The torrential rain poured down, and muddy water flowed freely, yet the mountain cave illuminated by firelight remained dry.
Large leaves were stacked thickly at the cave entrance, forming a windproof wall. Ji Cheng was still uneasy and went to check, ensuring no wind was leaking into the cave.
In the corner on the left side of the cave, Ji Mian sat quietly with his eyes lowered. His wet body was draped in a thin outer coat, and his face, pale under the flickering firelight, showed no trace of blood. He said nothing.
Drip. Drip.
The wet strands of his dark hair dripped water onto the ground. Though near the fire, it seemed it would take a long time for him to dry off completely.
Ji Cheng sat cross-legged by the fire, cautiously speaking, “Brother, why don’t you sit a bit closer? The fire will warm you up more.”
Ji Mian did not respond.
Ji Cheng awkwardly shut his mouth, grabbed a stick, and carefully pushed the fire closer to Ji Mian.
The cave had been found by Ji Cheng. He had apparently been here for some time. Inside, the ground had been covered with soft grass to form a makeshift bed, and there were some dry pieces of wood stacked nearby.
As for how he started the fire—he carried a small metal tube, the width of a finger, which, when activated, produced a fiery blade about a meter long. The settings could be adjusted to emit strong electric currents, turning it into a taser.
It was a small tool meant for self-defense, but here, it had become a convenient fire-starting device.
The fire crackled. Ji Cheng glanced at Ji Mian furtively.
During the earlier chaos, Ji Cheng had only noticed that his brother seemed unwell. But now, as he secretly observed him, he realized something was seriously wrong.
“Brother! Your hand!” Ji Cheng exclaimed.
Previously, Ji Mian had leaned on a makeshift crutch to walk. The crutch, a bent metal pipe, had sharp edges. Ji Mian’s hands had been sliced open by those sharp edges, blood flowing freely.
Fresh blood stained his pale fingertips, dripping onto the ground in sharp red splashes.
Ji Cheng hurried over and rummaged through his belongings, pulling out a small square box. It was a simple medical device.
A self-defense tool and this medical kit were the only things he had left.
Ji Cheng placed the medical device in front of Ji Mian. The small square box automatically opened and floated mid-air, emitting beams of light in all directions.
Soft light fell over Ji Mian. Ji Cheng observed Ji Mian’s expression without blinking.
Click.
With a soft sound, the medical device lost its glow and dropped to the ground.
Ji Mian’s face remained pale, with no signs of improvement. Only the cuts on his hands had been barely stopped from bleeding.
Ji Cheng froze. This showed that his brother’s injuries were severe, too severe for such a basic device to handle.
He immediately leaned in, wanting to check Ji Mian’s injuries further, but Ji Mian’s slender, blood-stained hand gently blocked him.
The movement was light, as Ji Mian had no strength.
Yet, the gesture was an unambiguous refusal.
Ji Cheng stiffened.
Ji Mian closed his eyes and rested.
But he never once looked at Ji Cheng.
Ji Cheng suddenly realized that since their reunion, Ji Mian had only spoken one sentence to him.
“Where’s your communicator?”
“It’s… broken.”
And then nothing more.
Ji Mian hadn’t asked any further questions—about how it broke or why Ji Cheng was here instead of at home.
… Ji Mian clearly didn’t want to talk to him.
Understanding this, Ji Cheng slumped to the ground, feeling dejected.
After a moment, he hesitantly spoke in a small voice: “I… I originally came out to look for you. Who knew I’d encounter a star storm in the Third Star System? My ship broke down, and I was forced to land here.”
Star storms were chaotic interstellar phenomena, akin to sandstorms on the old Earth.
He had been piloting a small, single-person spaceship—expensive and fast. Under normal circumstances, it should have been able to escape the star storm.
But he had forgotten to check the fuel before setting out.
With no fuel left, the ship lost power and was swept into the storm, eventually crashing on this planet.
This was an uninhabited wasteland planet in the Third Star System, with no signal. His communicator had also broken during the crash, leaving him stranded, waiting for external rescue.
He had taken some food from the ship, but it was gone in less than a day.
Now, all he had left were the self-defense tool and the medical device.
After recounting his story, Ji Cheng sneaked a glance at Ji Mian for any reaction.
But Ji Mian remained unresponsive.
Ji Cheng felt even more deflated.
In truth, Ji Mian had heard Ji Cheng’s words but couldn’t make out the details due to the persistent buzzing in his ears.
His thoughts were elsewhere—on Chu Shiye.
If not for Chu Shiye carrying him back to his home from the desolate wilderness, he might have already died there.
Where was Chu Shiye now? Was he stranded in the wilderness like himself, or…?
… No matter what, Chu Shiye would be fine.
Ji Mian believed in him.
Ji Cheng squatted beside Ji Mian, unaware of his thoughts, feeling more and more uneasy.
It was clear now—his brother didn’t want to talk to him.
But… he deserved it.
Hugging his head in despair, Ji Cheng’s thoughts drifted to the past.
Years ago, when their father brought him home, only the father knew Ji Cheng’s true identity. To the outside world, Ji Cheng was merely a servant in the household.
He never understood why his father treated him that way. He had asked, feeling aggrieved, countless times. But his father only told him to be patient, to endure a little longer.
At that time, many in the Ji family truly believed he was just a newly hired servant. They bullied him constantly, isolating him in countless subtle ways.
And it was there that he first met his older brother—Ji Mian.
His half-brother.
A born genius with S-level mental power, whose mother was the esteemed eldest daughter of a prestigious family—someone he and his own mother could never compare to.
Yet, despite being such an extraordinary person, Ji Mian remained completely unaware, kept in the dark by their shared father.
This knowledge had once been his only solace during the days he was forced to bow his head before others in the Ji family.
No matter how much better you are than me, I am still the son of our father, just like you.
And more than that—our father has kept this a secret from you.
So, in the end, I am different from you.
This thought used to bring him a strange sense of satisfaction. But that satisfaction didn’t last long.
Because he soon realized—
The only person in the entire Ji family who had ever shown him kindness was his brother, Ji Mian.
When others bullied him, it was Ji Mian who shielded him, who cared for him, who didn’t allow anyone to hurt him.
For a long time, in that vast and indifferent Ji household, Ji Mian was the only person who gave him warmth and kindness—
Even though, at the time, Ji Mian didn’t know they were brothers.
That warmth, that protection—
Not even their father had ever given him that.
This made him almost unable to face his brother.
He had even thought—perhaps he could just remain a servant forever. After all, his brother would always treat him well.
But in the end, everything changed completely at a single turning point.
That day, their father took his hand and publicly announced to the entire Ji family that he was his son.
In that instant, the once-indifferent gazes around him turned into flattery and admiration.
The sudden shift in attitude filled him with exhilaration.
It was as if, in that moment, he had become just like his brother—basking in the same halo of prestige, standing high above the clouds.
He couldn’t help but look up at his brother’s expression, wondering if he would see shock, anger, or sorrow…
Yet, from his brother’s eyes, he saw nothing.
It was like staring into a deep, frozen lake—so dark, so bottomless, that just approaching it sent a chill straight to the bone.
It felt like a stab to his chest, and instinctively, he avoided that gaze.
Later, his brother’s mother—the gentle and beautiful woman—fell ill and never recovered. Their father then officially brought his own mother into the family to live with them.
He became the rightful son of the Ji family. His mother, too, officially became the “second wife” of the household.
And his brother… never looked back. Never looked at him again.
After his mother arrived, she told him many things. That was when he learned—their father had never loved his brother’s mother. The one their father truly loved, the one he had always cared for, was only him and his mother.
Maybe it was his mother’s words, maybe it was their father’s attitude… but in the years that followed, he deliberately went against Ji Mian, treating him as an enemy in a battle for their father’s favor.
The kindness and warmth Ji Mian once gave him—he threw them all away as if they had never existed.
Or perhaps, because he had gained so much more, he no longer needed them.
Or maybe, because Ji Mian had fallen from an S-rank to a mere B-rank, the gap between them was no longer insurmountable.
For the first time, he didn’t have to look up at Ji Mian from a place of inferiority.
For the first time, he could stand tall, looking down from above.
Father’s love, mother’s love, the Ji family—everything would belong to him. Ji Mian would never be able to take anything from him again.
For a long time, he believed this thought without a shred of doubt. It became an obsession, a certainty.
But then, one day—Ji Mian left.
He heard the servants whispering, pushed open Ji Mian’s door, and found an empty room.
Everything was still there.
Yet, nothing was.
At that moment, he told himself—it didn’t matter.
That person would come back eventually.
He always did.
——However, it was on that very day that the news of the airship’s sudden and inexplicable crash was casually mentioned by his mother, drifting onto the dining table where he and his father sat.
His hand, gripping the knife and fork, froze in midair. A deafening buzz filled his ears, his mind going completely blank.
Whatever his father said afterward, he could no longer hear.
It was only then that he truly realized what he had lost.
…
Unknowingly, Ji Cheng had rambled on for quite some time.
These thoughts had been bottled up inside him for so long, but maybe he was trying to justify himself, or maybe he simply wanted to clarify something. Regardless, he ended up voicing them in bits and pieces.
Even though Ji Mian was barely listening, the words still drilled into his ears, making his already dizzy mind feel even more chaotic.
He tried to endure it, listening for a while, but all he heard was a string of meaningless nonsense.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer and coldly interrupted, “Are you sick? If you’re sick, go get treated.”
“I have nothing to do with you, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Ji Cheng: “…”
Ji Cheng’s eyes instantly turned red at those words, welling up with tears.
At that moment, Ji Mian braced himself against the mountainside, struggling to his feet.
Ji Cheng panicked. “Ge! Ge, where are you going?!”
Ji Mian said nothing, his gaze icy cold as he headed straight for the exit.
Seeing this, Ji Cheng immediately freaked out—his brother was actually planning to leave.
He lunged forward and grabbed Ji Mian’s arm in desperation. “Ge! I was wrong, Ge! Please don’t go, don’t leave me! I really know I was wrong…”
But in his panic, all he could think about was holding onto his brother and completely forgot about Ji Mian’s current physical condition.
Ji Cheng yanked at him twice, and Ji Mian’s vision was instantly swallowed by dizziness and darkness.
“Y-you…”
Before he could even finish his sentence, his body lost balance, and the world around him was consumed by blackness.
His last conscious thought was—
…He really wanted to curse.
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