He once had one.

In a very small, very tiny room, there was him, his older brother, and Qi Zhen.

For as long as Qi Yan could remember, he had always been in that room with his brother. Qi Zhen would not allow them to play with other people, and even less to leave the courtyard.

But that was alright.

He had his brother — they had been together since birth, eating together, sleeping together, playing together. Qi Yan did not need anyone else, and he did not envy anyone else.

He had a mother who loved him, and an older brother who always looked after him.

Qi Zhen would go out to work during the day, at a towel factory. The job had been found for her by her cousin, and though it was tiring, it was enough to sustain their lives, and Qi Zhen was happy.

She loved wearing skirts — floral prints, wine red, apple green — whatever was bright and vivid, she wore it.

In Qi Yan’s memory, Qi Zhen was forever brimming with passion for life, her face glowing with a smile as radiant as sunlight.

Their home had an old piano — battered and worn, with no key cover, as though it had been salvaged from a junkyard, its tuning completely off.

But Qi Zhen loved it dearly. Every evening after work, she would play a piece for them to listen to.

She was not a particularly skilled player, and sometimes she would let herself bang away wildly at the keys, then fix them with a sly, mischievous look and ask: “Well? Not the slightest bit inferior to the world-class masters, is it?”

At that, his older brother would press his lips together with a little smile, silently disagreeing with Qi Zhen’s claim.

He, on the other hand, was more afraid of making Qi Zhen sad, so he would run over and hug her, saying: “That’s right — not the slightest bit inferior.”

Qi Zhen would then joyfully kiss him on the cheek. “A’Yan is still the more obedient one.”

This happy and peaceful time lasted nine years — until one day, Qi Zhen came home with terror written all over her face. The moment she stepped through the door, she pulled both him and his brother into a tight embrace.

Her hands stroked their heads, and her tears trickled down into his neck.

Qi Yan felt her trembling.

Crying all the while, Qi Zhen urged them to hide inside the wardrobe. She cupped his older brother’s face in her hands and commanded: “No matter what happens, do not come out. Do not make a sound. Protect your little brother.”

His older brother gave a single nod, and they huddled in the pitch-black wardrobe, his brother holding him tightly.

Not long after, a group of men stormed directly into their home. Through the thin gap in the wardrobe doors, Qi Yan caught his first glimpse of Wen Hongsheng, and also of Seventh Uncle, Guo Zhengying.

Qi Zhen knelt on the floor, trembling all over. Wen Hongsheng, immaculately dressed in his suit, settled himself leisurely onto the sofa across from her.

He held a long-haired grey cat in his arms. The cat lay docilely in his lap and opened its mouth in a slow, lazy yawn.

Wen Hongsheng said: “You’ve lost a great deal of weight.”

Qi Zhen clutched her face with both hands, on the verge of collapse. “I don’t want anything from you — just let me go, please.”

Wen Hongsheng said: “Zhenzhen, you stole something from me. It needs to be returned. Where is my child?”

Qi Zhen raised her head and glared at him with vicious, burning eyes. “I got rid of it!”

Wen Hongsheng held onto the last thread of his patience and asked again: “Where is my child?”

Qi Zhen let out a cold laugh. “Can’t you understand? The very first thing I did after leaving you was to have an abortion. Wen Hongsheng, how could you ever think I’d be willing to bear your child? Just hearing you breathe makes me sick enough to vomit!”

Crack!

Wen Hongsheng struck Qi Zhen viciously across the face. She was knocked to the floor, her cheek instantly swelling red, her ears ringing loudly.

Qi Yan was so startled he lurched forward — he wanted to burst out, but his older brother held him fast in his arms.

“Don’t make a sound!” his brother said, his voice impossibly small. “Everything will be fine. It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Wen Hongsheng seized Qi Zhen by the hair with a sudden ferocious grip, his expression murderous. “Was I not good to you?! After we were married — in what way did I ever fail you?! Qi Zhen, how could you hurt me like this!”

Qi Zhen’s lips trembled in pain.

Wen Hongsheng turned to Guo Zhengying with a sharp order: “Search! Find the child!”

They tore through the rooms, ransacking everything — the crashing and clattering sent hearts pounding wildly.

Qi Yan could hear his older brother’s heartbeat quickening with fear. The men outside were already moving toward the wardrobe. Then, just as they drew close, his brother pressed his lips to Qi Yan’s ear and made a soft, quiet promise: “Take good care of Mother. I’ll come back for you.”

“What?” he asked.

Before any answer could come, his older brother shoved the wardrobe door open and burst out, pulling it firmly shut behind him.

Qi Zhen was startled so badly she shook all over. She turned toward him with red-rimmed eyes and snapped: “Who told you to come out!”

At that moment, darkness filled Qi Yan’s vision entirely. He could see nothing at all. He crouched in the wardrobe, arms wrapped around his knees, and was suddenly overcome by a suffocating sense of safety.

He could only listen — as his older brother spoke in a perfectly calm voice: “Were you looking for me?”

Blood ties are a most extraordinary bond. From the very first moment Wen Hongsheng laid eyes on the boy, he knew — this was his son.

Wen Hongsheng asked him: “What is your name?”

The boy countered: “What is yours?”

Wen Hongsheng smiled, satisfied by the boy’s composure and nerve. He answered: “My surname is Wen.”

“Wen Lang.”

Qi Zhen’s eyes flew wide open. She rushed forward and threw her arms around him. “You’re not — you’re not!”

Wen Lang closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. The gesture left Qi Zhen momentarily frozen still.

Wen Lang said: “I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt my mother, alright?”

Wen Hongsheng asked him: “You’re negotiating terms with me?”

Wen Lang said: “I believe I have the right to.”

He did, of course.

Wen Hongsheng had traveled all the way from Huaisha, moving heaven and earth to find his son — naturally, he would regard the boy as a treasure beyond price.

Wen Hongsheng had Guo Zhengying escort Wen Lang downstairs. The room then held only him and Qi Zhen — and Qi Yan, still hidden inside the wardrobe.

He drew his gun, leveling the barrel at Qi Zhen where she knelt on the floor. She knew far too much that she should not have known, and she had betrayed him besides. By any reckoning, Wen Hongsheng ought to kill her — to eliminate the threat at its root.

But in the instant before pulling the trigger, he shifted the barrel away from her — and turned it upon the cat by his feet.

That was a pet Qi Zhen had kept before.

Without the slightest hesitation — bang, bang, bang — three shots in quick succession.

The cat let out one raw, wrenching shriek, as though its throat were being torn apart — and then fell completely still.

Qi Yan crawled out of the wardrobe to find this scene before him —

His once tidy and beautiful home was reduced to shambles. Light could no longer push through the windows, as though the world’s very foundation had always been grey and dim. Qi Zhen, completely broken, clutched the cat — its body soaked in blood — and wept with her face buried against it.

That was the moment he had no home anymore.

Qi Yan smiled, tilted his head back, and downed the last of his drink. He turned to look at Zhou Jin and said: “Your older brother’s name is Zhou Chuan — the sharpshooter on the special police unit. You want to avenge him, don’t you?”

Zhou Jin tightened her grip and asked: “What are you trying to say?”

“I hope to receive Officer Zhou’s forgiveness.” He showed a thoroughly unhinged smile. “My older brother was the same kind of person as Zhou Chuan — a good man.”

“……”

“He was nothing like me. When we reunited all those years ago, I was a murderer who had been hunted by the Huaiguang police for days. He had just performed in a concert with his school’s orchestra…

He took less than a week to find a divorced accountant willing to take the blame in my place — letting me escape the police pursuit — and then brought me back to the Wen Family.”

It was only then that Wen Hongsheng learned the truth: Qi Zhen had given birth to twins.

And yet Qi Yan and Wen Lang were so utterly different from one another.

Qi Yan was brooding, intensely volatile. Wen Lang was gentler, more refined.

During all those years they were apart, Wen Lang had grown up at Wen Hongsheng’s side. He had given Wen Lang the finest education, sent him abroad to study, and engaged the best music teachers to instruct him in the cello.

Wen Lang also loved to paint. Wen Hongsheng had even organized an art exhibition for him as a birthday gift.

Between Wen Lang and him — one lived in the heavens, the other in the earth below.

“He was innocent.” Qi Yan seemed to hold Wen Lang in something close to reverence; the way he spoke of him carried a tone of deep respect. “Zhou Chuan died, and you want vengeance for him. I, too, want vengeance for my older brother. When it comes down to it, Officer Zhou, there is no real difference between us.”

His fingers drifted lightly across Zhou Jin’s cheek, as though searching for some form of recognition, some shared understanding.

“Disgusting.”

Zhou Jin turned her head to look at him. The loose strands of hair across her forehead fell over her eyes — but they could not conceal the fierce, fiery brightness burning within them.

“Yes — his hands are spotlessly clean. You are you, and he is he. Wen Lang wasn’t the one who killed anyone, so you dare call him a good man, dare call him innocent. The one who should have been shot by the police five years ago was you — not him! But do you have the nerve to stand before all those people who died unjust deaths and call him innocent?! Wen Lang helped you escape conviction in the Huaiguang serial murder case and let a piece of filth like you survive to this day — letting you go on to kill so many more people… and someone like that can still be called a good man?! How dare you even compare him to my brother!”

The moment Zhou Jin heard him bring up Zhou Chuan, a searing hatred blazed up inside her like wildfire, consuming everything.

She ground her teeth and said: “Qi Yan, I have nothing to be afraid of — if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it long ago. All these tricks you’re pulling — who are you waiting for? Jiang Hansheng? But what’s the point of going after him? The one who truly caused your older brother’s death wasn’t him — it was you!”

Qi Yan suddenly jerked a fistful of Zhou Jin’s hair taut from behind her head. She was forced to tilt her head back, exposing her sweat-dampened jaw and neck.

“What did you say!” Qi Yan’s expression twisted with something savage.

“Was I not clear enough? You were the one who colluded with Zhan Wei. You were the one who masterminded the gun heist. Without the ‘8·17’ incident, would you have been driven to a dead end by the police? Your older brother died — it made the police believe the mastermind had been shot and killed — and that is the only reason you’ve survived to this day! Can’t you face the truth?! The truth is that back then, you lost to Jiang Hansheng. You lost to the police. Wen Lang’s life was the stake you gambled away when you lost!”

Immediately after, Qi Yan bent his knee and drove it sharply into her abdomen. The violent, searing pain robbed her of speech. Qi Yan pressed down on her from above, looking down at her with a cold, commanding gaze. “You think I won’t kill you?”

A sharp, stinging pull tore through the roots of her hair. Zhou Jin kept her head tilted back, cold sweat streaming down her face, her gaze as she met his growing slowly, hazily unfocused.

A moment later, the corner of Zhou Jin’s mouth curved into a faint, contemptuous smile. She spoke in broken, halting breaths: “The guilt — is it tearing you apart?”