Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"030"

The person on the ground didn't answer.

Xiao Lancui knew the guy heard him—was it wariness, or... an act?

Every clue pointed to this poor kid not being Lu Ao.

Could the almost-broken neck from their first meeting really just be a coincidence?

For the first time, Xiao Lancui couldn't come to a conclusion.

He even suspected he *wanted* this kid to be Lu Ao—that desire was messing with his judgment.

Xiao Lancui let out a sigh so faint you'd barely catch it.

He wasn't Lu Ao. Just some poor bastard with the same name.

Xiao Lancui stared at the gauze, which was dark even in the dim light, and said patiently, "I'm Xiao Lancui. I won't hurt you. You're hurt—let me check it out."

Still nothing.

Xiao Lancui tried again, "You hungry?"

His frame was so thin the baggy clothes couldn't hide it. Xiao Lancui remembered grabbing his wrist once at Sen Mountain Psych—it felt like grabbing a rib.

The kid finally moved. Using his barely working left hand to brace against the floor, he tried to push himself up. Xiao Lancui watched without helping. The kid collapsed back a few times, until finally, swaying, he managed to get up.

On the floor where he'd been lying, there were several dark pools of liquid.

It was his blood.

Xiao Lancui stood up too. Once he was upright, he realized the kid towered over him—he had to tilt his head back a bit to look at him. Just like Lu Ao, this Lu Ao was probably around 194 centimeters.

In the dim, murky space, Xiao Lancui finally got a clear look at him. The kid's frame was super broad, and he really had no meat on him. Even without seeing the face under the gauze, you could tell the skin was sunken against the bone.

Not Lu Ao—but like the old Lu Ao, he'd been abused just as badly.

Xiao Lancui had always known he wasn't a good guy. Kindness was a luxury he'd only allow himself after reaching his big goals.

He'd chosen Lu Ao, helped Lu Ao take the throne—because he wanted revenge, because it was a stepping stone for his political ambitions.

Lu Ao was his investment. At least, that's how it started.

As for what came after—

For the first time since transmigrating, Xiao Lancui let the resentment he'd been holding back rage unchecked in his chest.

People aren't made of wood or stone, and he was no exception. Whatever the original reason, in the end, the only thing he had in this world was Lu Ao.

But the moment Lu Ao poisoned him to death, the bloody truth was ripped open.

He'd never truly possessed anything. Anyone.

Like the mother he'd never met. Like the heads of the Xiao clan scattered all over the execution ground.

Xiao Lancui's mind drifted—until he suddenly heard a low voice.

"Don't talk to me. They'll get mad."

Even his voice sounded like Lu Ao's.

But it wasn't something Lu Ao would ever say.

Xiao Lancui watched the figure head for the stairs, a strange light flickering in his eyes. He spoke. "You want revenge?"

The tall figure paused mid-step, then turned to stare at Xiao Lancui like he couldn't believe it.

Even though it was dark, Xiao Lancui could see it clearly—in those blood-blurred eyes was pure confusion and innocence.

So different.

The confusion of a puppy, innocent and pure.

A faint smile curved the corner of Xiao Lancui's lips. "Just kidding. I mean, I can help you with your wounds." He added, "And I can get you a really sweet piece of cake."

Those eyes were full of wariness and hesitation—and longing.

He'd been hungry for way too long.

But he still said, "If you talk to me, they'll give you trouble."

Xiao Lancui didn't step forward. In the dark, he said calmly, "The one thing I've never been afraid of is trouble."

When Fu Chen got the text, he laughed so hard his stomach hurt. What a joke!

What did Xiao Lancui take him for?

A delivery guy? A speedster? Or a loyal slave?!

*

No way in hell was he going!

Ten minutes later, Fu Chen—carrying a medical kit, a birthday cake, and a bottle of water—got out of the car and walked toward the villa with a deadpan face.

This villa. Others might not know, but he and Huo Shenan knew exactly what it was: the place where Lu Siye's dumb little brother was locked up.

Lately, it seemed the guy had gone completely insane.

Fu Chen clenched his jaw and cursed himself, "Fu Chen, you're out of your damn mind!"

He muttered under his breath, "We're classmates after all. Xiao Lancui asked, so it's just a small favor. Totally normal. I just love helping people. No big deal..."

He walked into the villa and froze. The living room lights were already on. Not far from him, several pools of blood stained the floor, along with a nearly snapped, blood-soaked golf club.

"Xiao Lancui!" Fu Chen shouted without thinking and sprinted inside. "Xiao—"

His voice died as a figure came out from around the corner. Fu Chen's tense face instantly broke into a grin. "You're okay!"

Xiao Lancui walked over, gave a brief nod, and reached out for the stuff. "Thanks."

For the first time, Fu Chen felt the word "thanks" was truly precious—so Xiao Lancui *could* talk like a normal person. He cleared his throat, about to play it cool, when Xiao Lancui took the medical kit and bag and said, "You can go now."

Fu Chen had his speech all rehearsed and ready to roll off his tongue, but he forced it back down. He quickly asked, "Whose blood is that?"

It was kind of a rhetorical question—only one person lived in this villa, after all.

Fu Chen had never actually met Lu Ao, only heard of him. As a sworn brother, he didn't feel it was his place to comment on Lu Siye's family matters.

His eyes swept over the blood on the floor nearby, and he couldn't help thinking Lu Siye had gone way over the line.

He's just a fool—why be so hard on him?

As Fu Chen thought this, he suddenly met Xiao Lancui's eyes. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he couldn't help saying, "Their family's a real mess. If you see something and your conscience gets the better of you, that's your call—but once you walk out that door, you'd better act like you saw nothing."

He certainly wasn't going to stay and lend a hand. If Lu Siye found out, they wouldn't even be brothers anymore. He turned to leave. "I'll wait for you out front. Hurry it up—the fireworks are about to start."

"You go on."

A quiet voice came from behind him. Fu Chen stopped and turned, only to catch a glimpse of Xiao Lancui's back as he headed upstairs. "I'm not coming back."

Xiao Lancui had come to the Lu family today for one reason only: Lu Ao.

Even though he wasn't.

Pushing open the door on the second floor, the young man stood there waiting for him, looking nervous, both bare feet stained with blood—whether from stepping in it or from getting beaten, it was hard to tell.

Xiao Lancui closed the door and walked in. The room had everything it should. Without any small talk, he set his stuff down, sat on the sofa, and said, "Come here."

He seemed more like the one who owned the place.

The young man hesitated, clearly, before obediently walking over.

When he reached the sofa, his tall frame cast a big shadow over Xiao Lancui. The young man was all skin and bones from malnutrition, but he still loomed as tall as a door.

Xiao Lancui said again, "Sit."

The young man sat down, leaving a little space between him and Xiao Lancui. Xiao Lancui didn't mind. He opened the medical kit, found a pair of scissors, and said, "I need to cut the bandage open to check on you."

He leaned in a little, and the young man suddenly dropped his head, asking in a soft, confused voice, "Why are you so good to me? I don't know you."

"Just think of me as some random good Samaritan." Xiao Lancui worked the scissors, carefully cutting along the left earlobe where the blood had soaked in the worst.

The snip-snip of the scissors echoed through the quiet room.

Soon it was cut open, revealing black hair matted with blood—hair that had grown long, untrimmed for months.

After all, it had been wrapped up in bandages this whole time.

But the second the bandage came off, Xiao Lancui saw the young man's face and his brow furrowed hard.

It wasn't that he looked like Lu Ao. It was that you couldn't even see his face.

Dense, crisscrossing surgical scars covered it. There was no flesh on his face; the skin was twisted into ridges and bumps by the stitches.

Xiao Lancui was a little surprised—it still hadn't healed after all this time?

The young man seemed unaware of his own face, head bowed, all ten fingers gripping the fabric over his knees.

Lu Ao was really nervous.

Not nervous that Xiao Lancui would recognize his face—before leaving the psych ward, he'd already gotten plastic surgery.

He'd demanded to completely bury the face that looked like his own. The doctor said it was a shame, and that for a quick recovery, only minor procedures were possible.

"Don't worry, we'll work on every part of your face. Even small tweaks will change how you look."

The stitches would come out in a week. Whether the surgery worked or not, what Xiao Lancui was seeing now was a face that looked neither human nor ghost.

He was nervous because Xiao Lancui was way too close to him.

He was holding himself back, barely stopping himself from pulling Xiao Lancui into a hug right then.

Lu Ao's clenched fists bulged with veins, straining on the backs of his hands like they were about to pop.

Xiao Lancui noticed and made his movements even gentler, thinking Lu Ao was in pain.

He gently parted the damp hair, revealing a clearly split wound on the top of his head. The blood-soaked hair clung messily to his scalp, hiding how long the gash really was.

Xiao Lancui paused for a moment, then asked Lu Ao anyway, "I need to shave your head. Are you okay with that?"

Lu Ao's fingers instantly dug into his own skin.

Under his clothes, his blood was boiling.

The night before his coronation, he'd brought scissors to see Xiao Lancui. That night, Xiao Lancui had made an exception and agreed to stay in the warm pavilion, right next door to him.

"Teacher, my hair's grown long again." He'd knelt on one knee in front of the wheelchair, smiling up at Xiao Lancui. "Cut it for me one more time."

Xiao Lancui had only ever cut his hair once, back in the cold palace. After that, his hair didn't grow fast, and men were required to keep it long anyway, with occasional trims. Xiao Lancui had told him to trim it himself.

Back then, Lu Ao had thought fiercely: when he took the throne, his first imperial decree would be that all men had to keep short hair and get it trimmed every month.

That time, Xiao Lancui had refused again.

He'd said with a soft laugh, "You are the emperor now. Naturally, the finest attendants will take care of your appearance. My clumsy skills aren't worth showing off."

Xiao Lancui was the only one he wanted.

Lu Ao had gritted his teeth in frustration.

Yet, hundreds of years later, Xiao Lancui was finally willing to cut his hair again.

Lu Ao held himself together, trying not to let his joy show, but his trembling voice still made Xiao Lancui misunderstand.

"Don't be afraid." Without any shaving tools, Xiao Lancui used the medical scissors directly. "I'm pretty good at this."

Lu Ao closed his eyes.

Time seemed to slip back to that cold, damp little room. Warm water mixed with the scent of soap pods, and Xiao Lancui's voice carried that same clean, fresh smell: "This is what bathing is. From now on, you'll bathe once every three days."

The clipped hair brushed against the skin of his neck. Soon it was all gone, leaving only about two millimeters of stubble. The wound was finally exposed—about two centimeters long, split open, but not deep enough to hit anything vital. There were bruises elsewhere, but thankfully no broken skin.

Xiao Lancui disinfected it, applied medicine, and wrapped Lu Ao's head and face in fresh, clean bandages.

Last was checking his body.

Lu Ao took off his clothes, revealing a body covered in scars of all shapes and depths. Skin that never saw sunlight was sickly pale, making the marks all the more jarring.

Xiao Lancui had noticed it long ago and wasn't surprised. He checked the new wounds and Lu Ao's bones, finding no fractures or breaks. Only when he got to the left collarbone did Xiao Lancui give that particular wound a second look.

It looked a bit like an arrow wound.

Xiao Lancui looked away and quickly finished applying the medicine to Lu Ao, then said, "Alright, go change into something clean—"

He glanced at Lu Ao's right hand, which hung limp and unresponsive, then stood up. "Where's the bathroom?"

Lu Ao jumped up, glanced at him, and said softly, "Brother, I'll take you there."

It suddenly hit him that he was just in his underwear now, and his sickly pale skin finally flushed red with embarrassment, showing a hint of life.

Xiao Lancui suddenly remembered Lu Siye's shout.

What an idiot.

The original text hadn't mentioned it, but now it seemed Lu Ao's behavior was a bit childish.

Was it because nobody had taught him?

When he'd first met Lu Ao, the guy had no one to teach him either, but he wouldn't have called him "brother."

Xiao Lancui had once had younger female cousins; before his downfall, he'd heard a few "brother"s from them, but those all disappeared afterward.

Xiao Lancui didn't correct Lu Ao. He quietly let Lu Ao lead him to the bathroom. He washed his hands, then grabbed a set of clean clothes for Lu Ao from the wardrobe on his way out.

The wardrobe was all loungewear.

After Lu Ao dressed, Xiao Lancui pointed at the cake and water, saying flatly, "I'm leaving. Eat something and rest."

Disappointment flashed in Lu Ao's eyes. He stared at the floor and whispered, "Thank you, brother. Goodbye."

Xiao Lancui's long lashes trembled slightly. He walked to the door, paused briefly, then went straight downstairs.

He wasn't Lu Ao.

There was no need for further contact from now on.

No need to meet again.