He was more delicate than Xingyu was, always had been. As a child, he would burst into tears at things that didn’t phase Xingyu in the slightest—a scraped knee, a mocking word from another fu’erdai, their father’s glare, and so on. Xingyu was also not so oblivious that he didn’t see the emotion swirling around in Xiao-Xiao’s eyes while he recounted the lessons of his childhood and the appointments he’d been taking. Even if Xiao-Xiao himself was not aware of what kind of effect these things had on him—and Xingyu was fairly convinced that he wasn’t aware—the effect was still there.

And he had never left the city. He’d stayed with his family. He’d stayed with the List. He’d continued working for his family in Liu Incorporated, and at a high position at that. It would not be a stretch for anyone in the city, much less the press, to conclude that Xingyu’s return had simultaneously brought down the List and protected his brother from the aftermath. It would not be a stretch for anyone to believe that Liu Xiao-Xiao was just as villainous as everyone else but escaped nonetheless because of his gege. What would happen to Xiao-Xiao if all of this happened? How would he survive if the city who had so loudly loved him for so long began to scorn him instead?