Chapter 34

What would happen if Yan Bozong didn't come?

No one knew.

And what if he followed the path of Qi Liangqin in the novel?

No one knew that either. Perhaps it would be a path like Pan Jinlian's. This was an unknown world, after all. He was still exploring its rules and boundaries, cautiously avoiding missteps based on his own speculations.

Qi Liangqin fell seriously ill, suffering immensely, but he did not die. He had altered the plot, but it hadn't affected the main storyline. The only change was that one night at the bar. Perhaps because of that, his punishment wasn't a death sentence.

But it was painful enough to make him feel as if he had died once. The sharp pain and disorientation he experienced before losing consciousness and upon waking were like a virus infecting a computer, making everything unresponsive. It was like a nightmare—trapped in suffering with no escape.

If it weren't for the fact that what happened at the bar had crossed his bottom line—if it had only been his usual teasing of Yan Bozong—he would rather tease Yan Bozong a thousand times over. Even if it meant being beaten by Yan Bozong, he would prefer that to reliving such agony again.

Nothing in life comes without effort, and no suffering is endured in vain. A flower that has weathered the storm will bloom all the more brilliantly. Perhaps only by enduring such pain could he finally reap the sweet fragrance he longed for.

"You really are something," Madam Yan started scolding him the moment she opened her mouth. "How old are you now? You went out with an umbrella and still managed to get drenched so badly that you fell seriously ill. Just how delicate is your body?"

"Alright, Mom, he's already like this. Don't scold him anymore," Yan Yuan said. "Liangqin, just focus on resting. If there's anything you want to eat, just tell Second Brother."

"Alright, you all stop hovering around him. I'm here," Yan Songwei said. "With me around, he won't lack good food and drink."

Madam Yan shot him a reproachful glare. "Oh, now you know how to take care of people? It was your big brother who sent Xiaoqin to the hospital. And what were you doing at the time?"

Yan Songwei only chuckled sheepishly.

Once Madam Yan and Yan Yuan had left, Qi Liangqin could no longer hold it in and asked, "Why hasn't Big Brother come to see me? I still need to thank him—I don't even know how he got me to the hospital."

"You don't remember? Did you lose your memory?"

Qi Liangqin pushed his hand away. "No, I didn't lose my memory. It's just that after I got into the car, I felt awful—dizzy and out of it. I don't remember anything."

"When Big Brother called to tell me you were in the hospital, I was scared to death. But…"

He trailed off, staring at Qi Liangqin's gaunt face. "Why did you think to call Big Brother but not me?"

Qi Liangqin fell silent. "…"

"You didn't save my number?"

"I did."

"If you saved it, then why did you call Big Brother instead?"

Qi Liangqin said, "Because… because you're unreliable." He finally came up with a reasonable excuse. "Weren't you out clubbing? You were probably with Qingqing. You two are so lovey-dovey—I wouldn't have called you back just to ruin the mood. Big Brother was at home and had nothing going on."

Yan Songwei nodded. "You did the right thing. Big Brother is more reliable. But I just wonder… when you were all dazed, did you end up offending Big Brother somehow? After I got to the hospital, he left and never came back. Those few days, I kept feeling like his gaze was a little… off when he looked at me. You didn't, in your confused state, spill everything about us, did you?"

Qi Liangqin was surprised. "I don't remember."

Hearing Yan Songwei say that, Qi Liangqin tried hard to recall that day, but he had been in so much pain that he really didn't remember.

"Where is Big Brother now?"

"He went to the U.S."

"Why did he go to the U.S. again? I mean, didn't he already go once in early summer?"

"Well, it's been a while since then. About time for another trip." Yan Songwei smirked meaningfully. "Big Brother is in his prime, after all."

Qi Liangqin didn't say anything. After a long pause, he finally said, "I'm tired. I want to sleep. You don't need to stay with me—go find Qingqing."

"My wife is this sick, and you think I'd go out to see another woman? Would I even be human then?"

"There you go talking nonsense again. Don't call me your wife anymore. I'm not your wife. If Qingqing hears you, she'll skin you alive."

"Sigh," Yan Songwei let out a long sigh. "You know, I'm actually kind of scared of her. I feel like she's not as gentle as before."

"Qingqing is already a very gentle girl," Qi Liangqin said. "If a woman is being harsh with you, it's definitely because you made her unhappy."

"She's got me on such a tight leash—stricter than my mom. She checks in on me all the time. I'm starting to wonder what I'm gonna do once we get married."

Qi Liangqin couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Tan Qingqing.

But at the same time, he understood. He knew what it felt like to love someone yet feel insecure, to want to possess and control them completely. Everyone knew that pushing too hard would backfire, yet when we're in love, our intelligence always seems to take a nosedive.

Love is blind and foolish by nature—it always runs counter to reason.

"Honestly, relationships are like that. They take effort to maintain if you want them to last. Even if you were with someone else, it'd be the same."

"You talk like you're some kind of expert. Let me ask you—weren't you out for a hookup? How did that land you in the hospital?"

Qi Liangqin chuckled awkwardly. "Even if I haven't eaten pork, I've at least seen a pig run."

"Nice way to dodge the question. But what about the second part—how exactly did you end up in the hospital?"

"Who knows? I suddenly felt unwell…"

"I actually thought you might've met the wrong person and gotten taken advantage of." Yan Songwei said. "You should start working out more. How about getting up early and exercising with Big Brother from now on?"

Qi Liangqin felt guilty. "Why with Big Brother…? What are you up to?"

Yan Songwei just laughed. "I don't have that kind of discipline—I can only work out occasionally. But Big Brother never misses a day. If you train with him, you'll actually see results."

Life in the hospital was unbearably dull.

Though Qi Liangqin had woken up, his body was still weak—it was truly like having barely escaped death. Yan Songwei told him to use his phone less and instead brought over a stack of books he had bought online. The selection ranged from Western classics to ancient secret tales.

Yan Songwei casually flipped through one and, upon reading some of the scandalous and peculiar anecdotes about historical figures, remarked, "This isn't what I originally thought. Take this Qing Dynasty section about Ji Xiaolan—I remember him as a famous scholar and a great man, but why are there so many stories about him and little girls here? And this Zheng Banqiao… turns out he was gay?"

Qi Liangqin said, "Some of the stuff in this book is true, some isn't. Just read it for fun. When I find something interesting, I look it up online to see what people say about it. You can't take everything in here at face value—some of it is distorted."

"Why'd you buy this kind of book? Is it a university textbook or some kind of professional reading recommendation?"

Qi Liangqin shook his head. "Neither. I saw it in a booklist recommendation when I was shopping and thought it looked interesting, so I bought it. But of all the books, you just had to pick this one. Here, try this one instead—more highbrow."

Yan Songwei took it and glanced at the title. "'Wenxin Diaolong'? It's all in classical Chinese. Not my thing."

"I loved this book back in middle school. Some of the sentences are really elegant—I used to copy them down and use them in my essays."

Yan Songwei burst out laughing. "Copying down passages? You sound just like Big Brother—like some kind of top student. Were your grades really that good? Then how'd you end up in a vocational school?"

Qi Liangqin hesitated for a moment before saying, "I was bad at science. My liberal arts were excellent, but my math and science were terrible—totally failing grades."

It was true—though he had been in the science track, his performance in those subjects was awful. It was almost ridiculous.

"Then you're just like me. In our family, Big Brother was the only one who was insanely good at science—he even won first place in the Olympiad. Yuan Yuan and I were both terrible at it. But Big Brother was great at liberal arts too. Back in high school, he had this thick notebook full of excerpts he copied down." Yan Songwei gestured with his hands to show the size.

Qi Liangqin was surprised and curious. "I always thought Big Brother was a natural genius who didn't need to study."

"He really was gifted in science—I hardly ever saw him doing full sets of practice problems, yet he always aced his exams. But his liberal arts weren't always great. In high school, he worked ridiculously hard at it. He's the kind of person with insane determination—he put in two years of effort, and his grades skyrocketed. You can't help but admire it. Eventually, he became well-rounded in everything—academics, sports, even personal development.

You know that saying, 'It's not scary if someone is smarter than you; what's scary is if they're both smarter and harder-working'? That's Big Brother for you. It was suffocating. Yuan Yuan and I basically grew up in his shadow. Thankfully, he's not as quick-witted as us when it comes to talking, or else we'd be completely invisible in this family."

Hearing this, Qi Liangqin felt a bit ashamed. Yan Songwei and Yan Yuan had stellar academic backgrounds—they only seemed "dumb" compared to the genius Yan Bozong. But compared to him, they were miles ahead.

"Can I see Big Brother's notebook?"

"You want to read it?" Yan Songwei said. "Not sure if he still has it, but I'll check for you."

The next day, Yan Songwei had his driver bring over a tote bag. Inside were Yan Bozong's old notebooks.

There were three in total, all slightly worn. The edges of the black covers were peeling. Qi Liangqin picked the thinnest one and opened it, immediately seeing Yan Bozong's handwriting.

It was the first time he had ever seen Yan Bozong's writing—so elegant, so refined.

They say a person's handwriting reflects their character. How true.

Just by looking at the writing, he could tell this was a proper, handsome man.

The power of love comes in many forms, and one of them is the ability to cast a sacred glow over everything related to that person.

As Qi Liangqin looked at the upright yet elegant handwriting, he felt that reading this kind of excerpt notebook—even if it contained dry classical Chinese—was an absolute pleasure. He imagined Yan Bozong as a high school student years ago, dressed in a white shirt, perhaps with a hint of youthful innocence—like Takashi Kashiwabara in Love Letter.

Yan Bozong stayed in the U.S. for a full week. The day after Qi Liangqin returned home, he finally came back.

But Qi Liangqin noticed that Yan Bozong's attitude toward him had changed. It wasn't exactly cold, but it definitely wasn't warm either. He simply remained distant. Even after returning, he didn't come to see him.

Logically speaking, a man like Yan Bozong, for the sake of appearances, would at least drop by to take a look. Qi Liangqin lay on his bed, staring at the view outside.

After several days of continuous rain, the sky finally cleared. However, the small garden was left in a state of disarray. The gardener hired by the Yan family was busy trimming and tidying up the plants. Yan Songwei was there, talking with the gardener about something. Not long after, he knocked on the window with a handful of flowers he had picked from somewhere.

Qi Liangqin sat up, pushed the window fully open, and knelt on the bed to take the flowers from Yan Songwei's hands.

Yan Songwei, grinning as if offering a token of goodwill, said, "Just bloomed."

After the heavy wind and rain, only these tightly closed buds had survived. Now that the sun was shining, they were blooming one after another. It was a common type of flower, but Qi Liangqin couldn't recall its name. Holding the bouquet, he asked, "Should I put them in a vase? Didn't you say flowers aren't suitable?"

"In our own room, Mom won't see them. No one's going to say anything. Flowers are flowers, aren't they?"

Qi Liangqin looked pleased as he placed them in a vase, then got out of bed to fetch water from the bathroom.

Leaning against the window, Yan Songwei said, "The weather is so nice today, and it's warm too. Stop lying in bed all the time—come out and stretch your legs a little."

Qi Liangqin saw Yan Bozong enter the small garden, and a wave of shyness washed over him. He nodded and said, "Then I'll put on some clothes."

"Just wear your robe. This is your home—don't be so formal. Even if you get fully dressed, you'll just have to take it off again when you go back inside. What a hassle."

Thinking that made sense, Qi Liangqin got out of bed and picked out a beige cotton-flannel robe, tying the waist belt into a knot. The belt had a bit of a flashy gold touch, embroidered with golden threads. Though the robe was loose-fitting, it suited him well—not bulky at all. In fact, it flowed elegantly as he walked.

He had lost even more weight over the past few days, making his figure seem even taller and leaner.

Stepping into the garden, he saw Yan Songwei and Yan Bozong engaged in conversation. Instead of joining them, he wandered toward a secluded corner where a swing stood. He reached out and touched it—it was dry—so he sat down.

He was wearing open-toe slippers, and under the sunlight, his feet looked even fairer.

Yan Yuan came outside, carrying the folded-ear cat in her arms. She looked him up and down and said, "What kind of style is this? It's the middle of summer, and you're walking around in a winter robe."

"I don't feel hot. I've been afraid of the cold lately."

The folded-ear cat was incredibly adorable. Qi Liangqin and Yan Yuan moved to the grass to play with it. Qi Liangqin twisted a piece of foxtail grass into a small toy, luring the kitten to chase after it. He walked backward, teasing the cat to follow—until he accidentally bumped into Yan Songwei, losing his balance and falling flat on his back.

He was only wearing the robe, tied at the waist with a single belt. Since it was summer, he had only put on a pair of underwear underneath. The fall caused his long, fair legs to be fully exposed under the sunlight.

Perhaps because his skin was so naturally pale, his legs stood out even more—smooth, slender, and radiant under the light.

Yan Songwei stared in shock. "Are you not wearing anything underneath?"

Qi Liangqin froze for a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yan Bozong quickly avert his gaze from his legs. Flustered, he scrambled to his feet and said, "I am! I'm wearing underpants!"

But Yan Bozong felt that Qi Liangqin had deliberately fallen to show him, purposely exposing his legs for him to see.

This person was truly shameless.

This person was truly a mystery.

After getting up, Qi Liangqin went off to play with the cat. He clearly adored it, laughing with genuine joy. Sometimes, when he ran, his robe would sway with his movements, revealing glimpses of his long, slender legs—like a fleeting glimpse of something both indecent and intoxicatingly delightful.

Qi Liangqin was about 1.78 meters tall—a height that wasn't particularly impressive among men. But if one were to view him through the lens of half a woman's perspective, those long legs of his would appear even more elegant and well-proportioned than a model's. There was a certain masculine beauty to them, yet they didn't seem rigid or overly defined. Even his leg hair was sparse—almost invisible from a distance. His calves were slender and well-shaped, exuding the vibrancy of youth.

Yan Bozong found himself unable to see him as just another man like himself.

Was it because Qi Liangqin was gay? Or was it because he had entered his life under the title of his "younger brother's wife"? To Yan Bozong, there was an undeniable distinction in sex when it came to Qi Liangqin. He wasn't a woman, yet there was a psychological contrast between them that resembled the dynamic between men and women. In other words, Qi Liangqin was someone he could perceive as a sexual being. He couldn't face him with indifference.

Thinking back to that night—when he received Qi Liangqin's call—he had been furious. Did he really think that claiming he hadn't hooked up with anyone would make him waver? That it would make him believe this little seducer had suddenly turned virtuous?

No. It only made him more disgusted. If Qi Liangqin were just another man like him, he would've beaten him to a pulp without hesitation.

He decisively hung up the phone.

Yan Yuan asked, "Who was that?"

"Wrong number," he said coldly.

From the slurred voice, Qi Liangqin was probably already drunk. He wanted him to save him? How?

Even without thinking, he could already picture Qi Liangqin's lovestruck expression, his eyes filled with watery longing—"Only you can save me. If you don't, I won't survive."

The "saving" he spoke of—wasn't it just an excuse to get fucked? A man like Pan Jinlian deserved to get drunk and taken away by some sleazy men. Then, he could drag his younger brother there to catch him in the act, forcing him to see Qi Liangqin's true, ugly face.

He leaned back on the sofa, but Qi Liangqin's voice kept echoing in his ears.

"Yan Bozong, Yan Bozong."

He said he was going to die.

What was going on? Had he run into some thugs? Was he being forced into something?

But even if that were the case, he shouldn't have called him. He should have called Yan Songwei. If he had the audacity to dial his number instead, wasn't his intent obvious?

He shouldn't just sit by and do nothing. He should take this opportunity to draw a firm line between them and deliver his final warning. Otherwise, how was he supposed to live under the same roof with him, running into each other day after day? And more importantly—how could he tolerate his own younger brother being made a fool of?

Qi Liangqin wouldn't stop until he saw his own downfall. Yan Bozong had already given him enough chances, and yet this was what he got in return. It was utterly ridiculous—both he and Yan Songwei being toyed with by the same man.

With that thought, he immediately stood up, went back to his room to grab a coat, and walked out.

Yan Yuan asked in surprise, "It's pouring outside, and you're still going out?"

He simply hummed in response, grabbed an umbrella by the door, and left.

Because of the heavy rain, he didn't drive too fast. Somewhere along the way, his anger started to subside under the relentless downpour. An odd thought surfaced in his mind—Qi Liangqin might deserve to be damned, but if all he did was admire him, then was it really such an unforgivable crime? And if he truly had run into trouble, if something was happening to him right now—then how was this supposed to end?

He pressed his lips together tightly, irritation flashing across his face. Then, suddenly, he stepped on the gas.

When he arrived at the location mentioned over the phone, he saw Qi Liangqin standing outside a fast food restaurant, shivering as he held an umbrella.

Seeing that he was safe, Yan Bozong felt a rush of relief—but at the same time, a wave of frustration. He impatiently pushed open the car door.

"Get in."

Qi Liangqin closed his umbrella and climbed into the car, trembling. His face looked terrible.

Yan Bozong felt a jolt of unease. "What happened?"

His first instinct was that Qi Liangqin had been assaulted.

Qi Liangqin trembled and shook his head. "I... I just feel terrible. I think I'm going to die."

Yan Bozong unfastened his seatbelt, leaned over, and gripped Qi Liangqin's chin, tilting his face from side to side for a closer look. He was a little damp, but there were no visible injuries. His complexion was awful, though—his eyes brimming with moisture, his lips dry and chapped, as if he were sick.

It didn't seem like he was faking. But this man was cunning and deceitful—it was hard to say for sure. Yan Bozong decided to just take him home and be done with it.

But then Qi Liangqin started shivering more violently, as if he was in unbearable discomfort.

"Are you alright?"

"I think I'm going to die."

Hearing the same words again and again, Yan Bozong actually started to believe them. So he changed course and headed for the hospital.

Pale-faced, Qi Liangqin suddenly turned his head and said, "I'm sorry."

Yan Bozong was caught off guard. He glanced over and saw Qi Liangqin staring blankly, his damp hair sticking slightly to his forehead. "I'm sorry."

Even Qi Liangqin himself didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to apologize.

Maybe it was shame—because in the end, he wasn't any better than the Qi Liangqin from the novel. The so-called "seduction"—he had always told himself it was just to fulfill the novel's unfinished plot, but deep down, wasn't he just using it as an excuse to indulge in his own twisted desires?

Maybe, in some ways, he was even worse than the novel's Qi Liangqin, who was at least bold in love and hatred, openly lecherous yet openly wicked. Everyone harbored dirty desires—his were just stronger than most.

But this was the first time he had ever truly loved someone. A real person, with a face he could recall, a scent he could remember—a name that filled his heart with both warmth and sorrow. Yan Bozong.

As he drove, Yan Bozong said, "If you stop now, we can still be family."

Beside him, Qi Liangqin leaned his head against the seat, gazing out at the rain-blurred window. "I... I won't turn back."

The car screeched to a sudden halt. Yan Bozong reached out to grab Qi Liangqin, but the moment his fingers touched him, he realized Qi Liangqin had already lost consciousness.

He let go and sat back, gripping the wheel. The headlights illuminated the rain-speckled road ahead. The windshield wipers swept across the glass.

Just as he was about to restart the engine, he suddenly noticed Qi Liangqin's left hand—clutching the hem of his shirt in a tight grip.

He reached out, intending to pry those fingers loose. But just before his fingertips touched the back of Qi Liangqin's hand, he froze. After a long silence, he finally let it be.

Coming back to the present, Yan Bozong blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Sunlight streamed down on Qi Liangqin, who was standing before him now.

Whatever Yan Yuan had said to him, it made him laugh—brightly, radiantly, with a warmth that Yan Bozong had never seen in him before. Not even when he was young.