After my adoptive parents died, I found their biological son rummaging through trash on a street corner. I snatched a moldy bun from his hand. "Idiot, you can't eat that. It's dirty." Later, the idiot buried his face in my chest, and I grabbed a handful of his hair. "Stupid dog, you can't eat that either." 01 I found Silas in a small town down south. He was dressed in rags, curled up on a street corner, wolfing down a dirty, smelly bun. I walked over slowly and squatted beside him. Silas looked up warily, hiding the moldy bun behind his back, baring his teeth at me like a feral animal. I gave him a friendly smile, staring at his sharp, white canines. "Why are you acting like a stray dog?" Silas paused, stunned by my smile. I took the opportunity to snatch the sour bun from his hand and tossed it aside. "Idiot, you can't eat that. It's dirty." Silas froze for a second. He looked at his empty hand, then at me, then at the bun on the ground in the distance. Just as he was about to bare his teeth again, I pulled out a fluffy, white steamed bun and stuffed it into his mouth. I had been watching Silas all afternoon. He dug through six trash cans and fought two stray dogs just for a single bite. I had sent someone to buy a whole bag of fresh buns. Prepared. Silas instantly behaved, holding the bun with both hands and gnawing on it intently. I took the chance to lead him away. It was a twenty-minute drive from the dump to the hotel. Silas ate seven buns. Every time he finished one, he’d stare at me with those puppy-dog eyes, looking like he was about to bark. I wasn't trying to humiliate him. Silas really did act like a stray dog. Feeling mischievous, I took out another bun and waved it in front of his face. "Want it?" Silas stared at the bun, swallowing hard. His eyes lit up. If he had a tail, it would be wagging. I smiled, teasing him. "Call me brother. Call me brother, and I'll give it to you." Silas looked at me, then at the bun. His Adam's apple bobbed. He was practically drooling. His mouth moved a few times, but no words came out. I guided him patiently. "Be good. Say brother." Silas got anxious. From his throat came a loud, clear— "Woof!" ? What the f*ck! Is he actually a dog? Before I could recover from the shock, Silas lunged forward, snatched the bun from my hand, and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. Then he quickly scrambled to the other side of the car, keeping maximum distance, chewing laboriously while eyeing me warily. Looking at his 6'3" frame trying to curl into a ball, I felt a mix of speechlessness and heartache. What kind of life had this guy been living? I finally mustered some pity. Seeing Silas choking on the dry bread, I reached out to pat his back. "Nobody's taking it. Eat slowly." Silas instantly turned vicious, staring at my hand, a threatening growl vibrating in his throat. As if he’d bite my fingers off if I got any closer. Fine. Eight buns wasted. So protective of his food. That’s not good. I withdrew my hand, tapping my fingers on my knee, looking down with a light smile. A little wild. Once I wash him clean, I'll need to train him properly. 02 Washing him clean was a challenge in itself. Silas smelled... indescribable. And he refused to bathe. Once we got to the hotel suite, he huddled at the foot of the sofa, staring at me warily, maintaining a safe distance. I spent an hour trying to talk him into the bathroom. No luck. I couldn't catch him, and I couldn't beat him in a fight. After two hours of battling wits with Silas, I saw the mints on the nightstand. I grabbed one, unwrapped it, and quickly stuffed it into Silas's mouth. The puppy didn't even have time to bare his teeth. He froze for a full thirty seconds. He spit the candy into his palm, licked it tentatively, his eyes lit up, and he popped it back in. Even though I'm not a germaphobe, his lack of hygiene was testing me. I closed my eyes, chanting internally: He's simple, he doesn't know better, don't be disgusted. Once I convinced myself, I opened my eyes and used the candy to lure Silas into the bathroom. Turns out, even though Silas is simple, he remembers some basics. He could brush his teeth and wash his face. He even lined up the toothbrush and folded the towel neatly when he was done. Someone must have taught him that. So bathing shouldn't be an issue. I stripped him naked and threw him into the bathtub. I wanted to ruffle his hair, but it was too dirty, so I pulled my hand back. Save it for later. I unwrapped another candy and fed it to him. "Good boy, wash yourself. If you smell nice, brother will give you more candy." Less than ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Silas walked out, soaking wet and stark naked. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. His proportions were insanely good. My eye twitched. I took a deep breath, chanting "lust is emptiness" three times before walking over to inspect the results. He was whiter, sure, but definitely not clean. He hadn't even used shampoo. Overestimated him. I guess he only retained the very basics like face washing. I marched him back into the bathroom, pushed him into the tub, and resigned myself to washing him. Silas watched curiously as I scrubbed him down, surprisingly obedient. The more I scrubbed, the more jealous I got. How does a homeless guy have this much muscle definition? I ran my hands over his abs. He had two more packs than I did. No wonder he can eat so much. My gym membership is a scam. As I was washing him, a certain part of Silas that should have stayed down suddenly perked up, trembling. I stared at the offender in shock. "You..." How does a bath lead to this... Silas blinked his puppy eyes at me innocently and swallowed. Fine, don't argue with a fool. I slapped the thing lightly. "Alright, I know you're happy to see your brother, now stand down." I looked up, teasing Silas. "Tell it to calm down." Silas grunted at my slap, his eyes lighting up. He stared at my hand. After a moment, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his lower abdomen, his voice hoarse. "Hit." "More." "Hit." I was paralyzed. What the hell? Did he enjoy getting hit? Silas whined impatiently, his breath hot. "Hurt. Hot." "Hit it." It's over. My hands are tainted. I pulled my hand back, expressionless, and turned on the cold water, drenching Silas until he shivered. "Cool the f*ck down!" Silas wilted under the spray. "Woo..." 03 That night, Silas refused to sleep on the bed. He curled up on the rug beside my bed. He slept soundly. I couldn't sleep, so I went to the balcony to smoke. Before I met Silas, I never imagined he’d be like this. Silas wasn't born simple. He went missing at five. My adoptive parents spent their lives looking for him. Even after they adopted me, they never stopped searching. After Mom died of depression and Dad followed soon after, I searched for Silas alone for four years. Mom said Silas was smart as a whip. He talked early, loved picture books, learned everything instantly. But the Silas now... apart from barking and biting, he knew nothing. His behavior was like a wild animal. I didn't know what Silas had been through, but I had just traced every scar on his body. Old wounds, new scars. He must have suffered a lot. I exhaled a puff of smoke, my chest tight. Being that simple, surviving alone for so long... it must have been hard. I turned around and ran right into a pair of bright, wide eyes. "Holy sh*t!" I nearly jumped out of my skin. Silas had woken up at some point and was standing silently behind me. I clutched my chest, still shaken. "Are you a ghost? You walk without sound!" Silas ignored me completely. He stared at the cigarette between my fingers, his gaze terrifyingly clear. Then, with lightning speed, he leaned in and snatched the lit cigarette from my hand with his mouth. I stood there, jaw dropped. When I reacted, I frantically tried to pry his mouth open. "That's a cigarette butt! You can't eat that! Spit it out!" Silas frowned from the burn but refused to let go. I forced his jaw open, threw the butt away, and probed his mouth with my fingers. "Where did it burn? Does it hurt?" Silas obediently opened his mouth, then curled his tongue around my finger and licked. He tasted it, then licked again. Apparently deciding it tasted good, he grabbed my hand and licked my palm vigorously. Saliva coated my hand. I shuddered, an itch running from my palm to my bones. I pulled my wet hand back and slapped the back of Silas's head. "Are you a dog? Licking everything! Isn't it dirty?!" Still angry, I slapped him again. "If you eat random crap again, I'll beat you." Silas tilted his head. "Woof!" "..." Great. After all that, he only understood the word "dog." 04 The next afternoon, a well-fed and bored Silas started scratching at the door. First pounding, then kicking. Like a damn husky. I lost my patience, dragged him back, and put a random cartoon on the tablet for him. Silas settled down. Leaning against the bed, holding the tablet, watching intently. I sat in the chair, dealing with the backlog of work online. I was exhausted, so I fell asleep waiting for an email. I didn't sleep well. I vaguely felt my chest itching and hurting. Groggily opening my eyes, I saw the reflection in the mirror across the room. A handsome man in an office chair, bathrobe wide open, a furry head buried in his chest. The handsome man was me. The head belonged to Silas, kneeling between my legs. Before I could process this shocking scene, a sharp pain hit my chest. I hissed. I grabbed Silas's hair and yanked him back. "Sucking is one thing, but biting?!" I looked down. It was swollen! How long had he been at it?! Silas's lips were glistening. He looked at me and said, "Candy." He stared at my chest aggrievedly, reaching out to poke it. "Not candy." I froze. I realized what he meant. He wasn't trying to say "not candy." He meant "not sweet." Because before yesterday, he had never eaten anything sweet, so he didn't know the word for that taste. I told him the gummies were "candy." So to him, "candy" meant sweet. "Not candy" meant not sweet. I looked at my poor chest, tortured by Silas. Pink. Soft. It did look a lot like the strawberry gummy I gave him yesterday. Now that it was swollen and shiny from his attention... it looked even more like one. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. "That's not f*cking candy! Can that thing be sweet?!"
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