Bro | Chapter 52

Wei Zhiyuan did not know how he got through that period. If he had to sum it up in one phrase, it would be “pitch-dark, without a trace of daylight.”

At first, he was angry.

At San Pang, at that unknown stranger girl, even at the completely clueless Xiao Bao.

Wei Zhiyuan felt as though he had been isolated by the entire world. No one cared about the painstaking effort he had poured himself into. From San Pang’s expression, he saw helplessness, and a kind of tolerance born of emotional ties.

But why should he need other people’s tolerance?

Had he done anything wrong?

He was like a man trudging forward through wind and snow, unable to see even his own outstretched hand, guided only by a single lighthouse casting a faint yet unique light.

And now, even that one last thing, they wanted to take away from him.

Anger is not a lasting emotion. Like a handful of sand, it either quickly scatters in the wind, or settles and compacts into something deep and hard, like stone, into resentment.

After that, Wei Zhiyuan’s emotions slipped toward the latter.

Resentment was like a seed buried in his heart for twenty years, buried so deep, lodged in his throat like a fishbone. With the slightest wind or rain, it would break through the soil and grow into a towering tree rooted in his flesh and blood.

A frenzied hatred spread through every corner of his heart. Like a corpse, no matter how much it was covered up, the smell of decay could not be hidden. Even though Wei Zhiyuan tried his best not to show it, even the usually careless Xiao Bao sensed that something was wrong, and whenever she spoke to him, she lowered her voice by several degrees.

His resentment was directed at everyone. Spread across them, it did not seem so intense for each individual, except for Wei Qian.

Wei Zhiyuan himself did not know how many years it had been. He could not even clearly describe how thick and viscous his feelings for his elder brother had become, to the point that now, love and hate were almost indistinguishable.

The deeper the love, the more one wishes to gnaw his bones, devour his flesh, and drink his blood.

Wei Zhiyuan’s mental state had entered a dangerous condition that was both extremely numb and extremely sensitive, brewing a storm that could erupt at any moment.

It was at this time that Wei Qian returned.

When Wei Qian got off the plane, he was already groggy. At the airport, he had Ma Chunming buy him a large cup of strong tea, gulped it down to barely rouse himself, then rushed to headquarters for a meeting to report on recent key work.

By the time he dragged himself home, completely exhausted, it was already past eight at night.

It had been hot in the south, so he had only worn a thin shirt underneath. Only after arriving here did he hastily wrap himself in a coat, but the biting northern chill still kept pouring into his clothes. Wei Qian entered the house carrying a body full of cold air, the exposed parts of his skin frozen pale.

The moment Wei Zhiyuan heard the door, his heart began to pound violently.

He walked out as if sleepwalking, feeling as though the living, breathing figure of his brother at the doorway had crashed straight into his eyes, painfully.

“You’re home? Freezing to death here,” Wei Qian glanced at him, then asked without lifting his head, “Anything to eat?”

Wei Zhiyuan could not speak. After a long while, he responded like a walking corpse, went into the kitchen, took out two eggs, started dicing vegetables, planning to fry up the leftover bowl of rice.

From outside, Wei Qian said, “Xiao Yuan, don’t go to all that trouble. If there’s leftover rice, just bring it over, I’ll grab a few bites.”

Wei Zhiyuan acted as if he had not heard.

It was as though he had to do something, anything, to maintain the illusion of calm on the surface.

Wei Qian thought he hadn’t heard. Warmed by the heat inside, laziness flooded through his body. He collapsed bonelessly onto the sofa, tossed his suitcase aside, and turned on the television.

By the time Wei Zhiyuan came out with a bowl of fried rice, Wei Qian had already fallen asleep on the sofa.

Wei Zhiyuan’s breathing stopped along with his footsteps.

The large bowl in his hands grew hot, but his hands seemed numb, unable to feel anything at all.

Wei Qian’s body had sunk into a corner of the soft sofa cushions. One leg was still crossed, not yet lowered. One hand rested loosely on the remote, the other lay awkwardly across his chest. His head tilted to one side against the back of the sofa, his chin almost tucked into his collar. His face was bloodless, his lips dry and cracked with fine splits, and even the rise and fall of his chest was faint.

…As if he were dead.

Wei Zhiyuan heard his heart slam heavily once.

Among the wide and indiscriminate things he had read, there had once been many stories about turning living people into specimens. He had treated them as curiosities before, never taking them seriously. But at that moment, a similar thought struck like lightning, crashing through his already shattered mental world.

If that person… could never speak again, could never open his eyes again, could never see anyone else…

Wei Zhiyuan felt that somewhere deep in his bones there must be something belonging to a criminal. He began to walk forward uncontrollably, slowly approaching the unknowing Wei Qian, his gaze fixed on him as if bewitched.

The hard-of-hearing Grandma Song was already asleep, and Xiao Bao had not yet returned from evening study.

Closer… a little closer.

Close enough to hear Wei Qian’s fine, steady breathing, to see his completely still eyelashes.

At that moment, a wave of sorrow surged up in Wei Zhiyuan’s heart without warning, like a river bursting its banks, violently sweeping away the cold killing intent that had clogged his chest. He seemed to hear the crashing roar of a tide. After a long time, he could barely make out, from beneath it, the voice of his own heart that had been pressed underwater. It was a single, simple sentence…

When did he get so thin?

The imagined resentment and the living, breathing person tore apart the love and desire inside Wei Zhiyuan.

It was agony that pierced to the bone. Then the two tangled together in a struggle to the death, and finally both dissolved into an almost despairing clarity.

Only feelings carved into the bone could suppress an inborn obsession. Wei Zhiyuan knew that in his entire life, he would never again feel something like this.

At last, he set down the bowl he was holding. He curled his fingers, reddened from the heat, and gently pushed Wei Qian, bending down as he softly said, “Ge, wake up.”

…Wake up. I’m about to lose control. Please look at me. I could be crushed to pieces, my soul scattered, for you.

After that, nothing happened.

Once Wei Qian was woken, he finished off a large bowl of fried rice at lightning speed, probably not even chewing before swallowing. Then he swayed as he dragged his suitcase back into his room. As expected, he saw the “good deed” San Pang had done. There was no one else who could freely enter his room and pull off something so pointless.

Wei Qian did not like speculating about people around him, nor did he care to think deeply about what San Pang meant. He only felt that the fat guy had too much time on his hands, and muttered a curse, “Damn it, you dead fatso.”

Then he tore off the packaging and threw it away. He glanced at the lighter, could not tell how much it was worth, and casually stuffed it into a drawer. Finally, he flipped Feng Ning’s photo face down and shoved it into some corner.

In his eyes, it was just one small prank from San Pang, too trivial to even count as amusement, forgotten in the blink of an eye.

He did not notice the earth-shaking upheaval in Wei Zhiyuan’s heart at all.

That day was the first day of the second lunar month. It should have been nearing spring, yet there was no hint of it. The entire day was overcast, as if holding back a heavy snowfall. The river had not thawed, and spring seemed forgotten in the frozen cold.

The crisis of the C City project was officially resolved, and the whole company welcomed a belated annual meeting along with an exceptionally generous year-end bonus.

Perhaps because his mental state had relaxed too much, Wei Qian actually overslept that day. It was only when San Pang came knocking as he was about to leave that Wei Qian was forcibly dragged out of bed.

Wei Qian hastily cleaned himself up in a flurry and rushed out, not even noticing what he had left behind.

On the way, San Pang probed, “Did Xiao Yuan say anything to you?”

“Xiao Yuan?” Wei Qian paused. “Say what?”

San Pang’s eyes flickered, and he quickly changed the subject. During this period, he had been on edge, afraid that Wei Zhiyuan might do something irrational and harm himself or others. But Wei Zhiyuan had instead turned into a dud shell, saying nothing and doing nothing.

San Pang thought, Strange… could he be holding back some big move?

San Pang said, “Oh right, tonight’s the event. The celebration banquet too, you know that, right?”

Wei Qian said, “Mm.”

San Pang said, “Invitations have all been sent to the major shareholders and past partners. Family can be brought along… oh right, I also invited Feng Ning.”

Wei Qian rolled his eyes.

San Pang immediately warned, “You agreed to this yourself!”

Wei Qian could only wave a hand and let him be.

But when the celebration banquet began that evening, President Zhang started stirring things up again, proposing that they hang up the large real-scene images of the C City project so everyone could share in the good fortune.

Although President Zhang had been the main culprit behind their earlier mess, face still had to be given. When Wei Qian had someone look for it, he discovered that in the rush that morning, he had forgotten to bring it out. He had no choice but to call home and have Wei Zhiyuan, who happened to be there, deliver it.

When Wei Zhiyuan arrived downstairs at the company, the chairman’s secretary was already waiting. She hurried forward warmly. “You must be Chairman Wei’s younger brother? He asked me to come down and meet you.”

The chairman’s secretary was in her thirties. She had the appearance of a delicate young woman, but her personality could switch seamlessly into that of a rough man. She had just spoken gently to Wei Zhiyuan when she answered a call and immediately started scolding, eyes wide, “You said you left the speech on his desk? You expect Chairman Wei to notice it himself? Why don’t you expect Columbus to rediscover a new continent while you’re at it? You kids, can you be a little more careful when you do things? How many times have I told you, you have to personally hand it to him, use your mouth to tell him this is the opening speech before the banquet, not some random congratulatory telegram from a partner! If you don’t tell him this thing even exists, he’ll go up, bow, and tell everyone to eat well and drink well, you believe that or not?”

Then she seemed to realize she had just complained about her boss in front of his brother. She quickly forced out a smile at Wei Zhiyuan. With astonishing speed, she switched expressions and, in a soft, gentle voice like a Japanese woman taking tiny steps, said, “You’re still a student, right? Sigh, our job is to handle all these trivial details the boss doesn’t need to worry about. Thinking about it, being in school was more fun.”

Wei Zhiyuan politely smiled back, but in his mind, the words the woman had just said replayed over and over like a spell.

You expect him to notice it himself?

Use your mouth to tell him…

The elevator soon arrived. The secretary took what Wei Zhiyuan had brought and thoughtfully arranged a seat for him. “Thanks for making a special trip. Chairman Wei said you should go back with him after dinner. If anything’s not taken care of properly, just tell big sister.”

With that, she clicked away in high heels, like a rabid firecracker. Following her “trajectory,” Wei Zhiyuan looked up and saw his brother.

Wei Qian was dressed in formal wear, one hand in his pocket. The hem of his suit jacket was lifted slightly by his wrist, revealing a faint glimpse of his waist. The tie around his neck was still the one Wei Zhiyuan had bought him back then. In his hand was a sheet of paper someone had just given him, probably the opening speech the secretary had mentioned.

His face was full of impatience. He seemed about to say something when a balding old man walked over. He had no choice but to temporarily put away his personal emotions and put on a perfectly measured, warm smile.

Wei Zhiyuan stared at him without blinking until the lights in the hall dimmed.

He watched as Wei Qian casually folded that stupid piece of paper and stuffed it into the chairman’s secretary’s cup, then walked onto the stage empty-handed and delivered a brief yet appropriate opening.

The only beam of light in the hall followed him, and so did everyone’s gaze.

Wei Zhiyuan could not help recalling more—

The boy from over ten years ago who had beaten a wild dog to death with a brick. The way he had laughed so hard he bent over at that old “suicide note.” The way he had strode over, picked him up, and made him let go of the iron pipe. The smell of medicinal liniment and cigarette smoke, like something steeped in time. The body covered in injuries in a hotel room in a distant city late at night…

Cold, resolute, gentle, anxious, angry, helpless… every expression that had ever appeared on that person’s face.

The banquet began, glasses clinking. Everyone seemed relaxed and cheerful, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

Wei Zhiyuan had no appetite. He saw the girl from the photo. In person, she seemed even more beautiful than in the picture. Standing beside San Pang, she cast a shy glance at Wei Qian, then lowered her head in embarrassment.

So it was her?

With Wei Zhiyuan’s intelligence, after he calmed down, he had already guessed that nothing had started between his brother and that girl. Most likely San Pang had deliberately tried to provoke him… but what of it?

They could start now.

Wei Zhiyuan did not eat. He only drank on an empty stomach. In the haze of alcohol, utterly exhausted, he thought, Should I give up?

In his memory, anything he had ever wanted, he had always managed to get. And this arrogance had finally suffered a devastating blow.

Whether it was to give San Pang face or out of genuine intent, Wei Qian behaved in front of Feng Ning like a proper young elite. Watching them chatting and laughing, San Pang quietly slipped away, relief settling over his face like a stone finally falling to the ground.

Wei Zhiyuan closed his eyes. The scales in his heart, wavering endlessly, finally tipped to one side.

Fine. I’ll give up.

He lifted a full glass of strong liquor and poured it down his throat in one go. The burning sensation traveled all the way to his stomach, yet what lingered on the tip of his tongue was only bitterness.

It was not until the banquet ended that Wei Qian finally freed himself from the others and, guided by the secretary, found Wei Zhiyuan.

Wei Zhiyuan reeked of alcohol. Something was wrong with his gaze.

Wei Qian had no choice but to prop him up. “You brat, you’ve learned to drink now? No one keeping an eye on you?”

Wei Zhiyuan stared at him in a daze, saying nothing, obediently letting himself be pulled up.

Wei Qian helped him all the way to his office, dropped him into a chair, and poured him a cup of cold tea. “Sober up before we go home.”

After that, Wei Qian took off his suit jacket, preparing to change into his overcoat before heading out.

Wei Zhiyuan spoke softly, “Ge…”

Wei Qian loosened the tie that was strangling his neck a little and responded casually, “Mm?”

He’s about to belong to someone else, Wei Zhiyuan thought in despair. I’ve already given up, but he still doesn’t know anything…

The secretary’s words echoed again in his ears as if by some unseen force.

Use your mouth to tell him… tell him…

Wei Qian noticed he had not spoken for a long while and thought the drunk had already fallen asleep.

His tie was half undone, a few fingers still tangled in it. He turned halfway, as if to glance back at Wei Zhiyuan. At that moment, he was suddenly slammed back several steps by someone lunging at him, his back hitting the wall.

“Ge…”

The person pressed heavily against him, murmuring again like in a dream. Before Wei Qian could react, the collar still loosely wrapped with his tie was roughly yanked forward. A burning-hot kiss blocked the question that had not yet left his mouth.

Desperate, all-or-nothing, it swept through everything in an instant, destroying all resistance.

Wei Qian’s mind went completely blank.

Only then did he smell the alcohol on the other person, so strong it was almost suffocating.

At that moment, the door to Wei Qian’s office was pushed open. The sound snapped him back to his senses. He shoved Wei Zhiyuan away at once.

Standing at the doorway was a startled Lao Xiong.

Wei Zhiyuan staggered backward, his lower back hitting Wei Qian’s desk. The documents on it wobbled and fell. He slid down like mud, feeling as if his chin had taken a punch. His lips were cut by his teeth, the metallic smell of blood rushing up, his vision filled with sparks.

Lao Xiong reacted quickly. He turned and locked the door, then rushed forward and grabbed Wei Qian’s fist before it could fall again.

“Qian’er!” Lao Xiong bumped him aside with his shoulder, dragging him away. “Not here. That’s enough!”

Wei Qian felt his temples throb wildly, pulling at the corners of his eyes without end. When he straightened up, his vision almost went black, his face turning deathly pale. Wei Zhiyuan had angered him so much that sharp pains stabbed through his chest.

Lao Xiong forced him into a chair, then glanced at Wei Zhiyuan with a frown and bent down to check. “Did you hit the back of your head? Can you stand?”

Wei Zhiyuan refused the hand extended to help him up. He staggered to his feet. The alcohol had already worn off, but he did not want to think, did not want to say anything. He simply stood there in silence.

It took a long while before the breath stuck in Wei Qian’s chest came back. He did not want to explain to Lao Xiong what had happened. Even he himself could not make sense of it. He could only pretend to be calm and say, “What did you need me for?”

Lao Xiong looked at the mess on the floor, sighed, bent down to pick up the documents that Wei Zhiyuan had knocked over, and after a moment of silence, said softly, “Qian’er, I’m leaving.”

Wei Qian: “What?”

“I’m taking Chen Lu with me,” Lao Xiong said in a low voice. “I’m quitting. I’ll transfer my shares. If you want them, take them. If not, I’ll transfer them to a third party.”

Wei Qian took a deep breath. “You’ve decided?”

Lao Xiong: “Mm.”

Wei Qian was silent for a long time. Finally, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples lightly. “Fine. I’ll take them.”

Lao Xiong nodded, not intending to stay any longer. As he turned to leave, he cast a deep glance at Wei Zhiyuan standing in the shadows and let out a faint sigh. “I’ll call you a driver.”

And that night, the turmoil did not end there.

After Wei Zhiyuan left, Xiao Bao came home once, made sure Grandma Song had food, gave her medicine, and then hurried back to school for evening study.

As usual, Grandma Song saw her to the door and reminded her to walk carefully. Just then, she felt a warmth beneath her.

At first, she did not react.

Xiao Bao happened to glance over. “Ah, Grandma, why are your pants wet?”

Grandma Song lowered her head as if struck by lightning. In shock and shame, she realized she had become incontinent.

Xiao Bao immediately understood. She threw her schoolbag aside and rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll help you change first—”

Grandma Song stumbled back in panic.

“Grandma, don’t move, I’ll help you change.”

“No need!” Grandma Song, her speech already unclear, nearly screamed at her.

Xiao Bao had never heard her make such a sharp sound before and froze on the spot.

Grandma Song trembled. “You… you go… go to school. Go, go on.”

“Grandma…”

One hand braced against the wall, Grandma Song waved her cane at her. “Go! Go quickly!”

Xiao Bao hesitated. “Can you manage on your own?”

Grandma Song roared, “Go!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going right now. You… it’s fine, take it slow. I’ll wash your pants tonight… ah, ah, don’t worry, I’m going, I’m going right now.”

Grandma Song drove Xiao Bao away roughly, feeling as though her spine had been pulled out. It took her more than half an hour to change out of the urine-soaked pants, leaving her drenched in sweat.

She wanted to cry in the sour stench, but her tears had long since dried up. Not a single drop would come.

Ten years ago, she had picked up scraps all the way from her hometown to this city. Back then, she had been so poor, yet so dignified.

She had never imagined she would end up like this. Grandma Song almost felt she was no longer a person.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

For a long time, she did not respond, until Ma Zi’s mother’s voice came from outside. “Old sister, are you asleep?”

Grandma Song moved over and opened the door.

Ma Zi’s mother sat in a portable wheelchair, holding a crutch in one arm, dressed up and radiant. Aside from a map and a bottle of mineral water, she carried nothing.

“Old sister,” Ma Zi’s mother said, “I’m leaving while they’re not around. If I don’t go now, once the weather warms, I’ll have to wait until next year.”

Once the weather warms, it is not so easy for wanderers to die.

“I came to say goodbye.” After speaking, she maneuvered her wheelchair toward the elevator.

At that moment, Grandma Song suddenly called out to her, “Auntie!”

Ma Zi’s mother turned back to look at her.

Grandma Song’s lips trembled for a long time. “I… I’ll go with you.”

Ma Zi’s mother seemed to have expected it. Without any surprise, she said, “Come, then.”

And so the two women, on a cold night on the verge of snowfall, walked out of everyone’s sight together, never to appear again.

Grandma Song came from Mid-Autumn, and left in early spring, carrying with her the last of her dignity.

“I can at least read a few characters. I wrote a will, and I even left a letter,” Ma Zi’s mother said to her on the road.

Grandma Song asked, “What did the letter say?”

“It said, ‘I’m not dead. I’ve just gone.’”

Not a parting by death, only a separation in life.

Pain and happiness are not brought with birth, nor taken away in death.

Only twilight is magnificent beyond compare. —Hai Zi

[Volume Three: Infancy]