Chapter 488: Day 16 into the Alien War Story

Chapter 488: Day 16 of Falling Into an Alien War Novel

The plane broke through the clouds, and the sunlight suddenly flared.

An Yi closed his book.

"Sleep if you're tired," An Cheng said in a low voice. "I'll wake you when we arrive."

"Mm." An Yi hummed in acknowledgment but didn't shut his eyes right away.

He turned to An Cheng and asked out of nowhere, "Brother, why did you choose finance?"

An Cheng was taken aback. He hadn't seen that coming, and a flicker of confusion crossed his eyes.

After a few seconds, he answered, his voice steady: "Mom's company needs someone to take the reins, and... I do like the subject."

That was a lie.

He didn't hate finance, but he couldn't exactly say he liked it.

He'd picked this major only because An Qionglan's company needed someone dependable to take over, and Xiao Yi... Xiao Yi deserved to chase what he loved, worry-free.

Math, physics—those deep subjects that get at the very nature of the world.

Xiao Yi had the talent for it, and the passion too.

He couldn't let Xiao Yi pick a path he didn't love just for practical reasons. So he'd shoulder that burden instead.

An Yi studied him. Those eyes, usually so warm, now seemed to see straight through him: "Really?"

"Yeah." An Cheng looked away, staring at the drifting sea of clouds outside the window. "Don't overthink it. Just stick with what you love."

An Yi went quiet for a beat, then said out of nowhere, "Thanks."

The words were soft, but they made An Cheng's chest tighten for no reason he could name.

"Don't thank me." He turned back, his gaze so serious it felt like a vow: "I'm... your brother."

He'd been saying those words for ten years.

From eight to eighteen, from the stubborn little kid who was dead set on looking after his little brother, to the quiet, steady young man he was now.

Those words were like an invisible line—marking his place in the world, and boxing in his heart.

An Qionglan listened from the front seat, a warm feeling spreading through her chest.

Xiao Cheng had always been like that—quiet, but everything he did showed how much he treasured his family.

But that nagging sense that something was off crept back in.

She shook her head, telling herself she was probably reading too much into it.

----------

The sunlight in Haishi City was scorching.

On the drive from the airport to the villa, tall coconut palms and bright tropical blooms lined the road.

The blue sea glittered in the distance like a giant sapphire.

The villa the An family had booked sat halfway up a hillside, overlooking a wide, open bay.

A white three-story building peeked out from the greenery, with a flower garden and a sapphire-blue pool.

The pool's surface seemed to blend into the ocean beyond, stretching visually all the way to the horizon.

"Whoa—" An Qionglan slid open the living room's floor-to-ceiling glass door, and the sea breeze rushed in, salty and warm. "This is incredible! The view is stunning!"

An Cheng and An Yi hauled their luggage to their rooms.

An Yi's room was on the second floor, and the view was amazing.

The room was spacious, with a balcony facing the ocean—he could watch the sunrise from bed in the morning.

An Yi stood in the doorway, watching An Cheng crouch over the suitcase and start unpacking his clothes.

Hanging each shirt in the closet, folding T-shirts into drawers, lining up toiletries on the bathroom shelf, plugging the charger in by the nightstand...

"I've got this," An Yi said.

"Almost done." An Cheng didn't look up, grabbing a pair of pants and folding them with careful, sharp creases.

An Yi walked over and caught his wrist.

An Cheng went completely still.

He stayed hunched over, head down. An Yi could see the small bump of vertebrae at the nape of his neck, and the faint blue veins just under the skin.

"I've got this," An Yi repeated, his tone soft but leaving no room for argument.

An Cheng didn't budge.

Time seemed to stop. The only sounds were the curtains rustling in the sea breeze and the distant crash of waves.

After a long pause, An Cheng slowly lifted his head.

He stayed crouched there, looking up at An Yi, who stood over him.

From this angle, An Yi looked even taller, backlit by the light, his face blank—except for those eyes. Always gentle, always calm, but now so deep he couldn't read them at all.

An Cheng watched him, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Then he spoke, his voice low and almost rough, carrying something An Yi didn't want to untangle right then:

"Let me take care of it."

"Let me look after you, okay?"

That trailing "okay" was barely a whisper, with a note of pleading so faint it was almost invisible.

An Yi met his gaze.

He saw everything churning in An Cheng's eyes—stubbornness, nerves, hope, and something deeper, something about to break the surface.

That something was too intense, too real, and it made An Yi's skin prickle.

He pulled his hand back.

The motion was quick and final, no hesitation at all. Then he turned and walked out of the room without a word.

An Cheng stayed crouched there, still looking up at the empty doorway.

He was still holding the half-folded pants, his fingers unconsciously tightening, the fabric crumpled into deep creases.

He stared at the closed door, his gaze shifting from an initial daze to a calm, almost painful clarity.

After a long moment, he slowly stood up.

His knees were a bit numb; he steadied himself against the wardrobe, then resumed the unfinished task—folding the pants, placing them in the drawer, closing the wardrobe door, and standing the empty suitcase upright.

An Qionglan walked over just then, leaning against the doorframe, watching with a smile as she shook her head:

"Xiao Cheng, Xiao Yi is already seventeen. Let him do it himself—he's so independent, he can handle anything."

An Cheng's hands stilled.

Then he went back to tidying the nightstand, his voice calm: "I'm used to it."

Yes, used to it.

A habit built over ten years, like an instinct etched into his bones.

Waking him up, warming his milk, checking his backpack, deboning his fish, remembering to charge his phone, telling him to bundle up when it's cold, grabbing an umbrella when it rains... These trivial, everyday, insignificant little things made up the most important part of An Cheng's whole adolescence.

But now, Xiao Yi didn't need him anymore.

Or rather, Xiao Yi had never really needed him.

All that care, all that concern, that meticulous attention—from the start, it was just his own one-sided self-satisfaction.

An Cheng finished organizing the last item and straightened up.

He turned around and saw An Yi had returned.

The young man stood in the doorway, backlit, his face unreadable, only his eyes quietly watching him.

That inexplicable irritation from earlier had vanished without a trace; he was back to his usual gentle, calm self.

"All done," An Cheng said, his voice as steady as if nothing happened. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, bro," An Yi said with a smile, as always.

That smile was as beautiful as ever, like a spring breeze brushing over newly bloomed flowers—soft, warm, and clean.

But An Cheng's heart tightened inexplicably—he realized Xiao Yi had been saying "thanks" far too often lately.

Before, when Xiao Yi accepted his care, except for when he was very little, he basically never said thanks.

Not out of rudeness, but out of that natural, familial closeness—just as he wouldn't thank his mom for driving him to school, being too polite only created distance.

But now...

An Cheng lowered his eyes, avoiding that smile that made his chest tighten: "I'll go get mine sorted."

An Qionglan watched him go, then looked at An Yi standing in the room, her brow furrowing again.

Something felt off.

Really, really off.

That feeling wasn't an illusion—between the two boys, something... had shifted.