Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 16

Chen Luan had never actually been anyone’s older brother.
The kids at the base all called him Instructor Chen, and only a few close friends ever called him Brother Luan.
Don’t be fooled by his easygoing smile — when it came to training, he was ruthless. He was the base’s well-known “smiling tiger,” best at using his bright, handsome grin to push his trainees to their absolute limits, leaving no room for negotiation.
Everyone understood, at least rationally, that Chen Luan was doing it for their own good — to help them survive longer on the battlefield. But that didn’t make anyone brave enough to act spoiled around him.
So now, being clung to by a soft, warm, beautiful boy caught Chen Luan completely off guard.
His heart felt unexpectedly light, as if floating on clouds.
He lowered his gaze and patted Jiang Xun’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, don’t cling so much. Just hold on a little longer, all right? We’ll be at the hospital soon.”
His voice softened unconsciously.
The boy in his arms pressed his forehead against Chen Luan’s neck, murmuring faintly, “Mmm.”
Feeling a little itchy, Chen Luan leaned back slightly in exasperation. “Why don’t you lean against Jiang Ling first? I’ll get you a bottle of water.”
“…No.” Jiang Xun shook his head and clung to him even tighter.
Chen Luan was at a loss.
The boy was still injured and had a fever; he couldn’t just push him away.
He could only assume the boy was feverish and frightened by what had happened today, so he looked to Jiang Ling for help.
Little did he know that, earlier, when he was still trapped upstairs and the reptiles attacked the boy at the front—ripping off his arm—Jiang Xun had been watching from the side.
Crimson bl00d splattered across Jiang Xun’s cheek, but his calm eyes didn’t waver.
Jiang Ling, meanwhile, looked down at his brother.
From an angle Chen Luan couldn’t see, the twins’ eyes met; Jiang Xun’s gaze was clear—utterly lucid.
Their gazes crossed briefly before parting.
Jiang Ling, unusually silent, stood up and went to get a bottle of water.
Chen Luan unscrewed the cap and fed Jiang Xun a few sips. Finally, exhausted, Jiang Xun relaxed and slumped back in his chair, slowly drifting off to sleep.
Seeing him asleep, Chen Luan leaned back, eyes growing heavy, until he too dozed off.
When Jiang Xun stirred awake, he quietly climbed out of Chen Luan’s arms and took off his own coat to drape it over him.
Turning around, he met his brother’s teasing gaze.
“Not pretending anymore?” Jiang Ling crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Having fun?”
Jiang Xun propped his injured leg on the stool, finding a comfortable position before smiling lazily. “What, are you jealous?”
“Jealous of what? Your thick skin? Or your lame leg?” Jiang Ling scoffed, snatching the water bottle from his brother’s hand and draining it in one go.
It was as if that could suppress the sudden irritation bubbling in his chest.
“Don’t you think…” Jiang Xun’s gaze lingered on Chen Luan—the mole on his neck bright red, almost glaring.
A strange light flickered in his eyes. He paused, then continued, “Chen Luan’s changes are a bit… drastic.”
“What do you mean?” Jiang Ling frowned, crushing the empty bottle in his hand and glancing up.
“Nothing.” Jiang Xun pulled Chen Luan’s coat higher, covering the mole that unsettled him.
Then he raised his hand, fingertips tracing Chen Luan’s delicate features as he murmured, “No matter what, he’s still our… brother.”
Finally, he looked up, meeting Jiang Ling’s gaze. “Isn’t he?”
In that instant, invisible sparks seemed to crackle between them.
Jiang Ling squeezed the bottle tightly, then tossed it into the trash can. He smiled faintly. “You’re right. No matter what, he’s still our brother.”
He deliberately emphasized the word our, as if to underline something unspoken.
Their eyes met—neither backing down.
For the first time, a subtle tension rippled between the twin brothers who had always been inseparable.
After a long moment, they looked away at the same time.
Neither spoke again for the rest of the ride.
They reached the hospital soon after. Chen Luan woke just as the car stopped, his hair disheveled and eyes bleary. “Huh? How did I fall asleep? We’re here already? Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
He stretched, feeling a bit stiff, then noticed the coat covering him.
It looked like Jiang Xun’s.
Jiang Ling’s coats were always wrinkled, but this one was smooth.
“Because you looked tired.” Jiang Xun leaned against him, slipping the coat back on—it was still warm from Chen Luan’s body heat. “I wanted you to rest a little longer.”
“There’s no reason for an injured younger brother to take care of his older brother.”
Chen Luan smiled faintly, stood, and offered his hand to Jiang Xun.
But to his surprise, Jiang Xun didn’t lean on him again. Instead, he stood on tiptoe, holding Jiang Ling’s arm, and hopped down on one leg.
“What’s wrong, Jiang Xun?” Chen Luan asked, puzzled. “You, okay?”
“You’re still injured.” Jiang Xun’s gaze fell on the bandage around Chen Luan’s forearm. Grabbing Jiang Ling’s shoulder, he climbed onto his brother’s back. “Jiang Ling can carry me.”
The scratch on Chen Luan’s arm was hardly worth mentioning, but remembering that Jiang Ling was full of energy, he nodded. “Alright.”
Still… the boy who had clung so tightly to him minutes ago was suddenly independent again. The faint tug of disappointment in Chen Luan’s chest caught him off guard.
He quickly brushed the feeling aside.
The emergency room was pure chaos.
Cries, screams, the wails of families—all tangled in a desperate cacophony. The medical staff rushed between gurneys, overwhelmed.
Jiang Xun’s injury wasn’t life-threatening, so there was no room for him amid the chaos.
Chen Luan frowned and, after a quick look around, ran off to buy a first-aid kit. Then he led the twins into an empty treatment room.
He closed the door, drew the curtain, and opened the kit. “Take your pants off.”
“…?”
A brief, awkward silence followed.
Chen Luan washed his hands, slipped on sterile gloves, and turned back to find both brothers frozen in place. He chuckled, eyes narrowing with amusement. “What’s wrong? Shy?”
He bent slightly, teasing, “What, want your brother to help you take them off?”
“…No need!!” Jiang Xun immediately backed away, grabbing Jiang Ling’s shoulder for balance as he tugged off his outer pants. “I can do it myself.”
His legs were straight and lean, clad only in black cotton shorts.
He paused before folding the pants neatly over his lap, revealing a seven- or eight-centimeter gash along his thigh.
Chen Luan had seen far worse wounds.
His own, others’—fatal, nonfatal—it was all the same to him. So even though Jiang Xun’s injury looked gruesome, it wasn’t deep enough to reach bone, and he handled it calmly.
After cleaning and disinfecting, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small orange plush toy, pressing it into Jiang Xun’s hand.
“It might hurt later. If it does, just squeeze this.”
Jiang Xun looked down at the chubby toy with its crying face and blinked. “…Are you trying to comfort a child?”
“Aren’t you one?” Chen Luan quipped, dabbing at the wound. “A little brat who still has to go to the pediatric ward when he’s sick.”
“I’m not—ouch!” Jiang Xun flinched, clenching the plush.
“Chirp~~!”
The toy let out an absurdly cute squeak.
Jiang Xun: “………………”
Jiang Ling immediately burst out laughing. “Hahahaha! What is that thing? Chen Luan, where did you even get that?”
Chen Luan, applying the anesthetic, didn’t look up. “Bought it on the way through the pediatrics department. Cute, right?”
Jiang Ling slapped his thigh, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. “Cute? It’s hilarious! Bro, isn’t it cute? Say something!”
Jiang Xun sat stiffly, clutching the squeaky dumpling, the tips of his ears turning pink.
…He wanted to curse. And hit someone.
Once the wound was treated, they didn’t linger in the hospital. It was far too chaotic, and there were more critical patients to tend to.
Chen Luan’s own arm injury was minor—he just applied ointment and called it good.
They returned to the Jiang residence soon after.
Jiang Xun still had a fever, so Jiang Ling called Dr. He to administer an injection and some anti-inflammatory medication.
“Where was this wound treated?” Dr. He asked, inspecting Jiang Xun’s stitches with surprise.
“What’s wrong? Is there a problem?” Jiang Ling leaned in, seeing nothing unusual.
“No, just… this stitching is excellent. You can’t do this without at least seven or eight years of experience.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Chen Luan, fresh out of the shower, holding an apple, froze under three pairs of eyes. “Oh, the stitching? Yeah. Learned it in battlefield first aid at the academy.”
He grinned lazily, stretching out on the sofa. “I’m good at stitching because… well, I’m talented.”
Half-lidded eyes, loose pajama collar revealing smooth skin—he waved casually. “Apple? Want some?”
Jiang Ling glanced at the apple, then at him, throat dry. He reached out. “Sure.”
But Chen Luan pulled the apple back, took a big bite, and smiled, eyes crinkling. “Want some? Get your own downstairs.”
“…Chen Luan, you’re childish.”
“Just kidding.” He turned, pulled out another apple, and tossed it lightly. “Actually, I’ve got another one. Here.”
“…? I’m not eating!” Jiang Ling’s ears flushed as he slammed the door and stormed off.
“Tsk, so easily provoked.” Chen Luan shrugged.
“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.” Dr. He packed his kit. “If the fever doesn’t break by morning, call me again. The wound’s been treated beautifully—just make sure it doesn’t get wet.”
“Okay. Thanks for your hard work.”
Chen Luan saw Dr. He to the door, then, after a moment’s hesitation, casually stuffed the apple into his hand. “Here—have this on the way. Safe trip, yeah?”
“…”
Dr. He, holding the apple, looked both amused and helpless, but in the end accepted it with a faint smile. “Thank you.”
After seeing him off, Chen Luan swayed upstairs, ready to collapse into bed—only to be stopped just short of his room.
“Brother.”
The pale-faced boy sat propped against the bed, a thin blanket draped over his legs. His long, dark lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, making him look like a fragile glass doll.
“Jiang Ling isn’t here, and I… can’t move very well.” His voice was soft, almost timid. “Could you take me to the bathroom? I want to wash up.”