55: Your Brother Has Awakened Within You (END)

When he woke up, Zhou Langxing lay on the dark bed, staring at the ceiling, his eyes unmoving.

That dream had been far too vivid.

The conversations still echoed by his ears.

As though passed through an amplifier with enhancement abilities, repeating over and over, deepening the temptation. Zhou Langxing’s Adam’s apple bobbed; beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was struggling, resisting.

He couldn’t resist. In the end, he fell at the enemy’s feet.

Zhou Langxing made up his mind—that dream had been a reflection of reality. He accepted his friend’s suggestion and decided to take on Zhou Shurong’s identity.

He opened Zhou Shurong’s room. Qin Yan was laying on the bed. Father Zhou, seeing how pitiful he looked, couldn’t bring himself to object to him occupying Zhou Shurong’s room.

“Ah Yan—”

Qin Yan stared at the ceiling.

He kept staring. He didn’t know where else to look. As if Zhou Shurong’s portrait was etched into the plaster. There was a faint smile at the corner of his lips, and Zhou Langxing could tell he was immersing himself in sweet memories to numb his pain.

Zhou Langxing slowly walked over and lay down as well, gazing at the dull, spotless ceiling.

“Ah Yan, I had a dream last night.”

Qin Yan kept staring at the ceiling, as if he couldn’t hear anything.

“I dreamed of my brother.”

Qin Yan’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

“He asked me if I was willing to merge with him.”

The smile faded from Qin Yan’s lips. He turned his head and looked at Zhou Langxing, his gaze somewhat cold. No one would be happy to see their lover used as a weapon. He was too sensitive now.

That stare was sharp, like a thousand fine needles piercing the skin. Zhou Langxing felt a faint ache in his chest.

He kept a calm face, hands behind his head, forcing a bitter smile. “Why would I dream something like that? Actually dreaming that he possessed me… Sigh. Where do you think he is? I just don’t believe he’d vanish so easily.”

Qin Yan continued to stare at him coldly.

Zhou Langxing made up a lie and said hesitantly, “He even made a deal with me—he said from noon to seven in the evening, the body would be his.”

When Qin Yan heard this, he blinked slowly. It was as if a spring welled up from deep inside him, slowly moistening his dried-up eyes.

He asked softly, “Really?”

Before Zhou Langxing could answer, he added, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll be really upset.”

He didn’t say things like “I’ll hate you” or “I won’t ever see you again.” No threats—just a quiet, weary kind of sadness.

Zhou Langxing finally turned to meet his cool and sorrowful gaze. There was a hint of scrutiny in those eyes. His heart thumped fast, jaw clenched, muscles taut.

He had never been so terrified, but his voice came out calm and firm:

“It’s true!”

Qin Yan gave a slight nod. “I’ll believe you for now.”

Time crawled by, second by second. And when the clock struck noon, Zhou Langxing’s gaze, mannerisms, and speech all shifted.

He didn’t try to gain Qin Yan’s trust with superficial changes—no glasses, no slicked hair, no costume changes. That was too shallow.

He had studied Zhou Shurong—he had absorbed every detail until it was ingrained in him.

Even Father Zhou began to suspect Zhou Shurong had finally shown himself.

But Qin Yan had grown far too sensitive. He saw through it in an instant. It was intuition.

His heart sank into a bottomless pit.

There was resentment, too.

His eyes flickered, and a desire for revenge took root. He would wait until Zhou Langxing was at his proudest—then drag him down.

Who couldn’t act? Was Zhou Langxing the only clever one?

Qin Yan stayed by “Zhou Shurong’s” side at the dining table and played his role well, showing the exact reaction one should have when reunited with a lost lover.

He fooled Zhou Langxing completely.

Seeing Qin Yan smile again, the light returning to his eyes, Zhou Langxing felt both joy and disappointment, sweetness and bitterness. If Qin Yan didn’t see through him, it meant he hadn’t fully understood Zhou Shurong. It also meant Qin Yan hadn’t truly understood him either.

Meanwhile, Qin Yan’s resentment deepened. When should he tear the mask off?

At seven in the evening, the time Zhou Langxing had claimed belonged to him again, his expression began to shift.

Qin Yan’s lips were already curling into a cold smile. But then his body trembled, and he looked at the man before him in disbelief.

He had seen through Zhou Langxing on instinct.

And now, the person before him—he recognized him the same way. His emotions surged uncontrollably.

The man standing there smiled at him.

“Ah Yan, I’m back.”

It really was him. Zhou Langxing hadn’t lied—he had only gotten the timing wrong.

Qin Yan trembled from head to toe. “Shurong… welcome back.”

…

Another day arrived.

Zhou Langxing woke up thrilled. His memories told him he and Qin Yan had made great progress the night before—they’d sat together talking, held hands tightly, and he had even touched Qin Yan’s cheek. Qin Yan had smiled gently at him.

Another day passed, and he grew even more elated. His memory said he’d received a kiss on the cheek.

Day after day went by.

His memory told him he had already healed Qin Yan. Qin Yan was back to who he used to be—no, softer and gentler than ever before. His eyes shimmered with a glow like a slow-moving river.

But slowly, he began to sense something was wrong.

He couldn’t explain what exactly was off—just that something was.

Suddenly he remembered: he had told Qin Yan that Zhou Shurong would be in control from noon to seven. But the memories he had didn’t match—the timeline had shifted. It had become after seven.

Zhou Langxing froze.

When his father came looking for him, hesitating to speak, Zhou Langxing stepped into the bathroom, closed the door, and stared into the half-length mirror.

That face… carried a subtle, hidden fear. He was desperately suppressing it, trying to steady himself. He silently reassured his reflection:

“I’m just sick…”

Sometimes, Zhou Langxing still felt like his brother was nearby. But he thought it was just his emotions messing with him. Guilt, struggle, self-loathing—he would imagine Zhou Shurong berating him. It helped him vent.

So he slowly split off a personality that was his brother’s. Yes, that had to be it!

“I’m sick. I need a doctor…”

“You’re not sick.”

The man in the mirror smiled. That familiar smile stretched across his face, twisted by disbelief.

“Ah Xing,” the man in the mirror said calmly, putting on glasses. “Didn’t you want to replace me? Well, you succeeded. And so did I. We’ll never be apart again.”

Crash—

Zhou Langxing punched the mirror. It shattered into countless shards, each one reflecting his miserable, defiant figure.

He stepped out of the bathroom and met his father’s worried gaze.

“What is it?”

By now, he could already feel something was wrong.

Sure enough, the man said, “Ah Xing… your brother has already woken up. He’s inside you…”

Everything after that turned into static. His ears rang as if a bomb had gone off in his head, and his body went numb.

Then Qin Yan slowly appeared outside the door, gazing at him deeply.

Zhou Langxing felt like a joke.

All he could hear… was laughter.