Chapter 35: Secrets

Pleasant holidays always fly by quickly. After returning from the beach, Yu Xi went to an amusement park, camp at a mountain summit, and an escape room with everyone in succession. Not everyone made it every single time, as they all had their own affairs to attend to, but each gathering was lively and boisterous.

The person who missed the most outings was Lin Shuhuai. After that single trip to the beach, he burrowed into his villa in Huze Junting and never stepped foot outside again.

But this wasn’t unusual. He was lazy by nature and loathed exerting himself, so he naturally disliked activities that required too much physical movement.

On the morning of the final day of the holiday, Yu Xi wove another grass grasshopper in his room.

He had suddenly remembered that while he had made new ones for his other friends earlier, Lin Shuhuai hadn’t received one yet.

Carrying the grasshopper along with a small box of pastries handmade by Aunt Wan, he set off alone toward the Lin residence.

The Lin house was slightly farther than the Pei house, but it was only seven or eight hundred meters away—just enough for a leisurely stroll. Midway, he passed the Zhang residence and caught sight of August romping and rolling around on the lawn through the perimeter fence.

August was highly alert. Sensing someone passing by, the dog flipped over and stood up instantly. But upon recognizing Yu Xi, it immediately began to pant and wag its tail in enthusiastic flattery.

“Woof, woof!”

It ran close, propping its front paws against the iron fence and leaping up to greet Yu Xi joyfully.

“Shh…” Yu Xi pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling August to be quiet. At the same time, he darted a glance at the front door of the Zhang house, terrified that someone inside might hear the noise and come out.

He didn’t dare tarry to play with August, breaking into a light jog to distance himself. Once he had run far enough, he stopped, looking back while catching his breath, his skin slick with hot sweat.

Fortunately, he hadn’t drawn the attention of anyone inside.

After letting out a long breath, a wave of indescribable distress washed over Yu Xi’s heart.

In the past, he would never have skulked around like this. He would have politely greeted Zhang Xingkuo’s mother, asked if Xingxing was home, and stayed to hang out for a while.

But… the incident that had transpired inside the wardrobe at the beachfront villa left him feeling immensely awkward whenever he faced Zhang Xingkuo.

Since then, they had tacitly avoided bringing it up, as if they had reverted to their previous dynamic. Yet, Yu Xi could constantly feel Zhang Xingkuo’s abnormally burning gaze trailing after him, locking onto him so closely that he had nowhere to hide.

Yu Xi didn’t know whether the wardrobe incident had caused a change in Zhang Xingkuo, or if it was something that had always been there and he had simply failed to notice…

It was fine when everyone was gathered together, but he was terrified of being left alone with him.

Maybe it will get better after some time passes…

Yu Xi comforted himself with the thought and quickened his pace.

Upon arriving, he rang the doorbell twice. Seeing that Lin Shuhuai was taking a long time to answer, he guessed the older youth might still be asleep and considered returning in the afternoon.

Just as he was about to leave, the door clicked open automatically with a beep, and Lin Shuhuai’s voice drifted through the intercom.

“Xiao Xi, come up to the third floor.”

Yu Xi smiled and waved at the camera above the doorbell before pushing the door open to step inside.

During his childhood, he rarely visited Lin Shuhuai’s home. Having only been there once or twice, the place that remained vivid in his memory was the piano room on the third floor.

Lin Shuhuai used to pull him onto his lap and lazily play eerie, terrifying melodies for him to listen to.

Walking into the first-floor living room, Yu Xi carefully scanned his surroundings while taking off his shoes.

Although it had been a very long time and his memories were somewhat hazy, he was certain that this house had undergone massive alterations.

Every section of flooring, the staircases, and any area meant to be walked upon was covered in thick, extravagant velvet carpeting. Maintaining and cleaning it daily would require an immense amount of effort from dedicated staff. There were no indoor slippers to change into within the shoe cabinet; it was designed for people to walk barefoot upon the surfaces.

Yu Xi was wearing socks, but he could still feel the incredible plushness of the carpet. It was perfectly warm, contrasting beautifully with the cool air blasting from the central air conditioning.

All the way up to the third floor, Yu Xi noticed that beanbag chairs and rocking chairs were almost everywhere, strewn with plush blankets and throw pillows, as if perpetually waiting for someone to collapse into them for a nap.

The rest of the decor and furniture featured elegant, cozy warm tones paired with ambient lighting. No matter where one’s gaze landed, it felt exceptionally soothing, causing one’s nerves to unwind unconsciously.

This was starkly different from Yu Xi’s childhood impressions.

Following this, he also discovered that this villa bore absolutely no trace of Lin Shuhuai’s parents.

He had never met Lin Shuhuai’s father or mother when he was little; he had only seen the family portrait hanging in the hallway of the Lin house.

That was a portrait that didn’t resemble a family photo in the slightest. Every individual was dressed immaculately and exquisitely, yet their faces were like wax figures—cold, lacking even a shred of the warmth a family ought to possess.

Yu Xi only knew that Lin Shuhuai was born into a musical dynasty and that both his parents were deeply entrenched in the field, which was why Lin Shuhuai had been groomed toward music from a tender age. Lin Shuhuai had certainly fulfilled expectations, displaying astonishing musical genius in his youth, and was now world-renowned.

Only… seeing the changes wrought upon this home made Yu Xi recall the dream Lin Shuhuai had once shared with him.

—To be a useless person who didn’t have to do anything except eat and sleep.

“Xiao Xi.”

Snapped out of his thoughts, Yu Xi turned his head to see Lin Shuhuai standing at the other end of the hallway, beckoning him over.

“Come on in.” Lin Shuhuai stepped barefoot back into the room.

This was his bedroom, and its level of comfort was even higher than what Yu Xi had seen outside. He hadn’t walked more than a few paces before he collapsed lazily onto a massive beanbag, looking as though he had exhausted all his strength.

Within his private domain, he paid no heed to his presentation. His hair was disheveled, and his silk bathrobe hung loosely, exposing a patch of his lean chest and a slender collarbone.

“Brother Shuhuai, did you eat breakfast?” Yu Xi asked, sitting down on a soft floor cushion.

Lin Shuhuai shifted slightly, looking as though he were forcing his sleep-addled brain to recall. Only after a considerable pause did he nod. “I ate.”

“Since you ate…”

Before Yu Xi could finish the word “good,” he heard Lin Shuhuai add in a sleepy mumble, “I ate it the day before yesterday.”

“…?”

Yu Xi sat frozen for two seconds. “So you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning?”

Lin Shuhuai nodded. “I took a nap yesterday at noon and accidentally overslept. It’s a good thing you woke me up.”

Yu Xi was struck speechless for several seconds. He immediately unearthed the pastries he had brought, telling Lin Shuhuai to eat them first, before rushing downstairs to the kitchen to check the refrigerator.

There weren’t many ingredients inside, but there was a package of ready-made dumplings in the freezer. After boiling them, he brought up a glass of honey water to soothe the stomach, carrying both upstairs together.

“Eat quickly.” He shoved the spoon into Lin Shuhuai’s hand, helping to blow on the piping hot dumplings to cool them down. “How can you sleep for so long at a time? Don’t be so careless next time. Set an alarm clock. You have to eat three meals regularly, otherwise your stomach will be ruined from hunger, do you understand?”

He rambled on in a gentle lecture. Looking up, he found that Lin Shuhuai hadn’t eaten; instead, he was holding the spoon and staring at him with eyes full of amusement. Yu Xi knit his brows in frustration. “Eat quickly, aren’t you hungry?”

The smile in Lin Shuhuai’s eyes deepened. “Xiao Xi has grown up; you’re very good at taking care of people.”

Yu Xi paused, pursing his lips. “I didn’t really do anything…”

“Meanwhile, I, a brother seven years older than you, am still living a life that hardly resembles a human being’s.” Lin Shuhuai lowered his head and bit into a dumpling. The soup bursting forth scalded his tongue, but his brows didn’t even twitch; he chewed and swallowed with an entirely natural, elegant composure.

“You’re very amazing.” Yu Xi retrieved the grass grasshopper from the bag, placing it beside the bowl. “Brother Shuhuai has always been an amazing older brother in my heart.”

Lin Shuhuai’s gaze locked onto the vibrant green, lifelike grass grasshopper. He stared at it for a long duration, his expression wistful and nostalgic. He set down his spoon, picking up the grasshopper to inspect it closely, his fingers gently tracing the intricate, interwoven patterns. “Xiao Xi’s craftsmanship is even better than when you were a kid.”

“I’ve learned to make other things too. I’ll give you different ones next time.” As Yu Xi spoke, his gaze suddenly froze. Knit-browed, he stared at Lin Shuhuai’s arm, which had been exposed as the sleeve slid down. Before Lin Shuhuai could retract it, Yu Xi grabbed it firmly and turned it over.

On the upper section of his forearm, several thin, long cuts stretched across the skin. Old and new wounds overlapped; some had healed into faint scars, while others were crusted with fresh scabs, having appeared not long ago. They weren’t deep, gaping gashes, but the neat, orderly arrangement of the lines resembled a form of prolonged, deliberate self-torment that was terrifying to behold.

“What is the meaning of this?” Yu Xi’s brows twisted tightly together, his dark eyes filled with a rare, absolute severity.

Lin Shuhuai curled his lips into a faint smile, his tone casual. “The edge of the storage rack in my bathroom is a bit sharp. I always accidentally scrape against it. It’s no big deal, it’ll heal in a couple of days. I’ve long since grown used to it, so Xiao Xi doesn’t need to worry.”

He pulled his arm back, patting the back of Yu Xi’s hand as a reassuring gesture before unhurriedly continuing to eat his dumplings. “This flavor is quite good.”

Yet, Yu Xi’s expression remained heavy as he stared at the spot now concealed by Lin Shuhuai’s sleeve. “Accidental injuries don’t look this neat. This could only be done intentionally.”

The spoon in Lin Shuhuai’s hand tilted, splashing a bit of broth. The decorated smile on his face gradually faded.

“Brother Shuhuai.” Yu Xi’s tone carried a hint of pleading; he desperately wanted to know the truth. “Did someone hurt you?”

Lin Shuhuai kept his head lowered, maintaining his rigid posture, remaining silent in the stillness.

Yu Xi didn’t believe Lin Shuhuai would allow anyone to harm him, which meant it was more likely to be someone close… Thus, he asked carefully, “Is it your family…?”

“No,” Lin Shuhuai answered calmly. “Even if they harbor immense dissatisfaction toward me, they would never lay a hand on me.”

“…” Hearing this response, Yu Xi’s heart did not settle back into place; instead, it tightened even further.

He recalled the commotion he had heard and the metallic scent of blood he had caught from Lin Shuhuai’s room that night at the beachfront villa. Immediately, an answer leaped into his mind—an answer he didn’t dare verify with the other party.

However— “I did it to myself,” Lin Shuhuai said.

Yu Xi’s fingers curled inward, his nails digging into his palms. Only after a long while did he recover his breathing and his voice. “Why…?”

Lin Shuhuai let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Because I lost my mind a long time ago.”

This “long time ago” stretched far beyond Yu Xi’s imagination.

The signs of abnormal behavior had already begun to sprout when Lin Shuhuai was fifteen years old.

Back then, he had clinched the championship in the provincial piano competition. Following the broadcast of the program, his fame skyrocketed, making him immensely celebrated for a time. Everyone praised him, saying he was truly a child of the Lin family, possessing exceptional natural talent.

But what no one knew was that to reach that stage, what he had endured was ceaseless practice day and night, coupled with the constant suppression and verbal abuse from his parents.

“You think you’re amazing just because you won a provincial championship? Let me tell you, even if you win the national championship, you are still absolutely nothing!”

“Why can’t you work a little harder? You were distracted during lessons—are you slacking off on purpose? Answer me!”

“Keep your hands straight, how many times do I have to tell you! You hit a wrong note again. How can you still make a mistake after practicing it so many times? Aren’t you ashamed? Do you even deserve the surname Lin?!”

Invisible mental torment was a form of violence far more terrifying than a physical beating.

Lin Shuhuai had tried to resist, and he had tried to escape; he had thrown tantrums and lost his temper, but in the end, he became entirely numb. He detached his sense of self and shielded his emotions, converting himself into an perpetual piano-playing machine.

As time wore on, he no longer resented the piano, nor did he experience any physiological revulsion toward it. But along with that resentment, other, far more crucial elements vanished as well.

One day, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and was suddenly startled.

He began to fail to recognize himself, to the point where he was terrified of looking at his own face.

He completely lost control, violently smashing the mirror. Shards of glass rained down over the sink and floor, piercing his fingers.

—To a pianist, fingers were items far more precious than life itself.

I absolutely cannot let Father and Mother see this; the wounds must be tended to immediately. That was Lin Shuhuai’s very first thought. Yet, inexplicably, as he stared at the fresh blood welling from his fingertips, an unprecedented wave of absolute gratification washed over him.

By the time he came to his senses again, he had already used the mirror shards to hack his own hands until they were completely drenched in blood.

…

The matter, of course, eventually came to light.

Unsurprisingly, what awaited him was only an extra barrage of scoldings and interrogations.

He listened to them for a full hour before lifting his hands, which didn’t possess a single patch of unmarred flesh, and uttered his very first sentence.

“I cut them myself.”

For the first time, his parents displayed a rare, utterly stunned bewilderment. They panicked, spending millions to fly in renowned doctors to treat him.

They restored his hands to their original state, ensuring his piano playing wouldn’t be affected in the slightest.

“Did they only treat your hands?”

Hearing up to this point, Yu Xi finally couldn’t restrain himself, interrupting Lin Shuhuai’s narration in utter disbelief.

“Yes,” Lin Shuhuai smiled. “They could absolutely never accept that the child they painstakingly cultivated had turned into a mental patient. If word of that got out, it would be a blemish on their reputation.”

“What they demanded was a flawless ‘musical genius’.”

“Xiao Xi… are you afraid of me?”

Yu Xi shook his head vigorously. He wanted to tell Lin Shuhuai that he wasn’t afraid, that his heart simply ached for him, but he couldn’t form the words; the moment he tried to speak, a sob would choke his throat.

He was nearly swallowed whole by the profound sorrow and fury surging from the depths of his heart, leaving him struggling to draw breath.

That had been the sole instance where a fifteen-year-old Lin Shuhuai had reached out to his parents for help, only to be utterly ignored. Consequently, it also became the absolute final time in his life, leaving him to endure it all in isolation until this very day.

Why did such a wonderful person have to experience all of this? The heavens were truly unfair.