These should be considered two questions.

Ren Chenbai separated these two questions. He answered the first one eagerly, “He is very well.”

“Very obedient, very sensible,” Ren Chenbai said. “Many—”

He seemed to have encountered some obstruction when saying this, and he stammered before continuing, “Many people like him.”

Ren Chenbai’s fingers unconsciously twisted together. Then he suddenly shuddered, pressed hard on the leg he had broken, and a cold sweat instantly broke out.

“But he’s not living well. Because of me, I’m sick,” Ren Chenbai said. “I can’t stand to see others being good to him.”

“I always want him to only follow me, always want him to only rely on me. I’m sick.”

Ren Chenbai seemed to be eager to use this self-abusive confession to prove something. His words suddenly began to lose logic again, and he stammered an explanation, “I mean, I pretended to be good to him, but I was actually very bad to him in secret. But I didn’t want to be bad to him. I was—”

“You want to control him,” Gong Hanrou’s voice sounded. “You want him to rely on you to live.”

Her tone was icy. Even the previous calmness and indifference had completely disappeared, leaving only an undisguised, mocking chill.

Ren Chenbai shivered violently at this sentence, but on the contrary, he let out a long sigh of relief and nodded heavily, as if he had finally resolved some inner knot with this condemnation. “Yes.”

“But later I figured it out and reflected on it,” Ren Chenbai said. “So I changed.”

Gong Hanrou asked, “Why did you change?”

“I just suddenly figured it out… He’s already my family.”

Ren Chenbai tugged at the corner of his mouth. “One day I just figured it out. I’m so ridiculous. He’s already my younger brother. Can he still run away?”

He laughed. “After thinking it through, I corrected myself bit by bit, but it also took me several years to change… I still feel uncomfortable when I see someone liking him now, but I can endure it.”

“We are living very happily now. I am taking very good care of him.”

Ren Chenbai said with a smile, “I was particularly bad before. Thanks to my mother and him being willing to tolerate me, I am changing.”

Gong Hanrou felt as if she was meeting this old friend’s son for the first time.

At a certain moment, she even lost the strength to continue asking questions and just fell silent in disbelief, looking at the figure muttering incoherently on the sofa.

After a long while, Gong Hanrou suddenly asked, “What if he hadn’t been able to become your younger brother?”

Gong Hanrou asked this question, watching the almost instinctive, cold, and gloomy expression flash across Ren Chenbai’s face, and her heart grew infinitely cold.

Ren Chenbai was stunned by this question.

He was stunned for an exceptionally long time, nervously pressing his injured leg. He fiddled with that leg, looking as if he wanted to straighten it again or break it.

“If he hadn’t been able to become your younger brother, you wouldn’t have reflected, you wouldn’t have changed.”

Gong Hanrou was quiet for a moment, then gave the answer directly without waiting for him, “You would have become more and more unscrupulous, more and more pushy, more and more crazy—”

“That’s not possible!” Ren Chenbai suddenly roared. “He is my younger brother!”

Ren Chenbai seemed to want to stand up from the sofa but was pulled back down by his broken leg. “He is my younger brother. We are a family! We are living very well now. There’s no need for other assumptions!”

Gong Hanrou didn’t say any more.

She sat in the chair, looking at Ren Chenbai, whose face had suddenly become ferocious. In addition to her increasingly strong aversion and disgust, there was also a faint hint of pity.

Ren Chenbai was pierced by the pity in her eyes. He suddenly came to his senses and panted heavily in embarrassment. “Sorry… sorry, Teacher Gong.”

“I lost my composure,” Ren Chenbai said. “I really don’t like this assumption.”

…He was very afraid of this assumption.

So afraid that he couldn’t even accept it being brought up as an assumption. So afraid that just thinking about this possibility for a moment would cause him to be engulfed in an instant by a huge fear that could crush his bones.

“I was very lucky. My mother brought him home and gave me a chance to be a family with him.”

Ren Chenbai moved his body with difficulty and sat up straight on the sofa. “I will cherish this opportunity. I will be good to him…”

His movements and voice suddenly stopped. His pupils shrank in disbelief, fixed on a figure not far away.

Zhao Lan, as instructed by Gong Hanrou, had also brought Luo Cheng to the reception room.

…In just a few short days, Luo Cheng seemed to have completely changed.

There were makeup artists and assistants on the film crew, which could at least ensure that her image wasn’t too outrageous at first glance. But with a slightly closer look, it wasn’t hard to see the clues.

Luo Cheng stood in the corner. She glanced at Ren Chenbai woodenly, dazed for a long while, before recognizing him. “Brother Chenbai.”

“Are you still not willing to let me go?” Luo Cheng asked, then shook her head herself. “You won’t let me go.”

Luo Cheng lowered her head to look at the tips of her toes. “How are you going to punish me?”

Ren Chenbai’s figure seemed to be frozen on the sofa. He stared at her motionless, his brow tightly furrowed.

“Why should I,” Ren Chenbai slowly clenched his fists. For some reason, he couldn’t finish this sentence in one breath. “Why should I punish you?”

Luo Cheng’s reaction this time was a little bigger. She raised her head in a daze and looked at him almost strangely.

…

That sharp headache suddenly exploded in Ren Chenbai’s temples again.

“No, no need to answer,” Ren Chenbai said hastily. “I don’t want to know. You—”

He spoke a step too late. Perhaps his head wasn’t hurting enough yet, or perhaps the sound of a hand reaching into his chest, grabbing his heart, and squeezing out the blood inside wasn’t loud enough. He still heard Luo Cheng’s words clearly.

He heard Luo Cheng’s voice, “Because of me, Second Brother died.”

…What Second Brother?

Where did Luo Cheng get a Second Brother?

Jian Huaiyi? When did Jian Huaiyi die?

Ren Chenbai looked at the ground in a panic. He questioned incoherently in a low voice, “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Are you talking about Xiao Zhi? Xiao Zhi stopped being your Second Brother long ago. He was adopted by my mother ten years ago. He is my younger brother and has no relationship with you. You can’t call him Second Brother anymore. He is my younger brother.”

Ren Chenbai’s speech became faster and faster. “We have been very happy all these years. Mother passed away early, but she was also at peace. Xiao Zhi is at home. He was still painting when I left. I said I would bring him dessert. How can you curse him to death? How dare you—”

His words were abruptly cut off by Luo Cheng’s voice. He thought he must look very ferocious now, so ferocious that even though Luo Cheng had already been tormented into a dazed and numb state, she still looked at him with clear fear.

“Brother Chenbai…” Luo Cheng asked with a trembling voice, “Are you crazy?”

Ren Chenbai had already lunged from the sofa. The intense pain from his broken leg seemed to have been blocked by something. He staggered and rushed in front of Luo Cheng and was quickly held back by a few set managers.

He had neither the ability nor the intention to commit violence. On the contrary, he could barely stand steady by relying on those unceremonious hands. Ren Chenbai glared at Luo Cheng, his voice almost like that of a furious wild beast trapped in a snare. “I’m not crazy! What I said is true!”

He took out his phone, wanting to show Luo Cheng the photos he had taken, to show Luo Cheng how well and happily Xiao Zhi had lived in his family all these years, how many awards he had won, how many singles he had released.

Ren Chenbai frantically pressed his phone. He stared at the screen, and large beads of cold sweat broke out.

His vision began to blur, and his hands trembled more and more violently.

…Where did they go?

They were all in his phone. The photos, the screenshots, the music app he had specially downloaded to promote his songs… He was learning to accept that he couldn’t suppress the flame anymore.

He was learning to accept it. He was reflecting… He still always regretted that he hadn’t reflected on it sooner.

If he had reflected on it sooner, his mother wouldn’t necessarily have had an accident, and his younger brother wouldn’t have been angry with him.

They would have been the most perfect family, happier than they were now. He would have been influenced by those two good people and, bit by bit, become a less despicable, selfish monster and demon…

Ren Chenbai suddenly lost his balance and fell to the ground. He saw his phone fall far away and scrambled to pick it up. Then he saw Xun Zhen appear in front of him.

“Director Xun!” Ren Chenbai’s eyes suddenly lit up. He grabbed the other person in a panic. “You know about these things too, right? Right? I have a younger brother! We became a family long ago! You tell them—”

His gaze fell on the syringe in Xun Zhen’s hand. He trembled violently and struggled to retreat. “What are you doing?!”

“Mr. Ren,” Xun Zhen’s voice sounded. “It’s about time to wake up, isn’t it?”

…What should I wake up to?

Ren Chenbai hugged his head tightly. His chest was like a constantly moving bellows, panting with his mouth wide open, but it seemed as if not a single breath was being taken in.

He might have really had another nightmare. In the dream, a group of people, for some reason, insisted on proving to him that Luo Zhi had not become his younger brother, that Luo Zhi was already dead.

He had clearly seen that shadow painting at home. He was sure he must have seen it. How could a hallucination be so clear?

“…Go to Sea-view Villa with me.”

Ren Chenbai clutched Xun Zhen’s hand tightly. His overly forceful fingers were already showing signs of cramping. “Go to Sea-view Villa. I’ll prove it to you. I brought him dessert…”

…Everything was perfectly logical.

He had already checked it many times. There was not a single thing wrong.

Not a single thing contradicted logic. Everything was a natural development, the result of the most natural progression. He was in a life that was a bit plain but most worthy of cherishing.

He had once wanted many things, had once been more greedy, more selfish and cold-blooded. He was a demon hidden under layers of disguise. If it weren’t for meeting his mother and Luo Zhi, he wouldn’t have had this qualification—

“Mr. Ren,” Xun Zhen suddenly asked. “Why did you just say that if you had reflected on it sooner, your mother wouldn’t have had an accident?”

Ren Chenbai was suddenly thrown into a void from countless thoughts.

He hadn’t finished organizing his last thought before he fell heavily from the cracks between those thoughts. The speed became faster and faster. The four limbs, under the violent impact, instantly exploded with unimaginable pain and numbness. He couldn’t make any sound. He was forcibly dragged back to reality.

Ren Chenbai panted blankly. He found he was no longer at the film set.

He seemed to have fainted at Gong Hanrou’s film set and was now being carried into an ambulance, with restraints tied to his body.

Xun Zhen sat at his feet, his head lowered, still asking, “Why would your mother have had an accident?”

Ren Chenbai seemed unable to understand these few words. He just looked around in a panic. He was slightly relieved when he saw the box of desserts. “Where’s Xiao Zhi?”

“I’m not going to the hospital. I’m going home,” Ren Chenbai moved his throat. “Xiao Zhi is still waiting for me. He hasn’t eaten.”

Xun Zhen had originally not intended for the ambulance to go to the hospital.

He made a gesture, signaling for the back door of the ambulance to be opened. The glaring sunlight, wrapped in the sea breeze, rushed in in an instant.

Ren Chenbai was untied from those restraints. He almost snatched the crutch and dessert and rolled out of the car.

The ambulance was parked in front of the garden. Not far away was the house where Luo Zhi lived.

Ren Chenbai smiled.

He even managed to tidy himself up a bit before limping over and knocking on the door twice.

“Xiao Zhi?” Ren Chenbai said gently. “I’m back.”

Ren Chenbai shook the dessert in his hand. “Come out quickly, get some fresh air.”

There was no answer from the room. Ren Chenbai thought that Luo Zhi was most likely asleep.

Ren Chenbai took out his phone, wanting to send Luo Zhi a WeChat message, but for some reason, he repeatedly dragged it back and forth many times but couldn’t find the chat window with Luo Zhi.

His phone seemed to have a lot of problems. It should be sent for repair.

Ren Chenbai frowned tightly, opened his contacts, and searched from top to bottom over and over again, then suddenly remembered that he seemed to have had his phone repaired not long ago.

…Why did he go to repair his phone?

Ren Chenbai supported himself on the doorframe to stand steady.

He tried his best to think for a long time before remembering it seemed to be because of a small celebrity named Li Weiming—that damn bastard, in order to retaliate against him, had deleted Luo Zhi’s WeChat while he wasn’t paying attention.

The deleted WeChat, the records couldn’t be recovered. He had furiously smashed everything in his office that day, searched for everyone who claimed to be able to recover chat history, but to no avail.

He had lost Luo Zhi’s WeChat.

Why did Li Weiming want to retaliate against him?

Because they were originally in the same boat, Li Weiming didn’t expect him to suddenly turn on him… They were in the same boat, what were they going to do?

Ren Chenbai thought hard about this question. His face finally began to change, and the last hint of a smile disappeared without a trace.

…He had watched that little celebrity frame Luo Zhi.

How could he watch someone else frame Luo Zhi?!

Ren Chenbai was choked. His hands trembled as he slowly pushed open the door, as if pushing a lever that would cause the guillotine above his head to fall.

The room was empty.

That was not a room that could be lived in.

Even if its owner had come back to tidy it up for the last time, it was impossible to live in.

He looked at the large patch of mold that spread from the window to the wall. The mold distorted and deformed in his vision, like a comical, absurd, and bizarre hallucination.

Ren Chenbai supported himself against the wall and slowly moved inside. He touched the mold. The shady wall had a cold, damp air that instantly poured into his body along his hand.

Why did he watch someone else frame Luo Zhi?

Because…

“Chenbai,” he heard his mother’s incredulous voice. “…You threw away a seashell?”

Late that night, he was called by his mother to meet alone at the Seaview Villa.

His mother had discovered the surveillance cameras he had installed in the villa.

His mother had specially sent Luo Zhi away that day, wanting to go to the villa to hide some small gifts for Luo Zhi, but had unexpectedly discovered the surveillance cameras.

His mother had checked the surveillance, knew many things, knew many of his secrets… They had some arguments.

His mother hadn’t told anyone in the family about her specific medical condition. He didn’t know what illness his mother had, only that her health had not been good recently. He watched as his mother suddenly collapsed in pain, his own mind also went blank. By the time his mother’s assistant realized something was wrong and rushed his mother to the hospital, it was already too late…

He stood woodenly in the corner of the emergency room.

Luo Zhi, who knew nothing, came to comfort him. Luo Zhi thought it was just an accident. Luo Zhi didn’t know anything—on what grounds did Luo Zhi not know anything?

He was a cold-blooded, ungrateful monster, the most despicable, most selfish, most adept at disguising and deceiving heartless demon. He would have to atone for his sins in despair for the rest of his life. On what grounds was Luo Zhi still so warm, so clean?

…

If it weren’t for hiding gifts for Luo Zhi, would his mother have suddenly gone to the Seaview Villa and discovered those surveillance cameras?

A thorn full of poison grew from his chest. He clutched the wound on Luo Zhi’s arm tightly. That wound had been bitten by Luo Zhi himself. It was bleeding, and the blood seeped out from between his fingers.

He watched as Luo Zhi’s arm, stimulated by the pain, trembled unconsciously in his palm, and a vicious, twisted pleasure finally grew in his heart.

He fainted.

When he woke up, it was already a week later.

He didn’t remember what had happened at that time at all, only that particularly clear, cold hatred remained.

He carefully recalled along with the hatred, asking the elders around him if Luo Zhi was by his side when his mother passed away. He watched as those people looked at each other, as if there was some unspoken difficulty that was not good to say clearly. Finally, someone perfunctorily agreed.

…He had the qualification to live.

Ren Chenbai moved his eyes.

He moved his gaze bit by bit, looking at Xun Zhen who was standing in front of him.

The scene where the other party was inducing him suddenly jumped out. He had almost eagerly accepted the suggestion Xun Zhen had given, believing what Xun Zhen had said—except for one thing, Xun Zhen couldn’t correct him no matter what.

He would only call him “Xiao Zhi.”

Why did he call Huo Miao “Xiao Zhi”?

Because that was the only name he could still hold onto tightly, dragging it into the oily, dark, cold water.

Even if it had been dragged in by him, that bitter orange tree still struggled to grow upwards, its branches reaching out with difficulty.

He stared ferociously at that thin branch. On it, tender green leaves had still grown, washed clean by the dew.

…

Xun Zhen couldn’t correct him no matter what.

—Why was it that in this dream, everything was logical? Why couldn’t he find a single thing wrong?

Because this was originally the future.

He was the one who had ruined the future.

Ren Chenbai suddenly struggled to get up. His whole person was already like a wandering soul. He stumbled and ran towards that reef without a care for anything.

He saw himself.

He had to stop himself. That dream had to continue. He couldn’t wake up. He couldn’t wake up.

Why couldn’t he stop himself no matter what? Why wasn’t he given a chance? He knew he was wrong. This time he really knew he was wrong. He should have broken all his own legs. How could he have thrown away that seashell…

He frantically plunged into the sea. The cold seawater instantly engulfed him. The sharp reef at the bottom of the sea slammed heavily into his ribs. His chest convulsed, but he still struggled to crawl into the sea, desperately searching for those seashells. He couldn’t find the fate he had destroyed.

Xun Zhen’s reaction actually couldn’t keep up with a madman. They brought people to chase after him and spent some time before finally finding the reef.

Ren Chenbai was dragged out of the seawater. His hands were cut and bleeding by the sharp reef, and his eyes were vacant.

He seemed to have slowly fallen into some kind of hallucination, a tentative smile appearing on his face.

“Know,” he choked on blood. “Know wrong…”

He seemed to have seen someone who would always be soft-hearted. That person probably walked over in the hallucination. He eagerly and fawningly reached out his hand.

The smile had not yet solidified before it instantly froze in his eyes, and then disappeared.

…

In his hallucination, he saw himself for the countless time.

He suddenly began to shake his head violently, staring at that place and pleading in terror. In the end, he even cried and shouted hysterically.

The him in the hallucination was unmoved, just walking over step by step. He watched his own figure cover that blurry shadow of Luo Zhi.

His impression of Luo Zhi was too blurry. That little bit of blurry flame dissipated in an instant, not leaving a single trace, only a piece of ferocious, ugly darkness remained.

He cried and screamed in terror. In that ferocity, he saw himself for the countless time.

He saw himself walk behind the reef.

What had already happened could not be erased, and there was no chance of changing it.

He picked up the seashell that was only shallowly buried under a layer of fine sand, raised his hand nonchalantly, and threw it into the all-devouring seawater.