Chapter 31

Chapter 31

It was hard to tell who was really the sick one.

Gu Jinglan wasn’t sure whether to laugh or pity Qi Yanyu.

Seeing the other stay silent—maybe truly speechless—Qi Muyao’s expression softened, his voice finally gentling as he reiterated, “Talk to him nicely.”

“He can hear everything,” Qi Muyao pleaded. “Speak to him properly.”

Qi Muyao left the room, leaving only him and Qi Yanyu behind.

The emptiness suddenly felt like an iron box locked away in his memories.

Inside that iron box were two living people—though one of them had been lying on a sickbed for a long, long time.

He found it pitiful.

Gu Jinglan turned his gaze back to Qi Yanyu in the room, looking at him.

His face was ghostly pale, eyes shut, eerily still.

His pallid hands, marked by years of IV needles.

After a long while, Gu Jinglan sat back down beside him, silent.

He looked away—then gave in and glanced back.

He had no idea what made his heart stop.

Or what kind of CPR caused brain damage, forcing him to remain bedridden for so long.

It was uncannily alike. Identical, even.

The mottled purple-yellow bruises on his hand made his vision swim, dragging him back to that summer. Outside, the heat was brutal, but inside, the AC was cranked so high his fingers went numb.

A woman had been bedridden since the kid was little, her arms and legs tied down. Whenever the kid got too close, the woman would grab him and hit him—her eyes wild, full of hate, rage, madness, and delirium.

The kid soon learned to stay back. Sometimes, when the woman's restraints loosened, he’d hide.

But if the man caught her hitting the kid, he’d yank her up and slap her—prompting the kid to lunge forward and bite the man’s hand.

Eventually, the kid started school. After classes, he’d visit the woman, who had finally grown quiet, lying in bed as if asleep.

He had once wanted to hold that hand—but never dared. Then one day after school, the woman was gone from the bed. No matter how badly he wanted to, he’d never get the chance.

·

That night, Gu Jinglan got 'escorted' to another room—supposedly to rest. He’d be back by day to 'keep watch' over Qi Yanyu.

Meanwhile, in the room they’d kicked him out of, Qi Muyao sat at the edge of the sickbed, holding Qi Yanyu in his arms. A laptop on the nightstand played *A Dog of Flanders* for him.

*A Dog of Flanders*, also known as *The Faithful Hound*. He’d never seen Qi Yanyu watch it, even though he owned the book. He didn’t know if Qi Yanyu had finished reading it, but he likely hadn’t seen the animated version.

Out cold, Qi Yanyu slumped in his arms, head drooping onto his shoulder.

Next door, Gu Jinglan caught the faint cartoon music seeping through the walls.

He had no idea how much time had passed, and his cell phone was not with him either.

Until the door to his room was opened.

Standing outside was a young man whose features bore some resemblance to Qi Muyao and was around the same age.

"Apologies for keeping you here for so long."

"A private car has been arranged downstairs to take you out. I’d like to apologize on behalf of those who were rude to you this morning. They meant no harm—they were just grasping at straws."

The young man speaking to him was in his early thirties, strikingly handsome, with an almost ethereal presence, his voice warm and reassuring.

Every Qi family member he met was a whole different character.

"What about Qi Yanyu..."

Sensing his concern, Qi Yunpu gave a faint smile. "Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. Nobody in this family cares for him like I do."

After watching the car drive away, Qi Yunpu knocked on the door.

"I don’t want to live... haven’t wanted to for a long time..." Qi Muyao kept thinking about the words spoken by the unconscious man.

Though he heard the knock, Qi Muyao remained expressionless. In his arms was Qi Yanyu, still with closed eyes, propped up to "hear" the cartoon.

"I’ve brought Professor Chanovis."

Behind him was a medical team, all foreigners, including two hired translators.

"Finally here," Qi Muyao exhaled like he’d been holding it for days and passed the unconscious man to the nurses of the foreign medical team. "Then why did you let that guy go?"

"You didn’t bring him here to save Yanyu. You just wanted payback, to twist the knife. But he might not suffer—only we will." Qi Yunpu said with unnerving insight.

When their body aches, our hearts bleed.

After helping the caretaker, Qi Yunpu cradled the limp body, forced to sit up, in his arms, looking on while the Chanovis team peeled back Qi Yanyu’s hospital gown and swabbed his back with antiseptic before the needles.

Qi Yanyu was alarmingly gaunt, especially after living off drips these past few days.

Because his back needed to be treated, his waist had to bend forward slightly, his ribs pressing starkly against his skin.

Qi Yunpu supported him, embracing his chest, feeling the thready flutter of his pulse.

Qi Muyao’s face was unreadable, especially as he watched Qi Yunpu hold the half-naked Qi Yanyu. He asked, "Done with the summit?"

After the summit, the subsequent meeting of their central government officials concluded quickly.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had to wait three or four days to find time to deal with Qi Yanyu’s situation. The Chanovis team’s visa approvals were entirely arranged by him through the relevant departments and customs.

The Chanovis team operated in legal gray zones internationally and was banned from entering many countries. Moreover, Chanovis’s nationality had no existing travel or clearance agreements with their current country.

The Chanovis team’s medical techniques were internationally renowned yet also notorious—their treatments were all-or-nothing gambles. Failure meant planning a funeral, so a liability waiver was mandatory before treatment.

Their high success rate in reviving coma patients had been reported abroad, with rumors that a brain-dead scion of some century-old dynasty was revived by them. Qi Yunpu had a well-connected government contact whose son, living abroad, fell into a coma after a severe skiing accident and was later awakened by the Chanovis team.

The foreign team began treating Qi Yanyu's back.

Qi Yunpu saw the yellow-purple mottling where IVs had been.

Gently massaging Qi Yanyu's hand with aching sorrow in his heart. "You'll be better soon," he murmured as if comforting the unconscious man in his arms.

Then, at the team's request, Qi Yunpu laid him down as they connected their machines to power and applied electrodes to Qi Yanyu's chest.

Qi Muyao could only watch as Qi Yunpu spoke to him, "He's already died once. When he wakes up, let him do as he pleases."

Qi Muyao laughed coldly, "All he wants is revenge on me. Do you really think he still wants to live?"

Qi Yunpu's expressionless eyes watched the Charnovice team adjusting the electrical currents. "There was once a story about a wealthy man who nurtured a rare rose. He tended to it daily, meticulously removing pests and fertilizing the soil. The temperature, sunlight, soil, even the water—everything was precisely controlled. One day, the greenhouse rose finally bloomed, but after a long time without flowering, it suddenly began to wither. The wealthy man was frantic with worry. He summoned gardeners, experts, even botanists, but all were at a loss.

In the end, he found a fortune-telling master, who said, 'Perhaps setting it free is the only way to save it.' The wealthy man laughed—he’d rather spend half his fortune than abandon the rose. And so, the rose eventually died."

Qi Muyao's eyes held faint mockery. This kind of story is only fit for children.

But as he watched the intense, unlawful electric shocks surge through that man’s body, his heart was being ground like gravel, though he remained silent.

In the end, it was the agony of watching the rose suffer while he stood powerless, unable to bear its pain.

"There’s always another way. Have you forgotten how I’ve endured all these years?" Qi Muyao sighed.

Qi Yunpu only smiled faintly. "Hmm."

Fourteen rounds of strong currents were applied. On the last attempt, the man’s hand, clamped between boards, twitched slightly.

Overjoyed, Qi Yunpu couldn’t help but remind Qi Muyao, "When he wakes up, I’ll explain everything to him—that you had your reasons. But don’t come see him these next few days."

Qi Muyao said nothing, like a believer in the desert finally seeing divine intervention.

The man’s chest heaved violently until he gasped for air. Qi Muyao moved to steady him, but Qi Yunpu gripped his arm—the team’s controlled currents were lethal to anyone else.

Twenty minutes later, the man finally came back to life, panting heavily, his voice a barely audible whisper.

The Charnovice team removed the clamps and electrodes, and a doctor immediately checked his pupils, speech, and awareness.

They then called Qi Yunpu over. He sat by the bed, speaking softly to Qi Yanyu, "It’s alright now. You’re safe."

The man was seized by uncontrollable hiccups. The team administered another injection, treating the burn marks on his chest, back, palms, and ankles before bandaging them.

Only then did they hand him back to Qi Yunpu. The man spoke weakly, his words unclear, as Qi Yunpu soothed him, "It’s over. Nothing will hurt you anymore. Hmm."

Qi Yunpu glanced back at Qi Muyao, who stood frozen until, after several deep breaths, he finally left—the last to exit Qi Yanyu’s room.

Qi Yanyu awoke as if from an abyss—a place without time or space, where he had fallen without dreams or awareness. Now, waking felt like time had skipped.

He faintly heard someone speaking. The voice gently caught his hand as he tried to scratch the burning itch on his chest and back, holding it firmly.

"It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt. Just a little longer." The man’s chin rested against his neck and cheek before tilting to look at him. "Did you have a nightmare? You used to have them when you had a fever as a child."

The voice was tender, unlike his elder brother’s false sweetness.

"Don’t touch. The medicine needs time. It’ll fade soon." The gentle words left him disoriented. The man leaned closer, sighing at his pale, gaunt face. "How pitiful."

Holding him, soothing him, clasping his hands to stop him from scratching.

"Don’t scratch. It doesn’t hurt. Think of it like an ant’s bite, alright?"

Grief, sadness, survival, relief, heartache—everything surged forth.

Only in Qi Yunpu’s arms did he momentarily feel he had returned to reality.

When he woke after sleeping, he found his second brother Qi Yunpu sitting by his bedside.

His second brother excelled in looks, methods, talent, and career—everything about him was outstanding.

Seeing him slightly awake, Qi Yunpu smiled and said, "It's alright now. I'm back."

The man remained dazed and silent until he closed his eyes again, seemingly numb, yet tears silently trailed from the corners of his eyes.

His second brother was a high-ranking government official, adept at social maneuvering and navigating all sides. Yet, he harbored a heart as cold as ice, rarely revealed to outsiders. Maybe out of pity, he sometimes let his guard down around him.

"When are you leaving?" Qi Yanyu opened his eyes, not too teary, trying to keep his expression calm.

"In a few days." Qi Yunpu’s workplace was not in Kanbei City but far away in the capital.

Qi Yanyu lowered his gaze slightly. He wanted to turn over, but his back ached.

Qi Yunpu understood his thoughts and propped him up. Yet, Qi Yanyu couldn’t support himself, and Qi Yunpu didn’t mind how weak he was, letting him lean against his shoulder to ease the itching pain on his back.

Qi Yunpu gently scratched over his clothes and bandages, easing the burn marks from the Chanovis team’s electric shocks.

"What would you like to eat later? Your little brother hasn’t seen you in ages. He said he wants to feed you some porridge he made."

The "younger brother" his second brother referred to was Qi Shaoli.

Though leaning against Qi Yunpu’s shoulder, Qi Yunpu knew the man was shaking his head.

"Don’t parade everyone through my room like I’m some zoo animal," Qi Yanyu said weakly. Qi Shaoli was one, and Qi Muyao was another.

His second brother chuckled, knowing he didn’t want that. After scratching his back, Zhang Liu carried the porridge in.

Qi Yanyu still asked, "Who made it?"

Zhang Liu, thinking the third young master didn’t want the porridge, stammered nervously. "It’s... it’s..." He had brought it from the kitchen—whose name should he mention?

Qi Yunpu came to his rescue. "Look how the rice has softened, simmered to perfection. Anyone can tell it’s Chef Zhai’s work."

"It was made by Chef Zhai. If the third young master doesn’t want this porridge, what would he like? The kitchen can whip something up right away..."

"This was made by Uncle Zhai, who cares for the third young master most. Of course, there’s no need to make anything else."

Qi Yanyu saw that the porridge didn’t look like a novice’s work, with his favorite minced shrimp mixed in. It was indeed Chef Zhai’s handiwork.

Zhang Liu assumed he would feed the third young master, but Qi Yunpu took the bowl, stirring and blowing on the porridge. Seeing the second young master intended to feed him personally, Zhang Liu slipped out of the room.

After leaving, Zhang Liu returned to the study. Qi Muyao listened as Zhang Liu reported: The second young master had changed the third young master’s clothes, given him medicine, and the doctor had given him a painkiller—his stomach should be better now. At the moment, the second young master was feeding him.

"Is he still causing trouble?" Qi Muyao gazed at the untamed cursive script on the desk, barely holding to form. The splattered red ink resembled as if written in blood.

"The third young master?"

"Who else would I mean?"

Hearing this, Zhang Liu thought to himself—wasn’t the youngest master also making a fuss? The third young master hadn’t seen him since waking, and the little one was throwing a fit as well. He smiled. "The second young master is here."

This smile didn’t sit well with Qi Muyao, so Zhang Liu quickly adjusted his tone. "But the second young master will return to the capital in a few days. The third young master might... fall back into his old despair."

Qi Muyao said nothing, frowning as he heard Qi Shaoli’s angry voice outside.

Even though it was Uncle Zhai’s porridge, he barely ate a few spoonfuls. Later, his second brother stayed with him until he drifted off before leaving the room.

With a weak heart, no matter how he slept, it felt like being half-asleep, half-awake.

Suddenly, he was startled awake by something grabbing his hand.

The person before him was soaked with sweat, fine beads of perspiration on their forehead, an ashen face, and glazed eyes fixed on the figure illuminated only by the dim glow of a bedside lamp.

With great effort, Qi Yanyu managed to lift himself halfway up, but even that left him wheezing, his chest aching, his spine screaming.

Qi Shaoli thought his brother was having a nightmare and quickly turned the lamp much brighter.

His brother stared at him intently, as if mistaking him for some malevolent spirit from the nightmare.

Qi Shaoli leaned in slightly and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.

Two seconds. Four seconds. Five or six seconds later, he was abruptly shoved away by his brother. Qi Yanyu, already struggling for strength, had barely managed to push himself up with both hands on the bed—now, with one hand suddenly withdrawn to furiously wipe his cheek like he'd been licked.

The man could barely breathe as is, and now his breaths were mixed with groans, but he didn’t forget to scold him: “Qi Shaoli, have you lost your mind? Why did you kiss me?” *You wanna be a fag too?!* The latter half of the sentence remained unspoken in Qi Yanyu’s mind.

Seeing his brother so agitated and furious, Qi Shaoli hurriedly explained, “That’s not what I—”

He wanted to explain but didn’t know how to tell Qi Yanyu.

“I just… wanted to support you…”

“You fucking—” Cursing was bad, especially in front of his younger brother.

Qi Yanyu clenched his fingers tightly, afraid Qi Shaoli might be corrupted in terms of sexual orientation, so he added, “Are you insane, or just sick?”

“No, Brother, it doesn’t matter whether you like men or women…” Qi Shaoli babbled, trying to express what he had been wanting to say to his brother these past few days, hoping to tell him in person now that he was awake.

This gesture of his only made Qi Yanyu’s breathing grow even more ragged. Qi Shaoli quickly grabbed his meds and rubbed his back, hoping to calm him down.

But how could Qi Yanyu calm down? Pointing at him, he gasped painfully but still managed to warn, “Get the hell out. Go back to school immediately.”

“My break isn’t over yet. My exhibition is almost ready, and you’re the one I most want to invite, Brother…” Qi Shaoli said sincerely, his puppy-dog eyes anxious yet utterly innocent.

This terrified Qi Yanyu. Was one homosexual in the family not enough? Did there have to be a second?

Qi Yanyu reached for the phone by his bedside, intending to call Zhang Liu to drag Qi Shaoli out of his room.

But Qi Shaoli misunderstood. “Brother, are you feeling unwell? I’ll call the doctor for you. The doctor is resting in the guest room…”

“I’m calling Zhang Liu…” Qi Yanyu tried to snatch the phone back, but how could he overpower a healthy kid?

As the boy dialed Zhang Liu’s number, he asked, “Brother, do you need to use the bathroom? You don’t need Zhang Liu—I can help you.”

Qi Yanyu’s eyes widened slightly, still struggling to catch his breath. “Hand me the damn phone. I’ll call myself…”

“Brother, are you hungry? Or what’s wrong?” the boy said worriedly, his baby face all worried, his heart in that moment as sincere as the most innocent kid alive.

“I’m calling Zhang Liu to take you away,” Qi Yanyu finally managed to gasp out.

Qi Shaoli still dialed the last digit before hanging up immediately. He looked at Qi Yanyu with confused puppy-dog eyes. “Brother, why do you want Zhang Liu to take me away?”

Qi Yanyu couldn’t hold on any longer. Completely drained of strength, he sank back into the mattress.

*Must’ve done something terrible in a past life to end up with a dumbass like Shaoli as family.*

Qi Shaoli saw Qi Yanyu fall and tried to catch him, but his brother still landed back on the soft bed. Qi Yanyu shut his eyes tightly, and Qi Shaoli’s voice went shrill: “Brother, what’s wrong? I’ll get the doctor right now.”

Qi Shaoli, bursting with youthful energy in every way, immediately fetched the family doctor to take his ECG, blood pressure, blood sugar, and check whether the wound had scabbed over and was itching uncomfortably.

Three doctors surrounded him, conducting examinations and administering injections. Qi Shaoli clung to him like a little black bear, lifting him up to make it easier to pull up the clothes on his back and chest, allowing the doctors to unwrap the gauze, inspect the wound, and replace the dressing.

"Qi Shaoli... can you just scram?"

His brother whispered weakly, but Qi Shaoli was too absorbed in examining the wound—was this the mark left by the wonder-doctor his second brother had hired to save his third brother?

It must have hurt terribly.

As if feeling the pain himself, Qi Shaoli frowned deeply and comforted Qi Yanyu, "It'll be quick. The doctor will finish changing the dressing soon. Hang in there a bit longer, bro."

Hang in there my ass.

"Qi Shaoli..." He wanted to snap, 'Are you deaf?', but he truly didn’t have the strength to say much more.

He could only let Qi Shaoli hold him, his head weakly resting on the boy’s shoulder. The teenager’s body radiated warmth, like a little bear that had just rolled around in the grass, brimming with energy.

His hand was also held by Qi Shaoli, who feared his brother might claw at the wound in pain. "You’re okay, it won’t hurt. It’ll be over soon," he reassured.

"Can you just..." Qi Yanyu tried to continue his unfinished words.

"Brother, your hands are so cold," Qi Shaoli said, even through the gauze. He hugged him like an overprotective bear cub, distracting him from the pain of the dressing change. "We’ll turn on the electric blanket soon, and you won’t feel so cold anymore."

"Hold still, bro," Qi Shaoli urged, fussing over him like a worried cub as Qi Yanyu barely moved.

Qi Yanyu actually wanted to push him away.

This is insane.

If he ended up leading Qi Shaoli astray into homosexuality, Qi Muyao wouldn’t just slap him this time—she’d skin him alive.