19. Picked from the Garbage Heap

Yin Sangyu couldn’t contact Xiao Muyi anymore.

It made sense—even if he managed to bring his phone, there’d be no place to charge it in the small dark room.

With no other option, Yin Sangyu changed the underground trading network’s Li family reports from every three days to daily.

The seller, noticing Yin Sangyu’s increased frequency, guessed he was focused on Li Ziyi, so subsequent reports detailed more personal matters. Though centered on Li Ziyi in the hospital, they inevitably included Xiao Muyi.

The process was roundabout, but effective.

Since being locked in the small dark room, Xiao Muyi hadn’t left.

Li Huaien, knowing how severely he’d beaten Xiao Muyi, had no intention of providing treatment, only assigning a servant to deliver a bowl of plain rice and a cup of water daily to keep him alive.

As if afraid he’d die, yet afraid he wouldn’t.

Without Yin Sangyu’s [Mother’s Blessing], Xiao Muyi might not have survived, or at best, his health would be ruined.

Now, his main issue was weakness from lack of nourishment.

…

On the fifth day of Xiao Muyi’s confinement, Li Ziyi, finally able to use a wheelchair, returned home from the hospital to recuperate.

His first act was to storm to Xiao Muyi in a rage.

He ordered the door opened. Sunlight flooded the small dark room, revealing its interior.

The room had only a partitioned toilet, nothing else. Xiao Muyi, filthy from days of confinement, covered in dust and blood, huddled in a corner, motionless, seemingly unconscious.

Li Ziyi glanced at him with disgust, telling a servant, “He’s filthy. Get a hose and clean him up.”

The servants, not daring to dawdle, fetched a hose, turned it on, and sprayed Xiao Muyi fiercely.

Jolted awake, Xiao Muyi raised his head, saw Li Ziyi against the backlight, his gaze darkening. Without struggling or dodging, he let the icy water drench him.

After about ten minutes, Li Ziyi was satisfied. He had the servants drag Xiao Muyi before him, asking condescendingly, “How did that female alpha get on you?”

“You’re so cheap, you must’ve enjoyed it even if forced, right?”

Soaked, Xiao Muyi’s clothes clung to him, revealing his fine figure. Hearing Li Ziyi’s question, the servants’ gazes shifted, mixing disdain with something else.

Xiao Muyi propped himself up slightly, shaking his head, timidly and weakly, “Brother, I didn’t.”

“You dare say you didn’t!” Li Ziyi roared, startling everyone.

Waking in the hospital, he’d been told his injury there was severe—a bolt from the blue.

Every step brought piercing pain, urination unbearable. Doctors said poor recovery could ruin him permanently. How could he endure that?

Unable to find the female alpha, his fury had nowhere to go. Xiao Muyi, who drew her in, was the perfect scapegoat.

Unbeknownst to Li Ziyi, beneath his hatred for the female alpha and Xiao Muyi lurked a deeply twisted jealousy.

He wouldn’t admit he’d fixated on his timid, lowly “cousin” since childhood.

At some point, seeing Xiao Muyi’s wretched state brought him thrilling excitement, body and soul, making him tremble. Thus, Li Ziyi often punished and berated him under the guise of discipline.

While away recovering, he relied on Xiao Muyi’s old photos to sate his perverse desires.

But repetition dulled their thrill. Seeking stronger stimulation, he returned, planning to offer Xiao Muyi to his friends for amusement, recording it for his pleasure.

This way, he avoided touching the repulsive Xiao Muyi, yet felt involved, gaining immense satisfaction.

But the female alpha’s interference ruined everything.

Li Ziyi felt cuckolded, hating Xiao Muyi for being taken without his permission, deeming him tainted, unworthy of his care, while fantasizing about Xiao Muyi under the female alpha, both excited and resentful.

His emotions morphed into contempt. He raged, “You say you didn’t? Look at yourself. If you didn’t seduce her, would an alpha want you?”

With guilt imposed, Xiao Muyi couldn’t refute, staying silent as usual, letting him vent.

To Li Ziyi, this was admission. Taking a whip prepared by a servant, he said darkly, “Dad kindly adopted you, yet you shame the Li family. Today, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

What followed was unrelenting violence, lasting long.

Xiao Muyi endured silently, at most grunting, bearing intense pain. His hands on the ground clenched slowly, eyes brimming with the darkest hatred, brewing a terrifying storm, ready to tear someone to shreds.

When Li Ziyi finally vented, Xiao Muyi lay unconscious, the whip blood-soaked.

Despite his misery, Li Ziyi wasn’t done. He ordered the servants viciously, “Throw Xiao Muyi in a nearby garbage heap. Let him know he’s nothing without the Li family. See if he dares seduce others and shame Dad and me.”

A tall servant obeyed, grabbing Xiao Muyi from the ground, carrying him like a sack.

His rough handling and quick pace tore Xiao Muyi’s wounds, blood trailing as it dripped.

Xiao Muyi remained motionless, as if dead.

The servant carried him to a rarely visited garbage heap some distance from the Li residence, dumped him, and turned to leave.

After a few steps, he returned, checked Xiao Muyi’s breathing, confirmed he was alive, and left without looking back.

The moment he turned, Xiao Muyi, supposedly unconscious, opened his eyes, clear and calm.

He’d been awake, feigning unconsciousness to end the beating sooner.

But his wounds were real, and days without proper food or rest left him too weak to stand.

If no one saves me, I might die here…

Thinking this, Xiao Muyi’s face showed no regret or fear. Motionless, he stared blankly at the high, azure sky, like a broken, discarded porcelain doll.

As the sun set and the sky darkened, the garbage heap grew silent. A dim yellow streetlamp flickered on, faintly outlining nearby shapes.

Then, approaching footsteps became starkly clear.

Xiao Muyi slightly turned his eyes, seeing a tall man with long black hair in a gray long coat, likely an alpha by his build, coming closer.

Finally here…

Slowing his breathing, Xiao Muyi closed his eyes, waiting quietly.

As expected, the footsteps stopped purposefully before him.

Sensing someone’s presence nearing, the rustle of clothing close to his ear, Xiao Muyi opened his eyes at the right moment, meeting familiar narrow blue eyes.

“Who are you?”

Prepared, Yin Sangyu wore a mask. Caught by Xiao Muyi, he remained calm, “Is who I am important?”

“Very important.”

Drenched in cold water and left in the garbage heap half a day, Xiao Muyi was feverish. Holding on this long was tough. Speaking, his voice was hoarse, throat stinging, “The one who saved me in the forest cabin was you too, right?”

“It was.”

Hearing the off voice and seeing Xiao Muyi’s flushed, pale face, Yin Sangyu touched his forehead, finding it scalding. He needed treatment fast.

As if it were natural, he pulled Xiao Muyi’s arm, avoiding wounds, and lifted him horizontally, stepping over debris to leave the garbage heap.

Xiao Muyi let him, docile. After a short distance, he asked softly, “Why save me?”

What he really wanted to say was, Why target me?

The reason—forced by the system—would land him in a mental hospital if said.

Too lazy to concoct excuses needing future fixes, Yin Sangyu spouted nonsense seriously, “It’s the will of the god.”

Most would think him mad or belittled. Not Xiao Muyi. His emotions unmoved, he countered faintly, “Your god told you to save a villain?”

Yin Sangyu’s practiced calm authority made his nonsense sound plausible, “I follow an evil god who commands me to save villains.”

“Is that so…” Saved, Xiao Muyi’s taut nerves relaxed, consciousness blurring, eyes half-closed, voice fading, “Then, Mr. Evil God’s Envoy, will you help me?”

Yin Sangyu asked, “Help with what?”

“Help me…”

Xiao Muyi’s voice dwindled. Yin Sangyu leaned closer, ear to his lips.

He heard the audacious villain say, weak but resolute, “Kill everyone.”

What kind of antisocial maniac was this?

Help him kill, so Yin Sangyu could be tormented by headaches and sleepless nights?

Straightening, Yin Sangyu’s steps carried resentment. He said uprightly, “Give up. I won’t help you.”

Xiao Muyi’s eyelids closed, hiding his dark, hollow eyes, lips parting faintly to utter, “Liar…”

Hearing it, Yin Sangyu retorted instantly, “Madman.”