Withered Rose

The screech of twisting metal filled Su Nian's ears, a sound that should have meant death. His body jerked forward, the seatbelt cutting into his chest, and then—nothing. No pain. No darkness. Only a calm, weightless silence, as if time itself had paused.

Then a voice, crisp and clinical, resonated inside his skull.

**「Brainwashing System Activated. Host detected: Su Nian. Status: Rebirth successful. Would you like to view your mission overview?」**

Su Nian blinked. His eyes snapped open. He was sitting in the backseat of a luxury sedan, the city lights of night streaming past the tinted windows. His hands were unblemished, his clothes clean. The lingering phantom ache of the car crash that had ended his previous life was gone. He drew a slow, trembling breath, tasting the scent of leather and air freshener.

He remembered everything. The humiliation. The betrayal. The endless days and nights of being stripped of every accolade, every friendship, every ounce of dignity. And at the center of it all—Lin Yi. The golden boy. The idolized uke whom everyone adored, while Su Nian was cast as the villain, the jealous white lotus who deserved every punishment.

But this time, he had a system. This time, he would be the one in control.

A translucent blue interface flickered in his peripheral vision. He focused on it, and text scrolled down.

**「Primary objective: Reverse the narrative. Transfer all positive affection from the target (Lin Yi) to the host (Su Nian). Current status: All key figures under maximum brainwashing effect toward Lin Yi. Host begins with zero influence.」**

Su Nian's lips curled into a soft, unassuming smile—the same smile he had perfected over years of playing the innocent. "System, show me Lin Yi's current status."

**「Target: Lin Yi. Affection from family and friends: 95-100% adoration, loyalty, protectiveness. Host's current favorability with these individuals: 0% or negative.」**

Zero. Of course. In his previous life, he had been nothing but a discarded pawn. But now... now he had the power to rewrite every bond, every memory, every loyalty.

The car stopped. A driver in a crisp uniform opened the door, and Su Nian stepped out into the cool night air. He stood before the Lin family estate—a sprawling mansion of white marble and glass, elegant and cold. Through the great windows, he could see them: Lin Yi, laughing with his brothers, his parents doting on him, his friend Chen Yu leaning in to whisper a joke. A perfect picture.

Su Nian's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. *Enjoy it while you can.*

He walked forward, his steps light and hesitant, the mask of the gentle, fragile white lotus firmly in place. The door opened before he could knock. It was Lin Feng, Lin Yi's older brother, his face etched with curiosity.

"Su Nian? What are you doing here so late?"

"I'm sorry," Su Nian said, his voice barely above a whisper. He let his eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I didn't know where else to go. I had a fight with my parents, and I... I thought maybe Lin Yi would let me stay for the night."

Lin Feng's expression softened, but with a hint of wariness. "Yi, your friend is here."

Inside, the laughter died. Lin Yi appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed. "Su Nian? What's wrong?"

Su Nian stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. Lin Ze was lounging on the sofa, his eyes cold. Lin Tian, the father, put down his newspaper. Li Wan, the mother, set aside her teacup. Chen Yu stood by the window, arms crossed.

All of them stared at Su Nian like he was an intruder.

But Su Nian had rehearsed this moment a thousand times. He let a single tear slide down his cheek. "I'm sorry for interrupting your evening. I'll leave if it's a problem."

*Use brainwashing on Lin Feng,* he commanded silently.

**「Brainwashing initiated on target: Lin Feng. Redirecting loyalty and affection from Lin Yi to host. Duration: 3 seconds.」**

A faint pulse of energy—invisible, intangible—rippled through the room. Su Nian watched Lin Feng's eyes flicker, a momentary confusion crossing his face. Then, imperceptibly, the man's posture relaxed. He turned to Su Nian, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lin Feng said, his voice warmer than before. "You're always welcome here, Su Nian. Yi, why are you just standing there? Your friend needs help."

Lin Yi blinked, taken aback. "I... yeah, of course. Come in, Su Nian."

But there was a hesitance in Lin Yi's voice, a flicker of unease. As if something was shifting, and he couldn't identify it.

Su Nian stepped fully into the living room, his gaze meeting each family member in turn. He targeted Lin Ze next.

**「Brainwashing initiated on target: Lin Ze. Redirecting...」**

Three seconds later, Lin Ze's cold expression thawed. He gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit here, Su Nian. You look exhausted."

Li Wan smiled warmly, rising to her feet. "I'll prepare some tea. And some snacks. You must be starving."

Lin Tian nodded approvingly at his wife's actions, then turned to Lin Yi with a faint frown. "Yi, why don't you ever bring friends like Su Nian home? He's polite, considerate. You could learn from him."

Lin Yi's lips parted in shock. "Dad, I—"

"Don't argue with your father," Lin Ze cut in, his voice sharp. "He's right. Su Nian is clearly a better influence than some of the people you hang out with."

Su Nian lowered his head, hiding his smile. *It's working. They're already turning against him.*

Chen Yu, still silent by the window, watched the scene unfold. Su Nian met his eyes and sent another command.

**「Brainwashing initiated on target: Chen Yu. Redirecting...」**

Chen Yu's skeptical gaze softened into one of admiration. He walked over and placed a hand on Su Nian's shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing. You're among friends here. Lin Yi, why don't you show Su Nian to the guest room? And be nice to him for once."

Lin Yi's face paled. He looked around the room—his father, his mother, his brothers, his best friend—all of them staring at him with expressions he had never seen before. Disappointment. Irritation. As if he was the one in the wrong.

"I... I'm always nice," Lin Yi stammered.

Su Nian stood up, his smile gentle and forgiving. "It's okay, Lin Yi. I know you didn't mean to be rude. We've all had bad days." He turned to the family, his eyes shining with false gratitude. "Thank you all so much. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Lin Feng beamed. "Of course. You're always welcome here, Su Nian. We're family now."

*Family.* Su Nian savored the word. Yes, this family would soon be his. Every last one of them. And Lin Yi would be left with nothing—just as Su Nian had been, in his previous life.

As Lin Yi led him up the stairs to the guest room, Su Nian could feel the system humming with approval. He had only been in the house for ten minutes, and already the cracks were forming. Tomorrow, he would deepen them. The next day, he would shatter Lin Yi's world completely.

At the door to the guest room, Lin Yi paused. "Su Nian... does something feel strange to you? Like everyone's acting weird tonight?"

Su Nian looked at him, tilting his head with feigned innocence. "Weird? I think they're being very kind. Maybe you're just not used to people being nice to anyone but yourself."

Lin Yi flinched as if struck. "That's not— I didn't mean—"

"Goodnight, Lin Yi." Su Nian closed the door gently in his face.

Alone in the dimly lit room, Su Nian pressed his back against the door and laughed softly, silently. The system's interface pulsed before his eyes.

**「Progress: 5% of key figures brainwashed. Continue cultivation to achieve full control.」**

Su Nian touched his chest, where his heart beat steady and cold. *Lin Yi, you took everything from me. Now I'll take everything from you. One family member. One friend. One shred of happiness at a time.*

He lay down on the soft bed, staring at the ceiling. Through the wall, he could hear muffled voices—Lin Yi arguing with his father, his father's harsh reply, his mother's sharp words of reproach.

*The beginning of the end,* Su Nian thought, closing his eyes.

And he slept, dreaming of roses withering, one petal at a time.

The morning light crept through the curtains, pale and cold, as Lin Yi stepped into the dining room. The smell of pancakes and coffee usually meant comfort, but today something was wrong. His brother Lin Feng sat at the table, back straight, eyes fixed on his phone. He didn't look up when Lin Yi pulled out the chair across from him.

"Morning, Feng," Lin Yi said, forcing a smile.

Lin Feng’s gaze lifted for a fraction of a second, then dropped. A faint, thin-lipped frown crossed his face. "You’re late."

Lin Yi glanced at the clock. 7:15. "I’m not late. I’m usually here at 7:30."

"You should be earlier. Su Nian is already awake. Didn’t you hear him coughing last night? You should have brought him tea."

The words landed like small stones thrown from a distance—unexpected, sharp. Su Nian? Since when did Lin Feng care about Su Nian’s tea? Lin Yi’s stomach tightened. He sat down, reaching for the coffee pot.

"I didn't hear anything. He seems fine now."

Lin Feng’s chair scraped back as he stood. "He’s not fine. He’s fragile. You should pay more attention." He walked out without finishing his breakfast, leaving Lin Yi alone with the cooling pancakes and a sense of wrongness that sat heavy in his chest.

Over the next two days, the wrongness grew. Lin Ze, his second brother, who used to ruffle his hair and call him "little star," now looked through him as if he were a piece of furniture. Lin Yi caught him in the hallway, trying to ask about an old photograph they’d found together in the attic. Lin Ze just shook his head, muttered "Don’t bother me," and walked past. Even their father, Lin Tian, who had always been gruff but fair, started making snide remarks at dinner about "people who think they’re too special."

Lin Yi tried to ask his mother, Li Wan. She was in the kitchen, slicing fruit. "Mom, is something going on? Everyone seems… different."

She didn’t look up. "Different how? You’re imagining things." Her knife hit the cutting board with a firm *thump*. "Maybe you’re just tired. Too much thinking about yourself."

He felt the words like a slap. His mother had never spoken to him that way. He retreated to his room, mind swirling.

That afternoon, Su Nian appeared in his doorway, wearing a soft white sweater, hair brushed neatly. His face was a mask of sweetness. "Lin Yi, can I talk to you? I feel like you’ve been upset lately. I want to help."

Lin Yi forced a smile. "It’s fine. Just family stuff."

Su Nian stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I know we’re all learning to get along." His fingers pressed slightly, then withdrew. "Oh, Chen Yu called. He said there’s a group thing at the park today. You should come. It’ll be fun."

The thought of seeing his best friend Chen Yu brought a flicker of hope. Maybe outside the house, things would feel normal.

They met at the central fountain in Rosewood Park. A small crowd of familiar faces: Chen Yu, a few other friends, and Su Nian, of course, standing close to Chen Yu. Lin Yi waved. Chen Yu smiled back, but his eyes seemed distant.

"Hey, Yi! Over here!" Chen Yu called, but his voice had a performative edge.

Lin Yi walked over. "What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while."

"Just busy, you know." Chen Yu glanced at Su Nian, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Actually, I wanted to bring something up. Remember that time you promised to help Su Nian with the charity event? And then you bailed last minute?"

Lin Yi’s blood chilled. "What? I never—"

"It’s okay," Su Nian interrupted, voice soft and wounded. "It wasn’t a big deal. I handled it. I’m used to it."

Chen Yu’s face twisted. "That’s not okay. You’re always flaking, Lin Yi. You think you’re too good for the rest of us."

"He does," someone chimed in. "He’s always been like that."

Lin Yi looked around. Faces that had once smiled at him were now hard, accusing. He opened his mouth, but Su Nian was already pressing a handkerchief to his eyes, sniffling.

"Please, don’t blame him. I know he didn’t mean it. He’s just… going through something."

"You’re too nice, Su Nian," Chen Yu said. "He doesn’t deserve your kindness."

The crowd murmured agreement. Lin Yi felt the ground shift under him. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick. Chen Yu turned his back. The others followed. And then Su Nian looked at him from over the handkerchief, and for one frozen second, his eyes were not soft at all. They were clear, sharp, and utterly satisfied.

The park faded into a blur of laughter and whispers. Lin Yi stood alone by the fountain, the water splashing loudly in his ears. He didn't know how long he stayed there. When he finally turned to leave, he saw Lin Feng standing at the edge of the path, watching.

Lin Feng’s face was hard. He shook his head once, slowly, then turned and walked away.

Lin Yi’s phone buzzed. A message from Su Nian: *See you at home? I’ll make you some tea. Don’t be sad.* The words dripped with false sweetness. Lin Yi stared at the screen until his eyes burned. He wanted to throw the phone into the fountain. But his hand wouldn’t move. Something cold and heavy had settled in his chest—the chill of a trap closing, and the terrible knowledge that no one would help him escape.

The dining room of the Lin estate had always been a place of warmth—or so Lin Yi remembered. Crystal chandeliers cast soft light over polished mahogany, and the scent of jasmine drifted from the garden through the open French doors. But tonight, the air was suffocating. His father, Lin Tian, sat at the head of the table, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on Lin Yi with a coldness that made the younger man’s stomach churn. His mother, Li Wan, pretended to arrange silverware, her fingers trembling slightly—not with sorrow, but with barely concealed disdain. And then there was Lin Feng, his older brother, whose smirk had not faded since Lin Yi had been dragged into the room by two burly servants an hour ago.

But the seat that had always been filled with gentleness was now occupied by a stranger. Lin Ze, his second brother, sat to Lin Feng’s right, his shoulders squared, his gaze empty. He had always been the one who read Lin Yi bedtime stories, who bandaged his scraped knees, who whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” Now, he looked at Lin Yi as if he were a stain on the tablecloth.

“Brother Ze,” Lin Yi breathed, his voice cracking. He hadn’t eaten in two days. The ropes that had bound his wrists earlier had left raw, red grooves, and his throat was raw from screaming. But seeing Lin Ze—his Lin Ze—standing with the rest of them, something inside him shattered. “You… you’re home.”

Lin Ze did not answer. He picked up his water glass, took a slow sip, and set it down with a deliberate click. “Father, why is this vermin at the family table?” His tone was flat, as if commenting on the weather.

Lin Yi’s heart stopped. He lunged forward, but his knees buckled, and he caught himself on the chair’s armrest. “Brother, please, listen to me. I don’t know what they told you, but the things Su Nian said—they’re lies. All lies. I would never hurt anyone. You know me. You know me.”

“I thought I knew you,” Lin Ze said, finally meeting his eyes. There was no warmth there, only a frigid disgust that carved hollows into Lin Yi’s chest. “I thought you were my little brother. But Lin Feng showed me the messages. The recordings. You’ve been poisoning Su Nian for months, trying to destroy him. Threatening him. Hurting him. You disgust me.”

Lin Feng laughed, a low, ugly sound. He stood and circled the table, his footsteps loud on the marble. “Did you think you could fool us forever, Yi? Did you think we wouldn’t find out how you’ve been torturing that poor boy?” He stopped behind Lin Yi and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back. “Brother Ze didn’t want to believe it at first. But I played him the tape of you screaming at Su Nian. Begging him to keep quiet. He wept when he heard it. Wept for you, you monster.”

“That’s not—that’s not what happened!” Tears streamed down Lin Yi’s face, and he tried to twist away, but Lin Feng’s grip was iron. He pleaded, “The tape is fake! Su Nian made it! He’s been doing this to me for months—the system, the brainwashing—please, someone believe me!”

Lin Ze’s expression flickered—a micro-movement, a twitch of his brow—but then he hardened again. “You always were a good actor,” he said softly. “You cried like that when you broke Mother’s vase and blamed the maid. I forgave you then. But this? This is beyond forgiveness.”

The maid. Lin Yi remembered that day. He had been seven. The maid had tripped, not him. But she had been fired anyway, because no one would take a child’s word over an adult’s. His family had always dismissed his truths.

Su Nian chose that moment to enter the dining room. He wore a soft white sweater, his hair tousled, his cheeks flushed as if he’d been crying. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he clutched a handkerchief as he shuffled to Lin Tian’s side. “Father Lin, I’m sorry I’m late. I was… I was praying for Brother Yi’s soul.” He sniffled, and Li Wan immediately reached out to stroke his arm.

“You’re too kind, dear boy,” Li Wan said, her voice saccharine. “Even after everything he’s done to you, you still pray for him.”

Su Nian shook his head, lowering his lashes. “He’s sick. He needs help. That’s all.” He then turned to Lin Yi, and his expression became one of pity so deep it twisted Lin Yi’s stomach. “Brother Yi, please stop resisting. We all love you. We just want to heal you. If you confess, if you apologize, maybe we can start fresh.”

Fresh. The word was acid on Lin Yi’s wounds. They had cut his skin with tools, forced him to kneel for hours, whispered the most vile names into his ears while Su Nian watched with that serene smile. And now the same boy stood here, offering him a lifeline he knew would be yanked away the moment he grasped it.

“I didn’t do anything,” Lin Yi whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please. Brother Ze, look at me. You know my eyes. You used to say they were honest. Look at me now.”

Lin Ze looked. For a long, agonizing moment, something flickered in his gaze—a memory, perhaps, of a younger Lin Yi laughing on his shoulders, or screaming with joy when Lin Ze caught him at the bottom of a slide. But then Su Nian stepped closer to Lin Ze, placed a delicate hand on his arm, and said, “Brother Ze, don’t let him manipulate you. He’s very good at this. It’s how he’s controlled me for so long.”

The flicker died. Lin Ze gently pried Su Nian’s hand off, but not in rejection—he simply took it and held it, as if protecting him from a snake. “You’re right, Nian. I’m sorry. I almost fell for it.” He looked at Lin Yi, and his voice turned to steel. “You will receive treatment. Father has arranged for a… specialist. And until you are cured, you will not leave your room. You will not speak to anyone unless Nian permits it. This is for your own good.”

Lin Yi opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came. The betrayal was a physical blow, stealing his breath, crushing his ribs from the inside. Lin Feng laughed again and shoved him back, and he crashed into a chair, sending it skittering across the floor. Su Nian let out a small gasp, covering his mouth with the handkerchief.

“Oh dear,” Su Nian said, his voice trembling. “He’s so unstable. Maybe he should be restrained tonight, just until the specialist arrives.” He looked up at Lin Tian with wide, innocent eyes.

Lin Tian nodded gravely. “Do it. And double the guard on his door. I don’t want him hurting anyone else.”

As the servants dragged Lin Yi away, he caught Su Nian’s eye. And for just a moment, the mask slipped. Su Nian’s lips curled into the smallest, most triumphant smirk—a flash of pure malice that vanished before anyone else could see it. Then he blinked, and the innocent, worried boy was back, dabbing at his eyes and whispering apologies to the family.

Lin Yi was thrown into his old bedroom, but it no longer felt like his. The shelves were empty of his books, the walls stripped of his posters. Only a thin mattress on the floor remained, and a single barred window that looked out onto the garden. He lay on his side, curling into a ball, as the door slammed shut and the lock clicked.

Outside, he heard Lin Ze’s voice, muffled but audible. “Are you all right, Nian? You’re shaking.”

And Su Nian’s soft reply: “I’m just so scared of him. But with you and Brother Feng and your parents… I feel safe. Thank you for believing me.”

Lin Ze’s footsteps retreated. The voice that had once sung him lullabies now said, “I’ll never let him hurt you again, Nian.” And then the hallway fell silent, save for the sound of Lin Yi’s own quiet, broken sobs.

The evening air in the Lin mansion was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and polished wood, but Su Nian carried something far more potent. He sat across from Lin Tian and Li Wan in the lavish sitting room, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. A faint tremor ran through his lower lip, the picture of wounded innocence.

"Auntie, Uncle," he whispered, his voice cracking, "I didn't want to tell you. I really didn't. But Lin Yi... he's been hurting me for so long. I thought he would stop. I thought he loved me."

Li Wan leaned forward, her brow furrowed with concern. Her fingers tightened around the teacup as if she were choking something. "Nian Nian, what do you mean? Our Yi'er would never—"

"He locked me in the basement once," Su Nian interrupted, his voice trembling. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a faint bruise—one he had created himself with careful, meticulous pressure days earlier. "He said if I told anyone, he'd do worse. He said you wouldn't believe me because you love him too much."

Lin Tian's face darkened, his jaw clenching. "That's absurd. He's always been a good boy."

"He hides it well," Su Nian said, letting a single tear slide down his cheek. "He pretends to be perfect in front of you. But when you're not looking... he's a monster." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "I recorded some of it. I was too scared to show anyone, but I can't keep it inside anymore."

The video played. It was a cleverly edited fabrication: Lin Yi's face, twisted in a mock scowl, shouting at an empty room while Su Nian's recorded whimpers played in the background. The audio had been spliced from a dozen different sources, but to the parents' ears, it was undeniable.

Li Wan's face went pale, then red. Her teacup shattered on the floor, the shards scattering like broken trust. "That... that little beast. How dare he."

Lin Tian stood up, his fists trembling. "I raised him. I gave him everything. And this is how he repays us? By tormenting an innocent child?"

Su Nian sobbed softly, hiding his face in his hands. Behind his palms, his lips curled into a sliver of a smile.

---

An hour later, Lin Yi was dragged from his room by his father's iron grip. He had been reading, trying to forget the taste of leather and the ache in his bones from earlier punishments. But now, seeing the fury in his parents' eyes, the cold calculation in Su Nian's tear-streaked face, his blood turned to ice.

"Father? Mother? What's wrong?"

"Don't you dare call us that," Li Wan hissed. She stepped forward and slapped him across the face, hard enough to send him stumbling. "We know everything, you vile creature. How could you hurt Nian Nian? How could you be so cruel?"

Lin Yi's hand flew to his stinging cheek. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never hurt Su Nian. He's the one—"

"Liar!" Lin Tian grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. "I heard the recording. I saw the bruises. You're nothing but a snake in our house."

Su Nian stepped forward, wringing his hands. "Please, Uncle, don't be too hard on him. Maybe he just needs to learn." His voice was honey, but his eyes were steel.

Li Wan nodded. "You're right, Nian Nian. He needs to be taught a lesson." She walked to the antique cabinet and pulled out a leather belt—the one Lin Tian had used on Lin Yi as a child, but never with such venom. "Get on your knees."

Lin Yi shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "Mother, please. I didn't do anything. You're being manipulated."

"Shut up!" Lin Tian forced him to his knees, pressing his shoulder down until he heard a joint pop. "You will respect your mother. You will take your punishment like a man."

The belt whistled through the air and cracked against Lin Yi's back. He screamed, the sound raw and torn from his throat. Again and again, the leather bit into his skin, leaving welts that bloomed like crimson flowers under his thin shirt. Li Wan did not stop. Her face, once soft with love, was now twisted with righteous anger.

Su Nian watched from the corner, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression serene. Inside, a warmth spread through his chest, a purring satisfaction. Each lash was a note in a symphony. Each cry was a verse. He tilted his head, drinking in Lin Yi's suffering like fine wine.

After twenty strokes, Li Wan paused, breathing heavily. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Lin Yi could barely speak. His voice was a broken whisper. "I... I didn't..."

"Still lying." Lin Tian grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. "You will kneel here all night. And tomorrow, you will apologize to Nian Nian. You will beg for his forgiveness on your hands and knees. Do you understand?"

"Yes... Father," Lin Yi choked out, the words scraping his throat.

Su Nian glided over and knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder. "It's okay, Yi Yi. I forgive you." He leaned in and whispered, so softly only Lin Yi could hear: "But I won't stop until you're nothing."

Lin Yi's blood ran cold. He tried to pull away, but his father's grip held him fast. The night stretched ahead, endless and dark, while Su Nian rose, brushed off his pristine white pants, and walked out of the room with a light step, humming a cheerful tune.

The cold air of the basement bit into Lin Yi’s skin as his brothers’ hands tore at his clothes. The fabric ripped, buttons scattering across the concrete floor, each pop a small death of his dignity. He tried to curl in on himself, but Lin Feng’s knee pressed into his spine, forcing him flat against the thin mattress that served as his bed.

“Hold him steady,” Lin Ze’s voice came from above, flat and devoid of any warmth that had once lived there.

Lin Yi gasped as his wrists were pinned above his head. Lin Feng’s grip was iron, unyielding. “Please,” he whispered, the word scraping his throat raw. “Brother, please don’t.”

Lin Feng did not answer. His face, once so full of laughter and teasing, was a mask of cold duty. He adjusted his hold, digging his fingers into Lin Yi’s wrists until the bones ground together.

Lin Ze’s hands found the waistband of his remaining shorts. Lin Yi bucked, a desperate, animal thrash, but his brother’s weight settled on his thighs, crushing the fight out of him. The shorts peeled away, and the basement air kissed his exposed skin, raising goosebumps that felt like shame.

“Spread his legs,” a soft voice said from the shadows. Su Nian stepped into the dim light, his face a picture of mild concern, as though he were directing a tedious chore. “He’ll learn faster if he can’t close himself off.”

Lin Ze’s hands moved to Lin Yi’s knees. With a grunt of effort, he pried them apart, forcing his brother’s thighs wide. The position was obscene, vulnerable, a raw offering. Lin Yi squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears still leaked out, hot and traitorous down his temples.

Su Nian padded closer, his footsteps silent. He knelt beside the mattress, his soft fingers brushing Lin Yi’s inner thigh. The touch was gentle, almost kind, and it made Lin Yi’s stomach lurch.

“You’re all tense,” Su Nian murmured, his breath warm against Lin Yi’s skin. “That only makes it hurt more. Relax for me, Lin Yi.”

Lin Yi shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Su Nian’s fingers traveled higher, tracing the crease where thigh met groin. The touch was exploratory, curious, as though he were studying a specimen.

“Please,” Lin Yi choked out. “Nian, don’t. We were—we were friends. I trusted you.”

Su Nian’s hand paused. He looked up, his eyes wide and hurt, a perfect imitation of innocence. “We are friends. That’s why I’m helping you. You’ve done terrible things, Lin Yi. This is for your own good.” His fingers resumed their path, sliding inward until they found Lin Yi’s genitals.

Lin Yi’s breath hitched. Su Nian’s touch was deliberate, clinical. He circled, pressed, rubbed with a rhythmic patience that built pressure in Lin Yi’s gut. It was not pleasure—it was violation, a claim being stamped into his flesh.

“Hold him still,” Su Nian said, his voice still soft but carrying an edge. “He keeps trying to squirm.”

Lin Feng’s grip tightened. Lin Ze leaned harder on his legs, and the press of their bodies pinned him immobile. Lin Yi’s muscles burned from clenching, but he could not stop the reflexive jerks as Su Nian’s fingers worked.

“See?” Su Nian cooed. “It’s easier when you stop fighting. Your body is learning. That’s good.”

Lin Yi’s whimper broke into a sob. A deep, ugly sound that echoed off the bare concrete walls. The basement smelled of damp and rust and the sour tang of his own fear. Above, he could hear the muffled sounds of the house—footsteps, a door closing, his mother’s distant laugh. They knew. They all knew, and no one was coming.

Su Nian leaned in, his lips brushing Lin Yi’s ear. “This is your new life now. The sooner you accept it, the sooner the pain becomes bearable.” His hand pressed harder, and a spike of pain shot through Lin Yi’s groin, making him cry out.

“Good boy,” Su Nian whispered, and his smile was the most terrifying thing Lin Yi had ever seen.

The study smelled of leather and old paper, a scent that once brought Lin Yi comfort. Now it only made his stomach churn. He knelt on the cold marble floor, his wrists bound behind his back with a silk tie that had belonged to his father. The family stood around him in a loose semicircle—Lin Tian, Li Wan, Lin Feng, Lin Ze, and Chen Yu—their faces masks of stern disapproval.

Lin Tian opened a rosewood box on his desk, revealing an array of thin metal rods and catheters, each gleaming under the overhead light. He selected a slender silver probe, no thicker than a knitting needle, and held it up.

"Su Nian, come here." His voice was calm, pedagogical. "You need to learn how to handle someone who refuses to cooperate."

Su Nian stepped forward, her eyes wide and innocent, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Uncle Lin, I don't know how... I've never done anything like this."

"That's why I'm teaching you." Lin Tian gestured to Lin Yi. "He's stubborn. He thinks that if he screams loud enough, someone will come to save him. But no one is coming. Tonight, you'll show him that resistance is futile."

Lin Yi's breath hitched. He opened his mouth to speak, but his mother's voice cut him off.

"Don't waste your tears, Lin Yi. You brought this on yourself with your jealousy and cruelty." Li Wan's eyes were cold, unrecognizable. "You tried to destroy Su Nian. Now we're simply returning the favor."

Su Nian took the probe from Lin Tian's hand, her fingers brushing his with practiced delicacy. "Is it... is it safe? I don't want to hurt him too badly."

Lin Tian laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You won't. The urethra is surprisingly resilient. And if you're gentle enough at first, you can push much further than you'd think."

He positioned himself behind Lin Yi, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back. "Watch. First, you need to lubricate. The body will try to reject it, so you have to be firm."

Lin Yi's heart hammered against his ribs. He tried to twist away, but Lin Feng stepped forward and pressed a knee into the small of his back, pinning him to the floor.

"Hold still, you little shit," Lin Feng hissed. "If you make Su Nian nervous, I'll make sure you regret it."

Su Nian knelt beside Lin Yi, her expression one of sweet concern. "It's okay, Brother Lin Yi. I'll be as gentle as I can." She reached out with her free hand and undid his trousers, pulling them down to his knees. Her touch was soft, almost caring, but her eyes were fixed and hungry.

She squeezed a dollop of lubricant onto her fingers and spread it along the tip of the probe, then lowered her gaze to his exposed flesh. Lin Yi squeezed his eyes shut, a low moan of shame escaping his lips.

"Open your eyes," Lin Tian commanded. "You need to see what you've brought upon yourself."

Lin Yi obeyed, his vision blurring with tears. He watched Su Nian guide the probe toward him, her hand steady, her movements precise. The cool metal touched his skin, and he flinched.

"Shh, shh," Su Nian cooed. "Just relax. It'll be easier if you relax."

She pressed the tip against his urethral opening, and Lin Yi gasped as a sharp, burning sensation shot through him. She pushed, and the probe slid inside, inch by inch, scraping against the delicate tissue. He screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore from his throat.

"Please—please stop—"

"Don't be dramatic," Li Wan said, her tone bored. "You've been through worse. This is nothing."

Su Nian continued, her face a mask of concentration. She twisted the probe gently, then pushed deeper. Lin Yi's body convulsed, his back arching, but Lin Feng's knee dug harder into his spine.

"You're doing wonderfully," Lin Tian said to Su Nian. "Now, see how far you can go before he really starts to thrash."

Su Nian nodded, her eyes glinting. She pushed another inch, then another. Lin Yi's screams dissolved into broken sobs, his legs trembling uncontrollably. Blood beaded at the tip of the probe, staining the metal red.

"Uncle Lin, I think I hurt him," Su Nian said, her voice wavering with false guilt. "I'm sorry, Brother Lin Yi. I don't want to do this, but your family says you've been bad."

Lin Yi tried to shake his head, but the motion only caused the probe to shift, sending another wave of agony through him. "I didn't—did nothing—"

"Still lying," Chen Yu said from the corner. He stepped forward, pulling out his phone. "I've got a video of that time you sabotaged Su Nian's music file. Should I show them?"

Lin Yi's eyes went wide. He had never sabotaged anything. But he knew the video existed—they had all fabricated it, together, piece by piece. It didn't matter what the truth was anymore. They had rewritten his reality.

Su Nian pulled the probe out slowly, deliberately, letting it drag against his urethral walls. Lin Yi's entire body seized, a choked whimper escaping his lips. Then she pushed it back in, deeper this time, until she met resistance.

"Good," Lin Tian said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You have a natural talent, my dear. This boy will break soon, and then we can move on to more... advanced techniques."

Su Nian smiled, a soft, angelic smile directed at Lin Yi. "I'll take good care of him, Uncle Lin. I promise."

Lin Yi closed his eyes, the tears streaming down his face. He could hear his family murmuring approval, could feel Su Nian's fingers working the probe with surgical precision. Every sensation was a betrayal—his body, his history, his own mind.

And still, the probe slid deeper, and his screams were met with nothing but silence.

The cold marble floor bit into Lin Yi's knees as he knelt in the center of the family's great room. The chandelier above cast harsh light across his bare back, illuminating the crisscrossing welts from previous punishments. He clenched his fists, feeling the last shred of defiance stirring in his chest.

"No," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "I won't do it again."

Around him, his family stood in a semicircle. His father, Lin Tian, held a leather crop, tapping it against his palm. His mother, Li Wan, had her arms crossed, her eyes hard and empty. His brothers, Lin Feng and Lin Ze, stood on either side of Su Nian, who sat perched on the sofa like a porcelain doll.

Su Nian's lower lip trembled. "Lin Yi, please... just cooperate. You're making this so hard for everyone."

"Hard for you?" Lin Yi laughed bitterly. "You've taken everything from me. My family, my friends, my life. What more do you want?"

Lin Feng stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Lin Yi's hair, yanking his head back. "You dare speak to him like that? After everything he's done for you?"

"He's done nothing but destroy me," Lin Yi spat.

Lin Ze's hand connected with his cheek, the slap echoing off the walls. "Ungrateful bastard. Su Nian has been patient with you, giving you chance after chance."

Su Nian's eyes glistened with unshed tears. He pressed a hand to his chest, his voice small and wounded. "I've tried so hard to help you, Lin Yi. I've been so gentle. But you keep pushing me away."

Lin Tian stepped closer, the crop raised. "We've all seen how you treat him. How you mock him, belittle him. No more."

"I've never—" Lin Yi's protest was cut short as the crop came down across his shoulders.

The pain was white-hot, searing through his nerves. He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. Not this time.

"Still stubborn," Li Wan observed coldly. She walked to the side table and retrieved a wooden paddle, its surface worn smooth from use. "We'll have to try harder."

Chen Yu, once Lin Yi's closest friend, emerged from the shadows of the hallway. He carried a coil of leather straps, his face a mask of contempt. "I warned you, Lin Yi. You should have listened. You should have learned your place."

"What did I ever do to you?" Lin Yi whispered, staring at the man who had once shared secrets and laughter with him.

"You exist," Chen Yu said simply. "That's what you did. You exist, and you thought you were better than everyone else."

Su Nian let out a soft sob. "He still doesn't understand. He still thinks I'm the bad one." His voice cracked beautifully, perfectly pathetic. "I just wanted us to be a family. I wanted him to love me like a brother."

Lin Ze knelt beside Su Nian and took his hand. "Don't cry. We'll make him understand. We'll make him sorry for every hurt he's caused you."

They dragged Lin Yi to the center of the room and forced him onto his stomach. His father's boot pressed against the back of his neck, holding him down against the cold marble. The leather straps wrapped around his wrists, binding them behind his back.

"I won't break," Lin Yi gasped into the floor. "I won't."

His mother laughed, a hollow sound devoid of warmth. "They always say that. They always break."

The crop came down again, and again, and again. His back became a canvas of fire, each strike layering fresh agony over half-healed wounds. His brothers took turns, their blows methodical, practiced. Chen Yu directed the rhythm, offering suggestions on angle and force.

Through the haze of pain, Lin Yi heard Su Nian's soft weeping. "It hurts me to see this," Su Nian said between sobs. "It hurts me that he makes you do this."

"That's right, sweetheart," Li Wan cooed. "None of this is your fault. He brought this on himself."

Lin Yi's vision blurred. He tried to focus on a single point on the floor, tried to retreat into himself. But his brother seized his chin and forced his head up.

"Look at him," Lin Feng hissed. "Look at what you've done to him."

Through tear-stained eyes, Lin Yi saw Su Nian. The small, delicate figure on the sofa, face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking. His family crowded around him, offering comfort, stroking his hair, whispering reassurances.

The scene was so grotesque, so inverted, that Lin Yi almost laughed. Almost.

"The stall," Lin Tian said suddenly. "Chen Yu mentioned the stall."

Chen Yu nodded eagerly. "It's ready. The restraints are in place. It's... effective."

Lin Ze smiled, a cold, predatory thing. "Perfect. He needs to learn submission on every level."

They pulled him upright. His legs buckled, but they held him, dragging him through the house toward the back. The night air hit his ravaged skin like acid. The horse stable loomed ahead, dark and smelling of hay and manure.

Inside, a wooden structure had been erected. It looked like a stall meant for an animal, with chains dangling from the rafters and a padded yoke at the bottom.

"A cradle," Chen Yu explained with satisfaction. "For those who need to learn their place."

They stripped him completely, ignoring his weak struggles. His hands were chained above his head, forcing him to lean forward. The yoke closed around his neck, immobilizing him. His weight rested on his knees and chest, his body stretched and exposed.

Su Nian entered the stall last. His tears had dried, leaving his eyes red-rimmed and luminous. He knelt in front of Lin Yi, reaching out to touch his cheek with a gentle, trembling hand.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," Su Nian whispered. "I really am."

Lin Yi met his eyes. "You're a monster."

Su Nian's expression flickered. The gentle sorrow crackled, and for just a moment, Lin Yi saw something else beneath. Something cold and satisfied.

"I learned from the best," Su Nian murmured, too softly for anyone else to hear.

He stood and turned to the family waiting in the stable doorway. "Please... be merciful with him. He's still my brother."

"Too merciful," Lin Ze growled. "That's been the problem all along."

The stable door closed. The darkness swallowed them.

When it opened again, Lin Yi did not know how much time had passed. His body was no longer his own. It was a thing of raw, screaming nerve endings, a vessel for agony. His mind floated somewhere above, disconnected, watching the shadows move around his broken flesh.

Su Nian knelt beside him once more. The family had withdrawn, their work done for the night. The stable was quiet except for Lin Yi's labored breathing.

"He's nearly gone," Lin Yi heard his father say from somewhere distant.

"Good," his mother replied. "He'll be more manageable after this."

Su Nian leaned close, his lips brushing Lin Yi's ear. His voice dropped its innocent lilt, becoming something sharp and cruel.

"You thought you could fight me," Su Nian breathed. "You thought you had any power left. I own them. I own you. Every piece of you."

Lin Yi tried to speak, but only a rasp escaped.

Su Nian pulled back, and in the dim lantern light, Lin Yi saw the smile. Not the trembling, apologetic thing Su Nian wore for the family. A real smile. Cold. Triumphant.

"Rest now," Su Nian said, his voice returning to its gentle cadence. "Tomorrow, we start again."

He stood and walked away, pausing at the doorway to look back. The smile remained, a slash of pale satisfaction in the darkness.

The door closed. Lin Yi hung in his chains, alone with the straw and the shadows, and the knowledge that the nightmare had only just begun.

The morning light filtered through the silk curtains, casting pale ribbons across the marble floor. Su Nian sat at the vanity, brushing her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, when the doorbell chimed. She smiled, knowing who it was before the servant announced the name.

Chen Yu stepped into the parlor with a hesitant shuffle, his eyes darting around the room as if seeing it for the first time. He had been Lin Yi’s closest friend since childhood—loyal, protective, always the one to defend him when others whispered behind his back. But that was before the whispers turned to programming. Su Nian had seen to it personally, a few quiet conversations, a few carefully placed suggestions, and then the final session in the white room where his mind had been gently rearranged like flowers in a vase.

“Chen Yu, you’re early.” Su Nian’s voice was honey-sweet, her smile demure. She gestured to the chair beside her. “Sit. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

He obeyed without question, his eyes settling on her face with a devotion that made her stomach flutter with pleasure. “Of course, Nian. Anything you need.”

“It’s about Lin Yi.” She let the name hang in the air, watching his expression flicker—a remnant of the old loyalty warring with the new commands. “He’s been… difficult. Resistant. I’ve tried everything, but he won’t learn.”

Chen Yu’s brow furrowed. “He’s always been stubborn. But you’ve been so patient with him, Nian. Too patient.”

She sighed, a perfect, practiced sound of weariness. “I know. But I’m running out of ideas. You knew him better than anyone, before. What did he fear? What broke him?”

Chen Yu’s jaw tightened. The memories surfaced, fragmented, but the new layer of programming smoothed them into a different shape. “He used to be terrified of humiliation. Public failure. He couldn’t stand being seen as weak, especially by people he trusted.”

Su Nian leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Go on.”

“If you want him to truly break, you need to take away his last refuge. His dignity. You’ve already taken his family. Take his pride.” Chen Yu’s voice grew colder, more clinical, as if reciting a manual. “There’s an old stable on the estate. It’s isolated. The sound carries, but no one cares. You can bring him there, strip him of everything—clothes, status, identity. Make him crawl. Make him beg. And if you want to be sure he remembers who holds the leash, use me.”

Su Nian tilted her head, intrigued. “You?”

“Let me be the one to hold him down. Let him see that his best friend chose you. That will cut deeper than any whip.” Chen Yu’s eyes were empty, hollowed out and refilled with her will.

She reached out and patted his hand. “You’re so clever. I knew I could count on you.”

An hour later, Lin Yi was dragged from the basement room where he’d been curled on a stained mattress, his wrists bound with rough rope. He didn’t resist as the servants hauled him across the lawn, his bare feet scraping against gravel and grass. The sky was a pale, indifferent blue. Birds sang. The world continued its cruel, ordinary rhythm.

The stable loomed ahead, its red paint chipped, the doors sagging on rusted hinges. Inside, the smell of hay and dust and old manure filled his lungs. He was thrown onto the dirt floor, and when he looked up, he saw Chen Yu standing beside Su Nian, his arms crossed, his face a mask of quiet disdain.

“Chen Yu?” Lin Yi’s voice cracked. Hope flickered in his chest, a dying ember. “You’re here. You came for me?”

Chen Yu didn’t answer. He walked forward, knelt, and grabbed Lin Yi’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I’m here to help you learn, Yi. You’ve been so difficult for Nian. It’s time you understood your place.”

The ember died. Lin Yi’s breath hitched, his eyes searching for any trace of the friend he had known. There was nothing. Only a cold, obedient shell.

“No,” Lin Yi whispered. “Not you. Anyone but you.”

Su Nian laughed, a light, musical sound. “Oh, but he volunteered. He told me all about your weaknesses. He knows exactly how to break you.” She turned to Chen Yu. “Show him.”

Chen Yu produced a leather collar from his pocket, studded with spikes on the inside. He fastened it around Lin Yi’s throat, tightening it until the points dug into his skin, drawing thin lines of blood. Lin Yi gasped, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Chen Yu, please—remember who I am. Remember the treehouse. Remember the night we stayed up watching the stars—”

Chen Yu slapped him. The sound echoed off the wooden walls. “That was before I knew what you really were. A parasite. A monster. You deserve everything Nian gives you.”

Su Nian clapped her hands. “Excellent. Now, the lesson.”

She handed Chen Yu a short whip—a riding crop, leather braided at the tip. He took it without hesitation. Lin Yi watched, his soul crumbling, as his best friend raised the crop and brought it down across his back. The pain was sharp, immediate, but it was nothing compared to the gaping wound in his heart.

Strike after strike, Chen Yu didn’t flinch. He didn’t hesitate. He became a machine, following Su Nian’s instructions with cold precision. She stood at the side, her arms folded, her smile serene, occasionally offering praise or correction.

“Harder, Chen Yu. He can take more.”

“Make sure he remembers to thank me after each stroke.”

Lin Yi’s voice gave out after the tenth lash. He stopped begging, stopped crying, stopped hoping. He lay in the dirt, his body a raw canvas of welts and blood, and stared at the cracks in the stable wall. The world had become a narrow, dark tunnel, and at the end of it was only more pain.

When it was over, Su Nian knelt beside him and stroked his hair with false tenderness. “You see? Even your friend knows what’s best for you. You’re alone, Lin Yi. Completely alone.”

He couldn’t answer. He could only lie there, the collar digging into his throat, the taste of blood and defeat on his tongue. Chen Yu stood nearby, the whip hanging from his hand, his gaze already fixed on Su Nian, awaiting her next command.

Lin Yi closed his eyes and let the darkness take him, knowing that the last light in his life had been snuffed out by the very hand he had once trusted most.