Chapter 58: Zhou Zhuoyuan: Covering Ears to Steal the Bell

Lin Boxu was in the middle of rehabilitation training when Zhou Zhuoyuan had him transferred to a private room. He also told Lin Boxu not to mention it to Lin Decai or Jiang Yueyi.

Zhou Zhuoli pushed open the door and walked in. Lin Boxu immediately stopped what he was doing and pointed to the chair nearby. “Have a seat.”

Zhou Zhuoli had looked into the reason for his hospitalization before coming. “Did Zhuoyuan arrange this room for you?”

Lin Boxu raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Little Yuan didn’t want me roughing it, so he handled everything right away.”

Zhou Zhuoli couldn’t stand the smug look on his face. “Why are you so thick-skinned? You two fought constantly as kids. How do you have the gall to take his money now? Why would he even agree to pay? Did you threaten him?”

Lin Boxu’s expression darkened. “If you’re just here to start trouble, get out!”

Zhou Zhuoli needed a favor from him, so he took a deep breath and fell silent.

By the time Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan arrived, the room’s atmosphere was thick with tension. The Lin family had mentioned how the brothers fought nonstop from childhood, and nothing in Lin Boxu’s demeanor suggested any deep affection for Zhou Zhuoyuan. They couldn’t fathom why Zhou Zhuoli had thought to seek his advice on how to get through to Zhou Zhuoyuan.

They had pressed Zhou Zhuoli for an explanation, but he had only said flatly, “Zhuoyuan would probably want Mom and Dad to understand him better.”

The even tone carried a clear rebuke, implying that Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan had been negligent.

Zhou Fuxuan couldn’t save face. “What are you getting at? You were there for every discussion with the Lin family. You’ve seen all of Zhuoyuan’s childhood photos. Now you’re insinuating that we don’t know him?”

Zhou Zhuoli had been present every time, it was true.

During the final negotiation, Zhou Zhuoyuan had been required to attend. They asked him to make a choice, and his dark eyes had turned toward Zhu Wan. “How much pocket money can you give me?”

Zhu Wan took his hand. “As much as you want.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Zhou Zhuoyuan said, “I’d like a thousand yuan a month.”

Zhu Wan laughed, charmed. “Silly boy—even a thousand a day would be fine.”

A faint blush colored Zhou Zhuoyuan’s cheeks as excitement lit his face. “I want to go home. Back to the Zhou family.”

The Lin family pulled out photos of him from infancy to the present and handed them to Zhu Wan. Zhou Zhuoyuan, already settled beside her, eagerly described the stories behind each one.

After a little while, Zhu Wan gently cut him off. “That’s enough for now. Your foster parents have already told us all about it. Let’s finish our talk first, alright?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan nodded obediently. He sat on the worn sofa, listening as they wrangled over custody of Zhou Zhuoyi.

Zhou Zhuoli, seated at his side, watched Zhou Zhuoyuan’s expression shift—from eager delight to displeasure, now mixed with a hint of bewilderment.

As an outsider at the time, Zhou Zhuoli had found his brother’s erratic moods baffling.

Only now did he understand. In that moment, Zhou Zhuoyuan had seemed like nothing more than an afterthought, a throw-in gift—while Zhou Zhuoyi was the precious treasure everyone fought to keep.

There was no way to go back and tell that boy the truth: at first, the Lin family had flatly refused the Zhou family’s demand to take him back. It had taken round after round of arguments before they agreed to let Zhou Zhuoyuan decide for himself.

They had indeed pored over his childhood photos together with the Lin family.

Under his father’s piercing glare, Zhou Zhuoli spoke slowly. “How much can you really glean from Lin Decai and Jiang Yueyi’s side of the story? Dad, did you know the driver who picked him up was always late? Did you know the household staff all gave him the cold shoulder?”

Zhou Fuxuan fell quiet. Zhu Wan went pale. “Is that all true?”

Zhou Zhuoli met her eyes. “Mom, have I ever lied to you?”

They spoke so much about making amends and showing care, yet they hadn’t gotten around to actually doing any of it.

Did they truly believe they understood Zhou Zhuoyuan? Had they only pieced together his past from hearsay? Or were they simply afraid he’d draw too much of their attention, leaving Zhou Zhuoyi feeling overlooked and hurt?

But what of Zhou Zhuoyuan’s own pain?

By plugging their ears, they thought the bell wouldn’t ring?

~~~

Lin Boxu felt a little tense in front of Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Zhu Wan set the fruit basket she’d brought on his bedside table and spoke politely. “Would you mind telling us about Zhuoyuan’s childhood?”

Lin Boxu didn’t get why they were asking him. “What’s this about? Is something wrong with Little Yuan?”

Zhou Zhuoli fetched chairs for them. Once Zhu Wan had sat down, her presence grew gentler. “When he was little, was he more happy or more unhappy?”

Lin Boxu paused, then answered honestly. “More unhappy.”

Dirty laundry stayed in the family, after all—and here the Zhou family was, asking the very man who’d wronged him. What was he supposed to say?

Lin Boxu turned the question back on them. “Was he happy at the Zhou house? Did you treat him well?”

Zhu Wan had no reply. From that, Lin Boxu understood: even after coming home, Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t found the love he’d hoped for.

Zhou Zhuoli said, “Go ahead and tell us. We swear we won’t retaliate against you.”

Lin Boxu didn’t buy a word from these rich folks. “You weren’t good to him, and now you’re asking me about this? What’s the meaning of it? If you don’t want to take care of him, I will. Don’t put on this act in front of me!”

Zhou Zhuoli waited until he had finished speaking before replying, “I suspect he has depressive tendencies.”

Lin Boxu stared at him, not quite processing it. “What?”

Amid everyone’s shocked gazes, Zhou Zhuoli repeated himself. “I suspect he has depressive tendencies. We need to understand his upbringing so the doctor can make a proper diagnosis.”

Lin Boxu’s chest heaved violently at those words. He closed his eyes and struggled inwardly for a moment. When he opened them again, he had finally made up his mind. “Swear to me that you absolutely won’t hurt me or my parents.”

By this point, Zhu Wan’s heart had turned ice-cold inside. She forced a stiff smile. “I swear we won’t hurt you or your parents.”

Lin Boxu then pulled a tattered, yellowed notebook out from under his pillow. “This is Little Yuan’s diary. Take it back with you and read it. I’ll come get it from you after I’m discharged. Don’t let him know—he hates it when people pity him.”

Before they left, after Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan had stepped out, Zhou Zhuoli suddenly turned back to Lin Boxu. “It doesn’t seem like Zhuoyuan has forgiven you, either.”

Lin Boxu’s brows furrowed tightly. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Zhou Zhuoli asked, “Do you know he fell into a coma from illness because his ex-boyfriend died?”

Lin Boxu had no idea. He didn’t even know when Zhou Zhuoyuan had been in a relationship.

Zhou Zhuoli gave him a look that said I knew it. “Don’t let him find out about this. It hit him hard. If you don’t want something bad to happen to him, then keep your mouth shut.”

Lin Boxu grabbed the fruit basket they had brought and smashed it against the wall. “Get out!”

~~~

Zhou Zhuoli walked to the parking spot and found that Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan hadn’t left. They were waiting inside his car, and the driver was nowhere to be seen.

He got in, already knowing what they wanted to ask. “I can’t be certain. Doctor Song said Zhuoyuan is fine, but he’s not a professional. Mostly, I was just bluffing Lin Boxu back there.”

Zhu Wan had already tucked the diary into her bag. Her hand rested on the side where Zhou Zhuoyuan had written the characters for “Lin Yuan” in a long, looping script.