Chapter 126: Brother and Younger Brother

The pitch-black night, the low growls of wild dogs, and the watchful eyes glimmering within the sewer painted a strange and eerie scene.

This sewer entrance was extremely well concealed.

Surrounded by abandoned, empty houses, with wild weeds growing wildly from the corners and sprawling over the manhole above, heaps of discarded junk lay piled beside it.

A passerby would hardly notice the sewer entrance hidden beneath the trash and tangled weeds unless they deliberately moved the rubbish aside.

Seeing no one nearby, a figure clad in a raincoat emerged cautiously from beneath the manhole cover, moving with careful, deliberate steps.

The filthy water dripping from the raincoat emitted a foul stench so repulsive that even the wild dogs ignored it and slunk away with their heads lowered.

The shadow removed the raincoat and stuffed it into a grimy waterproof bag, then bent down to shove it beneath the rubbish heap.

Under the faint moonlight, one could barely make out that the shadow was that of a man.

If the tea stall owner had been present, he would immediately recognize this man as the gentle middle-aged gentleman who had sipped tea at his stall during the day.

But at this moment, the man's expression bore no trace of gentleness.

Perhaps frustrated that his covert route had been compromised, he appeared restless, his face marked by fear and anger.

His lips moved repeatedly, seemingly silently cursing.

He shifted aside a rusty iron plate near the garbage pile, revealing a gap in the surrounding wall just large enough for someone to slip through sideways.

Inside the enclosure, desolation stretched as far as the eye could see, with only a dilapidated old house left standing. The word “Demolish” was spray-painted boldly on its exterior wall.

This was a hazardous building awaiting teardown and reconstruction; its front door was firmly welded shut, but the broken glass windows stood open.

The man paused by the window, pulling a bottle of men's cologne from his jacket pocket and spraying it liberally onto his neck and wrists.

Only then did he nod in satisfaction and climb through the window into the house.

“Plop!”

As he landed, a deep, resonant voice echoed from a dark corner of the room.

The heavy nasal tone made the air tremble, as if a beast lurked hungrily in the darkness:

“Brother Tu Peng, you’re back?”

The man named Ma Tu Peng seemed well aware of his younger brother’s presence in the shadows.

He inhaled deeply, the agitation on his face slowly fading, and spoke with a calm and gentle tone:

“Little brother, we need to move. This place isn’t safe. It won’t be long before someone finds us.”

From the pitch-black corner came a restless stir, followed by the sharp scraping of a hard object against the floor, grating painfully on the ears.

“Brother, calm down, calm down... be good.”

He walked directly into the darkness, reaching out to gently stroke the restless figure’s head, soothing him into quietude.

The lingering scent of cologne acted like a charm, and the rough, heated breath began to slow...

Ma Tu Peng then slowly pushed open another battered wooden door.

Behind it should have been a kitchen, but now it held eight children, eerily seated on the cold floor.

The kitchen had transformed into a frigid prison.

Before the children lay leftover scraps of food, without any utensils.

From their sticky, filthy little hands, it was clear they ate with their fingers.

The eight children were a mix—some dressed finely, others plainly—but each was filthy and reeked.

Among them were the boy who had handed out candies, whom Ye Chen had encountered before, and the little girl known as Egg Tart, who had lost one shoe.

Egg Tart’s once-white socks were now pitch-black and foul-smelling; her braids hung loose, her delicate face smudged with grime, though she seemed oblivious.

The children did not speak among themselves, did not cry out from cold or hunger, nor did they whimper.

Their vacant, unfocused gazes were empty and blank.

Only the faint rise and fall of their chests showed they were still alive.

Ma Tu Peng seemed deeply dissatisfied with this outcome, murmuring under his breath:

“Still not enough, just a little more... damn those patrol officers...”

The younger brother, seemingly hearing his older brother’s low voice, growled again:

“Are the patrol officers coming for us? Don’t be afraid, brother, I can kill them all—they’re weak!”

Unexpectedly, the younger brother’s reassurance backfired, and Ma Tu Peng snapped at him:

“Shut up! Don’t say that—not this time, and never again!”

Startled by his brother’s sudden shift in tone, the younger brother shrank back into the corner, curling his body tighter.

After a moment, a low, terrifying whimper arose from the corner, like a wild animal mourning.

Realizing his words had been too harsh, Ma Tu Peng quickly crouched down, once more reaching out to stroke his brother’s head, saying:

“Don’t be sad. Brother isn’t scolding you—Brother is doing this for your own good.

Brother knows the patrol officers can’t beat you; Brother knows you’re strong.

But Brother doesn’t want to see you fighting.

Listen to Brother, alright?”

The head in the shadows nodded slightly in response.

“All right, good little brother. Let’s pack up, send these few away first, then find a new place.”

“Mm!” The voice was mature yet obedient, discordant yet oddly endearing.

...

Night deepened.

Lying in bed, Ye Shan Shan stared at the ceiling, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Her mind replayed scenes like a slideshow, one after another, tormenting her.

Since Ye Chen had become a patrol officer, though his income had increased and he often joked that he no longer needed to run a stall, the number of worries and dangers only multiplied.

She could never forget the morning when she encountered Ye Chen, covered in blood, though it was later proven the blood wasn’t his.

Not long after, she heard he had been admitted to the patrol’s medical facility, though he acted as if nothing had happened after returning.

Still, the injury was said to be severe.

Moreover, recently he often stayed out all night without explanation.

She preferred the days when he hunted in the wild—at least then, things were more predictable.

Women’s thoughts are subtle; they constantly compare, and their attention to detail is sharp.

Simple pleasures can satisfy, yet changes in surroundings and relationships often breed insecurity.

“I hate this so much!!!” The insomniac murmured softly.

Ye Shan Shan turned onto her side, wrapping the covers tightly around her, burying her cheek in her freshly washed, fragrant hair, trying hard to close her eyes.

“Clink... click!”

Outside, the sound of a key turning in the lock reached her ears.

That sound was so familiar, so sweet, and so comforting.

At least he still knew how to come home... the little girl thought with a silent grumble.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright.

In a flurry, she threw on a coat, dressed only in thin pajama shorts below, and flicked on the light with a snap.

Grabbing something from the bedside, she hurriedly slipped on her slippers and rushed to open the door.