Nangong Min remained unmoved.
“You know what the Tang family would do if he came out to them. He needed someone absolutely safe—someone like me—as cover. He chose this path and enjoys it. You shouldn’t find it disgusting.”
His gaze fixed on Tang Yu with unreadable amusement. “Xiao Yu is nearly an adult, isn’t he? Perhaps you should try it someday.”
Tang Yu stared at him, stunned.
A sharp slap struck Nangong Min’s left cheek.
Tang Yifeng had returned with the things he came to collect. He shoved Nangong Min away.
“Bastard. What did you say to Xiao Yu? Get out. Now!”
Nangong Min touched the faint stubble on his cheek, surprised by Tang Yifeng’s fury. “Yifeng, calm down. I was joking with him—”
“Get out!”
Nangong Min shrugged without remorse, flashed them a reckless smile, and left.
It was the first time Tang Yu had seen his brother so angry. The moment Nangong Min turned away, Tang Yifeng gathered Tang Yu carefully into his arms.
“I’m sorry, darling. I should never have let him say those things to you. I’m sorry.”
Images of Tang Yifeng being overpowered collided with Nangong Min’s suggestion. Tang Yu tore free, rushed to the toilet, and retched. Acid burned his throat while tears forced out by nausea streamed down his face.
That casual remark became a fear suspended forever above him, swaying without ever reaching solid ground.
Afterward, Nangong Min disappeared from Tang Yifeng’s side. He resurfaced only when news of the car crash spread, searching like a mad dog.
His voice pulled Tang Yu back to the present.
“Xiao Yu, what happened to your hand? Were you fighting?”
Nangong Min’s restrained amber perfume washed over him. Tang Yu felt only nausea.
The hand Nangong Min had lifted stopped in midair. He slowly withdrew it and smiled. “I was only worried.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Meeting Mrs. Zhou.” His eyes moved to the gauze over Ji Qian’ang’s left eye. “And this is…your companion?”
Tang Yu turned away, leaving him unanswered. Ji Qian’ang followed.
“Where are you going?”
Tang Yu walked into the lush garden. Beyond its palms and fountains lay the sea of Repulse Bay—the sea that knew no winter, its waves folding over the sand.
He climbed over a low stone barrier. Ji Qian’ang followed, the wind lifting one edge of his bandage.
Tang Yu moved slowly. His hand and head both hurt, and seeing Nangong Min had nearly driven him into another confrontation. If that happened, everything would be exposed.
Grandmother had decreed that from the moment Tang Yifeng died, no Tang family member could speak his name in public. His photographs and possessions vanished until it was as if he had never existed.
“Ji Qian’ang.”
Tang Yu’s bandage was bleeding through.
“Have you ever imagined someone important suddenly disappearing? Everyone forbids you to mention him. You can’t see his photographs. Everything he used is gone. It’s as if he never existed.”
His voice broke.
“How are you supposed to find someone like that?”
Tang Yu sank beneath a tree, buried his face against his knees, and sobbed.
In the half month since arriving, Ji Qian’ang had seen him curse, fight, lose his temper, and hide behind a cold face. He had never seen him cry.
Before the assignment, someone had warned Ji Qian’ang: “Tang Yu is unstable. He’s withdrawn, distrustful, and has a history of violence. The doctors suspect depression and occasional manic episodes. Be prepared. The Tang family needs someone who can help him stand again. Stay beside him and keep him safe.”
Ji Qian’ang had simply nodded. Sitting beside Tang Yu now, he understood how weightless the phrase be prepared had been. Tang Yu’s tears were heavier than any diagnosis.
“You don’t need to find him,” Ji Qian’ang said quietly. “Someone that important would live inside my heart.”
Salt wind moved through Tang Yu’s hair. A faint release touched his mouth.
“Would he?”
Tang Yifeng would live in his heart forever.
They sat together until Tang Yu’s crying softened. His body swayed, shoulder touching Ji Qian’ang’s arm, and his head settled into the hollow beside it.
His hair brushed Ji Qian’ang’s jaw. After a moment of stiffness, Ji Qian’ang put an arm around him so he would not fall.
Tang Yu’s wet lashes remained lowered.
“Ji Qian’ang…can I call you Brother?”
He knew how absurd the request was. Afraid of silence, he added, “Only once.”
A wave broke along the shore.
“Call me whatever you want,” Ji Qian’ang answered. “If you want to, do it.”
Tang Yu cried harder.
“Brother.”
“Mm.”
“Brother…”
“Mm.”
Hadn’t he said once? Ji Qian’ang shook his head, an almost invisible smile at his lips.
One by one, the lights of Repulse Bay went dark. Before dawn, Ji Qian’ang brought Tang Yu home.
Tang Yu woke sore on a hard bed with a low pillow. Ji Qian’ang was asleep beside it.
This was not his room.
Fragments of the night returned. He had called Ji Qian’ang Brother—again and again. His face flamed. He buried it in the pillow with a muffled groan.
He was the Tang family’s young master. He should never beg anyone, least of all a companion and substitute. Yet he had wept on Ji Qian’ang’s shoulder, clung to him all the way home, and ended up in his bed.
Tang Yu clawed at his hair. Enough.
Ji Qian’ang stirred. “Awake?”
“Nothing happened last night. You saw and heard nothing.”
Mischief entered Ji Qian’ang’s dark eye. “You cried for an hour, called me Brother seventeen times, and kept doing it in your sleep. You also insisted on getting into my bed.”
Tang Yu threw the pillow. “Shut up!”
Ji Qian’ang caught it lazily. “Why is your temper worse than yesterday?”
Tang Yu could not understand why Ji Qian’ang had not pushed him away or refused the request, or why he had guarded the bedside all night. Surely Ji Qian’ang was laughing at him inside.
Unable to face this casual new Brother, Tang Yu used the method he knew best: he pushed him away.
He remained silent on the drive to school and deliberately separated their desks.
Tian Qianxing leaned close. “Why are your eyes so swollen?”
“You stung them.”
Tian Qianxing retreated to the seat behind him with his yogurt. “Did you eat gunpowder? What a temper this early.”