Ji Chenai had once heard a saying: The more people you meet, the more you appreciate dogs. While this sentiment might sound extreme, it wasn’t entirely without merit.

Animals’ emotions were far purer than those of humans—when they like you, they truly like you; when they don’t, they don’t. There’s no pretense, no hidden daggers waiting to stab you in the back. Ji Chenai had always been fond of animals before his injury, though he’d never had the chance to own a pet of his own.

When he used to perform good deeds, encountering malice from others only made him feel uncomfortable at most. Even when he saw Zhou Leling being threatened by those thieves, he hadn’t felt anger—only a sense of sympathy and sorrow.

In his pursuit of recovering from his injury, Ji Chenai had thrown himself into acts of kindness. When he saw a reflection of himself in Zhou Leling, he risked exposing his secret to help her.

But today, when he saw those posts, Ji Chenai felt a true surge of anger for the first time.

Humans can sometimes be an unpleasant species—parasites living off the Earth. What environmentalists call “saving the planet” might more accurately be described as saving humanity itself.

Ji Chenai didn’t deny that there were still beautiful things in his life. But perhaps because of the changes to his body, what stood out to him now were the shadows of negativity.

Xiao Qi, observing Ji Chenai’s emotional shifts, felt a rare sense of satisfaction. It understood that without the drive to heal his legs, Ji Chenai wouldn’t have been so proactive. Seeing him now, not only eager to recover but even actively seeking justice against wrongdoers, was a welcome change.

The rest of Ji Chenai’s day passed quietly. He didn’t post anything further online. Instead, he sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the setting sun as it dipped below the horizon, lost in silent contemplation.

A knock on his bedroom door interrupted his thoughts.

“Xiaoqin, dinner’s ready,” Wang Zhixiu called.

Ji Chenai responded with a soft acknowledgment, maneuvering his wheelchair into the dining room.

Dinner consisted of dumplings made by Zhou Yaoyun—stuffed with cabbage and pork, plump and round. Freshly boiled and neatly arranged on a plate, they already looked appetizing even before anyone took a bite.

Ji Chenai picked up one with his chopsticks and tasted it. As expected, the flavor was excellent. The dumpling skin was thin but firm, enclosing a juicy and generously filled center. Paired with the prepared dipping sauce, it was incredibly delicious.

At the dinner table, Wang Zhixiu and Zhou Yumian chatted about work, their casual conversation adding a warm and lively atmosphere to the meal. The family seemed genuinely happy together.

After dinner, Zhou Yaoyun grabbed a basketball and headed out, not even bothering to say goodbye to Ji Chenai. His cold demeanor made it clear he was still upset. Ji Chenai watched him leave, feeling thoroughly wronged but unsure how to mend the situation.

Once Zhou Yaoyun was gone, Wang Zhixiu went to wash the dishes. Noticing that Ji Chenai was about to return to his room, she hesitated for a moment before calling out, “Xiaoqin, can we have a chat?”

Ji Chenai paused, his hand still on the wheelchair wheel, and replied, “Alright.”

Zhou Yumian, being the quiet type, simply sat nearby and listened without chiming in as Wang Zhixiu began the conversation.

She started by asking Ji Chenai some questions about his daily life. When she received satisfactory answers, her tone shifted, and she suddenly said. “Xiaoqin, do you still blame your father and me?”

Ji Chenai froze. The question took his breath away. He didn’t fully understand what she meant but suspected it was connected to the memories Xiao Qi had locked away.

Wang Zhixiu continued, her voice tinged with guilt. “It’s been so many years… I know it’s my fault—I let you down. But Xiaoqin, I just couldn’t bear to lose Yaoyun like that…”

Ji Chenai stared at her, utterly confused. His mind reeled as he tried to piece together her words. He felt a sudden surge of frustration and wanted nothing more than to drag Xiao Qi out for a good scolding.

“Xiao Qi!” he shouted internally. “Are you seriously not going to give me back those memories? Do you see what Zhou Yaoyun’s mom is saying? I don’t even know what’s going on!”

Xiao Qi responded indignantly. “What’s the point of yelling at me? If I could’ve shown you, I would’ve already!”

Ji Chenai, thoroughly exasperated, tried to stay calm. “Can you show me now?” he asked.

Xiao Qi snorted dramatically, feigning offense. “Oh, sure, sure! All you care about is seeing other people’s memories. Not a single thought about how I feel!” It even let out a haughty little “hmph” at the end.

Ji Chenai: “…”

Despite its complaints, Xiao Qi reluctantly complied. A fleeting flash of light crossed Ji Chenai’s vision, and within a matter of seconds, fragmented memories started to surface. It wasn’t the whole story, but enough to make sense of part of the situation.

It turned out that the car accident back then hadn’t only involved Zhou Yaoyun but also Zhou Yaoqin, who had been playing with him at the time.

Zhou Yaoyun had been even more critically injured than Zhou Yaoqin, teetering on the brink of death. Wang Zhixiu and Zhou Yumian had gone to great lengths to save him, consulting countless doctors and exhausting every resource to pull him back from the edge.

The numerous surgeries required to save Zhou Yaoyun drained the family’s finances completely.

Ten years ago, the Zhou family had sold everything they could to cover the medical bills, but in the end, only Zhou Yaoyun was fully saved. According to the doctors back then, if Zhou Yaoqin had been sent abroad for the best possible treatment, his legs might have had a chance to recover. But after Zhou Yaoyun’s extensive operations, the family simply couldn’t afford it.

Left with no other choice, Wang Zhixiu and Zhou Yumian had to abandon further treatment for Zhou Yaoqin.

Wang Zhixiu cried countless times, both openly and in secret, over the years. Even after more than a decade, she still couldn’t let it go. Only this summer, seeing that Zhou Yaoqin’s personality had grown less sullen, did she cautiously bring up the topic.

Ji Chenai had never thought about this side of things. He’d always felt that Zhou Yaoyun treated him exceptionally well—so well that he considered himself fortunate. But now, through Wang Zhixiu’s words and the fragments of memory Xiao Qi had restored, he realized that Zhou Yaoyun’s kindness wasn’t just affection. It was guilt-driven compensation.

Suddenly, Ji Chenai recalled the overwhelming despair Zhou Yaoqin must have felt before his death. A sense of unease began to creep in, hinting at what might lie in the yet-to-be-recovered memories. No wonder he had always sensed a strange dissonance in Zhou Yaoyun.

Wang Zhixiu, noticing Ji Chenai’s silence, looked at him with concern etched on her face. Her expression was heavy with sorrow as she said. “Xiaoqin, please don’t blame me…”

Ji Chenai looked at her and replied. “Mom, I don’t blame you anymore.”

Zhou Yaoqin was gone, leaving Ji Chenai in his place. He had no right to hold resentment against Wang Zhixiu. What he could do now was to do his best to make up for what the Zhou family had lost.

Hearing this, Wang Zhixiu’s eyes filled with tears. Overcome with joy, she rushed forward to embrace Ji Chenai, sobbing. “I’ve been waiting for you to say this… for ten years.”

Ji Chenai raised his hand and gently patted Wang Zhixiu’s back.

The memories Xiao Qi had shown Ji Chenai were still blurry, fragments lacking clarity. Even now, he only had a vague idea of the events surrounding the car accident. Despite Wang Zhixiu unlocking part of the truth, the details of how the accident happened remained obscured.

It seemed that for Zhou Yaoqin, the memory of that incident had been too excruciating to bear. His mind and body had instinctively shrouded it in a protective haze, leaving it indistinct and unresolved.

Ji Chenai knew better than to rely on Xiao Qi for clarity about the missing memories. He could only take things one step at a time.

Wang Zhixiu, on the other hand, was delighted. She felt her son had changed a lot during this summer visit. Though he still wasn’t very talkative, he no longer seemed as withdrawn as before. This transformation gave her a sense of relief.

“Xiaoqin,” Wang Zhixiu said, “your father and I feel we’ve done our part for Yaoyun. We’ve talked it over, and everything in the house will go to you after we’re gone. We have three properties—every one of them bought with money your dad and I saved over the years by scrimping on every little thing. We’re also paying for your retirement insurance, so when we’re old, no one will be able to take advantage of you.”

This was a mother’s love mixed with guilt, something Ji Chenai had never experienced with his birth mother, Shen Shuya. He could only imagine the devastation Wang Zhixiu would feel if she knew Zhou Yaoqin was already gone. It would likely break her completely.

The mother and son continued chatting about various things, and time passed quickly. Soon, Zhou Yaoyun returned home after finishing his basketball game.

Drenched in sweat and wearing a jersey, Zhou Yaoyun walked into the house. When he saw Ji Chenai sitting in the living room, he said nothing and headed straight to his bedroom to grab clean clothes before heading to the bathroom to shower.

Wang Zhixiu glanced at Zhou Yaoyun’s retreating figure, then at Ji Chenai, and sighed almost imperceptibly.

Ji Chenai was aware that Zhou Yaoyun was upset with him, but he couldn’t figure out why. After all, all he’d done was deliver a gift—hardly something worth getting mad over.

Unable to make sense of it, Ji Chenai decided to confront Zhou Yaoyun directly. Once Zhou Yaoyun finished his shower, Ji Chenai wheeled himself into his room to ask what was wrong.

Zhou Yaoyun, sitting on the bed, was drying his hair with a blow dryer. He didn’t react to Ji Chenai entering the room, nor did he offer any greeting. He simply focused on his task in silence.

“Yaoyun…” Ji Chenai called tentatively.

No response.

“Yaoyun, why are you ignoring me?” Ji Chenai asked again.

Zhou Yaoyun turned off the blow dryer and asked. “What did you just say?”

Ji Chenai hesitated, then replied. “I asked why you’re ignoring me.”

Zhou Yaoyun didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned to look at Ji Chenai and said. “I’m not ignoring you, brother.”

Ji Chenai frowned. “Then are you mad at me?” Even with his oblivious nature, he couldn’t miss the chill in Zhou Yaoyun’s gaze.

Suddenly, Zhou Yaoyun asked. “Brother, do you think I treat you well?”

Caught off guard by the question, Ji Chenai was puzzled. “Zhou Yaoyun, what do you mean by that?”

Zhou Yaoyun stood up, casually closing the bedroom door before walking over to Ji Chenai. Standing tall, he looked down at his brother and repeated. “Do you think I treat you well?”

Ji Chenai instinctively nodded.

Zhou Yaoyun leaned down, slowly closing the distance between them. “But you know,” he said with a faint smile, “I’m not a good person.”

As Zhou Yaoyun’s face inched closer, Ji Chenai reflexively leaned back, startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Noticing this, Zhou Yaoyun gently placed a hand behind Ji Chenai’s head to steady him. Leaning in even closer, he whispered softly into his brother’s ear, “But that’s okay. I really like the current you.”

For a moment, Ji Chenai felt as though the Zhou Yaoyun standing before him was someone entirely unfamiliar.

=^_^=