MPWATMBC Chapter 123

Uncle¹Ryan’s dad‘s small starship carried Connor and his mother to the E69 Plantation star. Uncle said, “From now on, this will be your home. Connor, you can play however you like. As long as it’s not dangerous, no one will stop you from doing what you want. Very soon, there will be a new addition to the family. You’ll have a younger brother. Do you like that?”

Connor had just escaped that twisted home with his mother, and his emotions were still unstable. He was timid, fearful, and highly sensitive to changes in his surroundings. Nestling close to his mother, he shyly nodded and softly said, “Mm, I like it.” In his memory, his father was someone he had to please; otherwise, he would get beaten.

“Haha, as long as Connor likes it, that’s great.”

Little Connor looked up at his uncle and felt that this man was different from his father—cheerful, always smiling, and never hitting anyone.

Life on the Plantation Star was happy and easy. There was no alcoholic father, no father who would beat people at the slightest disagreement, no mother getting hit, and no mother crying all the time. Connor felt that the Plantation Star was wonderful. After just a week of living there, he had completely fallen in love with this place. Uncle and Aunt were very kind, treating him as if he were their own child.

But soon, Uncle and Aunt would have their own child.

Connor felt a little anxious— Would Uncle and Aunt still like him once they had their own child?

“Connor.”

Sitting under the corridor, Connor turned his head and saw his mother.

Peggy sat down beside him, gently stroking his head. “Connor, what are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about the little brother,” Connor mumbled gloomily. He thought it would be better if the little brother didn’t come at all.

Peggy, however, clearly had different thoughts. “Is that so? The little brother will be born very soon. Connor, you’re happy, right? You have to be good to your little brother.”

Connor obediently nodded. “Oh.” He thought about it for a moment and decided to wait and see. If his little brother turned out to be a good brother, he would treat him well. It would be even better if his little brother was good-looking—then he would treat him even better.

He didn’t have to wait long. Three days later, Uncle and Aunt went to the Newnes Planet—the little brother was about to be born.

Another day passed, and Connor grew drowsy from waiting. Unable to hold on any longer, he fell asleep on the sofa, but his little brother still hadn’t come home.

“Connor, go sleep in your room,” the great-grandmother said kindly, rubbing his head. “Your little brother has been born, but he won’t be home for another two days. He needs to stay at the center for check-ups.”

Connor looked up, a bit worried. “Grandma, is something wrong with my little brother?”

“No, no, it’s just a check-up to make sure he’s healthy. The doctors also need to teach your uncle and aunt how to be good parents.”

Connor nodded. “Oh, I see.” It sounded like a wonderful thing.

“So, stop waiting and go to bed. Maybe after a good sleep, your little brother will already be home.”

Connor let out a small “Mm,” stood up, hugged his grandmother, and went back to his room.

Lying in bed, little Connor found himself unable to sleep. One moment, he worried that once his little brother came home, the adults’ love wouldn’t belong to him anymore. The next moment, he reminded himself that he was an older brother now and should treat his little brother well… His thoughts drifted, and soon, he fell asleep.

In his dreams, he seemed to hear the cries of a baby. Connor turned over, mumbling in his heart—so his little brother was a crybaby, huh?

The next morning, as soon as he woke up, Connor knew there was a new member in the house. He listened to the adults talking about how cute, well-behaved, and smart his little brother was… He pouted slightly and muttered under his breath, “I heard my brother crying.” A crybaby couldn’t possibly be cute.

“You heard your brother crying?” Aunt asked in confusion.

Connor nodded. “Yeah, I heard it while I was sleeping.”

Pei Li laughed. “Then you must have heard wrong. Little Ryan hasn’t cried loudly since coming home. It’s impossible for you to have heard him.”

Connor blinked. “Little Ryan?”

“Yes, your little brother’s name is Ryan,” Pei Li said. “Does it sound nice?”

Connor replied, “It sounds nice!”

Pei Li smiled. “Your little brother is in the nursery. Do you want to go see him?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“Then go ahead, but be quiet—your brother is sleeping.”

“Got it!” Connor responded cheerfully. He was eager to see what his little brother actually looked like.

Pushing the door open gently, little Connor tiptoed inside. The room was decorated with incredible softness—soft furnishings, soft colors, soft lighting… Everything was soft, making the space feel warm and cozy.

A sheer curtain covered the window, allowing gentle light to fall upon the wooden crib. Connor crept closer, carefully balancing on his tiptoes as he leaned over the crib’s railing. “Whoa!”

What he saw was a tiny, pale but somewhat wrinkled little creature—not exactly what he would call good-looking. This is my little brother? He felt a bit disappointed…

At such an early stage after birth, little Ryan’s skin was still slightly wrinkled and carried the reddish hue typical of newborns. He was wrapped in a thin blanket, his sleep somewhat restless.

Shouldn’t little brothers be teary-eyed angels, with big, shiny black eyes filled with tiny droplets of tears? Why did his little brother have his tiny brows furrowed, looking so unhappy?

Connor couldn’t figure out what his brother was feeling. But after staring at him for a while, he started to think he actually looked kind of nice.

Just then, his little brother moved, suddenly kicking off his blanket, revealing his tiny, soft feet. Connor also caught a glimpse of his small hands. Feeling playful, Connor stood on tiptoe and began poking at his little brother’s feet, chubby cheeks, and tiny hands… So soft, just like egg pudding! So cute! He even smelled sweet, full of a milky fragrance.

Suddenly, as Connor was poking the baby’s palm, his finger was grasped. The tiny baby, who had been sleeping with his eyes tightly shut, suddenly opened them—deep black, bright, and… cold.

Startled, Connor let out a loud scream.

That year, Connor was six years old, and Ryan had just been born.

…

“Ha… ha… Ryan, I can’t go on…” Ten-year-old Connor bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. Dressed in a light-colored tracksuit, his back was soaked with sweat, and the fabric clearly showed the marks. His entire face was flushed from the exercise, and he was panting heavily, as if he might faint at any moment.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Connor looked up at his little brother, who was about three or four meters away. This was no little brother—this was practically a little demon! Ever since Ryan learned to talk and walk, he had been tormenting him!

Ryan jogged in place, his cheeks flushed, making him look especially adorable. But his serious, composed expression made him seem like a strict and disciplined adult. And truthfully, he was—inside that small body resided an old soul.

“This won’t do,” Ryan said sternly. “You’re too lenient with yourself. You eat, then sit around all day. High-calorie chocolate, ice cream, and cake—you’re eating them several times a day. With all those calories and no proper exercise to burn them off, you’ll soon become a big, three-chinned fatty. And judging by your body type, once you get fat, it won’t be the good-looking kind—it’ll be the extremely ugly kind.”

Connor: My little brother is too ruthless! What do I do?

Ryan continued, “You’re out of shape. You’ve only run two kilometers, and you’re already gasping like a dying cow. Do you never exercise at school?”

Connor suddenly felt like he was the younger brother, standing before a strict and domineering elder sibling. Worse, he had no way to argue back—because everything Ryan said was painfully true. Feeling stifled, he mumbled, “Ugh… I did a little bit…”

Ryan’s sharp eyes narrowed. “Liar!”

Connor sighed in defeat. “Fine, fine, I never exercise at all.”

Ryan nodded approvingly. “Now that is honesty. Learning to recognize your true self is the first step to growth. Alright, you’ve rested enough. Let’s continue running.”

With heavy, reluctant steps, Connor followed. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t wait for summer break to be over—he had never wanted to go back to school so badly!

Later, Connor went off to school. Then Ryan also started school. And somehow, the time he got dragged into exercise only increased.

Connor: “…” Utter despair.

All he ever wanted was to be a book-loving homebody, curled up inside with a good read. Why is that so hard?!

But when Connor finally got into university—far away from Ryan’s control—he celebrated by indulging in three chocolate ice creams. And then… his feet moved on their own, carrying him straight to the stadium track. He ran lap after lap until he had burned off every last bit of those calories, only then slowing his pace.

Exercise is addictive.

That was the only logical explanation.

Because there was absolutely no way he would ever admit that he was afraid of getting out of shape and going home only to be lectured by his little brother.

Absolutely, absolutely not.

…

Connor had a dream since childhood—to become an interstellar adventurer roaming the universe, a playboy drifting among flowers, a business tycoon dominating the commercial world, or… He just wanted to be a writer, someone who could turn all impossibilities into possibilities in his mind. He wanted to be a writer.

During school, he serialized novels online, but they gained little attention. The only somewhat successful one was YY Ryan, which depicted Ryan as a reincarnated soul with a great secret, destined to bring stormy changes to the world. A classic power fantasy protagonist, he advanced with unstoppable momentum—starting from a small, abandoned town, defeating the mayor’s son, then the city lord’s son, and after that, the planetary leader’s son… Occasionally, he would even challenge foes far beyond his level, like beating up the son of an interstellar pirate king…

In short, as he continued writing, he gained a bit of fame.

But Connor was not satisfied—he wanted to achieve even greater success in this field. He had to admit, he was “brought up” by Ryan, and deep down, he had a stubborn determination: If you’re going to do something, do it to the best. For that, he was willing to pour in his effort and sweat. And so, a novel born from childhood shadows emerged—Bird of Paradise, a story about breaking free from the illusion of genetic compatibility and becoming a truly free bird.

This bold and daring book made him an instant sensation, drawing the attention of many. Some questioned it, some praised it, and for a time, Connor became the center of countless gazes, experiencing both the heights of fame and the weight of scrutiny. Just as Ryan had said, being famous comes with pressure.

Because of his bold ideas, Connor was called to the police station for questioning. The officers were kind and didn’t make things difficult for him—they simply asked about his reasons for writing. He talked about his childhood experiences, and the officers were moved. They told him not to dwell on the past but to look toward the future, assuring him that things would get better.

Connor nodded. With his family by his side now, his future really did seem bright.

As he stepped out of the station, he saw his mother with tear-filled eyes, his anxious aunt and uncle, and Ryan standing with his hands in his pockets. Ryan looked over—his gentle face framed by a pair of calm and rational eyes.

Connor smiled and reassured his family, “It’s nothing, they just asked me a few questions.”

“You child, how could you write something like that?” The adults scolded him out of worry.

Connor played along, trying to appease them. “I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t write it again.”

Only after making several promises did his elders stop reprimanding him. Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Connor lifted his gaze and saw Ryan standing three or four meters away—the same distance they had kept when running as kids. Compared to back then, Ryan was much gentler now. With a smile, he said, “Getting locked up—it’s an enriching life experience. You can write about it in your novels. But there are many ways to express your thoughts. You don’t have to be so direct. When you lack the power to protect yourself, being too blunt will only hurt you.”

Connor replied, “You’re right. I understand.”