Chapter 7.2: The Kiss

Yuan Zhui waited at the banquet for a long time without seeing Wang Jiadong return. Thinking he might have gotten lost, he sent people to look for him. Instead of finding Wang Jiadong, they brought back the old steward.

The old steward was like a shadow in the Yuan household—silent, invisible, yet omnipresent. From the time Yuan Zhui could remember, the man had always been this old, as if perpetually on the verge of death yet stubbornly clinging to life.

"Young Master," the old steward said, his hands tucked into his sleeves, standing there with eerie calm, "Young Master Wang won’t be returning tonight. There’s been an incident at home. Master Yuan sent me to inform you—don’t go pleading for Wang Jiadong’s sake. It wouldn’t do to strain your relationship with your father over this."

Yuan Zhui stiffened. "What do you mean?"

He had assumed his father had found out about the women Wang Jiadong had brought over. But Yuan Cheng had never interfered in his eldest son’s private affairs—why would he detain Wang Jiadong over something so trivial? The man was, after all, the sole heir of the Wang family. Could Yuan Cheng really just arrest him on a whim? That wasn’t just throwing one’s weight around—that was outright tyranny.

The old steward shook his head, his wrinkled face like sun-dried leather, utterly expressionless.

"Master Yuan said Wang Jiadong drank at your place, then went out in a drunken stupor and barged into his courtyard. He nearly assaulted Bai Shao. Our young master fought back and ended up stabbing Wang Jiadong in the struggle. The man isn’t dead—he was rushed to emergency care this afternoon—but whether he’ll pull through is still uncertain." The steward sighed. "Young Master, your cousin is truly a fool."

Yuan Zhui sat frozen, a chill creeping up from the depths of his gut. After a long pause, he asked coldly, "...How exactly did he 'assault' Lang Bai?"

"Young Master, you know exactly what counts as 'assault.' And you know what kind of man Wang Jiadong is."

Yuan Zhui could guess what had happened. He had always known how striking Lang Bai’s looks were. Add alcohol to the mix—men were all the same when drunk—and with a delicate beauty like Lang Bai in front of him, it was no surprise Wang Jiadong had crossed the line.

Over the years, Yuan Zhui had come to understand his younger brother’s temperament all too well. Lang Bai never tolerated the slightest slight. If someone wronged him, even in the smallest way, he would remember it until the day he died. If he didn’t retaliate tenfold—no, a hundredfold—he would never rest in peace.

If Wang Jiadong had fallen into Lang Bai’s hands, how could he possibly survive?

Yuan Zhui abruptly stood and strode out without another word.

Lang Bai had already taken his medicine and was preparing for bed when Ziwen came to report that the eldest young master wished to see him. Immediately, Lang Bai refastened the half-removed shirt and said, "Then why haven’t you invited my brother in?"

"If you truly don’t wish to see him, you needn’t force yourself," Ziwen said gently, her heart aching for him. "After all, the eldest young master and Wang Jiadong are cousins..."

She knew what had happened earlier. When Lang Bai had returned, his hands and feet had been ice-cold. She had assumed he wouldn’t be able to sleep alone tonight, yet when bedtime came, he had drunk his milk, bathed, read for a while, and prepared for bed as if nothing had happened—his demeanor so composed it seemed he had already forgotten the afternoon’s events entirely.

"Don’t be ridiculous. The eldest young master and I share the same father—why wouldn’t I see my own brother?" Lang Bai smiled faintly, meticulously buttoning his cuffs. "Would I really throw a tantrum over an outsider and refuse my own flesh and blood? How petty would that sound?"

Ziwen opened her mouth but found herself speechless.

She realized then—if Lang Bai refused to see Yuan Zhui, it might give the impression that the young master believed his own brother had sided with Wang Jiadong. Unintentionally, it would plant seeds of suspicion in Yuan Zhui’s mind.

But how old was he? Most adults wouldn’t even consider such subtleties—how could he grasp these intricate social dynamics so effortlessly?

With Yuan Cheng’s favor, he had no reason to humble himself. He could afford to be flamboyant, indulgent, even arrogant. He was, after all, nothing more than Yuan Cheng’s beloved but illegitimate youngest son.

Who had taught him to navigate the world with such restraint and precision?

Or had he been born with an innate talent for manipulating hearts and minds?

Yuan Zhui had rarely set foot in Lang Bai’s bedroom. Lang Bai slept in a chamber connected to Yuan Cheng’s master suite—one door opened directly onto Yuan Cheng’s bed. Even a cough in the night would be heard clearly. Yuan Zhui had no desire to wander into his father’s domain unnecessarily, so he seldom saw this beautiful younger brother of his.

Before tonight, it had been half a year since they last met. Occasionally, they might exchange nods in passing, with Lang Bai calling out a polite "Eldest Brother," but they never lingered. The last time they had shared a meal face-to-face was likely the year before.

Lang Bai reclined against a white leather sofa, looking somewhat fatigued. His complexion was pale, almost translucent, devoid of color. Even his voice carried a faint rasp. "Eldest Brother, you shouldn’t have troubled yourself to come in person. You could have just summoned me."

The sight of him was breathtaking—slender, exquisite, with a youthful delicacy that bordered on fragility. Even Yuan Zhui was momentarily stunned, thinking, No wonder Wang Jiadong dug his own grave.

"Let’s speak frankly, as brothers should," Yuan Zhui said, plopping down across from Lang Bai and seizing his hand. "I owe you an apology for today. I never should have exposed you to such danger, and I won’t forget this debt. I know you must hate Wang Jiadong—who wouldn’t, after what he did? At your age, you’ve never suffered such humiliation. Flaying him alive might not even satisfy you, am I right?"

He exhaled heavily. "When I heard what happened, I was furious too. Not just at Wang Jiadong, but at myself. I knew exactly what kind of bastard he was, yet I invited him here for drinks anyway—and nearly got you hurt because of it!"

Lang Bai parted his lips as if to voice a thousand grievances, but in the end, he only murmured softly, "Eldest Brother, don’t say that. How could this be your fault?"

"Lang Bai, I know you’re sensible. If it were possible, I’d help you slaughter that Wang Jiadong myself." Yuan Zhui sighed again, then hesitated, as if struggling to voice his next words.

"—But Lang Bai, even if you want to skin him alive, can you actually do it? You might not like what I’m about to say, but Wang Jiadong is the Wang family’s sole heir. They may not measure up to our family, but in this industry, their influence is significant. One misstep could topple everything, Lang Bai!"

Lang Bai lifted his gaze, staring at Yuan Zhui with the wide-eyed terror of a startled fawn.

Yuan Zhui pressed his advantage. "If the Wangs had other descendants, I’d help you kill the bastard without a second thought. Let them make a fuss—we could handle it. But Wang Jiadong is their only hope. Kill him, and their lineage ends. Do you think they wouldn’t fight us to the death? And when the truth comes out—what he did here, why he was killed—it’ll drag you, Father, and the whole family into the mess. Is that what you want, Lang Bai? If you’re willing, then I won’t say another word. I’ll go yank out Wang Jiadong’s ventilator right now!"

He made as if to stand, and Lang Bai immediately caught his arm—the motion so natural, so perfectly timed, that Yuan Zhui almost marveled at how smoothly his brother played along.

"Eldest Brother, I… I would never want to kill Wang Jiadong." Lang Bai’s eyes remained fixed on Yuan Zhui, his lashes glistening with sudden tears.

The sight was heartbreakingly beautiful—enough to drive a man mad. If Yuan Zhui hadn’t watched him grow up, he might have been swayed himself.

"Eldest Brother, you mustn’t touch Wang Jiadong. I know you’re right—how could I ever want to kill someone? It’s too horrible." Lang Bai dabbed at his eyes delicately, as if still shaken. "It’s Father… Father is furious. You know how he is—once his mind is set, no one can change it."

Who says no one can? You’re the living exception! Yuan Zhui wanted to roar, but he forced a somber expression instead. "I… I doubt my pleas would help. Everyone knows Wang Jiadong is my troublesome uncle’s son—my cousin. If I intercede, Father might think I’m siding with an outsider against my own brother."

Lang Bai tightened his grip on Yuan Zhui’s hand. "Eldest Brother, how could you think that? Who’s closer—a cousin or a blood brother? Who would ever believe you’d side with outsiders against family? You’re a Yuan, not a Wang! Don’t listen to the whispers of petty people!"

Yuan Zhui suddenly felt as if he’d been slapped—though he couldn’t explain why. He managed a dry chuckle. "Y-Yes, of course."

"Then it’s settled. You don’t need to say anything—I’ll speak to Father myself." Lang Bai took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "When he returns tonight, I’ll tell him to send Wang Jiadong back to his family once he’s stable. That way, you won’t have to get involved. How does that sound?"

Yuan Zhui hesitated, then nodded. "Then I… That is, I’m truly grateful—no, I mean, I’m sorry to trouble you."

Lang Bai shook his head and smiled at Yuan Zhui—soft, guileless, like a harmless kitten.

The perfect smile of a younger brother to his elder.

Yet for some reason, Yuan Zhui couldn’t shake the feeling that something about that smile was… unsettling. Long after he left, the unease lingered, clinging like a shadow he couldn’t name.

< >