Xinyi could still hear the words echoing in her mind.
“I’m taking you with me.”
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t react.
She simply knelt there on the cold floor, staring up at her brother—Li Jun—as if she were seeing a ghost.
Because, in a way, she was.
Two years.
Two years of silence.
Two years of being abandoned.
Two years of being left alone in this house, carrying all the weight he had walked away from.
And now, just like that, he was back? Expecting her to follow him?
Xinyi clenched her fists against her knees, her nails digging into her skin.
She should have been angry. She should have yelled at him. Demanded to know where he had been. Why he had left her behind.
But all she could do was sit there, frozen in place, as her parents' voices filled the room.
Her father scoffed. “You think you can just waltz back in here and take her?”
Li Jun’s expression didn’t change. “Yes.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “And where exactly would you take her? You don’t have the means to support her. You could barely take care of yourself when you left.”
Xinyi flinched at the words.
Even now, they were blaming him.
Blaming him the same way they blamed her.
But Li Jun didn’t waver. His voice was steady, cold. “I have a stable job now. I can take care of her better than you ever did.”
Her father scoffed. “You left, and now you suddenly want to act like a responsible brother?”
Li Jun’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t come here to argue.”
Xinyi finally forced herself to speak.
“You left.”
It was barely a whisper, but in the tense silence, it sounded deafening.
Li Jun turned to look at her.
For the first time, she saw something flicker in his gaze.
Guilt.
Regret.
“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry.”
Xinyi’s throat tightened.
Sorry?
Sorry wasn’t enough.
Sorry wouldn’t erase the nights she spent alone, waiting for a brother who never came back.
Wouldn’t erase the years of being treated like she was nothing.
Wouldn’t erase the moments she had begged herself not to break.
Her parents sighed, exchanging glances before her mother spoke, voice dripping with irritation. “Fine. Take her, if that’s what she wants.”
Xinyi’s breath hitched.
What?
Just like that?
Her parents—who had controlled her every move, made her feel like a prisoner in her own home—were just… letting her go?
It didn’t make sense.
Unless—
They had never cared about her in the first place.
Her chest felt hollow.
She had known, deep down. She had always known.
But hearing it like this—seeing how easily they dismissed her—was a different kind of pain.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to her feet.
She was shaking, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
“I…” She hesitated, looking at Li Jun.
Could she really go with him?
Could she trust him?
After everything?
She wasn’t sure.
But when she looked at her parents—at the cold, indifferent expressions on their faces—she knew one thing.
She couldn’t stay here.
Li Jun held out a hand. “Come with me, Xinyi.”
For a long moment, she just stared at it.
Then, slowly—hesitantly—she reached out.
Their fingers brushed, and for the first time in years, she felt warmth.
She let out a shaky breath.
And took his hand.
The argument had started the moment Li Jun saw the picture.
Zhao Chen and Xinyi, standing close at the amusement park, their expressions light and carefree. It was just a normal photo—nothing intimate, nothing overly close—but to Li Jun, it was enough to make his blood run cold.
“That’s my sister.”
The words came out in a tense whisper as Li Jun stared at the screen. He barely noticed the way his grip on the phone tightened.
Zhao Chen, sitting on the edge of his bed, barely reacted. “Yeah.”
Li Jun snapped his head up, his expression unreadable. “You knew?”
“I figured it out a while ago.”
A heavy silence fell between them.
Li Jun’s hands curled into fists as he struggled to process the weight of that statement.
“How long?” His voice was dangerously low.
Zhao Chen exhaled, crossing his arms. “Before I bought the house.”
Li Jun let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “So let me get this straight. You knew she was my sister. And you still decided to—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “You never thought to tell me?”
“What would that have changed?” Zhao Chen asked calmly.
Li Jun took a step closer, his anger barely restrained. “It would have changed everything.”
Zhao Chen’s eyes remained steady. “Would it?”
Li Jun wanted to punch him.
Instead, he threw the phone onto Zhao Chen’s bed and ran a hand through his hair.
“You don’t get it,” he muttered.
“Then explain it to me.”
Li Jun let out a bitter laugh. “You really think this is that simple? You think you can just take care of her, and it won’t mean anything? That you can just help her and walk away whenever you want?” His voice lowered, thick with something almost like desperation. “You don’t know what it’s like to be the one who leaves.”
Zhao Chen was silent for a moment.
“I wasn’t planning on walking away,” he finally said.
Li Jun scoffed. “That’s what I thought too.”
The words hit harder than he intended.
His jaw clenched. “I was immature when I left. I didn’t think about what it would do to her. And I regret it every single day.” He turned his gaze back to Zhao Chen, sharp and unwavering. “I won’t let her go through that again.”
Zhao Chen didn’t flinch. “Neither will I.”
Li Jun studied him carefully.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for—hesitation, guilt, uncertainty.
But Zhao Chen’s expression was steady.
And that scared him.
Because it meant he was serious.