ATLAS TRANSLATES

If Jing Lin was the perfect creation tamed by Ren Yinyue and Jing Zeliang…

Jing Yi was the discarded defective product.

Unlike Jing Lin’s obedience, Jing Yi was rebellious from childhood. He wasn’t playful, but had his own thoughts and an assertive personality. Even when beaten or confined, he simply refused to become a “product.”

When he was young, beatings were common. He spent more time in confinement than Jing Lin.

Jing Lin would secretly visit him, urging him to be obedient.

But Jing Yi would shake his head. Even as a small child, he was more clear-sighted and braver than his older brother.

“Brother, if I’m destined to be their commodity, I’d rather they never gave birth to me.”

“I want to live for myself.”

Jing Lin bitterly stroked his head. Before leaving, Jing Yi asked him: “Brother, what do you want to do in the future?”

Jing Lin paused blankly. After a while, he lowered his head in shame: “I don’t know…”

Perhaps he could only do whatever they wanted him to do.

At the worst times, Jing Yi was beaten until his body was covered in blood, unconscious for days.

Ren Yinyue coldly watched the boy lying in bed—disfigured, rebellious, disobedient—everything that made him worthless in her eyes.

So she abandoned him without hesitation.

At ten years old, Jing Yi was sent to America. If her possession couldn’t be shaped according to her wishes, she’d rather discard it—just like how Jing Zeliang made himself into an obedient dog to marry her.

She said anything, and he obeyed.

Before Jing Yi left, Jing Lin secretly came to see him, asking if he would regret it.

The young boy shook his head. “Brother, I don’t want to be a puppet.”

He wanted to live his own life, not be controlled like a programmed puppet.

Jing Yi didn’t know that Jing Lin actually envied him, envied his courage.

He had also thought about rebelling, but he was too timid and fearful. After being tamed for ten years, he had become numb.

Jing Yi’s days in America weren’t good. He faced discrimination, bullying, robbery, but he never regretted his choice.

During those years, no one visited him, though occasionally Jing Lin would secretly contact him using someone else’s phone, asking how he was doing.

When Jing Lin turned eighteen, Jing Yi secretly returned to China for his brother’s coming-of-age ceremony.

As expected, even on this day, Ren Yinyue had arranged a suffocating, tightly packed schedule for Jing Lin.

He disguised himself as a waiter and approached Jing Lin. Under his brother’s shocked gaze, he secretly slipped him a small cake.

“Brother, happy birthday.”

Jing Lin’s hands trembled. He wasn’t afraid of being discovered by his parents; rather, it was seeing the young man again after several years. He had changed a lot. Jing Lin could tell at a glance that Jing Yi had suffered greatly in America.

Only his dark eyes remained bright, like his unyielding character, never extinguished.

“Brother, want to eat cake? I brought candles.”

Jing Lin had never blown out candles before. In Ren Yinyue’s worldview, making wishes was the most useless behavior.

Seeing the expectant look in the young man’s eyes, this was the first time he chose to be “rebellious.”

He found this thought laughable—eating cake and blowing out candles had become his most rebellious act.

Behind them, the villa was brightly lit, with the faint sound of guests laughing.

Jing Yi helped him light the candles. The flame wasn’t very bright, but it gave Jing Lin his first sense of peace.

When he tasted the sweet cream, he quietly began to cry.

Jing Yi panicked, but his brother just shook his head with a smile: “It’s sweet, very delicious.”

What did sweetness taste like?

That was the first time he tasted it.

Jing Yi sat beside him, the teenage boy chattering endlessly, and he listened patiently the whole time.

“Brother, I’ll come back again after you finish your college entrance exams.”

Jing Lin smiled, but suddenly a shadow came from behind. Before they could react, both were knocked unconscious.

…

Jing Yi woke up before his brother. Darkness and cold surrounded them until the door opened. Blinding light made him close his eyes, and the next moment, someone grabbed his hair, forcing him to look up.

The man narrowed his eyes and suddenly laughed lightly: “Who do we have here? This is also Ren Yinyue’s son.”

Another younger man was clearly confused: “Wasn’t Ren Yinyue supposed to have only one son?”

The man threw Jing Yi to the ground, sneering: “She has two. This one was thrown away.”

“…This woman is truly cruel.”

The young man’s hands and feet were bound. He struggled to sit up as Jing Lin finally awoke. When he recognized the man in front of them, his face instantly turned pale.

The man knew he had been recognized but showed no panic.

He rolled up his sleeves while the younger man picked up a club. Their shadows loomed closer.

…

After the two men left, Jing Yi spat out a mouthful of blood, his voice terribly hoarse: “Brother, do you know them?”

Jing Lin was weaker than him, breathing heavily, the pain making it difficult to speak: “…Mr. Yu’s husband.”

Jing Yi couldn’t quite remember who that was, until Jing Lin described Mr. Yu’s appearance.

It was the assistant who had worked for Ren Yinyue. The year after he left, Assistant Yu had died suddenly while working.

Jing Yi vaguely remembered Assistant Yu’s face. He recalled once witnessing the woman asking Ren Yinyue for leave, only to be rejected.

Jing Lin told him that Assistant Yu had been… pregnant at the time. Her family couldn’t accept her death and demanded an explanation from Ren Yinyue, only to be mocked:

“Go see how many people want to be my assistant. If she couldn’t handle it, what does that have to do with me?”

“Why could others manage it when she couldn’t?”

Jing Yi thought she was absurd. Seeing Jing Lin’s pale face, he couldn’t think more about it and laboriously pulled out a small razor blade he had hidden on himself.

Watching him cut the ropes, Jing Lin was shocked: “How do you have that?”

He didn’t know that during those years in America, Jing Yi had to carry a knife at all times because he never knew when he might be robbed or beaten.

Jing Yi’s hands were bloodied by the blade. When the ropes were cut, Jing Lin trembled as he untied him.

Both were injured. The dilapidated house had no other exit, so they supported each other and cautiously pushed open the main door—

Yu Jiang, Assistant Yu’s brother, was suddenly knocked down, but he quickly recovered, only to be firmly pinned down.

Two people who had been beaten until they could barely stand were no match for him.

Jing Yi could only press down on him with all his might, veins bulging in his neck, the rusty taste of blood soaking his clothes: “Run—”

Jing Lin had been sheltered all these years and had no strength. He knew staying would only be a burden.

He could only grit his teeth and stagger away. But when he looked back, he saw the man striking Jing Yi viciously with a thick club, the flowing blood piercing his eyes.

Assistant Yu’s husband returned, saw this scene, and coldly said: “Why haven’t you gone after him?”

Yu Jiang seemed hesitant: “Can’t we just keep one? Aren’t they both Ren Yinyue’s sons?”

The man laughed coldly: “Your sister died with her unborn child, and now you’re being soft-hearted? I don’t care how many there are, I won’t let any of them go! That kid can’t run far, go bring him back!”

After Yu Jiang left, Jing Yi lay on the ground. Suddenly his hair was grabbed, and his face was slammed against the ground. Sharp pebbles scraped bloody marks on his face. The man kicked him savagely, then picked up the fallen club—

“I only planned to take one, but you delivered yourself to me.”

“I told Ren Yinyue I had both her sons. Guess what she said?”

The man’s frenzied laughter was like a cold poisonous snake crawling over him, hissing its forked tongue, his eyes filled with icy malice: “She said—”

“Don’t hurt her Jing Lin.”

He enunciated each word, accompanied by a chilling smile:

“She said I could do whatever I wanted with Jing Yi, but Jing Lin—your mother begged me to spare him.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re Jing Yi, right?”

Blood kept rising in Jing Yi’s throat. The man pinned him to the ground, unable to move. His mind was foggy, consciousness barely hanging on, while the man tormented him like a demon:

“You let your mother’s precious darling escape, so I’ll have to take it out on you.”

“Don’t blame me. Blame your own bad luck.”

Jing Yi couldn’t remember when he passed out. He just felt like he was dying.

Blood flowed uncontrollably from the corner of his mouth. His internal organs, even all his bones, seemed broken. Like discarded trash, he lay on the ground unable to move.

Finally, blinding light made him dazed. Many people rushed in, chaotic and noisy. Vaguely, he heard Ren Yinyue and Jing Zeliang’s hysterical screams:

“Where’s Jing Lin?! Where’s my Jing Lin—”

Before losing consciousness completely, Ren Yinyue’s sharp, hysterical cry pierced his brain like a needle: “Why wasn’t it him who died—why did it have to be my Jing Lin!”

…

Jing Lin was dead.

While escaping, Yu Jiang caught up to him.

After years of confinement, never seeing the light of day, he could not resist Yu Jiang. During the struggle to bring him back, he was accidentally pushed by Yu Jiang, his body impaled by a tree branch, his waist and abdomen torn open.

A person who should have died instantly somehow held on until the police arrived.

Amid Ren Yinyue’s screams and unfamiliar shouts, his ears rang. His pupils dilated as he gradually lost sensation of his heartbeat. Blood dripped down his powerless body, painting him in a shocking, heart-wrenching portrait.

The rescue personnel knew he had no hope.

As they approached, the young man was barely breathing. His dry lips moved as blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. From his throat came blurred words:

“Save… Yi…”

An eighteen-year-old boy, who should have had a bright future, stopped breathing completely.

Jing Yi lay in critical condition for seven days. When he finally awoke, Ren Yinyue’s screams and hysterical accusations fell on him along with the news of Jing Lin’s death.

“Why wasn’t it you who died?”

“Why did you come back to China? If he hadn’t gone out with you, he wouldn’t have been kidnapped!”

“Why was Jing Lin alone there? It’s all your fault! All your fault!!”

“You’re a disaster! Go die—just go die!!”

He lowered his head helplessly and in confusion, his eyes hollow. His mind replayed every memory of Jing Lin.

“I…” His blood seemed drained, and with his hoarse murmur, every wound on his body felt like it was tearing open: “I thought… he could escape.”

“I just, I just… wanted to wish my brother happy birthday…”

Ren Yinyue couldn’t bear the shock and fainted on the spot.

During this time, news spread that famous musician Ren Yinyue had lost her beloved son.

Jing Yi repeatedly fell into nightmares. He wanted to tell Jing Lin to run, run quickly, brother—run!

But each time he woke with a start, he fell back on the hospital bed, his arm pressing hard against his eyelids, his whole body still trembling. His internal organs, even his entire being, screamed with pain.

When Ren Yinyue regained consciousness, she seemed to have forgotten everything. Gone was her hysteria, replaced by her former elegant and intellectual manner.

She came to Jing Yi’s bedside, still cold and arrogant: “Next week, you have an international piano competition. I will arrange a professional medical team to take care of you.”

Jing Yi froze for a moment, wooden and confused, until Ren Yinyue earnestly took his hand: “Little Lin, don’t let this happen again.”

“If you hadn’t sneaked out behind Mommy’s back this time, none of this would have happened.”

“But thankfully, it wasn’t you who died.”

Her words were undisguisedly relieved. Jing Yi’s blood seemed to freeze. He looked woodenly at Jing Zeliang behind her, who frowned but said nothing.

Ren Yinyue was mistaking him for Jing Lin.

He stiffly withdrew his hand, his eyelashes trembling: “I’m not Jing Lin.”

Ren Yinyue was silent for two seconds. She looked back at Jing Zeliang, her cold hand caressing his face, causing him to shudder inexplicably. “Little Lin, are you sick?”

“If you’re not my son, who are you?”

“I—”

“Little Lin,” Jing Zeliang interrupted him sternly, “don’t make your mother angry.”

After Ren Yinyue left, Jing Yi’s eyes were bloodshot. His body was still wrapped in bandages, his jaw tense, his voice trembling: “My brother—”

“From now on, you are Jing Lin.”

Jing Zeliang allowed no objection. Jing Yi struggled to sit up, ignoring his bursting wounds, “My brother is Jing Lin!”

“How, how can you let someone else replace him?!”

Jing Zeliang coldly observed his miserable state. The man slowly approached, looking at the face so similar to his and to Jing Lin’s. He reached out to grip the young man’s neck, forcing him to look up:

“Before he died, he still wanted us to save you.”

The man’s words nearly shattered him. His entire body trembled, veins bulging in his neck, his red and wet eyes shedding cold tears, his throat involuntarily letting out painful whimpers.

“In his final moment, he still thought of you. So it’s up to you to remember him for the rest of your life, okay?”

“If it weren’t for your special trip back to see him, if you hadn’t taken him out! With all our family’s bodyguards, how could he possibly have been kidnapped?!”

Jing Zeliang released him, watching him struggle to breathe and cry. The man’s cold face showed not a hint of a smile.

Jing Yi struggled to get up from the hospital bed. All his wounds had reopened, stained with blood. His eyes were red with tears, his throat as if cut by razor blades. Blood welled up, nearly breaking him.

“My brother is Jing Lin… he just, he just died… how can you choose to abandon him…”

“Those people were actually targeting Mom!”

“Jing Lin!”

He staggered forward and grabbed the man. Because of his spinal injury, the tearing pain instantly made him break out in a sweat. He endured the pain, begging: “Please talk to Mom, okay? I admit I was wrong, I was wrong…”

His voice shook terribly, his whole body trembling. Each word was forced out, his final tone almost breaking into hoarseness: “Weren’t you the ones who loved him most? Brother… he was your child too…”

Jing Zeliang took out a clean handkerchief. This was the first time since Jing Yi’s birth that he had touched him so gently.

This was how he had imagined a father’s love should be.

But Jing Zeliang’s words sent a chill down his spine: “Your mother can no longer have children. Consider these years of exile as your final freedom.”

Suddenly, there was a buzzing in Jing Yi’s ears. Jing Zeliang slowly pushed away his hand:

“The one who died was Jing Yi.”

“From now on, whether you like it or not, you can only be Jing Lin.”

The former Jing Yi, no matter how much he was beaten, never submitted.

Now, Jing Zeliang had found a way to tame him.

In psychology, there’s a term called guilt manipulation. He used guilt to control Jing Yi, forcing him to submit.

He didn’t want to be Jing Lin.

Jing Lin was his brother, and could only be his brother.

Until his grandfather came to visit. Over the years, regarding his daughter’s obsession, he had always turned a blind eye. Now things had reached an irremediable stage.

Jing Yi begged him: “Grandfather, he was my brother.”

“How… how could I replace him?”

“Yi, if you’re not willing to be Jing Lin, then there truly will be no more Jing Lin in this world.”

Jing Yi looked at him blankly. His grandfather slowly extinguished his last hope: “What your mother remembers is that she had a perfect son named Jing Lin.”

“Not the Jing Lin who has already died.”

Before he left, Jing Yi asked him for one last thing.

He could pretend to be Jing Lin in front of Ren Yinyue, but only in front of her.

He didn’t want to change his name.

His grandfather only said he would try.

Later.

The wounds on Jing Yi’s body, including the scars on his face, were repaired by professional doctors, because Jing Lin couldn’t have any scars.

From then on.

He became the second Jing Lin.

Obediently following Ren Yinyue’s words, like a soulless puppet, extremely docile.

That year, Jing Yi should have entered his first year of high school but was arranged to skip ahead to the second year.

The suffocating feeling of being controlled and confined made him misanthropic and reclusive. He often hid alone in the curved corridor, and it was there that he met Shu He.

The ponytailed girl appeared cold. She came at the same time every day—before morning reading and during lunch break.

Most of the time she would be reciting lessons. Sunlight fell on her porcelain-white, flawless face. She would sometimes roll up her book, sometimes write notes on it.

Few people ever came to the curved corridor. He didn’t know why watching a girl study could be so addictive, but from then on, he came every day.

But she never noticed him. Her clear gaze was always fixed on her book, occasionally looking toward the teaching building in the distance. Her voice wasn’t loud when reciting, but pleasantly soothing.

Later, his eyes began searching for that slender figure in crowds. She always came and went alone, sometimes looking straight ahead, then lowering her head to take out a vocabulary book from her school uniform pocket.

Not just in crowds, he also saw her on the school’s honor wall.

He discovered she was a senior, in her third year. She was an excellent student, always ranked first, winning various awards.

After each class, he would take his cup and go up one floor to get water, passing by her classroom and glancing at the quiet girl doing her exercises.

Later, when he went to the faculty office, he overheard teachers discussing term scholarships and heard her name.

That’s when he learned she had come from a small town but ranked first every year.

Jing Yi began to feel curious about this girl.

How could she study every minute of every day?

Standing in the sunlight, she was lonely but showed an enviable determination.

Those in a state of decay and decadence are inevitably drawn to fire.

He began to imitate her—reciting lessons, running, occasionally solving problems late at night, thinking of her.

These days passed, and Jing Yi’s nerves seemed to malfunction. In a daze, he actually believed he was Jing Lin.

Obedient, compliant, numb and spiritless.

Until one night, he dreamed of Jing Lin.

In the dream, his brother still looked eighteen, the young man’s smile gentle and faint. He asked: “How are your days as me?”

“Yi, have you forgotten your brother too?”

Jing Yi woke with a start, gasping for breath, his back soaked with cold sweat.

He couldn’t believe he had… almost forgotten Jing Lin.

He couldn’t tolerate himself doing this. That was the first time he hurt himself. Bright red blood dripped down, the pain making him more clearheaded.

The next day, he went to the cemetery.

Besides him, no one else had ever visited Jing Lin.

Because in Ren Yinyue’s memory, the one who died was Jing Yi—a piece of trash she had discarded, not worth visiting.

When he visited, Jing Yi brought a cream cake.

Jing Lin had never said so, but Jing Yi knew he liked it.

He called the person in the photo “Brother,” chattering for a long time.

When he returned, he put on the mask they wanted again.

From then on, every time he acknowledged he was Jing Lin, he would hurt himself once.

He was admonishing himself, and also punishing himself.

He would never be Jing Lin. Jing Lin was his brother.

Before university, he wanted to break free from Jing Lin’s identity.

But everyone accused him. They said:

Isn’t being Jing Lin good?

As Jing Lin, you have everything. Why become the unwanted Jing Yi?

Jing Lin is loved by everyone. Could Jing Yi be?

In that moment, he felt resentful, yet confused.

After all these years, he seemed to have forgotten what he was like…

What kind of person was Jing Yi?

He no longer knew… He felt that he had become abnormal.

Until he met Shu He again. She stood in the sunlight, handing him a registration form.

The girl’s eyes were like clear amber, cold but beautiful, making his dead, rotten, and numb heart beat anew.

After he filled it out, the girl took the form and left, smiling at the boy beside her.

He involuntarily looked at that senior student—bright smile, carefree when greeting other juniors, many eyes fixed on him.

His heartbeat grew stronger as he watched the girl’s back. He vaguely remembered his former self.

Perhaps she liked someone like that?

Jing Yi’s heartbeat became uncontrollable. For the first time in many years, he felt a longing.

He wanted to stand beside her.

He wanted to pursue her.

But he knew that no one would like someone like him.

So he tried to appear bright and cheerful, learning to love someone passionately.

After being with Shu He, he thought he could be loved, until Ren Yinyue appeared.

As if it had all been a dream.

Once again, he was taken away.

Everything he had was destroyed by them again.

A car accident, forced to break up with Shu He, learning they had interfered with her father’s work…

Jing Yi was almost broken. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t even be with the person he loved.

During that time, he almost lost his will to live.

The first time he tried to slit his wrists, Liang Xu saved him.

Lying in the hospital bed, he used his greatest malice to speculate: “If I die, you lose your cash cow, right?”

“Don’t put any more effort into me. I won’t write songs anymore.”

Liang Xu was so angry he wanted to kick him, but held back: “What right do you have to die, Jing Yi?”

“What qualifies you to die? Do you think you’re the victim? The real victim is Shu He!”

“Dumped by you without explanation—if I were her, I’d find you and slap you hard!”

“If you have any conscience, if you’re still a man, then hold on. If you want to die, wait until you see Shu He, apologize to her, then die!”

Jing Yi quietly cried, the bitterness in his chest nearly engulfing him.

Yes, what right did he have to die?

He couldn’t even die.

And he did… owe her an apology.

If he could see her again…

Would Shu He still wait for him?

He didn’t know… If in the end, she couldn’t forgive him… that would probably be justified.

But he was truly suffering. Several times, he nearly couldn’t go on.

So he tattooed the mint leaf she had drawn on his wrist.

He couldn’t bear to destroy anything related to her, not even with his own blood.

“Because I hold the expectation of reuniting with you, in my eyes, even the most treacherous path becomes the best.”

Like her favorite quote, he endured, holding onto the hope of reuniting with her, hoping to say sorry to her.

But when he saw her again, he realized he couldn’t end their relationship.

He wanted Shu He.

He dared to hope Shu He could still love him.

But he feared she would be like them, blaming him, rejecting him.

He was conflicted and timid, not wanting to disappoint her, yet wanting Shu He to love him.

So he practiced countless times in front of the mirror, exposing his wounds, rehearsing what to say.

But looking at his reflection, he began to feel disoriented. Who was he, really?

Jing Yi, or Jing Lin?

He felt like a monster, neither human nor ghost. All his emotions seemed to have lost control…

Sister.

Even I don’t know who I am anymore—

Under the bright white light, she took his hand and sat him on the couch. His dark eyes were full of confusion and helplessness. Shu He suppressed the sourness threatening to engulf her. Her nose approached the pale back of his hand, and the familiar scent of fig softened her heart piece by piece.

She didn’t let go of his hand. In her gentle, clear eyes, his reflection seemed to appear. She struggled to control the trembling in her voice, responding word by word to the last sentence in his video—

He said he didn’t know who he was.

“It has my perfume scent.”

“You are my Jing Yi.”

His lips parted slightly, his hollow eyes gradually focusing, misting over with tears. Like an injured puppy, he obediently pressed against her palm, dropping crystal tears that burned into her skin, causing a sharp pain that spread through her blood from her limbs to her core.

“I thought… you left.”

Shu He swallowed hard, saying softly, “I didn’t leave. I came looking for you.”

Jing Yi’s vision was blurred. Only when he felt the warmth caressing him did his wet eyelashes tremble. He murmured dejectedly: “I never dared to tell… because I felt no one would accept someone like me.”

“But I…” he seemed to pause painfully, closing his eyes, the corners reddened, tears flowing uncontrollably. He pressed against her palm, greedy and aggrieved: “I’m still greedy.”

“Sister… I just want you to love me.”

His throat bobbed, emitting a painful whimper: “I just, just wanted to be with you.”

Shu He’s entire being twisted into a knot, feeling his every bit of collapse, helplessness, despair.

Yet it was never enough.

“Do you know why I chose to share an apartment?”

She held his face, gently wiping his tears. “You don’t really think I had no money and was forced to live with you, do you?”

“Do you think there are people in this world who would live with an ex, and be kind to an ex?”

“Living with you, I had a purpose.”

His wet dark eyes were full of confusion as he stared at her intently.

Shu He’s heart melted completely, as if soaked in warm water.

She held his face, leaned forward, and gently kissed his trembling, reddened eyes.

Salty tears moistened her lips. She couldn’t tell what caused the sourness in her heart—perhaps it was heartache, sadness, regret.

But at this moment, she just wanted to tell him properly:

“When we met again, I had already decided not to let you disappear so ambiguously again.”

“Jing Yi, I never gave up on you.”