Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Rage flared up in Qi Shaoli.

He wanted to lunge at Qi Yanyu, grab his collar, and demand, "Who are you putting on this pathetic act for?"

Qi Yanyu smiled lazily, deliberately goading him: "If you don’t take your dog away, I’ll poison it sooner or later."

He couldn’t bear to poison it—he was just lashing out.

If everyone already couldn’t stand him, he might as well lean into being the bad guy.

Qi Shaoli, too furious to stay, turned and left.

The door slammed shut with a loud *bang* behind him.

Inside the room, Qi Yanyu slumped from his stiff posture, curling up on the sofa. At that moment, he truly felt his days were numbered.

Even as sweat beaded down his face from the pain, he clutched his stomach and staggered to the cabinet. He pulled open the drawers, revealing year-old medications, then opened every other cabinet as well.

He found them—all the pills, new and old. One by one, he unscrewed the bottles and poured the tablets into the wastebasket.

His pale, gaunt face devoid of color, he endured the pain with lowered eyes, watching the pills pile up like a snowdrift in the basket.

Let it fucking kill him.

When would he finally die?

Meanwhile, outside in the hallway, Qi Shaoli made a call mid-call, asking a friend to take the golden retriever back and promising to cover all associated losses.

Inexplicably, the image of his brother’s pale, gaunt face flashed before his eyes—how he had gritted out every taunt despite his obvious weakness.

Qi Yanyu had been away from home for half a year, and Qi Shaoli had also returned to the country half a year ago—yet they hadn’t seen each other in all that time.

He’d expected to feel relieved.

But his heart felt weirdly empty.

Until a few days ago, when their eldest brother dragged Qi Yanyu home, and doctors were in and out of the house all day.

He didn’t know if their eldest brother had beaten the shit out of Qi Yanyu so badly that it required daily medical attention.

As for the incident with the dog, he suspected that Qi Yanyu just couldn’t stand the dog. But because of their many past conflicts, they had never talked it out.

His brother, annoyed by the dog, probably fed it chocolate in hopes of making him send it away.

After the call, Qi Shaoli steeled himself and knocked on Qi Yanyu’s door again.

He wanted to tell him that the dog was gone—that there would be no more dogs in the house.

Silence.

Standing outside the silent room, Qi Shaoli’s words died in his throat.

He wanted to explain clearly that the dog had been sent away.

But Qi Yanyu wasn’t giving him a chance to talk.

Qi Shaoli stood outside the door, lost in thought for a long while.

Eventually, he lowered his hand that had been about to knock and left the second floor.

Qi Yanyu was practically under house arrest at home for a few days.

He didn’t set foot outside his room even once until, a few days later, Qi Shaoli's birthday arrived.

Qi Shaoli's coming-of-age ceremony was described in the book as an exceptionally grand affair.

The Qi family held a banquet for him. That day, it had just rained, and with the rain clearing and a rainbow fading, everything appeared fresh and bright.

At the banquet, the scene was alive with elegance and glamour, filled with distinguished guests. Surprisingly, among the attendees at his younger brother's birthday celebration, Qi Yanyu recognized some familiar faces from real life.

Like a lone crane or a restless ghost, he lingered or drifted aimlessly through the banquet.

Occasionally, someone who knew him would toast him.

Qi Yanyu paid no attention, and after the guest left, they muttered under their breath, "What's with the act? Isn't he just a gimp of a queer?"

In the past few days, to create the illusion of recovery, he had been swapping his meds for painkillers.

Qi Yanyu still carried the last bottle of painkillers with him—originally containing 130 pills. Now, less than half remained. He estimated that by the time he finished them, his life would likely be over.

The thought that he had fewer than 70 pills left before his 'final bow' brought a ghost of a smile to his face. Soon, halfway to the end.

Suddenly, a voice snapped him out of his daze—

"Third Young Master, Mr. Zhou has brought you a gift. It's been placed in the glass greenhouse."

"Who?" Qi Yanyu was still fiddling absently with the glass bottle in his hand, its packaging torn off.

The messenger glanced over and saw Qi Yanyu's slender fingers, his pale hand clutching a transparent glass bottle. Inside, faintly visible, were small white oval pills filling more than half the container.

His eyes widened in shock at the sight of the pills, wondering if Qi Yanyu was a junkie.

When the messenger mentioned the name "Zhou Yuan," Qi Yanyu's expression remained cool and unbothered.

Qi Yanyu hadn’t planned to go, but then he slowly remembered—this was a pivotal moment in the original story.

The illegitimate son, Qi Xizhi, used Zhou Yuan's gift to draw him to the glass greenhouse.

In the original story, Qi Yanyu never lifted a finger, yet Qi Xizhi ended up collapsing among the glass flowerpots, his hand severely cut.

Family members and guests rushed to the scene upon hearing the commotion, all quick to blame Qi Yanyu.

His eldest brother dragged him away from the scene and, as soon as they reached the upper floor, slapped him, then knocked him to the floor.

In the original story, he had tried to explain, but they never gave him the chance to defend himself.

Qi Yanyu thought to himself—if he held out a bit longer in this body, he might finally meet the Buddha.

No more suffering.

So, he slipped the glass bottle into his pocket. Lifting his head, he gave a lazy smile and said, "Alright."

The messenger eyed him suspiciously—why was this playboy so calm?

Qi Yanyu left the main hall of the banquet and made his way to the glass greenhouse. Outside, the sun beat down, but inside the greenhouse, dense foliage cast deep shadows.

The person standing amidst the flowers turned around. Qi Yanyu saw that it was the bastard, Qi Xizhi.

Upon seeing the newcomer, Qi Xizhi didn’t show much surprise, as if he had already expected it would be him.

Qi Xizhi still wore that polished, gentlemanly mask: "You hate my guts, don’t you? Not even a welcome since my return?"

Qi Yanyu gave a slow, indifferent smile and nod.

Qi Xizhi sneered inwardly: *You don’t even know what’s coming. Keep smiling while you still can.*

Unlike in the original story, Qi Yanyu didn’t immediately demand Zhou Yuan’s gift upon meeting Qi Xizhi.

He simply gazed calmly at the flowers in the glass greenhouse—dusky violets, glistening crimsons—a vibrant clash of hues. Most of the blooms here were shades of blue and purple.

Blue and purple hydrangeas, pale green cherries, pale blue cornflowers, deep purple tulips, predominantly blue-pink-purple hibiscus, blue-and-white jasmine, white gardenias and lilacs, yellow-and-blue-centered larkspurs, tender green bellflowers, icy blue anemones, pale blue jacarandas, and more.

Flowers are fragile; beauty never lasts. He rather liked the blue-violet hydrangea varieties his eldest brother had meticulously cultivated. The glass greenhouse spanned nearly three to five hundred square meters, filled with exquisite, rare blooms in their prime.

Qi Yanyu couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret in advance, knowing Qi Xizhi would soon put on his act here, wrecking this paradise.

"Aren’t you interested in Zhou Yuan’s gift? He really did send one," Qi Xizhi jumped at the chance to needle Qi Yanyu.

But the other remained cool as a cucumber.

Little did he know, Qi Yanyu was actually considering whether he could drag Qi Xizhi outside the greenhouse and kick his ass later—just to prevent the bastard from wrecking the flowers. That way, he could still play into Qi Xizhi’s framing scheme.

"Who is Zhou Yuan?" Qi Yanyu asked, playing dumb, a faint smile playing on his lips.

*If I refuse to be provoked, will Qi Xizhi get so desperate later that he carves himself up worse?* Qi Yanyu mused. *That would be even more amusing.*

"A year ago, you knelt and begged your family to let you be with *your precious Zhou Yuan*, even got your leg broken for it. Surely you haven’t forgotten," Qi Xizhi said confidently. *I refuse to believe you’d forget an old flame.*

Qi Yanyu replied in a flat, bored tone: "Oh."

Not a trace of emotional fluctuation could be detected.

*Good. His crap acting has improved quite a bit.*

Qi Xizhi's jaw twitched slightly. "But his gift wasn’t for you—it was for your younger brother, Qi Shaoli. He was afraid you’d taint it, so he had someone else deliver it."

The listener breathed out, light as a petal: "Hmm? And then?"

"..." Qi Xizhi was infuriated by his reaction and instead blurted out what he believed would wound the other. "Because of you, Zhou Yuan is trapped in this rat race of money and status, unable to escape. Now he’s stuck sucking up to the Lan siblings. Don’t you want to do something for him, to atone for the sins you committed against him?"

"What sins did I commit against him? Did I force him to chase after *sugar daddies*?" For the first time, Qi Yanyu found these antagonists utterly boring.

*Completely useless.*

*They don’t even know what truly strikes a nerve.*

*How stupid.*

But in truth—it wasn’t the case.

He had long since shed all his weaknesses.

If someone could willingly cast off their defenses and surrender, they would become untouchable.

"Might as well pin those on me too, huh? People in the mountains can't afford education, those on the streets can't afford food or housing—why not blame me for all of it?" Qi Yanyu's complexion was pale, lacking any healthy flush. His expression remained unreadable, only offering a faint smile—a stark contrast to his usual short fuse.

"..."

Finally, having exhausted all tactics, Qi Xizhi dropped what he thought was a killing blow: "Goldie’s dead. Do you know why? Because you fed it chocolate. Your brother, Qi Shaoli, worried it might suffer lasting damage, so he had it euthanized."

He was lying. The dog had been saved—he’d caught the servants saying otherwise.

At this, Qi Yanyu’s expression didn’t so much as flicker.

He seemed lost in thought—or maybe Qi Xizhi’s ploy had worked.

He only said slowly, "So, when’s the flowerpot stunt happening?"

"…? What are you talking about?" Qi Xizhi played dumb.

Qi Yanyu was running out of patience. He realized his body felt like leaky bellows, wind whistling through his bones.

Even though this was a glass greenhouse, where not a single breeze could enter.

Only the blistering sun bore down.

If not for the vines crawling over the flower stands, their dense greenery blocking the sky, his heatstroke symptoms would have been even more obvious.

His head swam—perhaps from standing under the sun for too long—his body teetering on his feet.

Why hadn’t Qi Xizhi taken his dive into those flowerpots yet?

How much longer did he have to wait?

Qi Yanyu himself could barely stand.

He lowered his head slightly, digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood, forcing himself to stay conscious a little longer.

Qi Xizhi approached, expecting Qi Yanyu to flinch or resist first.

But the moment he reached out, Qi Yanyu swayed like a blade of grass in the wind, on the verge of collapse.

Then, Qi Xizhi heard noise outside the greenhouse. He knew the people he’d sent to spread the lie—"Qi Xizhi was injured by Qi Yanyu"—had successfully drawn the guests over.

Seeing his chance, he stepped forward, intending to grab Qi Yanyu and make it seem like he’d been pushed.

But when he saw Qi Yanyu suddenly lift his gaze, cold and detached, staring straight at him, panic seized him. He skipped the act entirely, flinging himself back—smashing into a seven-foot vase before tumbling into a flowerpot.

Thorny branches scraped his alabaster skin, glass shards embedded in his wrist, blood streaking his arm.

Lying on the ground, he saw the arriving guests—just as he’d hoped.

Along with his recently acknowledged elder brother: Qi Muyao.

Meanwhile, Qi Yanyu stood unshaken as stone. Qi Xizhi assumed he must be stunned.

As Qi Muyao entered the greenhouse and took in the bloodied scene, Qi Xizhi feigned graciousness, murmuring, "Don’t blame Yanyu… It was my own carelessness."

The guests stood frozen, their gazes flicking from Qi Xizhi sprawled on the ground to Qi Yanyu, who—despite standing—looked even paler than the one lying down.

Qi Yanyu's palm turned pale from the nails digging in, just barely keeping himself upright. He turned around and, as expected, his gaze met Qi Muyao's knitted brows.

Qi Muyao's eyes were fixed on him, and Qi Yanyu knew he might be slapped hard a few times.

He wanted to sneer defiantly, afraid the slaps wouldn’t come fast enough—before he collapsed.

But in Qi Muyao's eyes, there seemed to be an unusual mix of shock, doubt, bewilderment, indifference, heartbreak—a look he couldn't decipher directed at him.

Qi Yanyu knew he had to say something to provoke Qi Muyao into hauling him upstairs to pummel him senseless.

"He deserved it," Qi Yanyu, never handsome, muttered. "If he hadn’t provoked me, he wouldn’t have ended up like this..."

Just a spoiled little prince. His lashes fluttered slightly, his pallid face twisting into a faint smile—more arrogance than self-deprecation.

Like the barest hint of light in a vast, snowy downpour.

Qi Yanyu wanted his voice to sound as detestable as possible, speaking louder on purpose. "He asked for it..."

Before he could finish, he saw his younger brother Qi Shaoli, in his formal wear for the coming-of-age ceremony.

Qi Shaoli wore a white suit today, making him look even more like a spoiled rich kid.

Just as he expected, Qi Shaoli frowned, gaping at him, bewildered.

He must despise him for ruining his coming-of-age celebration.

But soon, he wouldn’t have the chance to hate him anymore—because Qi Yanyu would be beaten to death soon enough.

"Brother,"

He saw Qi Shaoli’s lips part, seeming to whisper.

His younger brother’s brows were knitted, his refined face filled with clear disgust.