“Rustle…”
Dai Linxuan suddenly opened his eyes. The full moon shone high, casting silver frost across the bed.
A faint rustling came from near his legs. He lowered his gaze and saw something burrowing into the covers at the foot of the bed, crawling slowly up his body. The curve of a head appeared faintly.
After a moment, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed the edge of the blanket and flung it over Dai Linxuan’s face. “Bro, surprise!”
In the dim, stuffy warmth under the covers, Lai Li and Dai Linxuan locked eyes. Lai Li’s breath brushed lightly over his cheeks, tickling him. Like a puppy, Lai Li lowered his head and rubbed his face against Dai Linxuan’s nose tip to soothe the itch.
Dai Linxuan flicked his forehead. Just as a smile began to form, his arms suddenly felt empty. The blanket drifted lightly down, leaving only a whisper lingering in the air: “Bro, I don’t want to ruin you.”
“Clang.”
A clear chime rang out. Dai Linxuan opened his eyes again. The silver frost on the bed had been replaced by pale golden sunlight, and the clock ticked steadily toward the bright morning.
Fingertips hanging by his forehead twitched, brushing lightly over his nose tip like a dragonfly skimming water.
It was like scratching an itch through a boot.
Faint noises came from outside the door, as if someone was doing something. Dai Linxuan showed no reaction, simply watching the clock quietly, his gaze following the slender second hand around and around clockwise.
Only when the hour hand pointed to nine did he half-close his eyes and get out of bed, as if his body had just awakened. The clothes he’d taken off last night had been cleared away, which meant Lai Li had come in.
Letting his guard down around Lai Li was a habit formed over the past decade, now ingrained as instinct.
Dai Linxuan slipped on a bathrobe and opened the door.
“Morning.” Lai Li was fiddling with the juicer at the water bar counter, dressed in a white T-shirt and light jeans that exposed his ankles, with no extra adornments.
Dai Linxuan walked over and pressed his chest lightly against Lai Li’s back, close but not quite touching. He tapped a few buttons on the juicer, and it hummed to life.
To Lai Li, this fell within normal contact. He asked, “How’d you sleep so little?”
Dai Linxuan pivoted on his toes, pulling back the distance. “Pretty good.”
They hadn’t returned to the apartment until midnight last night, and after all the fuss, it was nearly three before they each went to their rooms. Dai Linxuan’s “pretty good” meant less than six hours of sleep, plus the faint shadows under his eyes.
Lai Li’s scrutiny was obvious, so Dai Linxuan stated flatly, “You didn’t sleep much either.”
Lai Li replied, “I’m young.”
Being called old didn’t anger Dai Linxuan. He just gave Lai Li a meaningful glance. “We’ll test that sometime.”
Lai Li narrowed his eyes and changed the subject. “I had Uncle Ren send over a clean set of clothes for you. Yesterday’s got taken back.”
Dai Linxuan smiled. “So thoughtful? You’ve really grown up—it’s a bit unfamiliar.”
After a night’s sleep, the gentle soul from last night, reminiscent of the past, had vanished. Dai Linxuan wore his perfect smile again, like a layer of transparent glass: visible, but unreadable.
“Toothbrush and such are in the bathroom too.” Lai Li’s gaze swept over Dai Linxuan’s nose tip and lips, his eyes darkening slightly. “Rinse your mouth. I made breakfast.”
Dai Linxuan was genuinely surprised this time. “You made breakfast?”
Lai Li nodded without a hint of guilt.
Ten minutes later.
Dai Linxuan pointed at the light brown soup in the bowl. “Humbly asking—what is this?”
“Herbal medicine.” Lai Li half-sat on the table, one foot dangling, the other lightly touching the floor. “I had the kitchen at home simmer it for two hours this morning. Uncle Ren brought it with the clothes.”
Dai Linxuan said calmly, “Thanks, but what illness do I have that requires herbal medicine?”
Lai Li just looked at him, saying nothing.
Dai Linxuan realized something and suddenly smiled. He pointed to his lips. “Kiss me, and I’ll drink it.”
“…” Of course Lai Li wouldn’t kiss him. He could indulge his brother’s out-of-control biting, forgive him for using him as an outlet in a moment of impulse, but kissing was crossing the line.
Since returning to the country, Dai Linxuan had made many remarks unlike his usual self. Like the morning after Dai Yi’s birthday banquet, when he’d rubbed his brother’s lips and asked, “Not had enough?” Or when he’d stuck a thermometer in his brother’s mouth and said, “Don’t bite it—you’ll die.”
Even now, Lai Li struggled to reconcile such flirtatious teasing with Dai Linxuan.
He couldn’t help wondering: Had Dai Linxuan changed like this in front of others too? Or were these aberrations, clashing with his old persona, only revealed to him?
“Bro…” Lai Li suddenly gripped the back of Dai Linxuan’s chair and leaned in close. “Do you like men, or do you like me?”
The moment he heard the question, Dai Linxuan remained calm—no pain, no anger—just a slight narrowing of his eyes. He thought the sunlight falling on Lai Li’s hair seemed excessively pale.
How vicious, Lai Li. How could he ask that with such an innocent, curious expression?
But this was the child he’d raised himself.
The Buddha said good and evil bring retribution—it was true. The viciousness he’d nurtured had become a vajra pestle piercing his brow, mocking his folly and sins.
“Is there a difference?” Dai Linxuan lowered his eyes and downed the herbal medicine in one go, asking lightly, “Does it matter to you?”
Lai Li frowned. That strange feeling that had lingered since Dai Linxuan’s return welled up again, as if many things he didn’t know had happened while he wasn’t looking.
Those things were corroding his brother’s body bit by bit, dragging his soul downward.
Dai Linxuan took a napkin and wiped his mouth slowly. “Thanks for the treat.”
Lai Li still gripped the chair back, effectively blocking him from standing.
“Young university student, I need to head to the company.” Seeing no movement, Dai Linxuan gripped Lai Li’s nape and pulled him close, inches apart. As he slowly turned his head, he murmured softly, “Or do you want to test if the medicine works?”
Before their lips could touch, Lai Li released his hand, granting Dai Linxuan freedom.
His voice was a bit muffled. “I really did make breakfast.”
Dai Linxuan also let go of his nape, his attitude even. “Where?”
Lai Li turned his head slightly. Dai Linxuan followed his gaze to the kitchen counter, where two blackened pieces of bread sandwiched a scorched yellow egg.
Lai Li was a little annoyed. “I lost track of time, and it turned out like this.”
Dai Linxuan checked the time and went to the kitchen to boil two bowls of noodles. He fried a new egg for Lai Li—perfect in shape and color—then dropped the ruined one into his own bowl.
Lai Li couldn’t watch. “Don’t eat that.”
Dai Linxuan took a bite, then set it down. “Don’t make it again.”
“…”
Compared to the privileged yet all-talented Dai Linxuan, Lai Li from the Slum District seemed more like a spoiled wastrel.
Dai Linxuan finished the bitter, charred fried egg in two or three bites, his expression unchanging. Habitually wiping his mouth after eating, he added thoughtfully, “Remember to ask your counselor for leave. No exercise these next couple days, and no drinking.”
In other words, don’t go messing around, since he was injured.
Lai Li bit into the perfect fried egg. “Then you can watch me yourself.”
“I’ve got a full schedule today. Still being here eating with you at this hour is already slacking off.” Dai Linxuan walked to the sofa, picked up the clean clothes, and headed to the bedroom. Casually, he said, “Amuse yourself.”
Lai Li followed right to the doorway without any sense of boundaries, watching his brother change. “I’ll go to the company with you.”
Dai Linxuan paused slightly. Even in the years when Lai Li had been most clingy, he rarely tagged along to work—it was too dull and boring.
He shed his bathrobe. “There’s a charity auction this afternoon.”
Lai Li had always found bodies repulsive, except for Dai Linxuan’s, which seemed like the divine handiwork of a god—every curve perfectly graceful and fluid.
“Together.” Lai Li thought for a moment and added, “I won’t cause trouble.”
Dai Linxuan didn’t take the promise seriously. “No custom suit for you.”
Lai Li shrugged. “As long as you look proper, it doesn’t matter what I wear.”
Dai Linxuan glanced back slightly, eyeing him from the corner of his vision. “The auction’s at Saibo City.”
Lai Li froze for a split second, then said calmly, “Perfect then. Revisiting old haunts could be fun.”
Dai Linxuan didn’t refuse again.
For twelve years, it had always been like this: what Lai Li wanted, Lai Li got. This time was no exception.
The car didn’t head to Wanli Film Industry, which Dai Linxuan had founded, but to the Dai Group campus. Becoming a group director wasn’t set in stone; until the results were out, he had to strive for it.
Halfway through the drive, Dai Linxuan suddenly told Liu Zeng to stop at an old spot for something.
Moments later, Liu Zeng returned with a steaming box, which Dai Linxuan handed to Lai Li.
Lai Li smelled it and knew instantly. His eyelid twitched hard twice. In the middle of the box was a label: stir-fried chestnuts.
Truly stir-fried—hot to the touch.
Dai Linxuan leaned against the car window, propping his chin, a faint smile on his lips. “Return gift for breakfast.”
