Jian sat cross-legged on the floor, Quangya now curled up beside him, fast asleep with his head resting against Jian's side. His grandfather remained seated in front of him, watching with patient eyes, waiting.
And slowly, Jian began to talk.
He told him everything—starting from the beginning. From the moment Bian changed. From when the small cruelties began, the manipulation, the lies. Jian's voice stayed low, steady, but it trembled every now and then when certain memories surfaced too clearly.
He told him how Bian had used him, again and again. How every chance to twist the knife deeper had been taken. How Jian had once believed he could save his brother, had tried to be there for him, had even blamed himself for the hate he was shown.
He confessed how that delusion had broken the day Bian sold him out.
"He hired people," Jian said, voice tight. "Kidnappers. Thugs. They tried to sell me off… for my blood."
His grandfather flinched at that, his hand twitching.
