock, and Young Master Lai already dragged the counselor out of bed to open for business. His mood was very poor.”
“Got it,” Li Jue replied.
Dai Linxuan had only just said a few days ago that there was no need to keep reporting Lai Li’s whereabouts unless there was danger or trouble.
But psychological counseling…
Li Jue hung up and tentatively sent a message to Dai Linxuan. There was no reply, but the next second, his phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Dai Linxuan’s mild voice came through, carrying a slight rasp—like he’d just woken up, or perhaps carried the faint weariness of a sleepless night.
“What’s wrong with Xiao Li?”
Li Jue first apologized for waking him, then relayed the news about Lai Li visiting the psychological counseling center.
Dai Linxuan fell silent for a moment. “Who is he consulting for?”
After Lai Li’s midnight outburst, Dai Linxuan had lost all sleep. He leaned against the headboard and played over a dozen rounds of Sudoku until he saw Li Jue’s message.
Li Jue replied awkwardly, “Not sure about the specifics of their conversation.”
“No problem. Send me the name of the counseling center.” Dai Linxuan paused. “Let me know the next time he goes.”
Dai Linxuan hung up and instinctively reached for the cigarettes in the drawer. He picked one up but didn’t light it. He stared blankly for a while, then let out a nearly helpless chuckle and put it back.
His first reaction upon hearing that Lai Li had gone to psychological counseling was that Lai Li was seeking treatment for homosexuality.
He opened the voice message Lai Li had sent in the middle of the night and listened to it again.
“Either don’t touch anyone, or only touch me.”
Dai Linxuan felt both surprised and unsurprised that Lai Li couldn’t accept him having a same-sex partner to this extent.
Their twelve years of intimate entanglement had left no room in Lai Li’s world for anyone else. It was an extremely unhealthy state.
Turning it around now would be incredibly difficult.
Dai Linxuan played the voice message several more times, listening quietly, like drinking poison to quench thirst.
The morning light filtered into the room, sharpening the shadows and adding flecks of haze to his once-clear pupils, tainting their purity.
Jing Zixiao sighed inwardly for the Nth time as he glanced at the ancestor in the car.
The ancestor was staring at his brother’s chat input box, looking like a storm about to break.
Jing Zixiao cracked the car window open a sliver. In the distance, a woman hurried toward the psychological counseling center.
“Your psychologist is here,” he said.
Lai Li muttered, “He didn’t even ask a single question.”
Jing Zixiao: “…”
Ten minutes earlier, Lai Li had ordered his bodyguard to tell Li Jue about the counseling visit in a bid to attract his brother’s attention.
Yet Dai Linxuan hadn’t sent a single message of concern.
“Maybe Li Zhu didn’t tell your brother. After all, your brother stopped the ‘surveillance’ on you recently,” Jing Zixiao comforted him. “Or maybe he’s still sleeping and missed the call.”
Jing Zixiao had always thought Lai Li’s feelings for his brother were twisted—neither familial nor romantic, just pure distortion.
Monitoring his brother on one hand, while craving to be monitored on the other.
It was a long story.
When Lai Li was nineteen, he experienced the second kidnapping of his life. The bodyguard team made a grave error, leading Dai Linxuan to pay nearly a hundred million in ransom.
The kidnappers demanded payment through an overseas channel, but Dai Linxuan had no such assets overseas. He ended up selling part of his shares in Wanli Film Industry to Jiang Qiujun to cover it.
In the end, Lai Li was badly injured but survived, and with help from overseas police, most of the ransom was recovered before it could be laundered.
Media speculation at the time suggested the kidnappers’ real target was Dai Linxuan. Lai Li had borrowed his brother’s car at the last minute, and by sheer coincidence, Lai Li took the hit instead.
Logically, kidnappers of that scale shouldn’t have mistaken Lai Li for Dai Linxuan, but they took him anyway—perhaps planning to roll with the mistake since it was all about the money.
Opinions varied, and no one knew the full truth—not even Jing Zixiao.
Afterward, however, Dai Linxuan switched security firms, replacing the entire bodyguard team for both himself and Lai Li.
That’s where the problem lay.
Two months before the kidnapping, an established security company called Gold Shield faced a debt crisis. A “young” domestic venture capital fund stepped in generously to bail them out.
That fund was Xuanquan Venture Capital. Its first-round limited partners (LPs) were almost all people Jing Zixiao had recruited. He put up the money and signed nominee agreements with them.
And where did Jing Zixiao’s money come from? He and Lai Li had joint ventures in restaurants, hotels, ski resorts, and even some miscellaneous shares… Lai Li funneled him funds through these to hold assets that couldn’t be exposed outright.
Even Xuanquan Venture Capital’s general partners (GPs) were their people.
After this convoluted setup, Lai Li became one of Gold Shield’s major behind-the-scenes shareholders—not absolute control, but the investment terms included placing his own bodyguard team there.
After the kidnapping, Dai Linxuan put out a bid for new security, Gold Shield won, and Lai Li successfully placed his people with Dai Linxuan.
The process was twisted and complex, but the conclusion simple:
The bodyguards around Dai Linxuan and Lai Li today were all Lai Li’s people.
Venture capital LPs didn’t need public disclosure, and with layers of nominee agreements, Dai Linxuan had no reason to suspect his security team’s backer was his dear little brother.
That’s how Lai Li always knew Dai Linxuan’s location first—whether it was the real-time tracking after his return, or the sudden halt a few days ago. Lai Li knew it all.
When he learned Dai Linxuan had stopped monitoring him, Lai Li threw a tantrum and nearly trashed the apartment. Then he turned around and realized Dai Linxuan had also shut off the surveillance on himself.
…
Jing Zixiao often felt Dai Linxuan was like a pitiful little white flower who’d unwittingly let the wolf in.
“Let me ask something.” His curiosity burned; he couldn’t resist. “Was that kidnapping a few years ago your setup?”
Otherwise, how was it so coincidental? Lai Li had just become a behind-the-scenes shareholder in Gold Shield’s security when the kidnapping happened—caused by bodyguard incompetence. It was too suspicious.
Lai Li finally looked away from his phone and glanced at him, sneering. “Am I crazy? Hiring people to kidnap myself and extort nearly a hundred million? Do I have connections to the heavens? Were those detectives eating rice for nothing?”
Jing Zixiao laughed dryly a few times. “Isn’t it just too coincidental?”
“It was pretty coincidental,” Lai Li said expressionlessly. “I just wanted something simple—a broken bone or two—to get my brother to fire the old security team.”
Jing Zixiao: “…”
He felt sympathy for Dai Linxuan again.
A pristine high mountain flower, entwined by a sinister, creeping poison snake that bared its fangs at anyone who dared approach.
Since he’d brought it up, Jing Zixiao pressed further. “The outside world speculated the kidnappers’ real target was your brother. True or false?”
During Lai Li’s recovery, his mood had been terrible, and he’d clung to his brother. Jing Zixiao hadn’t dared ask much then and had held onto the questions until now.
“True,” Lai Li grunted.
Jing Zixiao was puzzled. “I remember they started with a car crash, right? Didn’t they realize you weren’t your brother when they dragged you from the scene?”
“They did,” Lai Li said, propping his elbow on the car window, index finger against his temple, eyes half-closed. “But I recognized them too.”
Jing Zixiao was shocked. “Acquaintances!?”
“Sort of…” Lai Li’s face was shrouded in the shadow beyond the window, inscrutable. “They weren’t supposed to be alive anymore. When I saw their faces, they naturally couldn’t let me go.”
His voice was soft, like insects rustling over the heart, sending chills across the skin.
Jing Zixiao’s heart skipped. He was one of the few who knew Lai Li had grown up in the Slum District. The world thought Lai Li was just an orphan Dai Linxuan had casually adopted.
“Fuck, don’t tell me it’s those wanted criminals from the slums back then!?”
“Yeah.”
The early Slum District had been a den of fish and dragons—harboring fugitives, crime syndicates, all sorts. When Dai Corporation took on the redevelopment project, they worked with the government to round them up, nabbing 61 people for prostitution and gambling, and busting an organ trafficking ring.
The police involved all got promotions, Dai Corporation revived its fortunes and shook off the “CEO car crash conspiracy” fallout. Win-win.
But during the cleanup, a major accident struck the Slum District:
A dilapidated “concave”-shaped apartment building caught fire and exploded, killing dozens—many wanted criminals.
And the gang that kidnapped Lai Li three years ago? All listed as dead twelve years prior.
Jing Zixiao sucked in a cold breath. “They faked their deaths back then? But that requires body swaps. How’d they fool the DNA tests?”
Lai Li explained slowly. “The gang had four members. Two weren’t even in the police DNA database. The other two, investigations later showed, bribed a coroner twelve years ago.”
“I see…” Jing Zixiao wasn’t familiar with the details. “If they wanted to silence you, why not kill you outright instead of taking the ransom from your brother?”
Lai Li shot him an idiot-look.
“…” Jing Zixiao got it after a silent moment. “You took out four wanted criminals single-handedly?”
Lai Li scoffed.
Those guys had faked their deaths for years. Suddenly facing an “old acquaintance,” they let their guard down, even wanting to chat and reminisce. They’d forgotten the hellish environment that had shaped Lai Li up to age ten.
Even after all those years, he hadn’t shed those bone-deep traits: vicious, ruthless, with a snake’s patience for lurking and striking.
Though they’d tortured him for two days first, Lai Li found his chance. He seized a gun, shot two in the knees, and stabbed the others in the melee.
He frequented clubs for shooting practice—excellent marksmanship. Plus, after his first kidnapping as a teen, Dai Linxuan had hired a combat coach for regular training.
If he hadn’t cared about becoming a “murderer,” he’d have headshot them.
In the end, Lai Li dragged his severe injuries to escape. The four fugitives chased in a car and collided with a big truck mid-pursuit. All dead for real this time.
“But it’s weird—they hid under false names for nine years. Why risk kidnapping your brother? And that convenient truck crash? Too neat.” Jing Zixiao shivered suddenly, hesitating. “…Were those fake-dead fugitives from twelve years ago really just the four of them?”
Lai Li didn’t reply. He stared out the window. The line of roadside cars stretched on; stare too long, and every window reflected malicious ghosts. The dense bushes beyond seemed to hide watching eyes.
Jing Zixiao’s questions were ones Lai Li should have pondered back then…
![Conquering the Psycho Villain [Quick Transmigration]](https://i3.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/ins.jpg?resize=151,215 "Conquering the Psycho Villain [Quick Transmigration]")
