Chapter 2

The rain continued to fall, as if pouring out all the sorrow of the city. Large raindrops pounded against the hospital windows, making a pattering sound that mingled with the occasional footsteps and low sobs echoing down the corridor, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The corridor lights were a stark white, making Song Mingye's face appear bloodless. He leaned against the cold wall, his fingertips digging into his palms, trying to use the pain to dispel the numbness that had seeped into his bones.

Song Linchuan was still curled up on the bench in the corridor, his soaked clothes clinging to his body, outlining his thin frame. His shoulders were still trembling violently, tears mingling with the rain as they slid down his cheeks, dripping onto his knees and spreading into a small, dark puddle. The two beauty marks at the corners of his right eyes were wet with tears, like stars veiled in mist, conveying endless helplessness and despair.

“Brother…” Song Linchuan raised his head, his red and swollen eyes looking at Song Mingye, his voice choked with sobs, “Dad and Mom…are they really…gone?”

Song Mingye didn't look at him, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the emergency room, which the doctor had just pushed open, bringing the most devastating news. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he managed to utter a single word: "Hmm."

The word struck Song Linchuan's heart like a heavy hammer. He could no longer hold back and burst into tears, his sobs echoing through the empty corridor, making everyone who heard them feel a pang of sorrow. "Why...why did this happen..." he murmured between sobs, "It's...it's all my fault...if I hadn't fallen in the middle of the road in the rain, Dad and Mom wouldn't have tried to save me..."

Song Mingye's body stiffened abruptly, as if those words had struck a nerve. He whirled around, his eyes icy cold, his voice filled with suppressed rage: "You know it! Song Linchuan, you're a jinx!"

These words were like a sharp knife, piercing Song Linchuan's heart. His crying stopped instantly, the color draining from his face, leaving only a deathly pallor. He stared at Song Mingye in disbelief, his lips trembling, but his tears seemed frozen, refusing to flow. "A jinx..." he murmured, repeating the words over and over, his eyes vacant, "I'm a jinx... that's why Mom is gone, and now Dad and Aunt Wang are too..."

Seeing him like this, Song Mingye felt his anger suddenly extinguished as if doused with cold water, leaving only endless exhaustion and an inexplicable restlessness. He turned around, leaned against the wall again, and closed his eyes. He had felt just as helpless when his mother died, as if his whole world had collapsed. Now, his father was gone too, and he was truly all alone. And beside him was only this boy he loathed, who was nominally his brother.

The days that followed felt like they were on fast-forward, yet also incredibly long. Handling the funeral arrangements, receiving mourners, and dealing with the company's watchful veterans, Song Mingye was spinning like a top, barely having time to catch his breath. He lost a lot of weight, the dark circles under his eyes deepened, and stubble appeared on his chin. He looked haggard, yet exuded an unyielding resilience.

Song Linchuan seemed to have grown up overnight. He no longer followed behind Song Mingye timidly as before, nor did he chase after Song Mingye calling "Brother". He silently helped Song Mingye with the funeral arrangements, dressed in black mourning clothes, serving tea and water to the guests who came to pay their respects, and quietly burning paper money in front of the mourning hall.

His health was already poor, and the days of exhaustion and grief had made him even weaker. His face was as white as paper, and his lips were bloodless; a gust of wind seemed capable of knocking him over. Yet he stubbornly persevered, never uttering a word of complaint or lament. Only when the night was deep and quiet, and only the two of them remained in the mourning hall, would he curl up in a corner, secretly wiping away his tears with his sleeve, afraid that Song Mingye would see him.

Song Mingye saw all this but said nothing. He remained indifferent to Song Linchuan, even more so than before, and the two barely spoke to each other. During meals, Song Linchuan would bring the food to Song Mingye, then sit quietly to the side and eat slowly. In the evenings, when Song Mingye was handling company matters in his study, Song Linchuan would quietly make him a cup of hot tea, place it on his desk, and then gently close the door before returning to his own room.

He no longer tried to please Song Mingye in various ways as before, but simply did what he was supposed to do, like a silent little grass, striving to grow in the wind and rain.

When Wang Xiuhua's family came to offer their condolences, they were heartbroken to see Song Linchuan in such a state. Wang Xiuhua's sister held Song Linchuan's hand and cried, "Achuan, come with your aunt. Your aunt will take you home. No one here cares for you. Why suffer here?"

Song Linchuan shook his head, his eyes resolute: "Auntie, I'm not leaving. This is my home, and my brother... he needs me."

His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable determination. Song Mingye happened to be coming out of the study when he heard this. He paused, a slight ripple stirring in his heart, as if something had gently struck him. He didn't turn around, but walked straight out of the living room.

Following the funeral, the Song Group's crisis erupted. With Song Wei's sudden death, the company was leaderless, and several veterans seized the opportunity to form factions and vie for control. The stock price plummeted, several important projects were forced to halt due to lack of management, suppliers came knocking for payments, and banks exerted increasing pressure. The company faced unprecedented difficulties and was on the verge of collapse.

Song Mingye was forced to interrupt his studies and officially take over the Song Group. He had just turned eighteen and hadn't even had time to enjoy his youth before being thrust into the limelight. He had no experience and often felt powerless in the face of those shrewd and experienced veterans. They were outwardly respectful to him, but behind his back they were constantly sabotaging him, spreading rumors, and trying to remove him from his position as chairman.

Song Mingye spends every day at the company, attending meetings, reviewing documents, negotiating collaborations, and cleaning up messes, often not returning home until the early hours of the morning. His office is piled high with various documents and materials, coffee cups have gone through one after another, and the bloodshot eyes are becoming increasingly prominent, yet he still dares not slack off in the slightest. He knows he cannot fall; the Song Group is his father's life's work, and he must protect it.

The burden of the family naturally fell on Song Linchuan's shoulders. He was seventeen years old and still in high school. He would get up at five o'clock every morning to prepare breakfast for Song Mingye. His cooking skills weren't great, but he put his heart into it, making different dishes every day, such as millet porridge, steamed egg custard, sandwiches, and soy milk and fried dough sticks, trying his best to make sure Song Mingye ate well.

After preparing breakfast, he would place it on the table, then put on his schoolbag and go to school. When he got home from school in the evening, he would first clean the house, then cook dinner. If Song Mingye came home late, he would keep the food warm in the pot and sit on the sofa reading while waiting for him. Sometimes, if he had too much homework, he would do it while waiting; if he got really sleepy, he would doze off at the table, waking up immediately at the sound of the door opening.

On one occasion, Song Mingye was publicly humiliated by a veteran employee surnamed Liu. This Liu, a long-time employee with over a decade of experience, had always coveted the chairman's position and completely disregarded the inexperienced Song Mingye. At the board meeting, he deliberately raised a thorny issue to embarrass Song Mingye, adding sarcastically, "Chairman, you're young and inexperienced. It would be better to hand the company over to someone more capable, lest you ruin Chairman Song's life's work."

The other elders echoed his sentiments, creating an extremely awkward atmosphere. Song Mingye suppressed his anger, calmly analyzed the problem, and proposed his own solution. While not perfect, it temporarily silenced them. However, the anger within him was like ignited powder kegs, ready to explode at any moment.

It was past 11 p.m. when he got home. Song Linchuan was carrying a bowl of soup out of the kitchen. When he saw Song Mingye, his eyes lit up and he quickly said, "Brother, you're back? I made you some pork rib soup. Drink some to warm yourself up."

As he spoke, he handed over the soup bowl. Perhaps he was too hasty, or perhaps the fatigue of the past few days had made him a little dazed, he slipped and the soup bowl fell to the ground with a "crash," spilling the scalding pork rib soup all over the floor and onto his hands.

"Can't you be a little more careful?" Song Mingye's anger erupted instantly, his voice filled with impatience and suppressed rage. "You can't even hold a bowl of soup properly, what else can you do?!"

Song Linchuan trembled at his shout, his eyes instantly reddening. He looked at his scalded hand, then at the mess on the ground, his lips trembling as he whispered an apology: "I'm sorry, brother, I didn't mean to. I'll make you another bowl."

He crouched down, carefully picking up the shards of glass. His fingers were cut by sharp glass fragments, and beads of blood slowly seeped out, dripping onto the white tiles, starkly bright. But he seemed oblivious, focused only on picking up the pieces, tears welling in his eyes, yet he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

Looking at his thin back, Song Mingye's anger suddenly subsided, leaving only endless exhaustion and guilt. He had acted too impulsively; he shouldn't have taken out his frustrations from the company on Song Linchuan. This young man had already done very well; it was his own volatile temper that had caused him this.

He walked over and snatched the rag from Song Linchuan's hand: "Don't bother cleaning, I'll do it."

Song Linchuan was stunned for a moment, then looked up at him, his eyes red like a rabbit's, with a hint of surprise and a hint of grievance.

"Hold out your hand." Song Mingye's voice was deep, with a hint of barely perceptible tenderness.

Song Linchuan hesitated for a moment, then slowly extended his hand. His hand was very white, with a large area on the back of his hand burned red, several small blisters on it, and tiny wounds on his fingers from which blood was slowly seeping out.

Song Mingye's heart tightened, as if something had tugged at it. He turned and went to the room to retrieve the first-aid kit, taking out iodine, cotton swabs, and bandages. He carefully treated Song Linchuan's wound. His movements were somewhat clumsy, as if afraid of hurting him. He gently wiped the skin around the wound with the cotton swabs, his eyes focused and attentive.

"Be more careful next time." Song Mingye's voice was soft, tinged with guilt and heartache.

"Mmm." Song Linchuan nodded obediently, but the corners of his mouth secretly turned up, like a child who had received candy. The grievance in his eyes vanished instantly, leaving only joy.

This was the first time Song Mingye had taken the initiative to care about him, the first time he had spoken to him so gently. Even a simple word of advice warmed his heart, as if sunshine had shone in.

After treating his wound, Song Mingye gently placed a band-aid on Song Linchuan's finger. When he looked up, he saw Song Linchuan staring at him with a silly smile, his eyes sparkling like they held stars. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be calm as he said, "I'll go clean up the broken pieces on the ground. You go and rest."

"I'll help you clean up," Song Linchuan said immediately, reaching for a broom.

"No need, you go and rest." Song Mingye stopped him. "Your hand is injured, don't get it wet."

Song Linchuan was taken aback for a moment, then obediently replied, "Okay."

He sat on the sofa, watching Song Mingye clean up the broken pieces on the floor, feeling a sweet warmth in his heart. He felt that his brother didn't seem to dislike him as much anymore, and perhaps they could really get along well in the future.

As the days went by, Song Mingye's situation at the company gradually improved. Although young, he was very resilient, intelligent, and had an exceptional learning ability. Besides handling company affairs, he would stay up late every day reading various business books and materials to learn management experience and negotiation skills. He also proactively sought advice from senior colleagues, humbly learning from them and gradually gaining their recognition.

He gradually learned to deal with the difficult questions from the veterans, using his wisdom and skills to resolve crisis after crisis. He decisively removed several inactive veterans and promoted a group of capable and loyal young people, gradually stabilizing the company's situation, and the stock price began to recover.

Song Linchuan continued to quietly take care of everything at home for him every day. When Song Mingye stayed up late working overtime, he would quietly place a desk lamp in his study, along with a glass of warm milk and a snack; when he was sick, he would stay by his side without leaving for a moment, bringing him water and medicine, and wiping his forehead with a damp towel to cool him down; when he was in a bad mood, he would quietly stay by his side, saying nothing, just handing him a cup of hot tea.

Song Mingye grew increasingly accustomed to Song Linchuan's presence, to the aroma of food that greeted him every day upon returning home, to the warm milk always placed beside his desk, and to having someone who cared for him so tenderly by his side. He even began to look forward to returning home each day, to seeing that figure in an apron bustling in the kitchen, and to hearing that slightly timid "Brother, you're back."

His attitude towards Song Linchuan gradually changed. He was no longer indifferent to him, but would take the initiative to talk to him, ask him about school, call to check on him when he came home late from school, take time to accompany him to the supermarket on weekends, and even patiently help him explain things when Song Linchuan encountered difficulties.

Once, Song Linchuan did poorly on his math test and was in a bad mood, sitting alone in his room lost in thought. When Song Mingye came home from work and saw him like this, he went over and asked, "What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?"

Song Linchuan hesitated for a moment, then took out the test paper and said with his head down, "Brother, I failed my math test."

Song Mingye picked up the test paper and looked at it; it was covered with red crosses. Instead of criticizing him, he sat beside him and patiently helped him analyze the mistakes and explain the key concepts. His voice was gentle and his explanations clear. Song Linchuan listened attentively, and the originally difficult questions instantly became simple.

After explaining the problem, Song Mingye looked at him and said, "It's okay, it's just that you did poorly on one test. Just try harder next time. If you have any questions in the future, you can ask me anytime."

Song Linchuan looked up, his eyes sparkling: "Brother, you're so kind."

Song Mingye's lips curled up slightly, revealing a very faint smile. It was the first genuine smile he had given since his father's death.

Song Linchuan could clearly feel this change. He became more and more cheerful, no longer as timid as before. He would take the initiative to share interesting things at school with Song Mingye, watch TV with him, and help him cook, even though he sometimes made things worse, he still enjoyed it.

The atmosphere at home became increasingly warm and cozy, no longer as cold and oppressive as before. The two of them could often be heard talking in the living room. Sometimes Song Mingye would talk about things at the company, and sometimes Song Linchuan would talk about interesting things at school. The warm yellow light shone on the two of them, creating a warm scene.

However, a strange emotion gradually arose in Song Mingye's heart. This emotion was stronger and more intense than kinship, yet it seemed particularly hesitant and uneasy in the face of the "brotherly" relationship.

He found himself becoming increasingly attached to Song Linchuan. Seeing Song Linchuan getting close to other classmates, chatting and laughing, would inexplicably irritate him, his heart filled with jealousy; hearing Song Linchuan laughing and talking with Jiang Ziyu and Qi Zihao on the phone, he couldn't help but listen closely, wanting to know what they were talking about; even when Song Linchuan was asleep, he couldn't help but lean down, wanting to touch the top of his soft hair, wanting to get close to him, to feel his warmth.

Once, Song Linchuan fell asleep and accidentally rolled off the sofa. Song Mingye happened to see this and quickly ran over to pick him up. Song Linchuan was sleeping soundly, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he were having a bad dream. His head rested in Song Mingye's chest, his breathing even, his warm breath spraying onto Song Mingye's chest, carrying a faint scent of soap.

Song Mingye held him, his body instantly stiffening. He could clearly feel the warmth of the boy in his arms, his soft body, and smell his clean scent. His heart pounded, as if it would leap out of his chest, and his face gradually flushed. He carefully carried Song Linchuan back to the room, gently placed him on the bed, covered him with a blanket, and then sat quietly by the bed, watching his sleeping face.

Song Linchuan's sleeping face was serene, his long eyelashes like two small fans covering his eyelids, and the beauty mark at the corner of his right eye was faintly visible in the moonlight, exceptionally charming. Song Mingye's gaze lingered on his face, from his full forehead to his straight nose, and then to his soft lips, his heart beating faster and faster.

He knew this feeling was wrong; they were brothers in name only, and such a relationship was not accepted by society. But he couldn't control himself. This feeling, like a vine, grew wildly in his heart, entwining him and making it hard for him to breathe.

He hesitated, unsure whether he should confess his feelings. He was afraid of scaring Song Linchuan, afraid he would despise him, afraid their hard-won relationship would be ruined. He was even more afraid that once he spoke, there would be no going back.

One late night, Song Mingye returned home after finishing his work at the company. The living room light was still on, and Song Linchuan was asleep on the sofa, clutching an open book in his hand. He must have accidentally fallen asleep while waiting for Song Mingye to come home.

Moonlight streamed through the window, falling on Song Linchuan's face and casting a soft, silvery glow. His brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were having an unsettling dream. Song Mingye walked over, gently took off his coat, and draped it over Song Linchuan's shoulders, his movements tender, as if afraid of disturbing his peaceful slumber.

He crouched down and looked at him quietly, his eyes so tender they seemed to drip with affection, yet also revealing a hint of barely concealed struggle.

“A-Chuan…” Song Mingye’s voice was soft, tinged with confusion and pain, “What should I do? I think… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Song Linchuan seemed to sense something, shifted his body, and mumbled, "Brother..."

Song Mingye's heart skipped a beat. He quickly averted his gaze, stood up, took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. He couldn't go on like this; he had to make a decision.

Just then, his phone rang, breaking the silence of the living room. He glanced at the screen; the name displayed was "Lin Yu".

Song Mingye's eyes instantly became complicated, and his brows furrowed tightly. He hesitated for a moment, then went to the balcony, answered the phone, and closed the balcony door behind him, afraid of waking Song Linchuan.