Chapter 68: Zhou Zhuoyuan: Where Is There Any He Qinglan?

Interrupted by Pei He like this, Zhou Zhuoyuan completely forgot to feel embarrassed about the matter. After all, he had already thrown unreasonable tantrums at the Zhou Family more than once or twice; one more time wouldn’t make a difference.

Ji He had moved into their dormitory, and his ability to take care of himself was extremely poor. Every few days, he had to call someone to come help him clean up.

Zhou Zhuoyuan found him annoying: “Haven’t you had enough fun yet? Isn’t it time for you to go back?”

Ji He looked aggrieved. He had made up his mind to be independent, so he told his family not to send anyone over. Then, he wanted to prove it to Zhou Zhuoyuan. On the weekend, he started a major cleanup in the dormitory, clanging and banging around.

Zhou Zhuoyuan couldn’t be bothered with him and sat at his desk as usual, listening to online classes.

Pei He was squatting in front of the trash can, peeling an apple. The apple peel came off in one long strip, and he held his breath in concentration. If it didn’t break…

“Huh? Yuanyuan, is there something inside this lucky pouch of yours?”

All his previous efforts were ruined as the long apple peel dropped with a plop into the brown trash can.

Pei He lifted his dark eyes to look at Ji He, but Ji He didn’t notice. He reached out to untie the lucky pouch, only to be sharply stopped by Zhou Zhuoyuan.

“Don’t touch it!”

Ji He’s hand froze in front of the words “Peace and health, may all go as you wish.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face had gone somewhat pale. He set down his pen, and the lucky pouch—which he had been pretending not to see—swayed lightly twice in the breeze.

He walked over and slowly removed the lucky pouch. Once he felt its weight, Zhou Zhuoyuan already guessed what was inside. His fingers trembled as he untied the string.

An Imperial Green Glass Jade Peace Token.

A flicker of hatred suddenly rose in Zhou Zhuoyuan’s heart.

He had clearly told him to take it away—why hadn’t he? Was this to make him seem magnanimous? Was it to throw away the compensation Zhou Zhuoyuan had given him?

His hatred flared up halfway but quickly extinguished for lack of fuel.

He Qinglan had already died for no clear reason, and his hatred would never find a target.

Pei He acted as if he had noticed nothing and continued peeling the apple. He then cut it into small pieces, placed them in a bowl, and set the bowl on the connecting space between his desk and Zhou Zhuoyuan’s: “Eat some fruit before studying.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan snapped out of his daze. He didn’t touch the peace token and hung the lucky pouch back on the bedpost. Then, as if nothing had happened, he instructed Ji He, “Don’t touch my things.”

Ji He had messed up again and mumbled, “Oh…”

He didn’t dare make another sound.

That evening, Zhou Zhuoli had something to do and didn’t come to deliver the meal. After Zhou Zhuoyuan finished eating, he received a call from an unknown number. Without thinking much of it, he walked out to the balcony and answered: “Hello?”

Zhou Zhuoyi’s tense and excited voice came from the other end: “Bro, I’m at your school gate. Can you come out to see me?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan gripped his phone tightly and took two deep breaths: “I don’t have time.”

Zhou Zhuoyi fell silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice carried a hint of crying: “Why won’t you ever talk to me? Why won’t Dad, Mom, and Big Bro let me see you? What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I can change…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan frowned and cut him off: “They told you not to see me, so how did you get here?”

Zhou Zhuoyi sniffled: “I took a cab myself. They’re all busy tonight, so I snuck out. The gate guard wouldn’t let me in. I’m really worried about you…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face turned ashen: “Are you sick in the head, Zhou Zhuoyi? Call someone to pick you up and go back right now!”

Zhou Zhuoyi was startled by his attitude, his breathing growing heavier: “Bro, don’t hate me… I feel kinda bad…”

–

Pei He was scrolling through short videos when he saw Zhou Zhuoyuan answer a call and then put on his jacket to head out. He quickly stood up: “Where are you going? I’ll go with you.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan answered very curtly: “No!”

Pei He was stunned for a moment.

Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t want him to meet Zhou Zhuoyi or get to know him. Only people who didn’t know Zhou Zhuoyi would think Zhou Zhuoyuan was a good person: “I’m going to the school gate to buy something. I’ll be right back; you don’t need to come with me.”

Pei He saw the pleading look in his eyes—unconscious as it was—and remembered that Zhou Zhuoli had said there were people arranged at every entrance. He compromised: “Okay, be safe, and remember to text me back.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan gave a “mm” and hurriedly left the dormitory.

Zhou Zhuoyi had taken his medicine and was leaning against the wall in a daze. When he saw Zhou Zhuoyuan come out, he immediately approached with a smile: “Bro…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan stopped in his tracks. Under the dim lights, his expression was hard to make out: “What do you want to say?”

Zhou Zhuoyi’s smile faded in the face of his cold tone, his mouth turning down at the corners: “Bro, why is everyone keeping it from me?”

“What?” Zhou Zhuoyuan’s breath caught, as if all the water molecules in the air had condensed and blocked his nose and mouth.

Only when he heard Zhou Zhuoyi’s next words did he recover from that near-drowning sensation.

“You were almost kidnapped before, and everyone kept it from me. No one told me.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan let out a sigh of relief and brushed him off. “That was your parents worrying about you.”

Zhou Zhuoyi looked puzzled. “Your parents? Bro, did you fight with Mom and Dad again?”

He didn’t dwell on it and wheedled in a spoiled tone. “But I’m worried about you too, Bro. We’re twins. You shouldn’t distrust me like that. I’m not that fragile.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan had to put in tremendous effort to keep his expression steady through every word. “Enough. Go back right now. Call the driver to come get you.”

Zhou Zhuoyi started to protest, but a car drove past. Its blinding headlights lit up the cold sweat beading on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s forehead.

He froze in place, reaching out to wipe it away, but then Zhou Zhuoyuan’s earlier words echoed in his mind—”I don’t like you touching me.” His body went rigid, and he slowly pulled his hand back. “Bro, are you not feeling well? Let me take you to the hospital.”

Truth be told, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s headache hadn’t let up all day. It was no worse now than it had been at noon—not severe at all, purely from anger. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He didn’t bother arguing with Zhou Zhuoyi and simply called the bodyguards Zhou Zhuoli had assigned to take him back.

Once the car pulled away, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s headache eased up considerably. He turned toward the dorms but hadn’t gone far when his phone rang again.

Cursing under his breath, he held it to his ear. “What else do you want?”

The voice that came through wasn’t Zhou Zhuoyi’s—the one he resented and despised—but a processed, raspy male tone. “He Qinglan’s with me. Get to xxx now. No cops. No telling anyone. Otherwise, he’s dead.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan nearly laughed from sheer fury. Hadn’t these people looked into everyone around him? Hadn’t they checked on He Qinglan? He opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but then a muffled, familiar scream cut through the line.

It had been days since he’d last heard that voice. He’d thought it was gone for good.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s lips trembled. He gripped the phone with both hands to keep it steady. Audio could be faked. Plenty of people sounded alike. He couldn’t lose his head. “How… how did you manage that? What do you wa—”

“Watch the video,” the voice snapped impatiently.

Zhou Zhuoyuan flinched as his phone buzzed. An email and MMS hit his inbox at the same time: video footage of He Qinglan crumpled on the ground, a heavy club slamming brutally into his back. Blood soaked through his white shirt.

“Five minutes.”

The line went dead. Zhou Zhuoyuan tried redialing, but all he got was a busy signal.

He clutched his head as if it had been churned to pulp inside. His heart hammered like it was about to burst from his chest, a dull throb warring with stabbing pain.

He Qinglan wasn’t dead.

He had to save He Qinglan.

Zhou Zhuoyuan wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t throw his life away for nothing. Gritting his teeth through the agony, he raced toward the spot the kidnappers had named while dialing the nearest police station. The call cut off almost immediately. Baffled, his face drained of color as he began typing a message to Pei He to alert the authorities.

He’d barely finished half when another MMS popped up.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s thumb slipped, hitting play before he could stop it.

He Qinglan’s eyes squeezed shut, his hand pinned to a cutting board. A knife blade glinted coldly as it sliced down at his wrist. Blood sprayed everywhere, even splattering across the screen.

The phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground. Zhou Zhuoyuan felt every vein in his body explode in tandem with the gush onscreen.

The kidnappers’ sinister voice slithered through his mind. “I said no cops.”

The video ended, and his phone’s battery icon flashed critically low—thirty seconds until shutdown.

He gasped for air in ragged bursts, staring helplessly as the screen went black. The pain he’d just started to shake off roared back, slamming into him until black spots exploded across his vision.

What now? What now? What now?

He Qinglan shouldn’t die. He was so gentle, so good to everyone around him. He didn’t deserve to lose his life over someone like Zhou Zhuoyuan.

Clenching his jaw, Zhou Zhuoyuan scooped up the phone and bolted toward the kidnappers’ location. He had no idea how much time was left and no spare breath to check his watch. He just ran.

By the end, his throat burned with the coppery tang of blood. Following their instructions, he reached a pitch-black alley flanked by crumbling tile-roofed shacks that reeked of abandonment. Nothing here matched the video in the slightest.

Where was He Qinglan?

Zhou Zhuoyuan stood in the middle as several men closed in around him. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Where’s He Qinglan?”

One of the men in black raised a voice changer with a smirk. “Right here.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan refused to let it go. “Where’s He Qinglan?”

The hoarse male voice from the phone call just moments ago explained, “I remember he died in that previous accident.”

He had been duped.

There was no He Qinglan waiting for him to save—only a fool named Zhou Zhuoyuan, lured here by an AI deepfake video.

He had even deluded himself into thinking he could trade his life for He Qinglan’s, but the truth was that He Qinglan had died long ago.

His self-righteous sacrifice was utterly meaningless. It was nothing but a joke.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s chest heaved violently. He clenched his fists and whipped around, bolting deeper into the alley. But the moonlight was faint tonight, leaving the narrow lane shrouded in darkness. Already drained of strength, he barely made it a few steps before stumbling over the uneven ground. His knee slammed into a crate at the alley wall’s corner, sending him sprawling forward as the skin tore from his palm.

Gritting his teeth, he struggled to rise again. But thick shadows closed in from every side. He shook his head and caught a sudden whiff of cigarette smoke.

Zhou Zhuoyuan traced the scent with his gaze. Just before a pungent towel clamped over his mouth and nose, he whispered desperately toward that faint glowing ember, “Save me…”

He had promised Pei He they would attend X University together. He had spat defiant words at Zhou Zhuoli, vowing his life would only get better from here. He still needed to track down Aunt Wu and help her conquer her illness. There were so many things left undone…

He had to survive.