Chapter 14 Part 1

Old Master Zhou said that a person’s potential was determined from the moment he awakened his intellect. Some awakened early and achieved great things, while others awakened late but could still accumulate steadily before bursting forth.

But most people never awakened their intellect in their lifetime, muddling through life in a daze, and that was it.

Due to negligence from his parents and nanny, Zhou Jinsheng suffered from autism in his childhood. When the long-sealed barriers finally broke open, violent emotions poured into his body like towering mountains collapsing.

His temperament was solitary, and he was blessed with extraordinary talent. All the kids his age in Sihua Gardens were either beaten down by him or subdued by him.

For a long time, parents warned their children overtly and covertly to stay away from Zhou Jinsheng, that little demon. Not only did the kids fear him—even some adults felt a chill in their hearts at the sight of him.

Those eyes locked away a ferocious beast.

While other relatives frowned and expressed deep concern, Old Master Zhou merely shrugged it off. Not long after, he dismissed some of the tutors and began personally teaching Zhou Jinsheng.

No one knew exactly what Old Master Zhou taught him, but soon enough, Zhou Jinsheng changed noticeably.

The biggest change was that he started acting like a normal kid. He quickly blended in with the other children in Sihua Gardens and seized Zheng Keqin’s position, becoming the new king of the kids.

Among everyone, the only one who thought Zhou Jinsheng hadn’t changed at all was probably Old Master Zhou’s wife, Zhou Jinsheng’s grandmother.

Old Madam Zhuang was a proper lady from a great family. In her era, she never walked when going out—she was always carried in a sedan chair and wore white gloves her whole life.

She was lenient with others and never demanded that her children achieve greatness. When his father was young and lived with her, Old Master Zhou passive-aggressively sniped more than once that she had raised him to be overly soft and weak, so he stopped letting her manage the children in the household.

As a result, Old Madam Zhuang often stayed alone in the garden on the second floor of Zhou Mansion, reading, writing, and playing the piano. She had a quiet nature and spoke little. After Old Master Zhou’s comments, she stubbornly refused to involve herself in family affairs anymore.

Over time, she became a serene island unto herself.

Only the occasional qin sound, like flowing water spilling from the second-floor flower room, reminded people that such an elderly lady still lived in Zhou Mansion.

Most of the time, Zhou Jinsheng would walk through the long corridor to the sunroom outside on the second floor.

The flowers in the garden were all beauties, tended meticulously by his grandmother, attracting a tattered butterfly.

The butterfly’s wings resembled shells, opening and closing, refracting brilliant light in the watery sunlight—beautiful beyond words.

Exhausted from flying, it quietly landed on an iris flower.

Zhou Jinsheng’s eyes lit up. He abandoned his idea of picking flowers and reached out to catch the butterfly. He missed, and when he looked up, he saw his grandmother holding a watering can, frowning at him.

Old Madam Zhuang glared at him fiercely, staring back his hand that was itching to act. But then she fetched a clean towel, instructed him to stand still, removed her white gloves, and wiped his dirty little face clean before sending him back.

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t like going home.

He had known from a young age that Zhou Delin liked men. His mother, due to her failed marriage, had completely turned into a mentally unstable woman, expert at seamlessly switching between hysterical screaming and cursing and sudden displays of inexplicable maternal love after calming down.

It might also have been related to the bipolar disorder gene passed down in her family. Genes were stubborn viruses, after all—like how his dad liked men, he liked men too.

In any case, it didn’t look like a normal marriage no matter how you sliced it.

No one knew how someone as shrewd as his grandfather could have discovered it so late.

But this marriage had been arranged by him in the first place. For Old Master Zhou, who never admitted fault, that gave him ample justification.

Old Madam Zhuang’s flower room was very quiet, undisturbed by anyone. Later, Zhou Jinsheng came here repeatedly to hide—nobody dared look for him here anyway.

His grandmother had her own things to do. The table and chairs were always piled high with thick newspapers and books. She crafted exquisite floral stamps to paste on them, as if the books had sprouted everlasting flowers.

Whenever she saw Zhou Jinsheng emerging from the flowerbeds, she would glance at him once and then say nothing more.

Zhou Jinsheng would fetch a small stool for himself and sit down at a neither too close nor too far distance.

Though his grandmother ignored him, that shell-like butterfly would always fly over, circling around him, its wings shimmering like layers of pearls.

Whenever Zhou Jinsheng reached out to damage the flowers, his grandmother’s sharp gaze would drift over. She would set down the newspaper, pick up the ruler nearby, and tap his hand in warning.

The force was heavy, stinging the back of his hand.

But Zhou Jinsheng didn’t learn from the pain and always provoked her displeasure. After a few times, his grandmother grew annoyed with him. She adjusted her glasses with fingers clad in white gloves, thought for a moment, and decided to teach Zhou Jinsheng piano.

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t want to, so his grandmother threatened him coldly: if he didn’t practice, she would tell his grandfather about his fights with other kids.

Zhou Jinsheng had no choice but to agree.

His grandmother said he had a great musical talent and learned piano quickly—perhaps he could even become a piano master.

After each piano session, Zhou Jinsheng would pause his fingers and look up at the flower rack overhead.

On the rack, butterflies danced.

Until his grandmother suffered a sudden heart attack and passed away.

The old piano in the second-floor garden was sealed away from then on, never touched again. That butterfly never returned either.

Before her death, as she lay on her sickbed, his grandmother gripped Zhou Jinsheng’s hand. Those hands, always in white gloves, clutched him tightly—frail yet so strong.

In Old Madam Zhuang’s deep lake-like eyes, which never revealed any tender affection, not even in her final moments did she show a trace of weakness.

She said coldly:

“Zhou Jinsheng, live like a human being.”

That was the first time Zhou Jinsheng felt abandoned. The second time was when his mother committed suicide by lying on train tracks.

There wouldn’t be a third.

His thoughts surged like tides and then receded, leaving only fine grains of sand.

Zhou Jinsheng silently watched as Shen Yu turned around.

Hearing Zhou Jinsheng call his name, Shen Yu picked up a bottle of cold water from the counter, straightened up, and looked at Zhou Jinsheng—only to crash straight into a pair of deep, shadowy eyes.

In an instant, Shen Yu instinctively sensed an oppressive danger.

The danger seeped into his bones. Shen Yu didn’t know what had happened, but his primal reaction to danger made his hairs stand on end. His entire spine nearly tensed into a defensive posture on the spot.

But fortunately, it didn’t.

No, just for taking a bottle of water?

Shen Yu’s mind raced, his fingers gripping the mineral water bottle tightly.

He relaxed his grip, tilted his face up, his eyes frank and clear like a limpid lake, fully accepting Zhou Jinsheng’s intense gaze.

A youthful charm played in Shen Yu’s smile as he asked playfully, “What’s up? Staring at me like that? Sorry if I dazzled you—need compensation?”

Zhou Jinsheng looked at him.

Shen Yu tilted his head and shook the mineral water bottle in his hand.

Zhou Jinsheng smiled. “Compensate me with a bottle of water.”

It was rare to see Zhou Jinsheng play along with his joke.

Shen Yu was a bit surprised. His lips curved as he was about to respond when Zhou Jinsheng looked away and settled back on the sofa.

From Shen Yu’s angle, he only saw the sharply contoured, handsome side profile. Perhaps due to the light and shadow, that half-face looked profoundly dark and somewhat eerie.

Zhou Jinsheng picked up the remote and changed the channel on the TV, ordering in a grandfatherly tone, “By the way, make it iced.”

Outside the window, ink-black darkness draped like silk. Wild winds and torrential rain battered the trees, while passionate singing crashed against the room’s walls like waves against rocks.

Zhou Jinsheng’s voice mingled in it, sounding distant and muffled, with a hint of hoarseness.

But Shen Yu had sharp hearing. He laughed and cursed, “So many demands. Consider this extra compensation.”

Shen Yu crouched down and retrieved a bottle of chilled mineral water from the slot at the bottom of the mini-fridge. He walked to the sofa and handed it to Zhou Jinsheng, asking with concern:

“Your voice sounds a bit hoarse. From getting caught in the rain?”

Shen Yu frowned, his tone lifting at the end. “Take some medicine to prevent getting sick?”

Zhou Jinsheng glanced at him, took the water.

Their fingers brushed unintentionally, then parted naturally.

Shen Yu rubbed his fingertip, feeling as if the skin there had been lightly scalded.

Zhou Jinsheng unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back for a sip. His pale lips were moistened, no longer dry. He set down the mineral water and said lightly, “Throat’s a bit dry. Some water will soothe it.”

Shen Yu acknowledged it with a sound, his gaze sweeping over the musical on TV.

It was the English version of JSC. Overstuffed with elements, Zhou Jinsheng disdainfully changed the channel to a soccer replay: Wiki Team versus Crown Team. The two teams seemed evenly matched on the field, but the outcome was already decided—Wiki Team held a clear advantage.

“Ah, this is good. I remember this team—their jerseys are pretty interesting.”

Shen Yu sat down next to Zhou Jinsheng, pointing at the Wiki Team. The players in blue-and-white striped uniforms bounced around energetically, like crazy prisoners finally seeing daylight after eighty years—comical and captivating, impossible not to watch.

A faint scent of body wash wafted in the enclosed space. Zhou Jinsheng turned his head to glance at him and set down the remote.