Lai Li had almost not concealed anything about the day’s events.
Except for Song Zichu’s status as an illegitimate child, he recounted everything: Song Zichu’s positioning of the prosthetic eye, the process of his own fishing expedition, and the sudden deployment of Cricket by the person behind the scenes to silence him, along with its connection to the Chang Fangyi murder case…
Dai Linxuan listened quietly. “—Hand him over to the police.”
“He was already taken away.” Lai Li furrowed his brows. “Am I supposed to bust him out of the police station?”
However, Bamboo Leaf Green hadn’t committed any overt crimes on the surface. As long as they couldn’t pry his mouth open, the police would eventually have to release him. Lai Li could just stake out in advance…
Dai Linxuan said, “I’m talking about Song Zichu.”
Lai Li suddenly raised his eyes.
Dai Linxuan looked at him. “Your suspicion in Chang Fangyi’s murder has long been cleared. Song Zichu is the second suspect. When do you think Jin Ming will notice Song Zichu is missing? Or has he already?”
Lai Li lowered his gaze indifferently. “What does that have to do with me?”
Dai Linxuan felt a headache coming on at his oil-and-water attitude, unsure how Lai Li would manage the next few decades of his life.
“Little Chestnut, you know.” Dai Linxuan closed his eyes briefly and said softly, “I don’t have zero boundaries when it comes to you.”
Dai Linxuan was this close to ripping open his own heart and serving it up raw and naked on a platter for Lai Li.
Lai Li was his one and only, the last thing he couldn’t bear to let go of… the scant bit of flesh and blood left in his empty shell of a body.
Dai Linxuan’s sole remaining demand for Lai Li was to “obey the law,” to live plainly and happily… to see more of the world.
Just like before.
But even “before” had only been an act by Lai Li. Back then, Dai Linxuan had been normal, so Lai Li had acted normal too. He mimicked the second-generation rich kids around him—wining, dining, causing trouble, doing everything except minding his duties. He knew nothing about the family business but collected stacks of certificates for partying.
Yet once Dai Linxuan lost control, Lai Li lost interest in all of it. He turned into a miser, glued to Treasure’s side, watching it like a hawk.
Lai Li’s normalcy had been premised on Dai Linxuan’s normalcy.
Jin Ming placed his injured arm on the table, not mentioning a word about his number being blocked. In a familiar tone, he said, “That kid won’t cough up a single fart after three beatings, but his skills are decent.”
Dai Linxuan, who had been frantic to find Lai Li earlier, hadn’t paid attention. “Very young?”
“About the same age as your brother… maybe a bit older.” Jin Ming glanced at Lai Li. “He gives off a creepy vibe. Won’t say a thing no matter what you ask. My colleague grilled him for over two hours—didn’t even change his posture from when he walked in, eyes didn’t shift once. It’s unsettling.”
Dai Linxuan’s fingertips twitched. He wanted to grab something but restrained himself, curling them into his palm.
Jin Ming sighed. “We’re at our wits’ end. Does your brother have any ideas?”
Before Lai Li could speak, Dai Linxuan refused. “No.”
“I haven’t even said what I want your brother to do.” Jin Ming smiled. “This is the guy your brother drew in, after all. He owes me an explanation of the cause and effect at least.”
Lai Li scoffed. “No cause—”
Dai Linxuan interrupted. “To be precise, it’s the person I drew in.”
Lai Li’s pupils shrank abruptly. He whipped his head around. “What the hell are you talking about!?”
Jin Ming’s smile faded, his gaze turning scrutinizing.
Dai Linxuan leaned back leisurely. “It’s a long story, but it ties back to Song Zichu somewhat.”
Lai Li had a bad premonition and warned, “Bro!”
Jin Ming raised a brow. “Song Zichu? He’s still a suspect in Chang Fangyi’s murder… Though he vanished off the face of the earth recently. We’ve been looking for him.”
Dai Linxuan hummed and took a sip of tea. “He’s with me.”
Lai Li shot to his feet, grabbing Dai Linxuan’s hand to drag him out. “Stop spouting nonsense. Let’s go home!”
He turned to Jin Ming. “Why that guy showed up and hurt people is for you cops to figure out. I just rented a place here. I know nothing.”
Lai Li yanked harder, but Dai Linxuan didn’t struggle—his body remained immovable as a mountain. Dai Linxuan and Jin Ming stared each other down, silent.
Lai Li’s eyes reddened with anger. “Bro.”
Dai Linxuan set down his teacup and continued, “You might not know this, but Song Zichu is…”
Lai Li was furious. “Dai Linxuan!”
Jin Ming felt a twinge of doubt, not piecing it together yet, but kept his composure. He forced a smile. “No rush. Let your bro finish first.”
“Shut up! What’s it to you?” Lai Li’s eyes blazed red as he glared daggers at Jin Ming.
Then he looked back at his brother, voice hoarse and soft. “Dai Linxuan… don’t push me.”
Dai Linxuan said nothing. Lai Li’s grip tightened, pinching red marks around his wrist.
After a moment, a female officer knocked on the reception room door. “C-Captain, Hong Xue’s family is here.”
“Have them wait.” Jin Ming waved her off, then explained to Lai Li, “Hong Xue’s the nurse who poisoned the driver in your car accident case.”
Lai Li heard nothing, staring fixedly at Dai Linxuan.
“Why don’t you handle it first.” Dai Linxuan said unhurriedly. “My brother’s the one hurt, but we’re not in a rush for answers.”
Jin Ming’s mouth twitched. Lai Li’s wound would heal if left untreated much longer—what answers were there to demand?
He finally got it: Dai Linxuan hadn’t planned to spill anything. It was all a subtle tug-of-war with Lai Li, using him as a tool.
Of course, he didn’t want to leave the brothers alone, but dragging it out yielded no more info.
Dai Linxuan and Lai Li weren’t suspects. This wasn’t an interrogation.
“Fine, you two sit tight. I’ll be back.”
Jin Ming stood and, at the door, glanced back with a half-smile, pointing at the ceiling. “If you’ve got stuff you don’t want overheard, no need to go out. The surveillance is busted—haven’t fixed it yet.”
The glass door slammed shut. Lai Li scanned the room, confirming no other cameras, then slumped as tension drained from him.
He slowly turned Dai Linxuan’s chair and knelt between his brother’s legs, burying his face. “Bro, don’t do this… don’t smear yourself.”
“To the police, we’re one and the same.” Dai Linxuan looked down at him. “You really think you can do whatever and keep me out of it?”
“…”
“No matter what you did, I’ll share the consequences.” Dai Linxuan said. “Get up. What does it look like if outsiders see this?”
Lai Li’s frustration and rage, cornered with no escape, peaked—almost birthing something like hatred.
He gritted his teeth, swallowing the metallic taste of blood. “…I didn’t kill Song Zichu.”
Dai Linxuan closed his eyes deeply, turning his face aside with a long exhale.
Even believing Lai Li probably wouldn’t commit murder or arson, he still feared that one-in-ten-thousand chance.
Dai Linxuan cupped his face, softening his tone. “Little Chestnut, I’ve always thought you were such a good boy.”
People always viewed loved ones through rose-tinted glasses.
No matter how unruly the world saw Lai Li, to Dai Linxuan, he was still that clingy little Chestnut from childhood who only let him hold him—grown up now, but still sweet inside.
Dai Linxuan said, “Be good. Hand Song Zichu over to the police. They’ll sort it out.”
“How?” Lai Li looked up, eyes threaded with bloodshot veins. “Song Zichu’s a psycho! I told you—his foster parents’ deaths are tied to him! Do the police have evidence of his crimes? Can they hold him forever? If he’s released, he’ll definitely…”
Hurt you.
Dai Linxuan stroked his head with a complicated expression. “I do.”
“…What?”
“I have evidence of Song Zichu’s crimes.” Dai Linxuan said patiently. “All you need to do is trust me and hand him over to the police.”
Lai Li: “…”
Dai Linxuan didn’t ask him to trust the police—just him.
Lai Li pressed, “What evidence?”
“Evidence that Song Zichu killed his foster parents.” Dai Linxuan’s breath trembled slightly; it was still hard to believe a twenty-something could be so vicious.
“His foster mother didn’t voluntarily burn charcoal to commit suicide. It was murder he orchestrated.” Dai Linxuan explained slowly. “After the first child’s ‘accidental’ death, the poor woman was probably triggered…”
The kind foster parents never suspected their foster son. But after the second child was born, they were extra cautious. The foster mother, already anxious from postpartum hormones, grew paranoid, seeing threats everywhere… She wasn’t targeting Song Zichu; she distrusted everyone.
But to Song Zichu, her overprotectiveness toward the baby was unbearable.
He couldn’t tolerate it.
The second child’s birth made him realize he’d never fully have the couple as long as they lived—they’d keep trying for biological kids, treating him as nothing. Even if they couldn’t have more, they’d always mourn the lost one.
Then die.
Song Zichu, with his foster father working overtime that night, set up the charcoal suicide scene and forged a suicide note in her handwriting… Everyone had seen her anxiety since pregnancy—doctors even diagnosed postpartum depression—so no one questioned the suicide.
Except her husband.
The man refused to believe his wife would abandon him and their beloved foster son. But what else could it be?
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