For some reason, at the mention of Qingxiang, Ye Shixia’s expression turned strangely unreadable.

Though an otaku at heart, Ye Chang’an was perceptive enough to read the room. He couldn’t help but ask gently, “Is… is something wrong with Su Qingxiang?”

Memories surfaced in his mind like waves cresting the ocean.

Qingxiang was a beautiful child—and a boy, strikingly handsome.

Born in Hua Country, he carried one-quarter North Rose Continent blood—a fact often used to scorn him.

*Lowly.*

*Descendant of slaves.*

His mother was a mixed-race Indigenous woman, enslaved in her homeland.

Many would struggle to believe it: in the year 9102, how could slavery still exist?

Especially beautiful female slaves—what their masters did to them was all too easy to imagine.

Su Qingxiang’s father, a merchant from Hua Country, bought her during a business trip abroad.

She was sixteen.

Naturally a virgin—otherwise the price would’ve dropped sharply.

As for *why* he bought her… well. He certainly wasn’t marrying her.

Every child at the orphanage carried a tragic past.

Ye Chang’an included.

That’s why they clung together, forming a once-inseparable family.

Su Qingxiang was the eldest brother after Ye Chang’an—kind, gentle to all.

Yet that very gentleness once made Ye Chang’an scold him fiercely.

Qingxiang likely had a deeply ingrained people-pleasing personality: suffering himself meant nothing if others were pleased. Chang’an hated it. He wanted to snap him out of it.

—“At least think of yourself for once!”

Qingxiang’s childhood was undeniably bleak. He and his mother endured his tyrannical father’s beatings, abuse, servitude.

That environment forged his pitifully gentle nature.

Later, his mother passed—likely from years of violence and… humiliation.

His father, that beast, then treated Qingxiang as his mother’s replacement: forcing him into women’s clothing, demanding servitude, hurling insults and blows.

In the end, he even intended to… do the unspeakable.

Thankfully, a neighbor noticed.

They hadn’t seen the boy’s mother at the neighboring villa in ages.

But at night, they’d hear his helpless sobs.

Tormented, the kind-hearted neighbor called the police.

Su Qingxiang was saved.

At last, the first ray of light pierced his darkness.

He deserved a brighter future.

Coming to the orphanage became the luckiest turn of his life.

There, he gained sisters, an older sister, and Ye Chang’an as his big brother.

Warmth he hadn’t felt in over a decade.

Like long-awaited rain after drought.

Yet that very warmth deepened his people-pleasing into something almost pathological.

He willingly internalized the “role” his father invented—a psychological shackle.

The so-called *slave*.

He believed serving others was his destiny—and his “family,” especially Brother Chang’an, were the only ones worthy.

No wonder the usually even-tempered Ye Chang’an once erupted in rare fury, cursing fiercely, refusing to let go: *I will drag you back into the light.*

This clumsy otaku brother earned everyone’s affection—for good reason.

Shi Xia shook her head. A small relief flickered in Ye Chang’an’s chest.

“He’s… doing incredibly well now.”

“Incredibly well?”

“Mm. A global idol. Top contender for #1 on *World’s 100 Most Beautiful Faces*—landed third, but still the highest rank any ethnic Chinese person’s ever achieved.”

“Pfft… He became an *idol*?!?!” Ye Chang’an’s face froze in shock.

“Yeah…” Ye Shixia’s gaze deepened for a moment, a faint trace of melancholy in her eyes.

“Sometimes… I almost wish he’d come back to the orphanage. Even volunteering there might be… better than what he’s living now.”

…

Ye Chang’an fell silent. He knew nothing of the past five years. He had no right to speak.

Ye Shixia turned to him, earnest.

“Do you know how the media describes him?”

“…What?”

—“*To achieve greatness, one must be utterly consumed.*”