He migrated between his bed and the living room couch, sleeping in both, only occasionally having the energy to watch videos on the screen of his phone or have short conversations with Driver He. There were fainter, less frequent memories of Weiran and Xingyu—Weiran speaking softly to him and pressing kisses to his face; Xingyu just standing next to him, his presence overbearing but absolutely silent otherwise. He had his suspicions about what they were up to. It was hard not to suspect anything. Even after Driver He gave his short explanations—probably more so after these explanations, actually—Xiaokai continued to suspect. They were going after Bai Xue, both of them. Xiaokai didn’t know what Weiran wanted with the man if he ever managed to find him, but Xingyu would definitely kill him. He’d grown up with the knowledge of Xingyu’s other kills—Bai Xue would be no different, especially after Xingyu found out some of the things Bai Xue had done to Xiaokai. Weiran…Weiran was angry about it all, but Xiaokai didn’t think he had it in him to kill anyone. He was the good, dutiful son who just wanted to put everyone into prison. If Bai Xue had hurt Xingyu, maybe he would have had it in him, but he was just too weak otherwise.

But then they came home.

It was in the middle of the night. Xiaokai was in a rare moment of clarity, and He Peilin had brought him a glass of water with a straw that he was very carefully guzzling down. Xingyu and Weiran came in through the door and Xingyu’s steps stuttered when he saw Xiaokai—he’d obviously not thought Xiaokai would be up.

They stared at each other for a moment, Xingyu a deer caught in headlights, Xiaokai an unrelenting car.

Then: “I told you not to.”

Xingyu grimaced. Behind him, Xiaokai could see Weiran slink in and hide behind Xingyu’s shoulder. “Xiao-Xiao—”

“What the hell were you thinking?” He pushed Driver He and the glass of water away. Driver He dipped his head down, stood, and made himself scarce.

“It won’t be a problem.” Xingyu’s arm moved back, like he was protecting Weiran, which only made the whole thing worse. “I’ll handle it, Xiaokai.”

“And what about Weiran? Is he going to handle it?”

“Xiaokai—” Weiran started feebly, and Xiaokai had to resist the urge to pull him out from behind Xingyu’s protection and slap him.

“You’re both going to end up in prison. I can’t believe you dragged Weiran into this. He’s the only one of us who—” Xiaokai forced himself to stop. He rubbed his face with the heels of his hands hard enough for his vision to get spots. “Where’s the body?”

“It’s still at the house,” Xingyu said.

“Did you suddenly forget how to kill without leaving a trace?”

Xingyu hesitated. “Well—”