Chapter 209: Xiaoye, Be Good

Chapter 209: Be Good, Xiaoye

His eyes were red, and a sob escaped his throat.

He flung the documents in front of him to the ground, then bent down and picked them up with trembling hands. He sat in the corner, hands clutching his hair, knuckles white from the strain, strands of hair being pulled out between his fingers and falling onto the scattered papers.

Tears kept streaming down, one after another, hitting the paper, hitting those horrifying words, spreading into patches of dark, wet stains.

Before his eyes, a scene seemed to appear—a small child lying on a cold operating table, covered in white cloth, only a small patch of skin exposed where the incision would be made.

The light was bright, painfully bright. His eyes were open, watching the people in white coats gather around, watching the instruments reflect cold light under the lamp.

He didn’t cry, didn’t scream, and didn’t move. He just lay there, eyes open, as if he had grown used to all of this.

He thought everyone lived like this.

The doctor accompanying them noticed something was wrong with Lu Lin and quickly walked over.

From the medical kit, he pulled out a syringe, removed the needle cap, found a vein in Lu Lin’s neck, inserted the needle, and pushed the medication.

The movement was fast and precise. As the drug went in, Lu Lin’s breathing gradually steadied, but his body kept trembling uncontrollably. Tears smeared all over his face, making him look a total mess.

The raging fury that threatened to consume him slowly receded, like seawater pulling back, revealing a scarred and battered shore beneath.

Staring at the documents in his hands, he murmured lowly, “It hurts... Brother hurts...”

He stood up, looking ahead in a daze.

His gaze had no focus, as if it had passed through this wall, through this underground space, through time, and landed on that operating table many years ago.

He laughed suddenly, then cried suddenly. He pulled out the chain from his waist, the dagger held in his hand, the blade reflecting a cold, harsh light under the pale lamps.

He walked out.

Someone who had just run out from inside, wanting to report a situation, froze mid-step when he saw him.

Lu Lin looked like a madman—tears streaming down his face, a smile hanging at the corner of his mouth, and he kept repeating the same sentence like a broken record: “I’m going to kill him… I’m going to kill him…”

The doctor frowned, watching Lu Lin disappear into the depths of the corridor, then turned to that person and said, “Contact Mr. Zhou. The CEO Lu has relapsed. I’m afraid he might kill Shen Qisheng in a rage, and if that happens, it wouldn’t be worth it if he ends up with blood on his hands.”

That person’s expression was complicated. He was silent for a moment, then slowly spoke: “Actually… I think Shen Qisheng deserves to die.”

“But…” The doctor started.

That person interrupted him and continued: “There’s a gene bank inside with over a hundred clones of President Shen in pods…”

The doctor fell silent.

In the corridor, only the hum of machines and the muffled roar of distant waves could be heard.

“If he dies, he dies,” the doctor said, his voice calm. “Worst case, I’ll take the fall for CEO Lu. I trust CEO Lu to get me out.”

Lu Lin drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift.

His eyes were still red, with tear stains still wet on his face, but his expression had returned to calm.

Zhou Jin’s voice came through the earpiece, steady and crisp.

“As you predicted, Shen Qisheng came out near the abandoned dock. Their boats are already under our control. As soon as they board—”

Zhou Jin’s voice paused.

“What’s wrong?”

Zhou Jin froze, the hand holding the binoculars suspended in mid-air.

He adjusted the focus of the binoculars. In the lens, Shen Qisheng’s people were boarding the ship—a dense, dark mass, at least a hundred people.

At the tail of the crowd, one person moved slower than the rest.

He wore a dark coat with the collar turned up, covering half of his face.

But Zhou Jin recognized that figure. That person wasn’t using a cane, and his pace was much slower than usual.

“Zhou Jin?”

Zhou Jin shut his eyes for a moment.

If it were Yue En, after meeting Shen Qisheng in the research institute, there would be only two outcomes: either die inside or be rescued by their people.

Either way, he wouldn’t be among Shen Qisheng’s men.

So this person had to be Shen Qingci.

He wanted to keep this information hidden.

But he couldn’t.

“CEO Lu, President Shen is…” His voice was dry. “He’s infiltrated Shen Qisheng’s group. There are over a hundred people in Shen Qisheng’s group. President Shen’s people are protecting him well, but no one has discovered him yet.”

A sharp screech of brakes, tires leaving long skid marks on the road.

Then came Lu Lin’s heavy breathing. He didn’t ask any further.

His voice came through the earpiece, hoarse and low, but eerily calm.

“Where is he in the formation?”

“At the tail.”

“When Shen Qisheng boards the ship, have the ambush strike immediately. Shen Qisheng won’t wait for the people behind,” he said quickly but clearly. “One thing—there will be chaos during the attack. Brother... Brother has trouble with his leg. Zhou Jin, find Brother first. Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“Understood.”

Lu Lin took off the earpiece, breathing rapidly, hands trembling again.

He rummaged through the armrest box and pulled out a syringe, removed the needle cap, and jabbed it directly into his arm, pushing the plunger.

The clear liquid entered his veins, cold and stinging.

He threw the syringe aside, then pulled out several bottles of pills, unscrewed the caps, shook out a few, stuffed them into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

The bitter taste of the powder spread through his mouth. His emotions still hadn’t stabilized.

He kept telling himself: It’s okay, brother is fine. Brother is so smart, nothing will happen to him. Brother has his own pace. He must have a purpose for doing this. No one can hurt brother. Brother is the best.

But his body seemed beyond his control. Lu Lin let out a pained groan, and the image of Shen Qingci’s accident from ten years ago resurfaced in his mind.

Gripping his hand that was shaking uncontrollably, he gritted his teeth, picked up the dagger, and pressed it against his wrist. Realizing what he was doing, he threw it aside in terror.

He can't hurt himself.

Brother would be angry...

No, no...

Brother...

His hands trembling, he reached for the syringe, but he couldn't pick it up several times. Panting heavily, he wanted to punch it to pieces.

Lu Lin leaned against the backrest with his eyes closed, his face covered in sweat. He took a few deep breaths, then reached for the syringe again.

Finally, he gripped the syringe in his hand, but his body kept shaking, and he tried to inject but missed each time.

Lu Lin gradually lost patience. Spitefully, he braced his arm against the steering wheel, then plunged the needle in directly, pushing the plunger.

He threw the syringe aside, then with trembling fingers, he turned on his phone and found a voice recording he'd kept for years.

He hit play. Shen Qingci's voice came through—cold and lazy, with a hint of careless distance.

"Xiaoye."

"Be good."

Two recordings, four words.

He played them over and over, listened to them again and again.

No one knew that he had survived on these four words for ten years.

His breathing gradually steadied. He leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes, but his eyelashes still trembled slightly.

A few seconds later, when he had steadied himself, he opened his eyes, started the car back up, and drove toward the dock.