Li Yunhui sat silently on the bench at the edge of the funeral hall.

In his hands, he held a photo frame. Inside, a young man with brown hair peeked out from behind a door with a faint smile, grinning secretly at the camera.

This was his younger brother.

It was… his Shuyun.

Shuyun’s burial had been delayed for some time. Whether his own selfish motives were involved was hard to say clearly.

Over the past month, he constantly thought that once buried, Shuyun would be all alone in the pitch-black earth.

Shuyun would be cold. He would be lonely. If he encountered trouble down there, no one would be able to protect him or keep him company anymore.

He… didn’t want to let Shuyun go.

Someone sat down beside him.

“You are much stronger than I was back then,” the person said dejectedly.

Li Yunhui knew who it was. He didn’t look up. His gaze remained focused on the photo, his fingers gently stroking the figure in the picture.

“Our situations are different,” he said. “Teacher Chengyu left suddenly, but Shuyun…”

He had watched helplessly as Shuyun walked every step of his final days.

Perhaps in those days before Shuyun departed, he had already secretly wept all his tears dry in the night.

Fang Ji didn’t make a sound for a moment.

He still remembered how painful, how unbearable it had been for him in the days after his brother left—forget staying calm, he couldn’t even maintain a normal attitude in dealing with people and things.

But what about his good brother here?

A’Hui had always lived alone in the country. During the time since Shuyun’s passing, A’Hui had handled all the funeral arrangements personally, with at most some assistance from the butler.

Yet everything was handled in perfect order. Even when informing others of the funeral date, no one mentioned him losing his composure.

If it were someone unfamiliar with A’Hui, they might genuinely suspect whether he was grieving for his brother’s departure at all.

But Fang Ji knew—

A’Hui had changed drastically in these days.

This change didn’t start only after Shuyun left; it had begun from the moment Shuyun was admitted to the hospital.

A’Hui, who used to attend almost every banquet, had barely shown his face at any gathering since.

A’Hui, who used to love getting involved in everything and joining in the fun, now seemed to have lost interest in everything, unwilling to pay attention to anything.

Not to mention the regrets and complaints friends whispered privately—A’Hui hadn’t raced cars, surfed, dived, rock climbed, or bungee jumped with them for a long time…

Fang Ji couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

In a trance, he remembered—perhaps this was how A’Hui felt watching him wallow in grief after his own brother died?

They were good brothers who grew up together.

A’Hui had spent a lot of effort trying to lead him out of sorrow back then. Although the results were limited, the intention was genuine. So Fang Ji had thought for a long time these days and finally came up with a way that might help A’Hui.

Fang Ji hesitated for a moment and said, “A’Hui, haven’t you always been curious why I suddenly walked out of the despair of my brother’s death?”

These words finally drew Li Yunhui’s gaze.

Fang Ji said sincerely, “At that time, Second Brother recommended a psychic master to me. This master is very capable and really allowed me to talk to my brother again… If you are willing to try, I can try to contact him for you.”

Li Yunhui blinked slowly twice and withdrew his gaze.

His fingertips lingered reluctantly on the photo, rubbing it gently. His calm voice seemed to carry a silent sigh.

“You know, A’Ji, I never believe in these things.”

Fang Ji still tried to persuade him: “I didn’t believe it before either, A’Hui. But this master is different from those swindlers outside, he—”

Li Yunhui interrupted him: “A’Ji.”

Li Yunhui stopped his movements, raised his head, and turned his eyes. Beneath his seemingly calm gaze, turbulent waves seemed to surge violently.

Li Yunhui looked at him and said word by word: “Shuyun is Shuyun. I won’t let anyone impersonate his existence.”

Fang Ji opened his mouth to refute.

That master wasn’t a swindler, what “impersonate”… He couldn’t mistake his own brother!

But the words swirled in his throat and were finally swallowed back forcefully.

He turned his face away somewhat unhappily, but tried hard to keep his tone and expression calm, saying, “Alright, it doesn’t matter. Come find me when you change your mind.”

As the funeral time approached, more and more people arrived at the venue.

The number of people Li Yunhui invited wasn’t small—his brother was very likable when he was alive, so naturally, he had many friends. Classmates, friends, plus his own friends whom he had introduced to Shuyun over the years—the total was quite significant.

Excluding those without blood relations, his mother also made a rare trip back from abroad to attend the funeral.

After divorcing Li Zhengshen, she had much more freedom of movement. Although she stayed abroad most of the time, she wasn’t like Li Zhengshen, completely unable to return to the country for occasions like this.

He wasn’t very close to his mother, even less so than he was with Li Zhengshen previously.

After a simple greeting and a brief update on Shuyun’s situation, there was no further communication.

Among those who came to offer condolences, two people were somewhat special.

Li Yunhui’s gaze passed through the various figures and landed on a pair of twins who had just entered the funeral hall.

Those were the two young masters of the Wen family. One of them had just been brought back to the Wen family a few days ago.

His appearance was very subtly timed. If Shuyun hadn’t had the accident, if everything had stayed as it was back then, if he still possessed that overflowing energy he had nowhere to vent…

He would ninety-nine percent want to take this opportunity to probe and see exactly what kind of person this new young master was, and whether he could be linked to a certain interesting guess he had before.

Unfortunately now…

Li Yunhui’s gaze lingered on the twins for three seconds before silently retracting.

His hand subconsciously pressed against his chest—when he stood up, he had carefully tucked Shuyun’s photo into the inside pocket of his clothes, as if this would keep Shuyun in his embrace.

Fulfilling Shuyun’s wish from when he was alive and completing the career he and his brother worked on together was countless times more important than probing into other families’ affairs.

…

When Wen Shaozhuo followed Brother A’Heng into the funeral hall, the hall full of strangers made the fine hairs all over his body stand up subconsciously.

He gripped his brother’s sleeve tightly, his whole body trembling slightly.

He couldn’t help but recall the past, when his parents would always try to take him to various social occasions—birthday banquets, weddings, funerals of various families in the Imperial Capital, gatherings of peers…

For a long time, his parents never allowed him to miss these occasions for accumulating connections without reason.

It wasn’t until he was diagnosed with depression, until he felt nauseous and nervous to the point of vomiting at a gathering, greatly embarrassing his parents, that he was finally able to briefly escape such terrifying occasions.

Wen Siheng noticed Wen Shaozhuo’s abnormal state.

He stopped, pulled Wen Shaozhuo to his side, and asked worriedly in a low voice, “What’s wrong, A’Shao? Is it uncomfortable staying here?”

He thought for a moment and said, “If you’re uncomfortable, go wait for me outside. I see a café not far away, or the park nearby is fine too.”

It was the first time Wen Shaozhuo had heard words like “if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay.”

The nausea that had surged halfway up inexplicably eased a little.

Wen Shaozhuo struggled and hesitated for a long time, still daring not to leave Brother A’Heng’s side.

He stuck closely to his brother, his voice tight: “It’s, it’s okay, Brother A’Heng. I’ll just follow you.”

Brother A’Heng said apologetically, “Sorry, A’Shao. Brother Shuyun donated to our orphanage before. I received his kindness, so I definitely have to come to his funeral.”

Wen Shaozhuo said softly, “I understand, brother. It’s okay. You don’t need to mind me, I… I will follow you closely.”

Despite saying this, Wen Shaozhuo was actually a bit worried about his own condition.

Fortunately, Brother A’Heng was very understanding and didn’t take him to talk to anyone again, nor did he force him to communicate. He even proactively blocked anyone who tried to approach and strike up a conversation.

This slightly weakened the nausea that reflexively rose in Wen Shaozhuo’s chest when entering a crowd, allowing him to focus his attention on controlling his state, struggling to recover from the physiological nausea and regain the ability to take deep breaths.

When he recovered, Wen Shaozhuo suddenly realized that the funeral was somehow nearing its end.

Sounds of sobbing, high and low, rose and fell in the venue. Many people had red eyes and were sniffing. Sorrow permeated the entire hall.

Ah… someone passed away.

Wen Shaozhuo realized this slowly and belatedly.

He felt a bit ashamed of his slow reaction.

Perhaps it was because he had just been in close contact with death a few days ago.

Perhaps it was because he had been striving to explore death some time ago.

At this moment, when he suddenly realized someone had left the world, the first thought in his mind was actually—

This brother who passed away is so happy.

So many people love him, remember him, and feel sad for his departure.

And what about him?

If he left this world, would it be a relief of a burden for everyone? At least… for Mom and Dad, it would be, right?

Familiar thoughts subconsciously surfaced in his brain.

But in the next moment, the body warmth continuously transmitted from his palm pulled him back to reality.

…Right. Now, he has Brother A’Heng.

If he were gone, would Brother A’Heng be sad for him?

As if sensing his thoughts, Brother A’Heng suddenly turned his head back.

The sadness originally contained in those eyes became gentle again upon seeing him. He even blinked deliberately, asking him with his eyes—What’s wrong, A’Shao?

Wen Shaozhuo was scalded by the warmth in this gaze and lowered his eyes somewhat flusteredly.

But he couldn’t help thinking about the answer himself—Brother A’Heng would. He probably would, right?

If Brother A’Heng would be sad for him, then in order not to let Brother A’Heng shed tears of sorrow like that brother hosting the funeral on stage, perhaps… he should stay in this world for a few more days, accompany Brother A’Heng more, and not let Brother A’Heng be sad, right?