ADTCP Ch71

Summary:
Zhu Wensheng and Tao Zhen met each other when they were very young and grew up together as childhood friends. As the elder brother, Ah-Sheng gradually realized that he had improper thoughts toward Xiao Zhen. Not wanting to scare him, he kept his feelings hidden. That is, until he heard that his precious younger brother was “keeping” someone outside…

Warning: Due to differences in upbringing, the characters’ personalities may vary slightly from the main text. There will also be segments of the older brother teaching/disciplining the younger brother. Some characters may not appear at all~

It is widely known that Tao Zhen has a half-brother of different father and mother, Zhu Wensheng.

He and Zhu Wensheng clearly share no blood relation, yet they are even closer than many real brothers. Since childhood, they lived together, attended the same school, and grew up side by side.

Zhu Wensheng was one year older than him. From the moment he was aware and capable of taking care of others, he took charge of every aspect of Tao Zhen’s life—from the basics of food, clothing, housing, and pocket money—spoiling him like the apple of his eye, to the point where outsiders were left speechless.

Even Tao Zhen’s parents, Tao Dajun and Lin Manyao, sometimes felt ashamed. Tao Dajun was the head of a mining company, while Lin Manyao was a stage actress touring the world. Because they were always busy, their care and companionship for their son were far less than that of “Brother” Zhu Wensheng.

Looking back, perhaps it was all destined. In the early days when Tao Dajun and Lin Manyao were just starting their careers, they had intended to stay in their hometown Xuancheng to build a stable foundation. But unexpectedly, their usually obedient son Tao Zhen happened to see a photo of Nancheng and became obsessed, crying and insisting on moving there. The two had no choice but to grit their teeth and fulfill their child’s wish.

They had only intended to let Tao Zhen see the world, but no one expected that on his second day there, he would nearly be abducted—only to be saved by Zhu Wensheng.

The aloof, cold Zhu family young master, upon seeing Tao Zhen on the street for the first time, instinctively ordered the car to stop and rushed over.

After the driver and bodyguards chased away the human traffickers, he accepted half of a roasted sweet potato from little Tao Zhen, gave him the jade pendant from his own neck, and, on the way home, carefully wrote his name stroke by stroke on Tao Zhen’s palm.

At just over six years old, Tao Zhen’s handwriting was messy, but somehow the three characters “Zhu Wensheng” were written neatly and beautifully, as if he had practiced them countless times before.

The two children hit it off immediately, as though they were born to live together. In just one afternoon, they became inseparable best friends.

By the time Tao Dajun and Lin Manyao rushed to the Zhu residence, they nearly collapsed in relief upon finding Tao Zhen safe. They wanted to scold him but knew it wasn’t his fault; he was only six, taken by a trafficker far stronger than him. Just as their fear and anger boiled over, Zhu Wensheng stepped forward, shielding the tearful Tao Zhen, and apologized in his stead.

A seventeen-year-old child, who had clearly done a good deed, still took all the blame upon himself. He said he should not have taken Tao Zhen home without permission, that he should have called the police immediately…

How could Tao Dajun and Lin Manyao remain angry? They threw themselves on him, crying in gratitude, calling him their family’s great benefactor, and wanting to repay him somehow.

Unexpectedly, Zhu Wensheng shook his head. He wanted nothing—only to be Tao Zhen’s brother, to always stay with him.

The couple exchanged looks, unsure if they were thanking Zhu Wensheng or if Zhu Wensheng was thanking them in return.

In any case, things were decided just like that. Tao Zhen, still apologizing to his parents through tears, was held in Zhu Wensheng’s arms, gently soothed until his face was dry again.

Thus, from the very first day they met, the two children leaned on each other.

Since they had already moved to Nancheng, there was no going back. After this twist of fate, Tao Dajun’s business flourished there, quickly rising within six months to become a rising star in the industry. Lin Manyao too made her breakthrough, playing her first leading role in a musical, hailed as one of the most promising actresses of the stage.

They settled firmly in Nancheng, buying a villa near the Zhu family home so the boys became neighbors, officially entrusting Tao Zhen’s care to Zhu Wensheng.

Every morning, Zhu Wensheng would wake up half an hour early, run to Tao Zhen’s house, drag the still-sleepy boy out of bed, take him to wash up, then downstairs for breakfast, and finally ride to school together.

At school, Zhu Wensheng came down from the upper grades every recess to check on him—filling his thermos, helping him with homework, adding a coat if it was cold, giving him cooling patches and a fan if it was hot, and even delivering bento and snacks prepared by the housekeeper.

After school, they didn’t separate. Sometimes at Tao Zhen’s, sometimes at Zhu Wensheng’s—both houses had sets of bedding and toiletries prepared for them, so if it got too late, they could simply sleep over. At first, cautious elders only allowed weekend sleepovers, but as the boys grew older, that rule faded, and by middle school they were practically inseparable every day.

By high school, however, Tao Zhen began to feel troubled. He was sixteen now, no longer a six-year-old. Yet Zhu Wensheng still treated him like a little first-grader: preparing lunchboxes, adjusting his clothes, holding his hand up and down the stairs, picking him up on time… It wasn’t bad, but it clashed with his image as a cool teenager.

The girls in class teased good-naturedly, but the boys were harsher. Knowing the Zhu and Tao families’ wealth and influence, they dared not mock him to his face, but behind his back, they sneered, calling him a “brother’s pet” and Zhu Wensheng a control freak.

Tao Zhen wanted to change things, but didn’t know how to bring it up. After all, Zhu Wensheng truly cared for him. If he bluntly asked for distance, Zhu Wensheng would surely be hurt.

For several days, Tao Zhen fretted, sighing endlessly. His deskmate, a self-styled relationship guru, finally asked what was wrong. Tao Zhen hesitated, then started with “I have a friend…” and haltingly explained.

But the deskmate immediately saw through it, patting him sympathetically: “Don’t bother lying, who else but you would be under such suffocating control? Honestly, Tao Zhen, your brother is too much. Who else in high school is still managed like this? And he’s not even your real brother…”

Uncomfortable, Tao Zhen quickly defended him: “Gege isn’t a tyrant! He only cares so much for my sake—”

“Hey hey, if you’re going to defend him like that, then I won’t help you,” the deskmate smirked knowingly. “So tell me—do you actually want independence? Do you want to be your own cool guy?”

“…Yes,” Tao Zhen muttered reluctantly.

The deskmate grinned: “Then listen to me. This Saturday night, we’re going to a new party house on the east side. You’re coming with us!”

Party house. Party. Independence!

Tao Zhen’s eyes widened in fascination. He instinctively reached for his phone: “Okay… but I should tell Gege first—”

“Stop right there!” The deskmate stared like he was an alien. “If you tell him, he’ll never let you go. Even if he agrees, he’ll just sit outside in the car waiting to drag you back. That’s no different! The whole point is to experience life without his supervision. Just tell him you’re busy tonight.”

“But… isn’t that bad?” Tao Zhen hesitated.

The deskmate leaned back, crossing his arms, saying nothing. The silence was pressure enough.

“Fine, fine!” Tao Zhen caved. “But… he knows I never have plans at night…”

“Make something up! Say your dad’s giving birth or your mom’s taking college exams!”

“….”

Dizzy, Tao Zhen finally composed a lie with his deskmate’s encouragement: he texted Zhu Wensheng that Tao Dajun and Lin Manyao had suddenly called him home.

Five minutes later, the reply came: 【Okay.】

His deskmate snapped his fingers smugly: “See? What did I say?”

Tao Zhen exhaled in relief, yet unease gnawed at him. Normally, Zhu Wensheng would ask questions—what happened, when would his parents arrive, did he need a ride… But tonight, nothing. Just one word: okay.

Strangely, Tao Zhen felt both panicked and disappointed. Was Zhu Wensheng suspicious of his lie—or did he simply stop caring?

The latter was what Tao Zhen claimed to want. Yet, faced with it, he found his heart unexpectedly heavy.

That weight lingered until evening, when for the first time he skipped Zhu Wensheng’s car and instead followed his deskmate to the party house.

The half-grown boys in the car were all as happy as birds freed from their cages, or monkeys let loose from the mountains—everyone except Tao Zhen, who sat slouched with lowered eyes, staring at his phone, not even sure whose reply he was waiting for.

His deskmate and Lao Qiu quickly noticed his absent-mindedness. They slung their arms over his shoulders, cracking a few jokes. Tao Zhen couldn’t really laugh, but not wanting to embarrass his friends, he forced his lips into a smile.

At last, the car arrived at its destination.
Curiosity over the novelty dulled some of the gloom weighing on Tao Zhen’s heart. He hopped down with the others and carefully studied the so-called party house. But once he saw its appearance, he couldn’t help but frown slightly.

The location was remote, the building old, the greenery poor. At the front gate of the villa there were even piles of uncollected garbage. Compared to the Zhu and Tao households, this place was several notches lower in every way.

If he went home right now, he would be welcomed by a luxurious, comfortable room, exquisite food, and an older brother who would gently gather him into his arms…

Tao Zhen was already starting to regret things at the doorstep. But since he had already come, and with so many eyes on him, he couldn’t just turn around and leave. He had no choice but to steel himself and go in with the group.

Unlike his unease and restlessness, the other boys seemed quite satisfied with the environment. The moment they entered, it was as if they were back in their own homes: lights on, shoes kicked off, smelly socks out, backpacks tossed carelessly onto the sofa. Someone fiddled with the TV, projector, sound system, and microphones.

“Damn it, don’t hog it, okay? I’ve been dying to play this game!”
“I’m starving—anyone ordered food yet? Come on, come on, what’s for takeout? I want beer too!”
“How many rooms are there here? Only three? Then we’ll have to squeeze in tonight, or there won’t be enough space to sleep…”

The whole party house descended into chaos. What had been a fairly tidy room was soon a mess, filled with overlapping noise of games and chatter.

Just looking at the sofa that had been sat on by who-knows-how-many people made Tao Zhen hesitate to sit down. The thought of squeezing into a bed with his classmates later nearly made him want to hang himself. But he didn’t want to ruin the fun, so he put on an act of enjoyment, took the microphone from his deskmate, and sang two songs mechanically.

When the food arrived, everyone rushed over excitedly. Tao Zhen had no appetite. He slipped on a crinkly disposable glove, picked up a piece of fried chicken that had gone limp from the steam, and quietly gnawed at it with his head down, all the while thinking of the dinners Zhu Wensheng had cooked for him.

Nutritious, healthy, delicious, beautifully presented—and never with any broccoli, which he hated.

Suddenly Tao Zhen felt so miserable. He was starving, yet couldn’t bring himself to reach for another piece of chicken. Instead, he slipped his phone from his pocket, opened the chat window with Zhu Wensheng, and stared at it blankly.

It was as if he had made up his mind. He tugged off the glove and typed a few words, deleting and rewriting them in the input box. But before he could send it, his deskmate and Lao Qiu, full and tipsy, were already tugging him back to the living room sofa.

Lao Qiu wore a mysterious grin. “Come on, come on, everyone’s full, right? Time to get ready!”

Ready? Ready for what?

Confused, Tao Zhen scanned the faces around him. Every one of them wore the same expression as Lao Qiu. Someone even turned off the main light overhead before clearing his throat theatrically and sitting down in front of the TV with a look of giddy anticipation.

His deskmate, too, was rubbing his hands together eagerly. Seeing Tao Zhen’s bewildered face, he clicked his tongue and winked suggestively: “C’mon, you know. That. You know, that.”

That? What that?!

Tao Zhen was utterly lost. Just as he was about to ask, the TV screen lit up. A video began to play: on a tatami mat, a man and woman appeared.

The camera zoomed in. The strong-built man walked up to the woman, gripped the back of her head, and bent down toward her.

His deskmate instantly forgot all explanations, slapping Lao Qiu’s shoulder in excitement. “Holy crap, you actually got this? Damn, you’re amazing!”

Lao Qiu raised his brows smugly, wearing a faintly sleazy grin. “Of course. This one’s extra exciting… you guys better control yourselves. If you can’t, go outside—you don’t want to embarrass yourselves here.”

The group stifled laughter, eyes glued to the screen.

As the scene progressed, their breathing grew heavier, their whispers laced with curse words, and even the air in the room seemed to grow hot with youthful energy.

Tao Zhen gradually realized what was going on, and his face flushed crimson.

Especially when Lao Qiu stood up, laughing boisterously at the group’s reactions, Tao Zhen wanted to curl his toes into the floorboards. He silently recited the classical Chinese texts they’d studied that morning, desperate for distraction.

The others soon turned their teasing on Lao Qiu: “What, acting like you’re above it? You’re telling us you don’t feel anything?”

Lao Qiu snickered. “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? …Wait. Tao Zhen?!”

He looked like he’d discovered a new continent, staring in shock at the boy in the corner—face as red as a tomato, but sitting as prim as a saint:
“What, you mean you really don’t feel a thing? You… you’ve got no reaction?”

Tao Zhen’s face burned. He opened his mouth. “I-I do have a reaction.”

His deskmate pressed: “What kind of reaction?”

Head bowed, Tao Zhen thought of the male lead’s physique and equipment onscreen. His voice was as faint as a mosquito: “…I feel a little inferior…”

“……”

There was a stunned silence—then an explosion of laughter loud enough to blow the roof off. His deskmate nearly passed out laughing, grabbing Tao Zhen’s collar and shaking him. “Wh-what?! Who told you that’s the kind of reaction we meant? Did you even look at the woman? Didn’t you feel anything about her?!”

Mortified, Tao Zhen wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and bury himself. All he could do was stammer: “I-I…”

Before he could finish, the TV and overhead lights suddenly went out with a loud “pop.” Even the hum of the air conditioner stopped.

Laughter cut off instantly.

“What the hell?!”
“What’s going on?”
“Don’t panic, I’ll video call the owner—what the…? WeChat isn’t working, no signal! I’ll try calling—shit! No connection!”

As the minutes dragged on, the earlier joy completely vanished. Faces grew darker and more anxious.

Someone muttered under his breath: “Power outage, no internet, out in the suburbs, can’t reach the owner… this is, this is—”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but everyone silently supplied the words: a horror movie.

No one wanted to stay anymore. They all tried calling their families, but it was late. Many couldn’t get through. And because they’d been bragging about “independence,” no one had even told their parents the villa’s address. Even if someone answered, it was useless.

Regret washed over the group.

Outside, the wind howled, battering the windows. Black tree shadows thrashed like ghosts. Everyone sat hunched on the sofa, jumpy as startled birds, heads drooping in despair.

His deskmate clawed his hair in frustration, glancing at Tao Zhen: “I was wrong, Xiao Zhen! We should’ve listened to you, let you tell your Gege, let him wait for you outside!”

Tao Zhen couldn’t answer. He just curled in the corner, icy fingers clutching his phone, eyes fixed on the red exclamation mark in the chat window. His nose stung.

Yes. He thought the same. Only after leaving the wings he had so desperately wanted to escape did he realize how merciless the storm outside was.

“Forget it, forget it. No point talking about it now. Should we just go upstairs and sleep?”

“But the water heater’s dead—how do we shower? And who’s sleeping with who?”

“Don’t even start, I wanna die! Is there anyone who can save us—”

By all logic, at this time and place, there should have been no one to hear their cries.

Yet, faintly, came the roar of engines, the sound of tires on the road.

Beams of headlights cut through the windows, illuminating their bewildered, terrified faces. A commotion broke out.

At this hour, who could it be? The owner coming to rescue them—or human traffickers ready to drag them all away?

Bang—
Bang, bang, bang—

The front door shook with pounding knocks! Everyone panicked, Tao Zhen included. They grabbed whatever they could to use as weapons and huddled together.

Lao Qiu braced himself, shouting toward the door: “Who’s there?!”

The knocking stopped.

Outside, the wind screamed and trees lashed. A Rolls-Royce stood at the front, followed closely by a Maybach and a Bentley. The three black luxury cars parked neatly in a row. Three drivers stood respectfully by the doors, gazes lifted toward the black-haired youth at the villa entrance, his face stern.

At the same time, Tao Zhen’s heart gave a hard thump. As if sensing it, he shoved past Lao Qiu and stumbled forward.

Through the door came Zhu Wensheng’s low, hoarse, helpless voice:

“Baby, open the door.”

“Gege came to take you home.”