Dai Linxuan was cooking when dragging footsteps sounded from behind him.
“Don’t come in. Go wait in the dining room,” he said without turning around. “This chili is really pungent.”
Lai Li approached regardless, pressing his forehead against Dai Linxuan’s shoulder. “Bro, I had a nightmare.”
Dai Linxuan’s heart tightened. He turned, grabbing the hand at his waist, and his expression froze.
In front of him was nineteen-year-old Lai Li, still carrying a hint of boyishness.
He wore a loose-necked pajama shirt, and on top of the old scars on his chest and shoulders were several fresh wounds that hadn’t fully healed—marks from the torment inflicted by those four kidnappers not long ago.
Dai Linxuan felt a momentary daze, unsure for a second what day it was—
“Did you dream about those days?”
Lai Li shook his head. He was tall enough now that he didn’t need to tiptoe to rest his chin in his brother’s shoulder nook, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.
This was far too intimate. A sense of guilt stirred in Dai Linxuan’s heart—he felt it wasn’t right. Only after a while did he drape one arm lightly over Lai Li’s shoulder and back, gently soothing him.
He chalked it up to Lai Li developing psychological trauma from his brush with death, making him extra clingy. As the older brother, offering more comfort and tolerance was only natural.
He coughed twice from the chili fumes before saying, “It’s going to burn.”
Lai Li refused to let go.
Dai Linxuan ruffled the back of his head and turned off the gas with his other hand, chuckling. “Weren’t you the one who woke up in the middle of the night craving food? Now you’re not eating?”
“Eat or not, doesn’t matter.” Lai Li mumbled, “Bro, when are you planning to get married?”
“Why ask that out of nowhere?”
Dai Linxuan didn’t know what the future held for him and Lai Li, but ever since the first time his heart had raced because of Lai Li, he’d known he could never step into marriage.
“This afternoon at the Old Residence, Grandpa asked if you liked Jing Deyu’s sister.” Lai Li said.
“You heard my answer. She’s just a friend—we couldn’t date.” Dai Linxuan lowered his voice. “I’ll tell you a little gossip.”
“Mm?” Lai Li’s lips brushed his shoulder, intentionally or not.
A wave of itchiness spread, but Dai Linxuan pretended not to notice. “Jing Auntie forbids her from marrying before forty.”
Lai Li asked, “Why?”
Dai Linxuan explained, “Jing Auntie is grooming her as her successor. She thinks anyone under forty is immature, easily blinded by love.”
“Then don’t get married before forty either. Leave a little more time for me.” Lai Li thought for a moment. “Actually, make it thirty-five.”
“Why?”
“Because sperm quality declines after forty.” Lai Li said expressionlessly. “If your future kid isn’t as good as you, I’ll hate it.”
“…That’s awfully thoughtful.” Dai Linxuan was torn between laughter and tears. “But I have no plans to marry anytime soon.”
This answer would spare Lai Li’s feelings while dodging follow-ups on why.
But Lai Li pressed on. “If you get married later, can we still be like this?”
“Afraid I’ll grow distant from you?” Dai Linxuan smiled faintly. “Married or not, I won’t let you feel neglected.”
The thought that had cropped up now and then since the kidnapping and reunion resurfaced—
Once Lai Li was mature enough, exposed to all sorts of people, and still interested in him, then they could be together.
In the meantime, he’d stay put.
Whether Lai Li turned back or moved forward, he wouldn’t leave.
By then, they’d both be old enough. Even if the world found out about their relationship, it’d be just superficial gossip and criticism, nothing that would drown them in infamy.
“As long as you want it, as long as I have it, I won’t hold back…” Dai Linxuan chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, you silly pup.”
The light suddenly snapped off with a pop.
Outside the window, dark clouds had gathered at some point, and torrential rain poured down, hammering the glass with a relentless patter-patter.
Lai Li released him and slowly retreated into the thick shadows. “What if I want to be my own sister-in-law? Would you allow it?”
Dai Linxuan froze. This scene felt eerily familiar, like déjà vu.
Boom! Thunder crashed.
A fleeting bolt of lightning lit Lai Li’s figure ghostly white. The wounds on his chest and collarbone looked freshly torn open, blood gushing endlessly, staining his pajamas crimson.
“Bro, they kidnapped me and killed me because of you.” Lai Li stared at him intently. “Aren’t you going to avenge me?”
Dai Linxuan wanted to embrace him, but his body wouldn’t move. His mouth moved silently, unable to utter a sound.
His heart felt gripped tight. Dai Linxuan’s chest heaved violently, gasping for air. With a sharp inhale, he jolted awake, staring at the hotel ceiling.
…A dream laced with memories.
The night was deep and still in the suite, filled only with two sounds: the nearby rhythm of Lai Li’s steady breathing and the distant roar of unrelenting rain outside.
Lai Li’s arm was locked around his waist, face nestled against his collarbone, sleeping soundly.
Dai Linxuan couldn’t move. He glanced sideways at the wall clock.
Four in the morning.
He’d slept two hours—decent enough to stay sharp all day.
He lay there without checking his phone. One shoulder lay exposed outside the covers, chilled stiffly, while the half pressed against Lai Li burned hot. The palm forced against Lai Li’s abdomen was even sweating.
Lai Li was like a chestnut demon rolled in a hot wok.
Dai Linxuan half-closed his eyes, gazing absently at the top of Lai Li’s head. Unlike Lai Li’s sharp, flashy outward persona, his hair was relatively soft to the touch.
Like a puppy’s fur.
Dai Linxuan actually liked small animals. Years ago, he’d wanted to get a dog to keep Lai Li company when he was busy, but Lai Li feared dogs—and cats or anything else. No one else would come near; only him.
Back then, Dai Linxuan hadn’t realized it. Now, he gradually understood: perhaps from the start, he’d enjoyed Lai Li’s special treatment of sticking only to him, eyes full of him.
Maybe, as people said, he was a pervert.
No one had ever made him feel so needed—absolute intimacy, absolute dependence, absolute control.
He knew it was unhealthy and wanted to fix it, but he was never firm. One hint of Lai Li’s resistance, and he’d back off. Subconsciously, he even brainwashed himself—
It was Lai Li who needed him, not his own selfish desires.
So when Lai Li spat “disgusting” two years ago, shattering his assumptions and denying their “absolute specialness,” he’d been so furious and humiliated that he’d fled abroad in panic.
…
Dai Linxuan had erred again and again, unrepentant, even wanting to carry the mistake to the end.
In the dim night, Lai Li’s face blurred as if virtualized, indistinct.
“I wanted to let you go, you little rascal.” Dai Linxuan threaded his fingers through Lai Li’s hair, combing lightly, murmuring inwardly. “But you had to deliver yourself to my door.”
His gaze fell on the wound on Lai Li’s face. Dai Linxuan’s fingertips shifted, brushing it gently.
Like a knife slash, long and narrow. Fortunately, not deep; it was healing and shouldn’t scar.
In his sleep, Lai Li felt the itch and buried his face fully into Dai Linxuan’s shoulder. His breath seeped through the pajama fabric, warming Dai Linxuan’s shoulder damply.
Dai Linxuan watched for a long time, until dawn gradually broke.
The rain outside had lessened, but it was still an overcast day.
“Stop pretending to sleep.” Dai Linxuan tugged his numb arm. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
His elbow must’ve poked somewhere, as Lai Li lifted his head with a hiss, frowning, then buried it back.
Sensing something off, Dai Linxuan gripped Lai Li’s shoulders and flipped him face-up onto the bed.
“Morning.” Lai Li hadn’t been faking; he just took a while to boot up. “Bro, I’m starving.”
“Don’t change the subject.” Dai Linxuan said coolly. “I’ll undress you, or you do it. Pick one.”
Lai Li shrugged indifferently. “You do it. I didn’t say no.”
“…”
With one hand, Dai Linxuan undid Lai Li’s pajama buttons. Once the front fell open, sure enough, several patches of bruises marred his chest and abdomen, and a fresh cut sliced his side—
Clearly only roughly treated.
“This isn’t some sob story ploy.” Lai Li said warily. “I didn’t hide it either. Last night, I showered with the door open—you just didn’t look.”
“Very logical.” Dai Linxuan said softly. “Turn over. On your stomach.”
Lai Li whined, “Bro…”
Dai Linxuan started counting. “Three.”
He didn’t even reach “two” before Lai Li obediently flipped.
Dai Linxuan lifted the pajama from behind. At a glance, it was a mess.
He spoke gently. “Care to explain?”
Lai Li summed it up. “Fought with Song Zichu.”
Dai Linxuan asked, “And him?”
“You care about him?” Lai Li’s face paled. “I’m your—”
He cut himself off, realizing his slip, but stopping abruptly would’ve been weirder, so he finished, “…brother.”
“Why would I care about a stranger?” Dai Linxuan gripped his jaw, twisting his face to show the wound. “Am I bored?”
Lai Li magically followed his brother’s train of thought—like how his brother never cared about Huo Fei or He Shuxin’s fight opponents, because he didn’t care if they paid a price either.
Lai Li was barely satisfied, burying back into the pillow with a faint hum. “Anyway, he’s not dead.”
Dai Linxuan gave him a deep look, got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom while making a call.
Lai Li heard him ask Liao De if he had any medicine for bruises and contusions, to send someone over, and check on that woman’s condition.
Lai Li rolled to the spot Dai Linxuan had slept in, pulling the covers over his head for a deep inhale. The faint bloody scent from last night was gone, leaving only a familiar fresh fragrance mixed with unfamiliar cologne.
He was utterly annoyed—he’d forgotten to bring body wash last night, so his brother used the hotel’s, making the scents clash.
Lai Li got up. When the sound of handwashing came from the bathroom, he twisted the handle and walked in, unabashedly dropping his pants. “You got plans today?”
“Midday lunch meeting added last minute.” Dai Linxuan dried his hands on a tissue. “Might visit a friend this afternoon.”
Lai Li: “The one who tried suicide?”
Dai Linxuan hummed, pausing before asking, “You coming?”
Lai Li flushed and sidled up to Dai Linxuan to brush his teeth. “If you go, I go.”
“We’ll see then. If there’s time.” Dai Linxuan tossed the tissue in the bin. “I’ll grab toiletries. You can sleep more; nothing this morning.”
Lai Li nodded hesitantly. “Remember your jacket.”
Dai Linxuan swiped the keycard for 2306. Li Jue was up, handling work on the sofa with another assistant. Seeing him in a trench coat but pajama pants, Li Jue felt a wave of bewilderment.
“You eaten?”
“Not yet…”
“Then have room service send four top-spec breakfasts.”
Li Jue suddenly realized: Lai Li had probably come for pajamas last night after Dai Linxuan returned from his friend’s, but stayed in a separate room. Lai Li’s question had been fishing.
He spilled last night’s conversation.
Dai Linxuan said, “No issue.”
He’d planned to tell Lai Li about her anyway—just sooner than intended.
Twenty minutes later, Dai Linxuan returned with towels and breakfast, nearly colliding with Lai Li guarding the entryway.
“…Not ditching you.” Dai Linxuan realized, letting out a helpless chuckle. “Relax.”
Lai Li neither confirmed nor denied, taking the breakfast to the table and trailing Dai Linxuan into the bathroom.
He asked, “When are you heading back?”
Dai Linxuan squeezed toothpaste onto a brush and handed it over with the rinse cup. “Didn’t you take leave? What’s the rush?”
Lai Li started brushing. “Shareholders’ meeting tomorrow at 2:30 PM.”
Dai Linxuan said, “Booked a morning flight tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”
“Too tight?” Lai Li leaned against him, lazily brushing. “What if you don’t sleep well tonight?”
Dai Linxuan braced the sink. “Brush properly. Plenty else for you to worry about.”
He finished washing his face and hadn’t set the towel down when Lai Li snatched it. “I’ll use yours.”
The hotel towels sat neatly nearby; he ignored them, wiping his face on Dai Linxuan’s.
After breakfast, the medicine for bruises and injuries that Liao De had sent over arrived. Lai Li took off his pajamas and flopped onto the bed.
“You help me,” Lai Li said matter-of-factly. “I can’t reach.”
The bed sank a little as Dai Linxuan sat on the edge. He squeezed some medicine into his palm, rubbed it open, then covered the bruise on Lai Li’s back and gently massaged it.
Lai Li hugged a pillow and suddenly said, “Bro, once the leave of absence procedures are done, let me be your assistant.”
Dai Linxuan chuckled. “Li Jue makes around seventy thousand a month. By that standard, what value can you provide?”
“…”
As a younger brother, Lai Li was priceless and could have the best of everything—gifts worth tens or even hundreds of millions were no big deal. But as an assistant, he might not even be worth seven thousand.
Lai Li wheedled, “Personal life assistant, providing bed-warming services.”
Dai Linxuan gave him a look that said, Do you even hear the nonsense you’re spouting? “A life assistant who needs their boss to wait on them hand and foot? I can’t afford that.”
Lai Li tried to press on. “I can learn the work stuff.”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Dai Linxuan tugged at Lai Li’s waistband and massaged the bruise at the lowest part of his waist—it looked like it had hit something hard. He touched it lightly, and Lai Li shuddered sensitively.
“What did I tell you before I left?”
“You said if I let you see any wounds on my hands again, you wouldn’t see me anymore.” Lai Li quibbled pedantically. “On my hands.”
His hands truly had no new wounds; the old ones had already healed. Ever since the paternity test had clearly shown in black and white that he and Dai Linxuan weren’t blood brothers, he’d lost interest in his own blood.
Lai Li suddenly hummed, his waist arching sharply.
Dai Linxuan didn’t hold back with his hands, pressing his waist flat again, though his tone remained gentle. “Little Chestnut, it seems like you never take my words seriously.”
“No, I do. You know I only listen to you…” Lai Li shifted his face to his brother’s thigh and rubbed against it lightly. “I didn’t mean to, Bro. Forgive me.”
“Every time it’s ‘not on purpose,’ and every time there’s no change.” Dai Linxuan glanced at him. “Do you even need my forgiveness?”
“I do. I don’t want you to be upset.” Lai Li said firmly. “I promise there won’t be a next time.”
“Can I take your promises seriously?” Dai Linxuan looked at him and sighed leisurely. “If there really is a next time, what can I even do to you… really never see you again?”
“Bro, don’t say things like that.” Lai Li couldn’t gauge Dai Linxuan’s mood at the moment, so he cleverly hugged his brother’s waist and rested his face on his lap. “I was wrong.”
Dai Linxuan didn’t say anything more.
The muscles on Lai Li’s back were very attractive, but they stretched the scars on the surface into something somewhat ferocious. In a tensed state, massaging them took some effort.
For a moment, Lai Li couldn’t tell if the heat came from his brother’s palm, the ointment, or his own body temperature—they all melted into one.
Though there were several bruises, compared to the multitude of scars, they weren’t eye-catching at all. Only his brother cared.
Lai Li squinted comfortably, thinking quite pleasantly—
Dai Yi had never gotten this treatment. Who told her to be born the wrong gender? They had to avoid suspicion.
Dai Linxuan patted his waist. “Lie on your side.”
Lai Li obeyed, and the iodine spread coolly across his waist. He hadn’t even noticed this cut at the time; he’d only discovered it afterward, and there was no hiding it.
Of course, he hadn’t planned to hide it anyway.
Dai Linxuan tore open a sterile dressing and applied it to the wound. “Were you close with Song Zichu when you were little?”
“Not close.” Lai Li said carelessly. “He just unilaterally thought we were.”
In fact, all his energy had gone into “staying alive,” leaving no spare thoughts for anything else.
Dai Linxuan stated flatly, “Did you grow up in the same environment?”
Lai Li stared at a seam in the headboard, his vision blurring for a moment. “Sort of.”
Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze, looking vaguely at the old and new scars overlapping on his body. After a long pause, he said, “I’ve made an appointment with the hospital and the doctor.”
Lai Li didn’t react much. Since he’d decided to reveal his condition, he’d prepared himself to face the doctors.
“Will you go with me?”
“Or what? If even this has to be faced alone at the hospital, then I’d be a pretty failed brother.” Dai Linxuan patted his hip again. “Turn over.”
Lai Li lay on his back against the pillow, no longer resting on his brother’s lap—it was a bit inconvenient.
The largest bruise on his front was on his abdomen; Song Zichu had found an opening to kick him there once, and Lai Li had paid it back several times over. Of course, there was no need to let his brother know those crude details.
Dai Linxuan rubbed in circles with the heel of his palm, slowly working the medicine in, while his other hand hooked Lai Li’s waistband down to keep it from getting stained. “Little Chestnut.”
Lai Li’s legs shifted a little before he finally hummed in response after a moment.
“You didn’t like talking about your childhood before, so I didn’t ask much.” Dai Linxuan kept his eyes lowered, his movements gentle. “Can you tell me about it now?”
