Lai Li slowly blinked, the fragmented lights clinging to his brother’s neck and falling into his dark pupils.
He lifted his hand, still attached to the IV drip, and grasped Dai Linxuan’s waist. Tilting his head slightly, he replaced his forehead with his lips to receive Dai Linxuan’s kiss.
Danshi was already at the end of autumn and the start of winter, a far cry from the temperature here. Dai Linxuan had rushed over covered in travel dust—whether he hadn’t worn enough clothes or was simply too anxious, his lips still carried a chill that showed no sign of warming.
Lai Li was especially greedy for that hint of coolness.
Ten hours had passed since he woke up, and he’d been in a light, floating state the whole time. It felt like all the flesh and blood in his body had been drained away, scattered and drifting in the air… like a third-person perspective in a dream, devoid of any real sensation. All his senses had dulled a thousandfold, even the throbbing pain from his wound reduced to a dull ache.
Only when he truly touched Dai Linxuan did those floating, fading bits of flesh and blood finally reconverge, settling back into his body and filling the empty frame of his bones.
Everything became “real” again.
Maybe it wasn’t truly real, but that didn’t matter.
Lai Li licked the corner of his mouth, his tongue tip brushing Dai Linxuan’s lip seam.
“…” Dai Linxuan misunderstood, pausing for a second before he gently touched Lai Li’s mouth corner in restraint. “You’re very weak right now. Contact with external bacteria could lead to infection.”
Lai Li’s tone was flat: “You haven’t kissed me in these seventeen days?”
Dai Linxuan didn’t know whether to answer “no” or “yes”—either seemed problematic.
Fortunately, Lai Li wasn’t really asking for an answer; it felt more like a retort: “Kiss me again.”
Dai Linxuan’s heart softened, a complex taste rising in him that he couldn’t quite name.
The last time he’d lost and regained him was during the kidnapping three years ago.
But after all, three more years had passed, and his mindset had changed. Perhaps because he’d thought things through this time and prepared for the worst, his emotions weren’t as surging and intense as before—relatively calmer.
The one thing that remained the same was that he couldn’t refuse Lai Li anything.
Dai Linxuan propped one hand beside Lai Li, lifted the other, and crooked his finger to scrape lightly at Lai Li’s cheek as he pondered where to kiss.
Lai Li might have looked as domineering and tough as ever, but his face was pallid with illness, his lips utterly bloodless.
In the end, Dai Linxuan didn’t kiss his mouth. He lifted Lai Li’s chin and kissed his eye instead. Lai Li instinctively blinked, his dense lashes teasing Dai Linxuan’s heart like an itch through a boot.
“Want more?”
“Yes.” Lai Li answered without hesitation.
So Dai Linxuan shifted to his right eye, pecking lightly and intently. They’d been intimately close before, even done far more intense things, yet at this moment, both sank into this superficial intimacy.
One used it to feel reality.
The other used it to confirm that the other had truly woken up.
“Ge…”
“Hm?”
“You’ve lost weight.”
Lai Li didn’t actually have a clear image for comparison in his mind; it was pure intuition.
“I wouldn’t dare not to.” Dai Linxuan said, “Afraid you’d wake up and be pissed to death.”
Lai Li followed that line of thought for a moment, imagining Dai Linxuan gaining weight while he lay comatose for seventeen days…
“Don’t pinch yourself. How could you get mad over a hypothetical that hasn’t happened?” Dai Linxuan laughed as he pried Lai Li’s fingers apart, his brows furrowing. “How did it swell up like this?”
Lai Li felt nothing and casually glanced at the back of his hand before fixing his gaze intently on his brother.
Dai Linxuan checked the IV bag—it was nearly empty. He removed the cannula and pressed a cotton swab to the spot for Lai Li.
“You’ve lost way more weight than me.” Dai Linxuan cradled Lai Li’s hand, spreading his fingers flat in his palm. “Last time it took half a year to recover. How long will it take this time?”
Last time referred to the kidnapping three years ago. Lai Li thought for a moment and answered seriously: “Thirty years.”
Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze, pausing: “Why thirty years?”
Lai Li said: “In thirty years, you’ll be sixty. Time to retire.”
Dai Linxuan smiled faintly: “You’ll take care of me?”
“You’re not planning to get married anyway, so who else would?” Lai Li showed no awareness of their mere eight-year age gap, narrowing his eyes as he added, “Or do you want someone else to?”
“Don’t want to. Never thought about it.” Dai Linxuan rubbed his brother’s emaciated fingertips, negotiating: “It’s late, but let’s still do a full check-up to put my mind at ease, okay?”
Lai Li felt a bit floaty from his brother’s coaxing tone—different from the insubstantial haze an hour ago. It was like Dai Linxuan had bitten and held the tip of his heart. The originally empty insides kept filling with a rustling warmth, slowly inflating like a balloon, rising lighter and higher.
In his original plan, he should have immediately questioned Dai Linxuan first—why was he on this sea island?
His coma wasn’t some rare condition; neither domestic nor foreign medical facilities could wake him. There was no reason at all to transfer him here.
“Dai Linxuan.”
“Hm? Uncomfortable?”
“…No.”
Lai Li lowered his dark pupils, looking at his own hand tightly gripped by Dai Linxuan.
He should let go to avoid anyone finding it strange, but given the local customs here, men holding hands was perfectly normal—not to mention they were brothers, and he was the patient. It wouldn’t lead anyone to suspect anything improper.
So he contentedly gripped Dai Linxuan’s hand in return and completed a series of check-ups.
The results were all normal. Lai Li was recovering well, just weak; normal rest would suffice. But to be safe, they kept the oxygen tube on for another day of observation.
After finishing the exchange with the doctor in English, Dai Linxuan suddenly said: “This sea island is a project I fully invested in.”
Lai Li shifted his gaze to his face, staring intently.
Dai Linxuan spoke slowly: “I originally planned to give it to you as a birthday gift. For private use, business—whatever you want.”
Lai Li’s birthday was coming up in two months.
In the first few months after arriving at the Dai Family, he hadn’t registered his identity—his physical and mental state had been too poor, no need to worry about school, so no rush for household registration. Dai Linxuan had even tried to find his parents at first. It wasn’t until year-end that Dai Linxuan took him to handle the household registry and became his legal guardian.
Lai Li hadn’t had the concept of birthdays before age ten, so when Dai Linxuan asked which day he wanted as his birthday, he’d casually picked the registration date.
It had snowed heavily that day. Though he could have delegated it, Dai Linxuan personally carried Lai Li from department to department, ensuring his identity and household registration were fully settled.
During the waits, Dai Linxuan had held him in his arms, guiding his hands to build a snowman.
They’d gone to a nearby dessert shop afterward, sitting at the bar table by the floor-to-ceiling window, sharing a very sweet little cake.
Eighteen-year-old Dai Linxuan had been full of sincerity, gentle and fervent: “How about we make a promise? Eat well, sleep well, and every year on this day, I’ll make you a cake myself.”
“What about Dai Yi?”
“If I learn to make cakes and only do them for my little brother but not my little sister, wouldn’t that be too biased?” Dai Linxuan couldn’t help laughing. “You’re the second brother—be generous. I’ll make them for her occasionally, but every year for you, okay?”
Dai Yi threw birthday parties every two or three years, with cakes of very high quality made by professionals. Though Dai Linxuan would learn seriously if he promised, it was hard to surpass the best pastry chefs.
Little Chestnut was easy to placate. He wouldn’t be upset that Dai Yi got some too, especially since he got more, so he magnanimously plucked out that one thorn.
…
That counted as Lai Li’s first birthday—simple and plain. Dai Linxuan back then was still a teenager, not yet successful in business, unable to give expensive gifts. Yet it created one of the few distant memories from his twelve years that he could recall without an “anchor point.”
Or perhaps that day itself was an anchor point.
It was winter, but warm. The pitying looks from the staff during registration didn’t matter; the memory tasted like sweet cake.
Lai Li never thought himself pitiful. Those who couldn’t reach Dai Linxuan were the pitiful ones. How could a child with a new toy be pitiful? He was the happiest person in the world.
—Unbeknownst to him, Dai Linxuan had torn open his insect skin, stripping away his soul and body, and bestowed upon him a human identity.
Lai Li licked his dry lips: “Will you make this year’s cake too?”
“Thirsty?” Dai Linxuan noticed the small motion and immediately poured a glass of water, smiling faintly. “I didn’t miss the last two years. How could I slack off this year?”
During the two years Dai Linxuan had avoided Lai Li, he’d still spent his birthday with him, made the cake himself, and given gifts without fail.
Lai Li stared at him, wanting to ask “What about next year?” But the doctor had just finished reviewing the report and reminded them of some precautions.
In the end, the doctor praised their brotherly bond as enviably harmonious.
Dai Linxuan smiled and thanked him.
The sea island had a resort villa district before it was bought, and Lai Li’s ward was the master bedroom of one such villa—excellent environment. Aside from them, the island only had a medical team and a few chefs.
Dai Linxuan lifted Lai Li off the stretcher and bent down to place him on the bed: “It’s too late today. You just woke up—not good to blow the sea breeze. I’ll take you out for some fresh air tomorrow.”
Lai Li suddenly asked out of the blue: “When did you buy it?”
“What?”
“The sea island.”
Dai Linxuan was caught off guard; it wasn’t easy to hide, with the property certificates listing the dates.
“Early this year.”
“More specific.”
Dai Linxuan felt a bit helpless: “Around after New Year.”
“Why prepare a gift so early?” Lai Li pressed aggressively. “You should’ve hated me back then.”
“Does hate conflict with love?” Dai Linxuan sighed. “Back then, as a bastard who loved his little brother but couldn’t have him, I did hate you a bit… But as a big brother, I couldn’t not love you.”
Lai Li’s heart sizzled with bloody froth, painful yet pleasurable.
He swallowed back the interrogations that had risen to his throat. Things had come to this—no rush for the moment. Phones and such could wait until tomorrow.
“The sea island’s no surprise now that I know.” Lai Li said unreasonably. “I want a new birthday gift.”
“Okay.” Dai Linxuan indulged him. “Want to go to the heavens?”
Inappropriate words popped into Lai Li’s mind: Fuck you.
His gaze drifted over Dai Linxuan’s neck, dropping slightly: “Ge, how long since you slept?”
Before Lai Li woke, Dai Linxuan could still function as a walking corpse with dulled senses. Now, the exhaustion around his eyes couldn’t be hidden no matter what.
He rubbed his brow with the heel of his palm: “Didn’t pay attention. There’s a time difference with Danshi…”
“So at least thirty hours without sleep.” Lai Li analyzed. “Liao De said you left yesterday morning—daytime here. You went back for unavoidable business, no rest on the plane, just racing against time for work. After landing, it was daytime in Danshi again; no way you’d sleep…”
He grew more irritated as he spoke, not wanting to snap at his brother, so he suppressed his temper and commanded: “Dai Linxuan, right now, immediately, take off your clothes, shower, then sleep.”
He frowned and added: “Or skip the shower—just sleep like that.”
Dai Linxuan hadn’t slept much the night before leaving either; truly calculating, it was over forty-eight hours. But he absolutely couldn’t let His Majesty Emperor know. He still had no sleepiness at the moment—eyelids heavy as lead, yet his mind hyper-alert.
“Fine…” He hooked Lai Li’s palm, then let go. “Good night. You sleep early too.”
Lai Li swiftly grabbed one of his fingers, his expression sour: “Where do you plan to sleep?”
Dai Linxuan was speechless for a moment, then thought of a solution: “I’ll get a cot.”
Lai Li raised his chin, indicating the empty space on his bed: “Sleep here.”
Dai Linxuan patted his hand: “If I fall asleep, I won’t have control— what if I bump your wound?”
“The bed’s big. Even if bumped, no big deal.” Lai Li looked at him. “Can you even sleep away from me?”
Dai Linxuan had no retort. He truly couldn’t sleep without Lai Li, but staying here was the same. He could never win against Lai Li anyway, so he stayed as requested.
He’d come in such a rush he hadn’t brought luggage, but fortunately, he’d prepared some sleepwear here before.
Dai Linxuan headed to the walk-in closet, his voice carrying through the thin wall: “Little Chestnut, want me to wipe you down?”
Lai Li refused: “Tomorrow morning.”
Dai Linxuan: “Hungry?”
“Not hungry.” Lai Li was annoyed. “Can you stop fussing over me and just go to sleep!?”
Dai Linxuan picked up the pajamas and walked to the bedside. He bent his finger and flicked Lai Li’s forehead. “Quite the temper—I’m going to take a shower first.”
Lai Li demanded, “Take it off right here. I want to see.”
“…” Dai Linxuan, who was always polite to others and reasonable in everything, was invariably stunned by Lai Li’s righteous audacity. But on second thought, wasn’t it himself who had raised him this way… There was nothing to do but accept it.
Dai Linxuan turned around and set the pajamas down. Facing away, he undid his shirt buttons, revealing a smooth, sleek back. There were no visible traces of the “family punishment” on the surface—after all, more than ten days had passed, and any bruises had long since faded.
Lai Li was like a child who had just recovered his lost toy, inspecting its body inch by inch for any damage.
His gaze traveled from Dai Linxuan’s pale nape all the way down, finally circling the faintly visible spot at the base of his spine. Softly, he said, “Bro, turn around.”
Dai Linxuan’s back stiffened slightly. He lowered his gaze almost imperceptibly and looked toward the crook of his elbow.
