“Most people go through this after surgery.” Dai Linxuan sat on the edge of the bed, trying to persuade him. “It’s nothing.”
Lai Li pressed down the covers. “No.”
Dai Linxuan reminded him, “I’m not a doctor.”
Lai Li said, “It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
Dai Linxuan was speechless.
Three years ago, after Lai Li’s other surgery, there had been an identical scene—practically a reenactment, with nearly the same dialogue.
Lai Li was fine when he was unconscious, but once awake, he refused to let anyone touch him, even on pain of death.
Dai Linxuan pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed the words, Can I pull it out for you for the rest of your life? He didn’t want to jinx Lai Li with more illness or injury, but he feared the worst.
Maybe he should have studied medicine back then. It wouldn’t have affected his career change after graduation, and it would have given him one more skill to deal with this guy who constantly wrecked his body and was such a pain to care for… Though med school probably would have left no time to earn money to support him.
“I’m not a professional. I only did it once and forgot the technique ages ago.” Unable to resist, Dai Linxuan teased, “What if I mess it up?”
“It’s just a tube. If it breaks, it breaks—” Lai Li suddenly realized, his face twisting for an instant.
If it broke, there was no fixing it anyway.
Ordinary brothers or lovers might say something like “If it breaks, you’re responsible for life.” But since Dai Linxuan had already brought him home, he was responsible for life anyway—no higher authority to appeal to.
In the end, Lai Li sounded exasperated, throwing in the towel. “If it breaks, whatever.”
Dai Linxuan said, “…You sure take it easy.”
“Fine.” Lai Li said irritably, “Have him leave. I’ll do it myself.”
Dai Linxuan sighed and patted Lai Li’s shoulder as he stood. “Don’t. Better not trouble my young master with doing it himself.”
Lai Li looked away coldly. “If you don’t want to touch me, don’t force yourself.”
Dai Linxuan coaxed, “I want to, very much.”
How could he not? If he truly “refused to comply,” Lai Li might get so mad he relapsed, and he’d be the one suffering the pain from the IV.
Dai Linxuan said, “Best to hold it in a bit before pulling. I’ll go study up.”
Lai Li grabbed his finger. “Don’t…”
Dai Linxuan understood. “Relax. I’ll look up references, not doctors. And I won’t broadcast that I’m pulling your catheter.”
The last part even carried a teasing lilt. His finger slipped from Lai Li’s palm, and he left the room with the doctor.
The door clicked shut, leaving the vast room suddenly empty. A hole seemed to tear in Lai Li’s heart, leaking air with a faint puff-puff.
He hadn’t slept last night either. Open-eyed or closed, he saw Dai Linxuan’s inner elbow, that bruised patch with the needle mark nearly driving him to distraction, gnawing at his heart and liver.
Even constantly reassuring himself it was for the blood transfusion didn’t help.
Why does he always hurt himself?
Last time too—Dai Linxuan’s hand riddled with cactus spines, even leaving them embedded… If picking them out risked worse wounds, if Liao De hadn’t said they’d work themselves out, Lai Li never would have tolerated them staying in his body.
Sunlight crawled across the floor like ants on the march, the brilliant gold gradually paling, just like when he’d first woken yesterday—washed-out and wan.
Back when we weren’t together, he was willing to pull the catheter. Why’s he hesitating now?
The more Lai Li thought, the more irritated he grew. He swung his hand sharply—and hit nothing. Glancing over, the bedside table was bare. No vase, not even the fruit plate from yesterday.
His brother must have taken them out just now, along with the bed remote and cup.
“…”
Knock knock.
Dai Linxuan pushed the door open, carrying two breakfasts.
He reached the bed and set one down. “Any feeling yet?”
From the moment he entered, Lai Li’s gaze had locked on like auto-tracking.
Lai Li didn’t catch it. “What?”
“Urge to pee,” Dai Linxuan said.
Lai Li shook his head slowly. “No.”
Dai Linxuan stirred the porridge with a spoon and handed it over. “Eat breakfast first then. Get some fluids in.”
Lai Li took it, looking not very appetized.
Dai Linxuan watched him. “Want me to feed you?”
Lai Li was tempted but remembered his brother’s fever. “I’ll eat myself.”
“Normal to have no appetite right after waking. Eat a little anyway.” Dai Linxuan’s voice was gentle. “Once you’re better, I’ll make something tasty.”
Lai Li agreed and scooped faster.
Dai Linxuan wasn’t used to eating at the bedside. He moved to a chair, right in the sunlight. He seemed to fade with it—distant and pallid.
Lai Li gripped the bowl tightly, enduring the discomfort. “Bro… come sit over here.”
Dai Linxuan took it as clinginess and dragged the chair bedside.
Only then did Lai Li touch his hand and resume eating.
After finishing, Lai Li did feel some urge. Dai Linxuan told him to hold it longer. “Otherwise, peeing might be tough after. We didn’t think last time.”
Afterward, he’d helped Lai Li to the bathroom, standing twenty minutes with no luck. He’d thought it was nerves from his presence, but later learned many had trouble post-catheter, especially men.
Dai Linxuan sat on the bed’s edge. “The scar from last time’s still there, and now more marks.”
Both times, heavy injuries because of him. He couldn’t even say “take care of yourself.”
Lai Li shrugged indifferently. “So what? I’d die for you.”
But better not. Without watching him, he’d spiral worse.
Dai Linxuan flicked his hand and couldn’t muster a rebuke. He sighed lightly and proactively shared unknown media details from the seventeen days Lai Li was out, naturally mentioning his phone.
“Rushed here, forgot it.” Dai Linxuan said, “If you need it urgently, I’ll buy a new one? Or have someone bring it.”
Have someone bring it?
Lai Li asked, “How long are we staying?”
Dai Linxuan’s eyes crinkled. “At least till you recover more. Long trips aren’t good for healing.”
Bullshit.
Lai Li stared blankly. Hadn’t he considered that when transferring him here?
“Your phone had lots of messages these days. I replied for you, kept the chats.” Dai Linxuan listed them. “Zi Xiao and Xiao Yu were worried about your injuries. School approved your leave the day of the crash. Rest easy.”
He and Jing Zixiao had secrets, but the crash hit news same-day. Zi Xiao knew, wouldn’t send sensitive stuff—nor would Third Uncle…
Still, Lai Li felt uneasy, like he’d forgotten something.
“Shareholders’ meeting go well?” Lai Li asked.
“So-so.” Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze. “Mom flipped last-minute, wouldn’t let me on the board. But she didn’t expect Director Li.”
Her move made the wavering Dai Songxue surer they’d fallen out, seeing his grandson as the way to topple the daughter-in-law and reclaim Dai Corporation.
Plus, guessing the crash was family-made added guilt, so he sided firmly with Dai Linxuan, plus two elders. With Director Li’s vote, it passed half.
Even if Dai Linxuan was Jiang Qiujun’s son, he had Dai blood, Dai name, on the family register—raised by Dai Songxue himself. Inheriting was beyond reproach.
Lately, rumors had nearly broken Dai Songxue’s back: once he died, Dai Corporation would change hands, surname uncertain.
Few new firms used family names now, but for Dai Songxue, family honor and identity mattered more than life. An outsider holding the group was like ten thousand steel needles in his heart daily—couldn’t face ancestors in the afterlife.
“Grandpa’s been paralyzed for years, near his limit. If Dad goes first, one shock and who knows how long he’d last. So desperate to groom someone to check Mom.”
Lai Li said slowly, “So two years ago, he disregarded your feelings, used the conspiracy theory of President Jiang causing the crash to force you against her.”
“Yeah.” Dai Linxuan said. “But he’s paranoid. The ‘know right from wrong, discern good from evil’ he taught? Probably didn’t believe it himself. Feared I’d turn on him for Mom, so even knowing the uncles’ disloyalty, he didn’t purge early—kept them to check me.
“If I’m capable enough, I handle them. If not, Dai Corporation stays in Dai hands.”
Lai Li’s heart stirred, more convinced Dai Linxuan had lost feeling for the old man—unlike his complex tie to Jiang Qiujun. Affair and years of neglect hadn’t turned him fully against her. What had Dai Songxue done?
Lai Li suddenly thought: “Did he make a deal with Huo Jingyun? Insisting you marry Huo Shuang?”
“Huo family’s another check on me…” Dai Linxuan narrowed his eyes. “After Second Uncle’s police probe, Grandpa prepped the trust. No marriage to Huo Shuang, no full shares.”
Lai Li’s muscles tensed, chill spreading.
Dai Linxuan tugged a wry smile. “Want me to marry?”
Lai Li’s eyes flickered, hesitating.
Marriage and kids was the ideal path—safe, matching most visions of perfect life…
Dai Linxuan saw it, gaze dropping to the floor. “Huo Shuang’s willing to play along till Grandpa dies.”
Lai Li’s eyes snapped up. “…Can you live with that?”
Dai Linxuan: “Without marrying me, she’d be forced to someone else.”
“If the trust requires kids?” Lai Li asked.
Dai Songxue’s style—no way he’d hand all chips for just marriage. Likely kids too, even specifying great-grandsons and gender.
Dai Linxuan’s smile lingered faintly. “Then it’s a problem.”
Lai Li’s heart lurched. Sudden epiphany: their talk was too “rational,” but their relation wasn’t.
Normal same-sex lovers hearing marriage plans—what reaction? Not this calm.
Heart in his throat, nails digging palms: “If I say no marriage, you won’t?”
Dai Linxuan watched silently.
Lai Li felt like riding a horse plunging off a cliff, yanking reins at the last second—averting shatter.
“Bro, you’ve chosen me.
“You can’t marry.”
Dai Linxuan easily said, “Okay.”
Lai Li’s heart plummeted, a survivor’s relief. His back slick with sweat. Moments later, he relaxed and changed topic breathlessly: “I can’t hold it…”
“That quick?”
Dai Linxuan fetched a pad, lifted Lai Li’s waist to tuck it under. “Remember last time? Same deal. Don’t tense.”
Lai Li hadn’t remembered, but as Dai Linxuan moved, the scene resurfaced—minus the ache, plus…
He glanced at Dai Linxuan’s ear.
No flush.
“A drop or two’s normal. No shame.” Dai Linxuan suddenly pressed his lower belly.
Lai Li arched. “Bro!”
Dai Linxuan drawled leisurely, “Guess you really can’t hold it. Not lying.”
“…” Still different from last time, Lai Li thought glumly.
Dai Linxuan’s palm warm, cupping it. Lai Li tensed again. Dai Linxuan was professional: disinfected the tip, emptied the balloon.
“Hold steady.” He bent, gripped the tube’s end gently. “Or if you don’t mind wetting the pad…”
Lai Li clenched his teeth, eyes squeezing shut.
Even so, the image of Dai Linxuan holding him looped in his mind, paired with the new ache and burn. Fever made Dai Linxuan’s palm clammy-hot, pushing sensations to the max, yanking last time’s memory from dream to hyper-clear 4K reality.
“Just teasing you,” Dai Linxuan said soothingly as he patted him. “Relax a bit.”
Lai Li opened his eyes, unable to stop a low gasp from spilling out, then closed his eyelids again and blindly grabbed Dai Linxuan’s wrist.
The color difference was too great.
