Lai Li’s vision blurred into a hazy crimson. The stench of gasoline mixed with blood assaulted his senses, making his eyes burn and driving him nearly mad.
He wished he could find the mastermind behind this right now, dismember them a thousand times over, grind their bones to dust, and subject them to every torture known to man—
“Dai Linxuan.” He called out the name over and over, oblivious to how hoarse and faint his voice had become, too weak to pierce the ringing in his ears from the crash.
He didn’t know what was wrong with his legs. He stood only to collapse again, forced to half-crawl, half-kneel toward the back seat. His eyes couldn’t see, so he relied entirely on memory to guide him.
The inside of the car was a chaotic mess. Lai Li grabbed something—or someone—who cried out in pain.
It wasn’t his brother.
Lai Li flung it away without hesitation and kept crawling down the narrow aisle.
A staggering figure rushed over, collapsing to its knees from the momentum. Ignoring everything, it reached out trembling arms and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Bro’s right here…”
Lai Li’s ears buzzed deafeningly; he couldn’t hear a thing. He only recognized his brother’s scent—similar to his own.
He reached up to check his brother’s nose for breath and pulse, then felt his head and neck.
“I’m fine, Little Chestnut. I’m okay…” Dai Linxuan’s voice trembled, now close, now distant, filling him with unease.
Lai Li didn’t quite believe him. His brother had a long history of lying.
Stubbornly, he pushed himself up and ran his hands down from his brother’s neck: the protruding shoulder blades, the slightly curved spine—gaunt and fragile.
Held too tightly, he couldn’t reach the front. Summoning some burst of strength from who-knows-where, he shoved his brother away.
Dai Linxuan’s other hand was pulling at the car door and hadn’t let go yet. The push jammed open the stuck door.
Lai Li was completely blind now. Kneeling and bracing against the ground, he pinned his brother’s shoulders and inch by inch explored his body. His grip was iron-strong, but his fingertips trembled uncontrollably. From Dai Linxuan’s chest to waist and abdomen, then hips and legs… no wounds, no slick blood.
His ragged breathing steadied somewhat. He had no idea his hair was soaked and matted, blood trickling from his brow into his eyes, making him look like a demon crawled straight from hell.
“Lai Li!”
Dai Linxuan seized his hand, trying to calm him, but he only felt the sticky mess and surged with fresh anger and agitation.
Lai Li struggled but couldn’t break free. With his other hand, he groped wildly at Dai Linxuan’s arm, pressing haphazardly until he heard his brother’s low roar amid the chaos: “It’s all your own blood!”
Lai Li’s hand was guided upward, clasping the pounding, trembling heartbeat.
“See? I’m really fine. Let’s get out of the car first…”
Lai Li went still in an instant, slumping into his brother’s arms, his head lolling forward. His hand still clutched desperately at the fabric over his brother’s heart.
“Woo-woo… Woo-woo…”
Lai Li’s body lifted into the air, carried in Dai Linxuan’s hurried strides out of the car. The buzzing in his ears faded gradually, but all other sounds receded into the distance, leaving only a hazy murmur—
“There’s still someone in the car… the driver, the assistant…”
“Head… and legs…”
“Little Chestnut, Little Chestnut, look at Bro. It’s okay… let go of my hand first…”
He couldn’t let go.
Bro, you’re so disobedient.
You always want to run away, to fall into depravity, to abandon yourself. If he let go, you’d go astray again, doing things that hurt and destroy you.
Why couldn’t you just behave?
Why not keep all those disgusting people and things far away? Wouldn’t it be nice to stay clean and pure?
Bro…
Bro.
Darkness swallowed Lai Li whole.
He felt waves of suffocation, unable to breathe—as if his brother had hidden from him and fled again, but this time not for two years, but forever.
He would die.
He lived in Dai Linxuan’s world, cut off from the outside.
He needed Dai Linxuan to deliver oxygen for every breath, needed his brother’s heart to carry his own beating, or it would stop cold. He needed Dai Linxuan’s eyes to open to see the world.
Dai Linxuan was his ventilator—pull the plug, and he died.
Even in death, he’d claw his way out of the grave as a vengeful ghost, haunting his brother, driving away every sinful, filthy person and thing.
He wanted his brother under his control forever, inescapable, unbanishable.
Lai Li crawled down from the hospital bed, stumbling through the darkness, obsessively searching for Dai Linxuan’s figure.
Bro, where are you?
Stop hiding, or you’ll regret it when I catch you.
No one answered. Endless darkness enveloped everything; he couldn’t see a thing. Staggering blindly amid tearing pain, he searched who knew how long until a pale rift cracked open ahead.
He lurched toward it and seized that sliver of light—
In an instant, chaotic barking and the acrid stench of brine overwhelmed his senses. The scene refreshed like a game loading: dilapidated buildings, rusted iron railings, and a ghostly swaying figure perched outside them.
Lai Li seemed shorter, thinner—a tiny bundle.
Or rather, he hadn’t changed; this was who he’d always been.
Everything before was just a yellow millet dream.
Only in dreams could there be someone like his brother. Only in dreams was there no hunger, no fighting, no pain.
“My little dog has to learn to eat, love drinking water, make lots of friends, and live happily and freely…”
“The little dog’s growing up… just normal physiology. Okay, Bro won’t laugh at you.”
“What wish did you make? Better to beg me than the gods.”
“As long as you want it, as long as I have it, I won’t hold back.”
…
Those vibrant colors, that drowning tenderness, even “Lai Li” himself—all just a kaleidoscope dream.
How does one remember things from a dream?
The dream’s images sank like stones—”plop, plop”—into the sea, plummeting away from the shimmering surface, through deep blue waters, into the silent abyss with the passage of years.
Now, the dream had ended.
No matter how hard he racked his brains, all he got was blankness. He’d forgotten a person—and two names.
He was back in the gray reality: cold, ravenous, endless pain and stench, no chance even for déjà vu.
A cat lay before him, panting in terror.
Behind him, a tall figure pressed close, whispering in his ear: “Kill it, and you’ll eat.”
The cat hit the ground gasping, blood gushing out, soaking the floor.
“Good,” Huang Shouzi said. “You have to learn to fight—with your fists, feet, teeth, like a dog.”
The iron gate swung open. Starving wild dogs rushed in, drooling, eyes locked on the “plate”: a chicken leg and a lump of rice.
“A starving wild dog is as fierce as a wolf. You have two choices: get bitten to death, or kill it.”
…
He snatched the chicken leg from the fallen dog’s jaws and tore into the flesh ravenously.
“Clap clap!” Huang Shouzi approached applauding, his shadow looming over him.
Panting, he wiped blood from his face and stared straight at the man.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Huang Shouzi lashed him with a stick. “Disobedient dogs don’t eat. Got it?”
Pain made him flinch instinctively, but his dark eyes stayed raised—fearless, defiant, like a little imp from the underworld, unnerving.
Huang Shouzi stepped back reflexively, then flew into a rage and beat him harder: “I fished you out of a dumpster. Your life’s mine. If you don’t win fights for me, back to the trash tomorrow, got it?”
“Little Dog’s not fierce enough… Poison Snake? Yeah… perfect.”
“Hope tomorrow I hear: ‘Victory goes to Poison Snake and his Bug Handler, Huang Kun!'”
*
“Bro, are you okay!?”
Dai Yi was the first to arrive at the hospital. In the noisy yet oppressive corridor, Dai Linxuan sat on a public bench, his expensive suit splattered with bloodstains here and there.
He propped his elbows on his knees, face buried in bloodied palms.
Clearly, he wasn’t the one hurt.
Dai Yi slowed her steps and asked softly upon approaching: “How badly is Lai Li injured?”
Dai Linxuan didn’t answer for a long time.
“Are Lai Li’s family here?” The emergency room door burst open; the nurse looked harried. “The patient is ready for surgery. Please come sign here.”
Dai Linxuan stood immediately.
“What relation are you to him?”
“He’s my…” The first two words dissolved into the air. He cleared his hoarse throat and finished: “my brother… He has no other family. I’m his designated guardian.”
Though that title had lapsed after Lai Li reached adulthood, it sufficed for surgery consent. Besides, the nurse was just asking routine questions; she knew the patient and family were no small fries—procedures weren’t an issue.
“Okay.” The nurse nodded. “Patient’s condition isn’t great. Surgery might require transfusion—this—”
“Use my blood.” Dai Linxuan spoke quickly. “We’re both O-type. Not blood brothers, no risks.”
The nurse hesitated: “I mean, sign the transfusion consent too. We’re already sourcing blood…”
“Blood bank’s tight, right?” Dai Linxuan steadied his breathing. “Use mine. It’s fine.”
Dai Yi blinked, recalling three years ago when Lai Li had been kidnapped and also needed surgery—Dai Linxuan had donated then too.
The nurse said: “Then follow me.”
Hospitals always felt off, especially at the ICU and OR doors. Scattered family members sat in silence, broken only by constant door slams from staff.
When families spoke, it was never soft: roaring into phones or wailing in breakdown. Just listening spread the oppressive pain and despair.
In her first twenty-two years, Dai Yi had endured such scenes plenty.
First, father Dai Enhao’s car crash—rescued after over ten hours.
Then, for three to five years, mother Jiang Qiujun faced attacks after taking the Slum District project. Countless hospital visits; she lived in dread of that call: “Are you Jiang Qiujun’s family? Sorry, she’s…”
Three years ago, Lai Li kidnapped and tortured for days, barely survived rescue, multiple critical notices during surgery…
While she spaced out, Dai Linxuan finished donating. Jiang Qiujun arrived with the police, windswept: “What happened?”
Dai Linxuan eased his parched throat: “That truck was tampered with.”
Jin Ming behind added: “Driver’s still in surgery, not looking good. We’ll investigate fully.”
Jiang Qiujun frowned: “How’s Little Chestnut?”
“He spotted the truck issue first,” Dai Linxuan rasped. “During the crash, he wasn’t seated or belted—he’s hurt worst. Intracranial and organ bleeding…”
Jiang Qiujun glanced at the time: “Half an hour left. You…”
Dai Linxuan: “We leave now, we’ll make it.”
“Bro, you sure?” Dai Yi gaped. “Lai Li just went into surgery!”
Jiang Qiujun pinched her brow: “I’ll see if we can delay the shareholders’ meeting.”
Dai Linxuan: “No need.”
An assistant hurried from the elevator: “President Dai, your clothes.”
“Hold them for me, thanks.” Dai Linxuan went to the sink, lathered up, scrubbed off the crusted blood from his hands. His runaway emotions folded back into flesh and blood.
He undid the tie Lai Li had knotted for him that morning, shed the suit jacket, ignored the bloodied shirt, and slipped on the clean coat from the assistant.
“Sure you don’t want to delay?” Jiang Qiujun asked. “If you skip, Dai Songxue will likely back it. Without our votes, plus absentees, the meeting’s pointless.”
“No need. Surgery is the doctors’ job.” Dai Linxuan meticulously fastened his buttons, his tone so calm it bordered on cold-blooded. “To keep certain people from being ‘disappointed,’ I’ll make it there even if it means crossing mountains of blades or seas of fire.”
Jin Ming narrowed his eyes. From Dai Linxuan’s words, it seemed he knew who had orchestrated the car crash that day.
However, classifying it as murder was still up in the air. The driver could easily claim he had accidentally stepped on the accelerator instead of the brake—such cases had happened before.
Dai Linxuan nodded to Jiang Qiujun. “Let’s go.”
Jiang Qiujun gave him a deep look before turning toward the elevator.
