Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Qi Shaoli noticed his eldest brother Qi Muyao, whose posture remained exactly the same as usual.

His tone when speaking to him was also unchanged.

His body was rigid, but his expression was different—unlike his usual authoritative demeanor, there was now a hint of dejection.

He had never seen his eldest brother like this before. Even though hospital administrators and doctors stood around, attempting to comfort Qi Muyao.

But Qi Muyao stared at the light above, like a distant, indistinct lighthouse in a desolate sea—or perhaps a siren’s deceptive light.

Qi Muyao stood with the grace of a refined scholar, his face aloof and icy.

His head was slightly raised, yet his eyes were obscured as if by mist.

To the hospital leaders and administrative doctors who urged him to rest in the VIP lounge, he merely waved them off without a word.

Not until a doctor in green surgical scrubs hurried out from the emergency room—though the resuscitation light above still hadn’t gone out.

"He’s still in resuscitation. Please wait a little longer, Mr. Qi." As one of the sponsors, investors, and shareholders of Kan Medical University’s affiliated hospital, Qi Muyao was highly regarded by the hospital leadership. The director personally oversaw the efforts, with five senior consultants and six attending physicians leading the rescue attempt.

As the doctor turned to leave, Qi Muyao, seldom showing emotion or weakness, grabbed the departing physician. "Is that all? Get me a fucking doctor familiar with the case—one who isn’t in surgery—to talk to me!"

"R-right away." Seeing that none of the surrounding leaders intervened, only nodding in agreement, the doctor soon brought over a doctor familiar with the case.

"We’re doing everything we can to save him. Please rest assured, Mr. Qi."

"Don’t give me that bullshit. He never had heart disease. How could he go into cardiac arrest?" Unable to hold back, Qi Muyao’s face darkened.

"We’re still running tests. Once the resuscitation is over, we’ll conduct further examinations to determine whether it’s heart disease—"

"Why was he vomiting blood?" He couldn’t fathom the reason for the vomiting blood.

"Vomiting blood could indicate issues with the digestive system. If he were a heart disease patient on long-term aspirin use, it could lead to severe gastric mucosal damage, triggering gastrointestinal bleeding—hence the vomiting blood."

"He doesn’t have heart disease." Qi Muyao reiterated firmly.

"...I see."

Qi Xizhi stepped in as the mediator to console his eldest brother: "They’ll do their best to save Third Brother."

Qi Muyao snapped at him in front of everyone: "Can they guarantee they’ll return a living Qi Yanyu to me? Can you guarantee that?"

Qi Xizhi looked mortified beyond words, his embarrassment reaching its peak.

When Qi Muyao was in a foul mood, no one should speak to him—not even to offer comfort.

Qi Shaoli had learned this long ago. He had often witnessed Qi Yanyu arguing with Qi Muyao in the past. Yet Qi Yanyu was always the most stubborn, so the family’s fiercest arguments were usually between Qi Muyao and Qi Yanyu. His third brother was punished the most severely but never backed down.

Four hours passed, and Qi Muyao still stared at the light. As if hallucinating, the light seemed to flicker, overlap, dim, then falter faintly.

He thought he heard the voices of the emergency room staff:

"Epinephrine, intracardiac 0.5mg, increase to 1mg, still administered every 5 minutes."

"Nebulize isoproterenol."

"Keep pressing like this and you’ll break his ribs."

Four hours is dangerously long for cardiac arrest resuscitation—did we miss the golden hour?

Qi Shaoli felt dazed, a needle-like, suffocating pain clamping his chest.

Afraid of disturbing everyone, he silently walked into the stairwell—an infrequently used fire escape, unlit, littered with dust motes, dark as a cave.

Suddenly, he bent over and vomited, only dry heaving, unable to bring anything up.

In his daze, he saw his brother from childhood.

Holding a palette, standing frozen in the distance, staring at the easel where he was painting in the studio.

His brother watched as Qi Muyao added a stroke to his painting on the paper. Instead of being annoyed, he grew even happier, more delighted. His brother’s confusion deepened, brows furrowing.

He stepped forward, wanting to reach for his brother’s hand back then.

But his brother stood just a child’s height away—a child’s body. Qi Shaoli had to take a few more steps, yet that small figure always seemed just out of reach.

As he walked, his foot suddenly slipped, and with a *thud*, he tumbled down the stairs, rolling five or six steps before stopping on a landing. The hallucination of memory before his eyes finally faded.

His knees and elbows felt scraped and cold. Brushing the grit from his palms, he heard a heated shouting match from the corridor above.

The voice was so familiar that Qi Shaoli ignored his own pain, scrambling up and gripping the railing as he rushed upstairs. In the hallway, Qi Muyao was screaming obscenities at a stranger.

Blind to the context but acting on instinct, Qi Shaoli rushed over and pulled Qi Muyao away from the unknown target of his rage.

Hospital administrators scrambled to intervene. The other party seemed to be some lost visitor passing by. The stranger might have muttered something like *"gone"*—perhaps not referring to the patient in the ER—but it had provoked Qi Muyao into a furious outburst, even physical aggression.

Qi Shaoli quickly tried to restrain the cursing, out-of-control Qi Muyao, catching a slap across the face in the process. Ignoring the sting, he pleaded, *"Calm down—"*

*"Have some dignity,"* Qi Shaoli finally snapped at his eldest brother, throwing caution to the wind.

Only then did Qi Muyao lift his head slightly, his cold gaze unreadable—whether composed or put-on. He let out a mirthless, derisive snort. *"Oh."*

Qi Shaoli, who had always feared his eldest brother, softened his tone slightly, no longer shouting. *"Acting like this won’t help Third Brother recover. If he wakes up, you should control your temper—"*

*"You’re playing teacher now?"* Qi Muyao sneered.

Qi Shaoli finally said, *"Is this how you argued with my brother earlier?"*

The target of Qi Muyao’s curses shifted from the stranger to him—

*"What, now you’re playing detective, trying to figure out who’s to blame for your brother’s condition?"* Qi Muyao’s temper today was like a spark to gunpowder.

*"You really fought with him? He was already unwell before—"* Qi Shaoli said, voice tight with worry.

*"You think you can butt in?"*

*"I just want to reason with you. If you refuse, fine,"* Qi Shaoli said, uncharacteristically defiant.

The hospital staff, catching whiffs of the powder keg, barely had time to intervene before—

*"Without me, how would he have survived? He was never learned discipline before. Now I’ve finally got the means to straighten him out, to set him on the right path—do you think you can butt in?"*

*"Your intentions might be good, but you know Qi Yanyu’s temper. He was already sick—"* Rarely had Qi Shaoli dared to stand his ground against Qi Muyao, as if the vision of Qi Yanyu in the stairwell had given him courage.

Qi Yanyu used to argue with Qi Muyao like this—world-ending arguments that ended with Qi Muyao dragging him into the study to beat him, while outside, Qi Shaoli never heard Qi Yanyu cry. Maybe he hadn’t made a sound at all.

*"Who the fuck gave you the right to lecture me? Qi Shaoli, you think just because you’re a few years older, you’re qualified to teach everyone how to live their lives? I curse your ancestors..."*

With the hospital leadership and administrative doctors present, no one wanted to get involved in the family dispute, merely saying, "Children say the darndest things. He didn’t mean it that way..."

Similarly, Qi Xizhi, who was less closely related and more of an outsider, never expected the brothers to turn on each other like this.

He almost wished he could be like Jia Baoyu (from *Dream of the Red Chamber*) cheering beside Qingwen, yelling: "Go on, tear into each other! Tear into each other!" Why didn’t Qi Muyao just finish Qi Yanyu off back then instead of rushing him to the ER?

"You should let Qi Yanyu see what kind of state you’re in right now," Qi Shaoli seemed to have found the sharpest verbal weapon. Calm as he appeared, his body trembled, tears glistening in his eyes.

"What gives you the right to keep throwing 'Qi Yanyu' around like that? Have you ever cared about your brother, huh?"

Perhaps out of guilt or being scolded, Qi Shaoli’s tears welled up even more. "I can still care for him now... Unlike you, who only knows how to yell at him..."

"Go f*ck yourself!" Qi Muyao snarled, cursing nonstop. "Not only will I yell at him, but I’ll also teach you a damn lesson..."

The hospital administrators had an even bigger mess on their hands—one brother lying inside, his fate unknown, and two others outside on the verge of a physical fight. What kind of high-society family was this—falling apart like rotten fish and crumbling dirt?

If the rescue failed, the hospital might as well be leveled.

Their half-hearted attempts to mediate fell flat, not even their butler’s intervention could salvage the situation.

Qi Muyao’s eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging as he screamed. If not restrained, Qi Shaoli would have already been beaten to the ground, curled up in pain.

Tears streaming down his face, Qi Shaoli remained resolute, staring at Qi Muyao word by word: "If my brother wakes up, don’t argue with him the way you’re arguing with me."

"Go to hell," Qi Muyao spat, cursing nonstop. "When the hell are you going back to school in England?"

Qi Shaoli was studying abroad and had only flown back during his break for an exhibition. The young man wiped his tears, still defiant. "My vacation isn’t over yet."

"You little sh*t, you’re going back to England tonight, or I swear to god—"

"No. My brother hasn’t even woken up yet."

The boy finally broke and bolted—though he only turned into the pitch-black emergency stairwell to sob uncontrollably.

Back when he was a kid, his eldest brother had once reamed him out—that day, Qi Muyao had been on a warpath, even laying into him. Though usually, he doted on them all, with one condition: they had to obey his every word without the slightest defiance.

Qi Yanyu, who usually clashed with him, crouched down in front of the weeping boy hugging his knees, studying him for a long moment.

Then, setting aside their usual petty quarrels, he handed a handkerchief near the boy’s face, putting on a show of disgust. "What are you crying for? That’s just how our eldest brother is. You can’t win against him in an argument, so why provoke him?"

Qi Shaoli only ever responded to gentle words. This tough-love act just made him cry harder.

Qi Yanyu leaned closer, trying to peek at him under his knees. "Stop crying. Auntie Zhan hooked me up with kids' show tickets. Want to go? I’ll give them to you if you stop crying."

In the pitch-black stairwell, Qi Shaoli’s crying turned ragged and raw.

·

Room 413 was a mess—some guys showering, others mooching homework answers while yelling, "Speed it up, or I’m stuck with a cold shower!"

But the person in Bed 3 still hadn’t returned.

He looked away like he didn’t care, though he couldn’t help but wonder—what if the guy had a heart attack and dropped somewhere?

The latest message on WeChat was from Xia Yiyi, the campus belle: "Thank god we hit send before midnight. Next time they saddle us with their mess, we’ll wreck them first."

Gu Jinglan didn’t reply. She sent another message—a cute cat GIF stretching and flopping down, exhausted.

He closed the app.

Worried he might collapse unnoticed in some corner, Gu Jinglan stared at the names in his contacts for a few minutes before finally making the call.

Perhaps you reap what you sow.

If he hadn’t sparred with Qi Yanyu yesterday—the cause—there wouldn’t have been the effect of Qi Yanyu’s episode. Nor would he be stuck cleaning up the aftermath.

And as the only one in the dorm who knew about that person’s heart condition, keeping tabs on him was just part of the fallout.

Gu Jinglan listened to the 'phone is switched off' automated message, then hung up.

The next day, Qi Yanyu, of course, still hadn’t returned to Dorm 413.

413 carried on as usual—rushing to wash up, grabbing books, dashing to the cafeteria, then heading to class.

On Tuesday morning, Gu Jinglan sat alone in the front row of biochemistry, bored stiff. His phone suddenly vibrated. He picked it up—just messages from others, with the chat from the school's most popular girl still at the top.

Seeing nothing important, he locked his phone without reading them.

Back then, Qi Yanyu had sat just a few seats away, calmly and eloquently answering the professor’s questions.

Since then, the front row of biochemistry had only ever been occupied by the two of them—the "dynamic duo."

The professor, noticing the empty seat beside Gu Jinglan, asked, "That student—what was his name again… Qi? Why isn’t he in class today?"

Qi Yuanhan, squeezed among the students from Dorms 414 and 416 in the back row, hesitated over whether to make up an excuse—like the Prince had taken the day off. But the Prince skipping morning classes was practically routine; neither the homeroom teacher nor the school administration ever gave him trouble about it.

Just as Huang Shaoze was about to raise his hand to put in for him—

Gu Jinglan spoke first. "He's out today."

"Oh," the professor mused, tapping the edge of his lecture notes. "What for?"

Gu Jinglan replied flatly, "Not feeling well."

"Ah, you all should take care of your health. For medical students, knowledge and practice are crucial, but so is your own well-being." The professor, kind-hearted, let it go after a few words of concern and resumed the lecture.

After morning classes, Gu Jinglan returned to the dorm at noon to pick up the books 413 needed for afternoon classes. He noticed that his bed and desk looked exactly the same as they had when he’d last seen them the day before.

Where had he gone?

He remembered how, in the past, whenever he returned early to the dorm, this person would still be leisurely getting up and washing up.

If he’d gone home, why hadn’t he taken his laptop or anything else?

Gu Jinglan gathered everyone’s books and headed to the first major lecture of the afternoon—a rabbit dissection lab.

While doing the artificial insemination procedure, slowly injecting diluted semen into the female rabbit, he couldn’t help but recall Qi Yuanhan’s remark—that Qi Yanyu slept like a female rabbit being mounted by a male. The image stuck in his head.

To think of Qi Yanyu at a time like this—clearly, that particular association was deeply ingrained in his thoughts.

Gu Jinglan chuckled darkly.

Another five days passed, and the Prince still hadn’t returned to school. When Qi Yuanhan came back to Dorm 413 and saw that Bed 3 remained untouched, he exclaimed in surprise, "Is the Prince planning to drop out again?"

It was Sunday. After attending a make-up class, Huang Shaoze returned to the dorm and pushed Qi Yanyu’s suitcase—which had slid out and blocked the aisle—back into place.

On the way back, the wind was blowing hard. The afternoon sky looked like rain, and raindrops had already splashed onto beds 2 and 4, closest to the balcony.

Gu Jinglan wasn't in the dorm, and Huang Shaoze looked worriedly outside. "Looks like it's going to rain," he said, hurriedly packing his teaching materials since he had to rush off to his tutoring job with an umbrella.

The dorm was about to be empty except for Qi Yuanhan, who forgot to ask, "Where you headed?"

"Tutoring, duh. Why ask?" Huang Shaoze replied, scrambling to find his umbrella to avoid being late.

Qi Yuanhan glanced outside and saw it was indeed raining, so he stepped onto the balcony and used the clothes pole to grab the laundry.

Before heading out for dinner on Monday evening, Qi Yanyu had washed his lab coat hanging outside but hadn’t retrieved it yet.

Looking at the few clothes in his hands, Qi Yuanhan figured picking up one more lab coat wouldn’t be much trouble.

Seeing Qi Yanyu’s spotless white lab coat hanging above him, free of any bloodstains or dirt, Qi Yuanhan remarked, "Typical Crown Prince—can’t even manage his own laundry. It’s been hanging outside for a week without being taken in."

The rain was getting heavier, and it wasn’t wise to stay out on the balcony for long.

Watching the lab coat flutter in the wind, Qi Yuanhan called out generously, "Lucky for the Crown Prince I’m around—who else would help him collect his clothes in the rain?"

Huang Shaoze was too busy hailing a ride on his phone to pay him any attention.

Qi Yuanhan dumped his clothes on his chair and eyed Qi Yanyu’s lab coat—fresh out the package, hardly used. He then looked at the bed and desk left completely untouched at bunk No. 3.

"Always ditching class, can’t even be bothered to grab his laundry..."

He hung the lab coat on the hook of Qi Yanyu’s bedside cabinet, letting it drape over the bed.

Noticing that the originally pristine lab coat had gathered a bit of dust outside, Qi Yuanhan took it down again and went at it for a solid minute dusting it off.

Once it looked decent enough, he rehung it on the cabinet hook, letting it fall over the bed.

Huang Shaoze was about to leave when he saw Qi Yuanhan just plop down on bunk No. 3’s chair, chilling like it was his own.

Huang Shaoze, in a hurry, asked, "What are you doing?" worried that Qi Yuanhan might damage the Crown Prince’s belongings. If the Crown Prince threw a fit, they’d be screwed.

Normally, Qi Yuanhan avoided touching the Crown Prince’s things when he wasn’t around.

"He’s never in class—what’s the big deal with using his chair? Just go to your tutoring already," Qi Yuanhan retorted.

"Hands off his things—we’re broke!" This was Huang Shaoze’s biggest concern.

Qi Yuanhan scoffed, "Seriously? I did him a solid grabbing his laundry, and now my own chair’s basically a clothes mountain. Can’t I just sit here for a sec?"

Huang Shaoze knew Qi Yuanhan’s wardrobe was overflowing with clothes and shoes. His chair was basically a clothes mountain, waiting to be sorted before anything else could fit.

Qi Yuanhan casually picked up a book from the desk and found it was titled *The Complete Guide to Raising Dogs*.

He thought to himself, *This trust-fund baby’s something else, huh?*

*All heart for dogs, zero for humans.*

"Weird not having the Crown Prince around," Qi Yuanhan mused as he flipped through the book to see what was inside. "Kinda miss the guy."

He didn’t touch any of Qi Yanyu’s other valuables—just crashed in his chair for a bit.

Huang Shaoze, still rushing to leave, was searching for the practice books and test papers he’d bought for his student.

"If he were around, I’d at least mooch PUBG hacks off him nightly," Qi Yuanhan muttered, shaking his head as he carefully turned the pages. He didn’t want to damage the book—or the Crown Prince would lose it.

"Cut it out," Huang Shaoze chuckled while rummaging through the drawers. "Missing it now that it’s gone, huh?"

"Text Prince and ask if he’s going on the autumn trip after midterms. The class rep’s collecting dues," Qi Yuanhan said, legs crossed but careful not to kick the edge of Qi Yanyu’s desk.

"No time—I’m slammed every day. He might not even come back to class," Huang Shaoze muttered. "I remember putting the workbook I bought for my student in the drawer. Did you take it, thinking it was homework to copy?"

"Back off, I can read. Haven’t touched your stuff," Qi Yuanhan retorted, setting down the book on dog care—neither the topic nor dogs interested him. He picked at a hangnail instead. "You should give Prince a heads-up. Otherwise, the whole class will go on the trip except him, and he’ll accuse us of freezing him out."

"All talk, as usual. Why don’t you call him?" Huang Shaoze grew more puzzled the longer he searched. Did the workbook vanish into thin air?

"I don’t have his number," Qi Yuanhan shrugged.

"I’ll give it to you later. If you don’t call, you’re chicken."

"No way. That’s your job—you’re the messenger. I’m just the hype man." Bantering with Prince was one of Qi Yuanhan’s ways to keep their roommate dynamic lively. "Not stepping on your toes."

"Screw you," Huang Shaoze finally found the workbook, stuffed it into his bag, and headed out.

"Hey, when you tell him about the trip, ask if he’s even coming back to class. Otherwise, I’m swiping his chair—perfect for dumping clothes," Qi Yuanhan said, though his real concern was whether Prince would return at all.

"Yeah, whatever," Huang Shaoze shot back, too rushed to close the door as he bolted down the hallway.

Qi Yuanhan returned *The Complete Guide to Dog Care* to Qi Yanyu’s bookshelf, got up from the chair, and pushed it back under the desk. Then he returned to his own bed (No. 4) to organize the clothes piled on his chair and in his wardrobe.

Outside, the rain grew heavier, battering the trees and bushes as if trying to shred them to pieces.

Glad he grabbed Prince’s laundry.

Humming to himself, Qi Yuanhan checked his WeChat. The class rep had sent another voice message: "Is that Qi… Qi Yanyu from your dorm going on the trip? He’s the only one who hasn’t paid. If he’s not going, say so now."

Qi Yuanhan replied via voice message: "You don’t even check if he’s okay, but you’re all over him about the trip?"

The rep hesitated, then sent another message after a pause—maybe he’d tried contacting Qi Yanyu: "I can’t reach him."

"Oh," Qi Yuanhan replied. "I’ll ask Brother Gu to check tonight."

"Hurry up. Deadline’s tonight," the rep snapped. That new kid in Room 413 was nothing but trouble. "All the other classes are paid up. We’re the only ones behind."

"Don’t snap at me if the fees aren’t settled," Qi Yuanhan fired back, never one to lose a war of words. "Zero care for the guy, just chasing cash."

The rep was fuming but didn’t reply.