The Competitive “Brother”

The scorching wind swept past their ears. Shi Ji blinked as Li Chen stared at him expressionlessly, his misty-blue eyes reflecting Shi Ji’s own silhouette. The surrounding silence was deafening.

By unspoken agreement, neither of them spoke. Shi Ji watched as the corners of Li Chen’s mouth twitched repeatedly. After a long while, the words on the tip of Li Chen’s tongue were finally swallowed back down.

“What are you guys talking about?!” Jiang Mo, the very center of their conversation, suddenly ran over. His voice broke the awkwardness stretching between Shi Ji and Li Chen. His deep green eyes darted between the two, finally landing on Shi Ji.

Jiang Mo straightened his spine and called out, both obediently and loudly: “Hello, Brother!”

Those three words, carrying the fresh aura of a youth, immediately grabbed Li Chen’s attention. He shifted his gaze to look at Jiang Mo standing diagonally from them, an indescribable feeling wrapping around his heart.

Shi Ji turned his head to glance at Jiang Mo, giving a perfunctory nod. Then, he instinctively looked toward the spot where Jiang Mo had just come from. He saw the other boy who had been standing there running away into the distance; that resolute back hinted at a failed confession.

Shi Ji sighed for the boy in his heart.

No choice. In the original novel, Jiang Mo’s official match is Li Chen.

Seeing that the obstacle to their romantic development had crumbled without a fight, Shi Ji’s suspended heart finally settled back into place. He retracted his gaze and looked again at the two protagonists standing beside him.

Excellent. Now he just needed to continue pushing their relationship forward—

Just as Shi Ji was thinking about how to manufacture a small romantic accident for them, he suddenly noticed that these two protagonists seemed a bit… off.

Li Chen’s deep-sea eyes were fixed squarely on Jiang Mo. His darkened expression was like a surging tide ready to swallow Jiang Mo whole. His face was icy, and his sharp gaze showed not a shred of goodwill toward the person in front of him. He looked so fierce that Shi Ji thought he might raise a fist and give Jiang Mo a punch.

Meanwhile, Jiang Mo seemed terrified by Li Chen’s stare. His face was pale, and even his rapidly blinking lashes couldn’t hide the panic in his eyes. He truly didn’t understand what he had done to upset Li Chen. The little Alpha swallowed nervously and instinctively took two steps back.

As the matchmaker, seeing the two protagonists behaving as if they shared a blood feud left Shi Ji momentarily disoriented.

He frowned, retracing every step he’d taken. All his “wingman” moves had been executed perfectly; how had their relationship regressed from “socialist brotherhood” straight back to “hostile strangers”?!

The surrounding temperature seemed to drop to freezing. Despite being in the middle of a hot afternoon, Shi Ji felt an invading chill. He couldn’t help but shiver, then hesitated, parting his lips to break the rigid atmosphere.

But after holding his breath for ages, he couldn’t find the words. Ultimately, it was Li Chen who chose to look away, finally ending that eerie silence.

The moment Li Chen turned his head, Jiang Mo let out a quiet sigh of relief. Shi Ji watched him wipe sweat from his brow, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

Strange. This world has changed. An Omega can actually intimidate an Alpha.

Jiang Mo regained his composure and swallowed. Even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong, Li Chen was clearly hostile. He forced a stiff smile and stammered: “I… I think I forgot something. I need to… go back to the classroom first.”

Without waiting for Li Chen to reply, he turned around and fled.

The cicadas in the trees were deafening, and the sunlight was scalding. Only Shi Ji and Li Chen remained on the vast playground. The dry atmosphere returned with their silence. Shi Ji blinked, trying to find a topic: “Aren’t you going back to class?”

Li Chen shook his head, his long lashes trembling as he whispered: “I want to go back and change my clothes first.”

As he spoke, he turned slightly, revealing a large basketball print on his back. “In the last PE class, a classmate accidentally hit me with a ball.”

He said “accidentally,” but Shi Ji suspected it was deliberate.

Even if Li Chen’s loss of control made people wary, they still looked down on him in their hearts. The teachers, the principal, the students—they all seemed to treat Li Chen as an outsider, an anomaly, finding every possible way to make things difficult for him.

Staring at Li Chen’s reddened elbow, a pang of pity rose in Shi Ji’s heart. He said nothing more and led Li Chen toward the teacher’s dormitory.

Li Chen followed, staring at Shi Ji’s shadow on the ground. The dark shape was only a few centimeters from his toes; he only needed to speed up slightly to step on it.

Yet Li Chen moved to the side, then shifted a few more steps until his shadow successfully overlapped with Shi Ji’s. The two shadows merged, and one could only tell them apart by the two distinct bumps at the top.

He narrowed his eyes. At that moment, Li Chen felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He looked at Shi Ji’s profile; the man’s lashes were long and curled, and his cheeks were lean—so lean you could almost see the elegant bone structure through the thin, pale skin.

Li Chen suddenly thought of something and stopped.

Shi Ji stopped as well. He turned around, tilted his head curiously, but didn’t speak.

“Why is Jiang Mo allowed to call you…” Li Chen’s words caught. He knit his brows, seemingly debating whether to continue. After half a minute, he closed his eyes and continued recklessly: “…Why is Jiang Mo allowed to call you ‘Brother’?”

The emotions suppressed in his chest finally boiled over. Li Chen looked Shi Ji in the eye and asked the question directly.

I am the one who has lived with Shi Ji for over ten years. Shi Ji hates that title. Shi Ji gets angry the moment he hears it. So why… why does he let someone else call him that?

Countless questions bubbled up like dense foam. At that moment, Li Chen finally understood what he was feeling.

Jealousy. Resentment.

He couldn’t stand Shi Ji’s inexplicable behavior—drawing him close one moment, then pushing him away the next.

Li Chen’s fingers twisted the hem of his shirt, leaving visible red marks on his pale knuckles. He stared unblinkingly at the surprised Shi Ji. Then, Li Chen unexpectedly unbuttoned his collar and yanked it down.

“This,” Li Chen pointed to his neck. “You wrote this, didn’t you?”

Shi Ji followed his finger. On the boy’s white skin were two smudges of ink.

The familiar spot instantly jogged Shi Ji’s memory. He remembered that after Li Chen had fainted, the system had issued a task: Revenge on Li Chen while he is unconscious.

Shi Ji couldn’t bring himself to do anything truly cruel, so he had used a pen from the infirmary to write “Bad Dog” on Li Chen’s neck.

But it had been several days. Li Chen had kept it.

Shi Ji even noticed that the originally blurred words seemed to have been traced over by Li Chen himself, making the two words much clearer.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. An inexplicable sensation made Shi Ji’s scalp tingle. He watched as Li Chen walked toward him, stopping right in his face.

“I’ve been wondering, why do you keep helping me?” Li Chen asked bluntly.

“—Are you really Shi Ji?!”

The boy’s gaze was too sharp. For a moment, Shi Ji didn’t dare meet his eyes. He felt as if Li Chen had discovered something. Shi Ji closed his eyes, hiding his panic.

He took a breath, forced a stiff smile, then grabbed Li Chen’s collar and roughly pulled him forward a few steps.

Shi Ji lowered his head, leaning close to Li Chen’s neck, scrutinizing the two words printed on his skin. Then, he lifted his eyes to meet Li Chen’s, as if looking at a rare curiosity. “So you like this title that much?”

“Bad dog.”

His thin lips opened and closed, his cool voice giving the words a peculiar weight.

“If you want to call me ‘Brother’,” Shi Ji paused, blinking lazily, “then just do it.”

His utter frankness turned Li Chen’s “hard-hitting” words into soft cotton. Shi Ji watched as Li Chen’s cheeks turned bright red. The boy’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“What? Now that I’m giving you permission, you’re unhappy?” Shi Ji tilted his chin slightly, unfazed.

He let out a cold snort. His breath brushed against Li Chen’s collarbone, making the boy shiver as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Seeing Li Chen fall silent, Shi Ji’s racing heart finally slowed down. He figured he’d been too focused on the plot lately and hadn’t maintained his persona well enough, leading Li Chen to get suspicious.

Shi Ji licked his lower lip and prepared to release Li Chen’s collar. Just then, Li Chen somehow unfastened the bite muzzle from his face. The metal device hit the ground with a clatter. The alarm inside the muzzle shrieked the second it was removed, mixing with the sound of Shi Ji’s frantic heartbeat.

Before Shi Ji could react, Li Chen grabbed his tie and yanked him forward.

Shi Ji’s eyes widened. Even his glasses couldn’t hide his shock. His sluggish thoughts could barely keep up as he saw Li Chen’s face loom closer, along with those eyes that felt like they could drown him.

Sensing Shi Ji’s disorientation, a flash of amusement crossed Li Chen’s eyes. He reached out to stroke Shi Ji’s neck, his fingers hooking under his chin, thumb pressing against the sharp jawline.

Shi Ji felt the strength in Li Chen’s hand. The boy’s gaze was like a demon dragging a haughty god into hell; it made Shi Ji feel instinctive fear.

Li Chen leaned in, his lips close to Shi Ji’s ear.

“—Fine.” “Then I’ll say it for you to hear.”

Only after seeing Shi Ji’s pupils contract did Li Chen smile with satisfaction. He let go, re-buttoned his collar—hiding the inked skin back under the rough school uniform—and regained his calm. As if nothing had happened, he calmly put the muzzle back on and walked past Shi Ji.

The alarm stopped. Only Shi Ji’s thumping heart remained. His jaw, where Li Chen had pinched him, felt numb, the lingering warmth refusing to fade.

He swallowed and looked at Li Chen’s back. Li Chen turned around, glancing at him coldly. Seeing Shi Ji still dazed, he raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening.

“Let’s go. Didn’t you say you were taking me back to change?” The boy’s voice carried over the wind. Shi Ji pressed his lips together, saying nothing. Li Chen’s lashes flickered as he slowed his pace, deliberately drawing out two words: “—Brother.”

His tone was neither heavy nor light, carrying a hint of intentional mischief. A simple title, yet when he said it, it sounded playful.

Li Chen squinted, trying to see Shi Ji’s expression, but the afternoon sun was too bright. He couldn’t tell how Shi Ji was reacting.

Was he shocked? Angry? Was he grinding his teeth, or did he want to punch him?

Li Chen watched as Shi Ji paused for a second, then began walking toward him.

The man’s face became clearer in the sunlight. His black vest was perfectly smooth, and the sun created a halo around his black hair. Under the light, Shi Ji’s cold skin looked almost translucent. His glasses reflected a sharp glare, hiding his eyes.

Even without seeing his eyes, Li Chen felt the man’s typical aura of arrogance. He stared at Shi Ji’s pressed lips; the frost-like expression was exactly the opposite of what he’d imagined.

The expression was so calm it was as if he hadn’t heard the title at all. Or rather, in Shi Ji’s eyes, nothing Li Chen did mattered.

The man had put his mask of arrogance back on. The smile on Li Chen’s face vanished. His hands clenched at his sides, veins appearing under his pale skin.

As they brushed past each other, Shi Ji heard Li Chen’s slightly trembling voice.

“Aren’t you angry?” The boy’s voice was airy. “That I called you that.”

Shi Ji caught a glimpse of Li Chen’s lowered head; the downcast lashes screamed of defeat. He let out a cold snort: “I told you. Call me whatever you want.”

“It’s just a title. It’s not that special.”

He said it with ease, but the words felt like a blow to Li Chen’s head. The boy knit his brows, his misty-blue eyes full of shock.

Shi Ji finished speaking and kept walking. Once there was a distance between them, he breathed a secret sigh of relief.

Nobody but him knew that his hands, hidden in his pockets, were soaked with cold sweat.

The original body hated being called “Brother.” The second he had said it was okay, he had regretted it, fearing a “Persona Collapse” warning. Fortunately, the system hadn’t chimed in. His persona was safe—for now.

But now he had a bigger problem. Li Chen really was onto him. That “Are you really Shi Ji?” had scared him half to death. If the system detected that Li Chen knew he wasn’t the original, everything would be lost.

They returned to the teacher’s dorm one after the other. Burdened by his thoughts, Shi Ji went straight to his room. Only when the door closed did the weight on his shoulders lift.

His clothes were nearly wet from sweat. Shi Ji looked at the fading finger marks on his palm, sat in his desk chair, leaned back, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Off-track plots, unexpected settings, a collapsing persona, and stalled missions… it was a tangled mess of thorns. The bright future he’d imagined felt like a bubble. The progress toward returning to reality felt miles away.

Shi Ji massaged his temples, a crushing exhaustion sweeping over him. He closed his eyes. The dim light through his eyelids made him feel dizzy. After a while, he felt something light brush his forehead. The slight itch startled him awake.

Shi Ji opened his eyes to see Li Chen’s face.

The youth was leaning over him, his exquisite face close. His misty-blue eyes were magnified; Shi Ji could see his own disheveled reflection in them.

Terrified, he sat up abruptly. Li Chen hadn’t expected the sudden movement and couldn’t dodge. Their foreheads collided with a loud thud.

The silence was broken by the sound of the impact. It wasn’t loud, but the force was heavy. Both were stunned for a moment.

Shi Ji’s forehead burned with pain. He clutched the spot, physiological tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Who gave you permission to come in?!”

Shi Ji’s voice was too loud. He rubbed his head and looked at the door. It was closed—there was no sign it had even been opened.

Li Chen did this last time too. Does he have a superpower for silent entry?!

Li Chen didn’t speak. He just stared at him with a look that was both resentful and innocent. His hair was wet; he must have just showered. Droplets fell from the tips of his hair onto his shoulders, soaking through his shirt and making it cling to his skin.

He lowered his hands and walked forward, the red mark on his forehead prominent. Without a word, he pressed a piece of paper under Shi Ji’s eyes.

Shi Ji looked down. At the top of the white paper were three words: Self-Reflection Letter.

After the fight, though he’d avoided suspension, Li Chen had to write these for two weeks. At least 1,000 words each. They had to pass Shi Ji first, then the teacher, the dean, and the principal. But with Shi Ji’s status, as long as he approved, no one else would dare trouble the boy.

So, even if Li Chen was angry, he had to be a “good boy” and show his work to Shi Ji.

Shi Ji glanced at him. The youth stood by his side, looking away on purpose, but his eyes would sneak glances at Shi Ji. When caught, he’d look away in a panic. His ears were red—either from the hot shower or something else.

A mischievous idea sprouted in Shi Ji’s mind. He reached into the cabinet for a pen, propped his chin on his hand, and put on a look of deep contemplation.

Li Chen leaned in. He watched Shi Ji marking up his letter. Compared to Shi Ji’s elegant script, Li Chen’s handwriting was wilder. Seeing the spots where the pen had nearly pierced the paper, Shi Ji could almost picture Li Chen scratching his head in the middle of the night to write this.

The gloom in Shi Ji’s heart evaporated.

“This reflection…” Shi Ji wrote “Fail” at the bottom.

Li Chen’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“No ‘why’,” Shi Ji replied, leaning back and yawning lazily.

Realization dawned on Li Chen. His expression cooled, and he muttered: “You’re targeting me.”

Shi Ji laughed. “Then let me ask you: why should I be good to you?”

The boy fell silent. He stared at the “Fail,” his knuckles white as he gripped the paper. Water droplets from his hair slid down his face and dripped onto the page, leaving wet circles.

“But I wrote it all night,” he whispered. Li Chen sniffed, his eyes rimmed with red.

That one look of sheer pity made Shi Ji feel a pang of guilt. Especially seeing the faint dark circles under Li Chen’s eyes—he really had been staying up late.

Shi Ji hesitated. Was I too mean?

His fingers trembled. He sighed and snatched the paper back, slapping it on the desk. He frowned at the damp Li Chen. “Go dry your hair first.”

Seeing the hesitation on Shi Ji’s face, Li Chen understood. If he acted pitiful, it hit Shi Ji’s soft spot. This man really fell for it.

Li Chen nodded, hiding a flash of satisfaction. He turned around, then lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a patch of white skin.

“I think my back is hurt,” he said softly. “Look for me.”

He’d felt a stinging pain while showering.

Shi Ji quickly pulled him over and lifted the shirt, exposing his smooth back.

On the boy’s thin back was a large, gruesome bruise. It was clear how much force the attacker had used. The bruise contrasted sharply with his pale skin. Added to that were the older, faint marks from when the family servants had beaten him with sticks.

Shi Ji’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He instinctively reached out and touched Li Chen’s spine.

His cool fingertips slid over the youth’s warm skin, tracing the slightly raised marks. In the next second, Li Chen’s voice rang out:

“—I only told you to look.” “Why are you touching me?” “Brother.“