Chapter 1: The Secret Beneath the Basement

After our parents passed away, my brother and I were taken in by our single uncle.
But for some reason, my brother often vanished from the house for days at a time.
One day, I heard terrifying screams coming from the basement of the villa.
I listened closely—and to my horror, the voice was unmistakably my brother’s…

I went down to the underground garage to get the car, when a gut-wrenching scream tore through the air.
The garage, located on the basement level, also housed a locked room—the basement.
I followed the sound and crept toward it, peeking through a small window.

There he was—my brother—chained at the ankles, writhing in pain across the basement floor.
He looked like a homeless vagrant: filthy clothes, tangled hair, and a face twisted in agony.

“Brother! What are you doing here? Who locked you up?”
I rushed to the basement door, but it was sealed with a large iron padlock.
I didn’t have the key. Only Uncle or the mute servant might have it.

The mute couldn't speak. He was the housekeeper, hired by Uncle to manage the kitchen and the villa’s cleaning.
Could it be… Uncle who did this?
Why hadn’t he told me something so huge?

Only four people lived in this house: me, my brother, Uncle, and the mute.
The mute wouldn’t dare chain up my brother.
But Uncle—he was always kind and gentle, a benevolent guardian.
After I was discharged from the hospital following a car accident, Uncle bought me a car so I could go for drives and avoid boredom.
There’s no way it could be Uncle.

I was about to leave and confront them when my brother called out urgently,
“Don’t go! Don’t look for the key, Qiqi. Come here. I have something important to tell you.”

I hurried to the small window. Tears filled my eyes seeing him like this.
“Brother, tell me! Who did this to you?” I cried uncontrollably.

“Our parents… they didn’t die of illness. It was—”
Before he could finish, his eyes widened in fear—staring at something behind me.

I turned around.
Uncle stood there, arms crossed, his gaze cold and ominous.

When had he arrived?
I shivered.

Uncle walked over and grabbed my hand. “Qiqi, come. Leave this place. Don’t worry about your brother—he’s gone mad.”

I turned back, but my brother was no longer visible through the window.

Uncle explained as we walked away:
“After your car accident, you suffered a brain injury and lost your memory. There’s a lot you’ve forgotten. Your brother has schizophrenia. At first, we kept him in his bedroom. But he escaped, attacked people on the street, injured several. I had no choice but to send him to a psychiatric hospital. But even there, he injured other patients. I had no choice… I had to confine him in the basement.”

“When did he get sick? Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Since two years ago, after your parents died. You knew about this before your accident, but ever since the memory loss, you’ve forgotten. I’ve told you about it many times, but you never remember.”

Uncle sighed. “This is your brother’s fate. He may spend the rest of his life in that basement.”

I burst into tears again.

Later, I saw Uncle instruct the mute to bring an extra chicken leg to my brother.
Uncle’s voice trembled with guilt.
He said he owed my parents for not being able to cure my brother’s illness.

The next morning, I woke up early—I had to see my brother again.
I found the mute and asked for the basement key, but he shook his head furiously and pointed to Uncle’s bedroom.

I understood—Uncle had forbidden him from letting me in.

I yanked the keys from his belt and glared at him.
Unlocking the basement door, I rushed in.

My brother lay on the floor, but sat up the moment he saw me.
The stench in the room was unbearable. A toilet bucket near the chain was nearly overflowing.

“Did Uncle allow you in?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, I took the key myself.”

“Brother, you didn’t finish yesterday. What really happened to our parents?”

Tears fell again as I looked at his pale face and ragged clothes.

“They weren’t sick,” he said softly. “They were murdered—by Uncle.”

My head snapped up. I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s impossible! He’s our blood relative. Why would he do such a thing?”

“He’s not our real uncle. He killed our real uncle. The one now is an imposter.”

Why? I couldn’t believe it.
My brother dragged his chain to the small window, looked outside, and after making sure no one was there, he continued:

“He did it because of you—because of your blood.”

“My blood?”

“You have a rare blood type—RH negative. Panda blood. Extremely valuable.
Uncle is the deputy manager at a company. The boss’s son has a rare form of anemia that no treatment has helped.
Only regular transfusions can keep him alive.
And he, too, has RH negative blood—just like you.
Uncle wants to use your blood to curry favor with his boss.”

“But… he never took my blood. If he had just asked, I’d have volunteered.”

“He didn’t take it—because you’re sick.”

“Right, I have amnesia. I lost my memory after the accident.”

“No… you have another illness.”

My brother looked outside again, cautious.

“You have lung disease,” he said quickly.
“He’s been secretly giving you medicine.
As soon as you recover, he’ll start taking your blood. Not just once—regularly.
You’ll be his permanent mobile blood bank.”

I froze.

It was too much to take in.

Then—I heard footsteps outside the window.
The mute was here—probably to wash the car.
I said a quick goodbye to my brother, locked the door, and tossed the keys to the mute.

Back in my room, I couldn’t calm down.

My world had turned upside down.
And just then, Uncle knocked and entered.

He handed me a luxury LV handbag.
“Qiqi, I got this for you—early birthday present. It suits your style.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”
It was a bag I liked.

“I also hired a driver for you. Just call when you need to go out.
I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive anymore.”

I nodded, touched by his care.

But I had to ask.
“Uncle, how did you know my blood type is RH negative?”

“You were tested after the accident—hospital records.”

“And… does your boss’s son have the same blood type?”

Uncle froze.

His expression turned odd.

“That’s nonsense. Is that what your brother told you? How would I know my boss’s son’s blood type?”

“He’s sick too, right?”

“He’s delusional, Qiqi. Your brother’s making it all up to drive a wedge between us.
Don’t see him again.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t sure anymore.

Was my brother really delusional? Was he just spreading lies because of a personal grudge?

After Uncle left, I sat in deep thought.
There was one thing I had to find out for myself:
Was the boss’s son’s blood type really the same as mine?

That afternoon, I snuck off to Uncle’s company.

I bribed the security guard with two packs of cigarettes.
He was friendly and talkative.

He confirmed that Uncle worked there as a deputy manager.
Yes, the boss had a son—about my age.
Yes, the son was always sick and frail.

But did he have anemia?
Was his blood type RH negative?

The guard didn’t know.

Just as we were chatting, the guard’s face changed.
He looked over my shoulder in fear.

I turned around—Uncle stood silently behind me, eyes dark and cold.

“Qiqi,” he said, “don’t waste your time.”

I forced a smile.
“I was just passing by, Uncle. Thought I’d visit.”

He pulled me aside and said solemnly:

“If you really want to know the truth—
Then listen closely:
You don’t have a brother.
You’re my sister’s only child.
Where would a brother come from?”