He had typed out a full two screens’ worth of accusations against Zhou Zhuoyuan, but before Zhou Zhuoli could hit send, another message notification chimed.
Zhou Zhuoyuan had transferred over every cent of the hospitalization costs.
Zhou Zhuoli highlighted and deleted every word he’d painstakingly hammered out, replying with just one line: What do you mean by this?
Zhou Zhuoyuan: Nothing much. You really don’t need to cover my medical bills.
The caregiver Zhou Zhuoli had hired for him and the private room he’d selected weren’t cheap at all. Throw in the surgery fees, and for someone like Zhou Zhuoyuan—who remembered the value of money from his previous life—it added up to a massive expense. He hated to part with that much cash, but there was no helping it. He had no right to force Zhou Zhuoli to foot the bill.
Zhou Zhuoli felt a heavy blockage in his chest, suffocating him. This pittance for medical fees, and you’re insisting on paying? What I’m asking is, why did you check out early? Why didn’t you even give me a heads-up?
Realizing the other man wasn’t hounding him for reimbursement, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s spirits lifted. He was just so used to scraping by that money was always his first thought. For an Eldest Young Master like Zhou Zhuoli, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, this wouldn’t even cover half a day’s spending.
Zhou Zhuoyuan replied with ease: I didn’t check out early. The doctor cleared me.
He skipped right over the question about not saying goodbye. Zhou Zhuoli waited ages for a follow-up that never came, and he was too embarrassed to send another message. It would make him look like he actually cared about Zhou Zhuoyuan.
~~~
After dinner that evening, Ji He’s face had turned grim.
Zhou Zhuoyuan, baffled, asked, “What’s wrong?”
He was still puzzling over who could have gotten under Ji He’s skin like this when the other man demanded, “Why did you lie to me? You didn’t go home at all. Where the hell have you been these past few days?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan knew right away that Ji He must have talked to Zhou Zhuoyi. What a pain. He really shouldn’t have gotten chummy with anyone in Zhou Zhuoyi’s circle.
Ji He stared at him in disbelief, catching the flicker of annoyance on his face. “You lied to me, and now I’m the one bothering you?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan knew he was in the wrong. After a moment’s thought, he decided there was no point hiding it from Ji He. He stuck to the essentials and confessed, “I got jumped in a fight and ended up in the hospital. How was I supposed to tell you guys? You’re the only one I’ve told, so keep it under your hat.”
He downplayed it, but a hospital stay like that couldn’t have been minor. Ji He’s aggrieved expression crumbled as questions poured out of him like bullets from a gun. “Beaten bad enough to land in the hospital? That serious? Who did it? The same crew from before? Where’d they get you?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan gave a half-truth. “Not that bad. Wasn’t them—just some street punks from outside.”
Ji He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Aren’t you the model student? How do you keep pissing off these kinds of people?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan cracked a joke. “Too damn handsome. Jealousy’s a bitch.”
Ji He had no intention of joking around whatsoever. “It’s my fault for heading back early that night.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan froze. He hadn’t seen that coming.
When no reply came, Ji He glanced up at him, puzzled.
Steadying himself, Zhou Zhuoyuan said, “Next time you head back early, I’ll walk with my roommates.”
He’d already resolved to do exactly that after eating one too many losses like this one, but he hadn’t planned on mentioning it to anyone.
Ji He itched to press him on who those punks were, but Zhou Zhuoyuan clammed up tight. Same as last time—this he wouldn’t let him handle, that he wouldn’t either. It was like tapping into Ji He’s connections might straight-up kill him or something.
The words tumbled out before Ji He could stop them. “Do you even think of me as a friend?”
He regretted it the instant they left his mouth, terrified he’d hear the same answer as before.
