Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Qi Muyao’s calculating, vulpine eyes lifted slightly to gaze at him. Though kneeling, his back appeared frail and isolated.

Though his younger brother had always been stubborn, he rarely dared to contradict him so directly before.

There used to be a trace of reverence for his elder brother.

"Wandering abroad for half a year, yet you're still as arrogant as ever," Qi Muyao remarked with a mocking sigh.

Qi Yanyu lowered his eyes—not out of shame, but as if to steady his breath, closing them briefly.

Qi Muyao stood while Qi Yanyu knelt, the latter’s height barely reaching below his waist.

Qi Yanyu's alabaster skin, despite half a year spent outside, showed no signs of hardship. It was still pampered and flawless.

Qi Muyao could detect no trace of remorse in him.

Even if there was regret, Qi Yanyu would never show it before his elder brother.

Nevertheless, Qi Muyao still asked, "If you could go back a year, would you still have blown up at your family for Zhou Yuan?"

How could Qi Muyao not understand the psychology of these spoiled rich kids?

As if deliberately forcing him to reflect and admit his past mistakes, Qi Muyao waited leisurely, anticipating Qi Yanyu’s struggling response.

But Qi Yanyu merely smiled faintly. "If possible, I'd rather have cut you off much earlier."

At the same time, he raised his face.

It was a face coddled since birth in the lap of luxury—born with a silver spoon.

Yet, for some reason, it was oddly pale, giving the illusion of pallor.

There was a delicate, almost broken beauty to it.

In truth, Qi Yanyu's looks were not outstanding, lacking the dashing good looks of his elder or younger brothers. But his phoenix-wing lashes were unusually thick, lending him a mysterious allure.

"Is that so? Do you hate us this much?"

A large hand grabbed Qi Yanyu's pale jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Qi Yanyu didn’t understand.

If he and the Qi family despised each other so much, why not just let him rot out there? Why haul him back to torment each other?

But upon reflection, this was a story where he was meant to suffer. If he were free and happy outside, where's the angst in that? Viewed that way, the unreasonable became reasonable.

He saw the contempt and scorn in his elder brother Qi Muyao's eyes.

He had seen it a few times before he entered this story, which was why, in reality, he had long since gotten the hell out of the Qi family home.

He had built his own startup—sink or swim, it had nothing to do with his family.

"Just because we broke you and that pretty-faced Zhou Yuan apart?" Qi Muyao asked him.

Qi Yanyu reached up and pushed away Qi Muyao's hand, which was clamping his jaw.

But Qi Muyao’s strength wasn’t something he could shake off easily.

Precisely because he still tried to resist, Qi Muyao tightened his grip slightly, and Qi Yanyu’s head slammed into the wall behind him.

The marks on his jaw reddened further from the pressure.

Qi Yanyu still stared at Qi Muyao with defiant eyes, his teeth gritted as he looked at the slightly bent figure before him. "Qi Muyao, did you lose money in business again and come here to take it out on me?"

As a child, Qi Yanyu often wondered why his eldest brother was so harsh on him.

Sometimes, when he failed to meet his expectations, Qi Muyao would take it out on him physically.

He always wondered if his brother dumped all the frustrations from the business world onto his closest family.

This sentence sounded like something a cornered animal would say through gritted teeth.

But Qi Muyao didn’t understand what had cornered Qi Yanyu.

After all, he had only gripped his jaw. Yet he could see the stubborn flush rising on that pale face—anger and helplessness mingling into a mottled red.

"Without me, you’d be sleeping on the streets long ago. What *young master* would you even be?"

Their family had once suffered a devastating blow. If not for Qi Muyao stepping in to save it, they might have become just another example of a down-and-out wealthy family in the country.

"Wake up, Qi Yanyu. I raised you all. I gave you the best conditions. Shouldn’t you listen to me?"

Wake up.

As if he hadn’t already. "Let go."

Qi Muyao watched him frown, assuming it was due to frustration and helplessness.

Only when Qi Yanyu began gasping for breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, did Qi Muyao notice.

One of Qi Yanyu’s hands was clawing at his stomach, fingers curled as if trying to sink into his skin through the wrinkled clothing.

A thin sheen of sweat had appeared unnoticed on Qi Yanyu’s unnaturally pale face.

His expression was one of raw agony—his already pallid skin now alternating between flushed and ashen.

When Qi Muyao released his grip, Qi Yanyu immediately dropped to his knees, one hand pressing into his stomach.

Tousled hair obscured his face, but droplets—sweat or tears—he couldn’t tell, fell onto the polished floor.

Qi Muyao, horrified, reached out to touch him.

"What’s wrong—"

But Qi Yanyu knocked his hand away.

Kneeling on the ground, one hand gripping his stomach and the other braced against the floor, Qi Yanyu buried his face in his arm.

His eyes were shut tight, his voice fighting to keep steady despite his clenched teeth. "Get the hell out."

If he curled up in the study for a while, the cramps would probably ease up.

Maybe if the butler took pity and brought him some food, he would feel much better after eating it.

That was what he thought, kneeling on the ground, his body curled forward, his head buried in his arms before his knees.

His stomach felt as if it were being twisted by three metal blades.

Under the cold sweat, his body trembled faintly, almost imperceptibly. Like a Maltese pup that'd been beaten by its owner and then struck by illness on top of misfortune.

Qi Muyao needed to figure out what was actually wrong with him.

When he tried to turn him over, Qi Yanyu's voice was broken, his head still buried in his arms: "Get out."

"Qi Yanyu, what's wrong with you... Are you on some kind of drug?"

Still thinking he'd gotten mixed up in something illegal outside.

"You're the one on drugs..." Qi Yanyu's words were broken by pain, part plea, part surrender. "Please... just kick me out."

Kneeling on the ground, his knuckles clenched so tightly they made his stomach wince harder.

In reality, the stomach cramps could've killed him outright.

Ignoring his protests, Qi Muyao turned him over.

Only to see him grimacing, jaw locked, hands gripping his stomach, his shirt twisted into knots.

His face was as pale as paper. Strands of hair plastered to his forehead, slick with sweat, scattered across his brows.

The face of a spoiled young master had never before shown such an expression—where not even clenched teeth could keep up appearances.

"Is it your heart?"

It was hard to tell exactly where he was clutching. Gallstones? Stomach pain?

Qi Muyao gathered Qi Yanyu against him, and the latter let out a wounded-animal whimper, still holding his clothes in a white-knuckled grip so tight that even Qi Muyao couldn't pry his fingers loose.

Qi Yanyu slurred something unintelligible, his words indistinguishable to Qi Muyao.

Sliding a hand beneath Qi Yanyu's knees, Qi Muyao lifted him up.

Qi Yanyu's face was streaked with moisture—impossible to tell whether it was sweat or tears.

Even as he was carried, he couldn't help curling into a fetal position, proof of just how bad the pain was.

His elder brother carried him to the bedroom. The moment Qi Yanyu touched the pillow, his brows remained furrowed, eyes tightly shut, hands refusing to release their white-knuckled grip on his clothes.

Qi Muyao took hold of Qi Yanyu's clenched hand, his knuckles tinged faintly pink. "What's wrong? Where exactly does it hurt?"

The moment the line picked up, Qi Muyao said, "Get Dr. Wang over here now."

Perhaps thinking he could do something to ease Qi Yanyu's suffering, he pressed a hand against Qi Yanyu's stomach, as if to massage it. But the moment he touched him, he was shocked by how icy Qi Yanyu's skin felt.

"Is it here that hurts?"

He asked the writhing figure, his face still slick with sweat or tears.

For the first time, regret stabbed through Qi Muyao.

He shouldn’t have kept him from coming home for six months, only to make him kneel as punishment in the study upon his return.

He didn’t even know what illness Qi Yanyu had gotten while away, yet the moment he came back, he got hit with such cruel words.

Anyone would come to hate coming home.

His hands tried to pry Qi Yanyu’s fingers away from his stomach, but Qi Yanyu only continued to slur broken words between sobs.

Qi Muyao leaned in to listen, only to hear Qi Yanyu, still furious despite the pain, spit out through clenched teeth, "Just throw me out, like you did half a year ago."

"..." Qi Muyao reached to massage the painful area, only to be met with resistance. "Don’t... touch me."

The words came out choked with tears.

His already pale face was contorted in pain. The muffled cries might have been from grievance, leaving him broken in body and soul.

He didn’t want to live anymore.

Since he transmigrated into this book and experienced being cast out six months ago,

he realized everything he went through played out exactly like the plot—

his family inexplicably hated him with a passion.

Old friends and new acquaintances alike turned against him.

He had resisted, trying to alter the storyline, only to find it futile.

For instance, he had hoped to break free from his family and run a business, as he had in his original world. Yet every company he started was repeatedly shut down by the government, had funds frozen, faced malicious attacks from rivals, or lost clients under absurd circumstances.

For instance, he avoided Zhou Yuan and the Lan siblings, going out of his way to avoid them. Yet they always managed to track him down. They always crossed paths.

And again, he spent six months living in hotels, refusing to return home to follow the plot. Yet he was inevitably hauled back by private bodyguards sent by his eldest brother.