Chapter 27 "Brother, sing me a song..."

Ying Shixue's chopsticks slipped from her hand and clattered against the porcelain bowl, splashing soup across half the table.

Ying Shixue's brow twitched violently, and she subconsciously reached for a tissue to wipe her face, but Song Mingli pulled out a few tissues first, stood up, and walked to her side.

Ying Shixue raised his finger to wipe the oil stain that had been splashed on it. Song Mingli glanced over there, but the next second he grabbed Ying Shixue's wrist and wiped each of Ying Shixue's fingers, which were also covered in soup.

!!

This feeling was really strange. Although I couldn't explain why, I vaguely knew that brothers in ordinary families wouldn't get along like this.

"Go wash your hands," Song Mingli said, wiping both of his hands and gently patting his palms. "I'll take care of the things on the table."

The oil stains were absorbed by the paper towel, but the sticky feeling still lingered on her hands. Ying Shixue pursed her lips, got up, and walked to the bathroom.

Cool water flowed over his fingers, and the hand soap slowly foamed. As he rinsed it off, Ying Shixue couldn't help but curl his palms up... Did Song Mingli lightly scratch his palm when he was taking the picture?

He almost couldn't help but pull his hand back sharply, or perhaps he was mistaken, since such contact while wiping might be normal.

When he came out again, Song Mingli had already tidied up the table and put the bowls and chopsticks back in their original positions.

The other person said casually, "You twisted your ankle, so it's inconvenient for you to go down and come up. Wei Chao is clumsy, and if you get up at night to do something, he might accidentally bump into you again."

Ying Shixue: "I should go to sleep when I get back."

“Hmm,” Song Mingli nodded, “What if you want to drink water or grab something else before you go to sleep? Tang Mi has already told him, he won’t say anything out of the ordinary.”

Ying Shixue tilted her head and looked into the room: "There's only one bed here."

"This bed is big enough,"

“Moreover,” Song Mingli looked at him, “if you twist your ankle any more, you can forget about going to the summit for the next two days.”

A single, decisive strike.

Ying Shixue remained silent for a while and then said nothing more.

While clearing the dishes after dinner, Ying Shixue couldn't help but turn her head to look at him: "I feel like something's not quite right..."

Song Mingli raised an eyebrow, his smile undiminished: "What's wrong with that? Being taken care of by your own brother when you're injured is perfectly normal, isn't it?"

Ying Shixue: "Did you do this on purpose?"

She deliberately didn't explain in the meeting room, letting Xi Chengxu's words cause so many people to misunderstand. She deliberately carried him upstairs and deliberately didn't let him go downstairs to get his clothes, so he could only sleep here.

Song Mingli smiled slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

In the end, the problem was left unresolved. Ying Shixue simply gathered the bowls and chopsticks together, took them to the door, and the cleaning staff would come to collect them.

Song Mingli watched his departing figure, his pupils gradually darkening.

There's one thing Ying Shixue is wrong about: even if he hadn't twisted his ankle today, he would have found another excuse to call people up.

Just kidding. He hasn't shared a room with Xiaoxue in all these years since he became an adult. How could he possibly let Xiaoxue share a room with a man he's only known for a little over a month?

As it turns out, the bed is indeed large enough, roughly estimated to be 2.2 x 2.4 meters, more than enough for three or four people to lie down comfortably.

Ying Shixue gently lifted the blanket on the far left of the bed and lay down. After tidying up, she did some more work, and now it was already very late.

The bedside lamp was lowered, casting a dim, yellowish light. Ying Shixue turned off the bedside lamp and let herself sink into the soft blankets.

The sound of the shower dripping came from the bathroom. Ying Shixue pulled the corner of the blanket up to cover half of her face, and her consciousness began to gradually fade.

She didn't sleep well that night, perhaps because she had met too many people during the day. That night, Ying Shixue had a rare dream about things from many years ago.

Pain. It felt as if every bone and skin in his body was cracking and breaking open, as if someone was cutting him inch by inch with a knife. He tried hard to open his eyes, but his vision was blocked by blackness. He could only see a few blurry patches of color.

"Am I blind?" he asked uneasily, reaching out to touch his eyes. Only then did he realize that his right hand was too weak to move.

His cheek pressed against the cold floor, his nostrils filled with the smell of blood, and through the door, he seemed to hear someone talking.

"How were the results of those reagents today?"

The expensive and sophisticated machinery was running diligently, ticking away. The director, dressed in a white protective suit, respectfully accompanied the man in the suit: "Everything is proceeding according to plan. Please rest assured."

The man was clearly quite old; his long beard and hair, as well as his brow, were streaked with gray. The deep furrows on his forehead hinted at a dark and sinister scheming. Upon hearing this, he gave a cold sneer:

"Back then, I obtained first-hand data from my third uncle. He was getting senile. If it weren't for me, I don't know how long this plan would have been shelved."

The old man slammed his cane heavily on the ground, and his voice grew louder:

"Your plans, plans? Hmph, what plans? I've been burning through six figures every day for over three years now..." He whirled around, his venomous gaze locking onto the target with a sinister intensity: "What results have you achieved?"

The director broke out in a cold sweat and bowed repeatedly, apologizing profusely: "Please give us a little more time. Most of the materials left behind have been destroyed. We are making every effort to advance the research from the remaining materials."

The man in the suit gave him a cold look, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes.

The researchers kept their eyes down, not daring to make a sound that might attract the boss's attention.

The man in the suit paced back and forth in the laboratory a couple of times before the gloom between his brows eased slightly: "I heard that one of the test subjects escaped yesterday?"

“Ai’ai,” the director nodded, a hint of nervousness on his face, “Don’t worry, he didn’t get far before we caught him. He got a beating and is in solitary confinement now. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he submits in one go.”

The man in the suit looked somewhat displeased: "With so many adults watching, how could you let a child run away?"

The director said, "He must have been staking out the location for several days. It happened to be the time when he went to town every two weeks to buy supplies, and he secretly clung to the truck and managed to get a ride halfway there..."

The man in the suit sneered, "A seven-year-old child has turned half the lab upside down!"

The director hesitated, and Ying Shixue listened with difficulty to the conversation outside, her throat tightening with blood again.

He coughed softly, but the sound was so faint that it almost disappeared into the air in an instant. Even though it was over, his body instinctively trembled uncontrollably when he heard it again.

It was as if he had returned to the day he was caught. He ran desperately, but after only a few steps, he was grabbed and slammed to the ground. Fists rained down on him like a storm. At first, he could still remember to protect his head and abdomen, but soon he didn't even have the strength to scream. He could only groan intermittently between the punches hitting his body.

He had never realized that being pinned to the ground and brutally beaten was such a terrifying and desperate thing. For several seconds, he even felt that he was going to die. Blood gushed out from all over his face, and gradually he could no longer see anything in front of him.

Suddenly the door opened, and a sliver of light shone through the crack onto his face. His fingers twitched almost imperceptibly.

Help! Help me!

A long, cane-shaped object gradually appeared before him, and then he heard someone click their tongue impatiently: "How did it get like this?"

Director: "Yes, that little devil is quite clever. He took off his wristband and neck bracelet when he left, and even stole the white lab coat and left it behind. Humph, that's because he knew that there was a scent left on the clothes that could be tracked."

“However,” the director smiled sinisterly, the cold white light of the laboratory casting a terrifyingly ruthless shadow on his usually timid face, “he didn’t know that locators had been implanted in their bodies on the very first day they arrived.”

The camera slowly pans down, revealing a string of cold, straight black numbers on the left shoulder of the frail child on the ground. At this moment, each word seems to open its mouth wide, shedding black tears of blood.

-

Ying Shixue suddenly woke up with a start, sitting up in a cold sweat. The air conditioner had been blowing on her at night, making it quite cool, but in just a short while, cold sweat had soaked her back.

He gasped for breath to calm his racing heart as night streamed through the windowpane, flowing like water across the floor.

Song Mingli woke up the moment he sat up, and pulled back the covers to get closer to him: "...Xiaoxue?"

Ying Shixue turned his head, and in that moment of pitch-black night, his face was shockingly pale, devoid of any color.

Song Mingli's heart skipped a beat. He slowly moved closer to him again, and the distance between them closed infinitely. For a moment, Ying Shixue's nose could almost touch his neck.

Only then did he realize that Ying Shixue was trembling violently, almost entirely in a state of extreme fear and shaking.

When Ying Shixue saw him, her lips moved, seemingly completely unaware of why he had suddenly leaned closer. Her voice was already somewhat hoarse as she spoke: "...Brother?"

The next second, two lines of tears streamed down her face without warning, dripping like water from her delicate jawline onto the white blanket.

Song Mingli pulled him into his arms and gently stroked him from the back of his head down to his neck and back. He was so thin that he could even feel the shape of his shoulder blades. He patted him lightly, one stroke at a time.

Ying Shixue's throat moved as if she wanted to say something and laugh, but in the end, her lips trembled a few times and she fell silent again.

Song Mingli let him lean on his shoulder and neck without urging him.

After a long while, Ying Shixue finally spoke: "I just, I just had a dream."

He buried himself completely in Song Mingli's arms, unaware that he was almost unconsciously and instinctively calling for help.

Song Mingli gave a soft "hmm" and leaned down to affectionately touch the tip of his hair.

"In my dream, there were bad guys who arrested a lot of people."

"I..." He could barely finish the sentence. He turned his face away, and in the deep darkness of the night, Song Mingli felt his shoulder getting wet again.

Don't look at me.

Song Mingli felt a sharp pain in his heart, cherishing the person dearly and holding him tightly in his arms as if afraid of breaking him.

"Are there bad guys trying to kidnap Xiaoxue?"

Ying Shixue remained silent, enduring the pain and calming her breathing where no one could see her.

“I won’t let them take you away,” Song Mingli gently kissed the top of his head. “I promise you.”

Ying Shixue remained silent for a long time, while Song Mingli simply held him in his arms, gently rocking him as if to soothe him.

Just when Song Mingli thought he had fallen asleep, Ying Shixue suddenly turned over in his arms and said wearily, "Brother, sing me a song."