The next day, I saw my brother on TV.

He was still wearing his doctor's white coat—the one he had worked so hard for over ten years to earn.

People watching on the street pointed fingers at him, whispering accusations.

It was pouring rain that day. I ran barefoot for a long, long time, until the stinging pain in my feet made me collapse to the ground. But I still couldn't reach him in time.

...

In the courtroom, my brother took off his white coat and put on a glaring yellow prison uniform.

They said he was a maniac who had stabbed the victim dozens of times, leaving his intestines exposed. His methods were cruel, and he was unfit to be human.

In the end, the court convicted him of intentional assault and sentenced him to prison.

He refused the lawyer's help, accepting all the punishment as if he didn't care.

Some people around cheered; others sighed in regret.

Only I beat my chest frantically, letting out heart-wrenching sobs.

He looked back at me from across the courtroom and smiled.

That was the last time I saw him.

After that, he refused all my visits, only sending a message through someone.

"Wanwan, brother did what he wanted to do, and now he deserves the punishment. Don't do anything for me. Just be the best version of yourself, and forget about me."

That year, I made a decision. I abandoned my dream of studying journalism and chose medicine instead.

I thought someone had to carry on his dream.

Thanks to my natural aptitude for learning, I completed my credits ahead of schedule, graduated, and entered the hospital where my brother had worked.

Every day was the same—back and forth between the hospital and my apartment, a monotonous routine.

I had no family, no friends, no lover. I counted the days alone in my own world.

People around me said I was like a hermit, cut off from society.

Only I knew that I had trapped myself back in that day five years ago.

I waited and hoped, counting the days, until finally, all I received was a small box and a video.

"Hey, Dr. Ye, who's this dress for?"

In the video, a thin man held up a skirt, waving it triumphantly.

My brother frowned, trying to grab it back, but he was surrounded by people.

Someone laughed and said:

"I heard Dr. Ye has a sister..."

"Sister? More like a girlfriend, haha..."

Laughter erupted all around, mixed with vulgar insults about me.

"When you get out, Dr. Ye, bring your sister over to play with us. Let us have some fun too, haha..."

"Ah!"

The man who spoke was kicked hard in the stomach and collapsed suddenly.

My brother snatched the skirt back.

Someone cursed, and then fists rained down on my brother.

He fought back like a madman—I had never seen him so violent.

But soon, he was exhausted and fell heavily to the ground.

He curled up in the corner, clutching the skirt tightly to his chest.

Gradually, my brother stopped moving. Blood flowed more and more, slowly soaking the white skirt in his arms.

The video ended...

I looked at the carefully made skirt in the box, where blood-red flowers seemed to bloom—each petal filled with a brother's longing.

A box, a video—that was all there was to my brother's five years in prison.

The police said they didn't know what had gotten into him that day. Usually, he would just endure such insults.

I stared at his photo on the tombstone. He still looked as handsome as ever, his white shirt always so clean.

He was smiling at me, as if time had never hurt him.

The sun was dazzling. I felt dizzy, and his smile in the photo grew more and more blurred, until everything faded into darkness.

In my daze, I heard a familiar voice outside the door. "Wanwan, you're going to be late. Wake up quickly."

Brother!

My muddled mind cleared instantly.

I jumped up and ran toward the door.