Chapter 98: Zhou Zhuoyi Crematorium: He Only Lived Five More Years Than You

Zhou Zhuoyuan was still trembling. The pain from the bite on his shoulder, the incessant buzzing in his ears, and Zhou Zhuoyi’s repeated apologies of “I’m sorry”—he couldn’t tell which one drained his spirit more.

No guilty conscience, no fear of ghosts knocking at the door. Ever since Zhou Zhuoyi’s death, through those endless days and nights trapped in nightmares, how many had he spent dreading Zhou Zhuoyi’s ghost returning to drag him down to hell? Only he knew the truth.

Reborn once, so many things had happened. He’d saved Zhou Zhuoyi, thinking he’d severed ties with the tragedy of his previous life. Yet now, at this moment, he learned that Zhou Zhuoyi had been reborn too—with memories of his death—and intended to lock him away on this mountain for life.

He couldn’t help but be afraid.

Seeing that he wasn’t struggling, Zhou Zhuoyi pulled him even closer.

Once he’d made up his mind, a sudden realization hit him: Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t always treated him badly.

That time he’d gone to the school alone to find Zhou Zhuoyuan—Zhou Zhuoyuan could have ignored him, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d gotten involved, only for the kidnappers to exploit the opening, nearly killing him in the hospital.

On the day of his Coming-of-Age Ceremony, Zhou Zhuoyuan could have refused to smile at him, refused to offer a hug or his blessings.

In truth, he’d fixated only on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s faults, twisting them into a righteous excuse that let him force Zhou Zhuoyuan into this without a shred of guilt.

How could he have done something like that?

He knew Zhou Zhuoyuan’s temperament all too well. He knew how stubbornly proud he was, always mouthing off despite his soft heart.

Zhou Zhuoyi’s chest tightened with a dull ache. He stopped making excuses for himself and rasped out more apologies. “I’m sorry for never truly seeing things from your side. I’m sorry for secretly basking in your parents’ and big brother’s affection for so long. I’m sorry for getting you shunned by your friends because of me.”

“I’m sorry for always trying to get close to you and making you feel sick…” The words came out with excruciating difficulty. Zhou Zhuoyi fell silent for a long stretch before he could continue. “I’m sorry for being so frail and forcing you to put up with me. I’m sorry for losing control of my emotions and biting you. I’m sorry…”

Whether it was truly his fault or not, he owned every one, listing them out in a raw confession to Zhou Zhuoyuan.

He poured out apology after apology in a single breath.

Yet Zhou Zhuoyuan—the one who’d left him to die on that frigid operating table—couldn’t muster even a single “I’m sorry.”

It made no sense.

Just because Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t remember the agony of death didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. Without that damn System, Zhou Zhuoyi would have stayed dead for good.

In the darkness, he heard the heavy thud of Zhou Zhuoyi’s heartbeat. His lips twitched.

Zhou Zhuoyi jolted. He cradled Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face and asked urgently, “What did you say?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s eyes were red and puffy, the figure of Zhou Zhuoyi before him a hazy blur. He parted his lips to repeat himself, but now that he was out of the enveloping dark and facing Zhou Zhuoyi head-on, the words stuck in his throat.

Zhou Zhuoyi saw how even breathing had become a struggle for him and pulled him back into his arms. “It’s fine. No rush. If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to. I don’t blame you. Even if you never forgive me, that’s okay. I’ll always forgive you…”

As long as Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t truly wanted him dead, that was enough.

The sobs faded away. The wind died down a little. But the body beneath the quilt kept shivering without end.

Zhou Zhuoyi suddenly sensed something was wrong. He eased his hand off Zhou Zhuoyuan’s back, but instead of sitting up, Zhou Zhuoyuan slumped limply to the side.

Zhou Zhuoyi caught him in a panic, his hand trembling as he touched Zhou Zhuoyuan’s sweat-slicked forehead.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face was flushed crimson, his eyelids fluttering weakly. The body that had been chilled by the wind moments ago was now scorching hot.

Zhou Zhuoyi lost all composure. “Does it hurt bad? Just hold on—I’ll carry you to the hospital right now…”

The motion jolted Zhou Zhuoyuan awake. His head throbbed like it might split open, and his voice came out so faintly it was lost beneath the howl of the wind outside. “Let… go of me…”

Zhou Zhuoyi was beside himself with worry. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You’ve got a fever.”

Some clarity returned to Zhou Zhuoyuan. He coughed twice, each one slicing his throat like a blade, but he had no intention of plummeting to his death on the mountain road in the dead of night alongside Zhou Zhuoyi. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he managed, “It’s just a fever. I have medicine. Get me some first…”

After feeding him the pills, Zhou Zhuoyi stayed right by his side, keeping watch. When Zhou Zhuoyuan complained of the cold, he dragged over his own quilt as well.

But things didn’t improve the way Zhou Zhuoyuan had claimed. As birdsong heralded the dawn, Zhou Zhuoyi reached out to check again. If anything, the fever burned even hotter than it had half an hour before. He forced himself to stay calm and called out twice.

No response whatsoever.

He balled his fists. He should never have listened to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s stubborn nonsense.

The Zhou Family members were still some time away from reaching the base of the mountain. Zhou Zhuoyi dashed out to beg the principal for leave, then hired a local villager to guide them, ensuring nothing went wrong on the road.

The morning dew hung heavy. Zhou Zhuoyi wore rain boots and watched the road with extra care. Only when he ran into Zhou Zhuoli did he finally dare exhale.

The group rushed Zhou Zhuoyuan to the hospital in the nearest city in a panic.

As the IV drip fell slowly, Zhou Zhuoyi stared in a daze. Zhou Fuxuan tried to get his attention several times, but he didn’t notice. Zhu Wan stepped forward, took his hand, and led him out of the ward.

Zhou Zhuoli tucked the blanket snugly around Zhou Zhuoyuan, his expression grave, then followed them out.

Zhu Wan released his hand, her voice laced with anger. “Little Yi, tell me—who bullied you two? Don’t be scared. We won’t let those bastards get away with it.”

The cut on Zhou Zhuoyi’s lip stood out starkly. The bite marks on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s shoulder and the gashes on his wrist were even more horrifying. The sight of them made the family want to tear the culprit limb from limb on the spot.

Seeing Zhou Zhuoyi’s head bowed and no response, Zhou Fuxuan assumed the boy—who had always been so sheltered—had been badly traumatized. He patted his shoulder. “It’s all right. We’re here. Just tell us what happened.”

Zhou Zhuoyi remained silent.

Puzzled, Zhu Wan called out, “Little Yi?”

At last, Zhou Zhuoyi looked up. “It was me,” he admitted.

Zhu Wan thought she’d misheard. “What? What do you mean, you?”

“I bullied him,” Zhou Zhuoyi repeated. “I wanted to lock him away and live with him on the mountain forever. But he cried so hard that I had to give up…”

Slap!

Zhou Fuxuan had struck him. It landed much harder than the slap Zhou Zhuoyuan had given him earlier. From childhood on, because of his illness, Zhou Fuxuan had never laid a hand on him.

Zhou Zhuoyi turned his head away and said nothing more.

Even Zhu Wan, who had always doted on him, didn’t intervene this time. Her voice trembled. “Little Yuan is your brother!”

A faint smirk tugged at Zhou Zhuoyi’s lips, and he actually laughed. “He’s never treated me like a little brother. Don’t say that where he can hear you, or he’ll get mad all over again.”

Gritting her teeth, Zhu Wan said, “How did you turn out like this? We’re the ones who wronged you. Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t blame him?”

The smile vanished from Zhou Zhuoyi’s face.

He glanced at the tightly shut door of the ward, lowering his voice as if terrified the person inside might overhear. “In my previous life, I died at eighteen. He took my life—and you’re telling me not to blame him?”

The complaint wasn’t really aimed at Zhou Zhuoyuan. It was directed at Zhu Wan.

“I’m not one of the Zhou family. Giving him back what belongs to the Zhou family is only right. But the one who died was me. Why won’t you let me blame him?”

Zhou Zhuoyi was more bothered by Zhou Zhuoyuan’s words—wishing him dead—but that didn’t mean he could ignore Zhu Wan’s dismissive attitude toward the cause of his death in that previous life.

“Don’t you think you’re being too cruel to me?”

Forever forgiving Zhou Zhuoyuan was his choice. What right did Zhu Wan have to demand something so outrageous?

The hospital corridor fell silent once more.

After a long moment, Zhou Fuxuan looked at Zhou Zhuoyi, his eyes brimming with complicated emotions. “You said before that you wouldn’t blame Little Yuan. That’s why we never told you about this. We were afraid you’d worry and blame yourself.”

Zhou Zhuoyi’s heart skipped a beat. He had a bad feeling about what was coming.

Zhou Fuxuan closed his eyes briefly. “After your surgery, someone came at you with a knife. Little Yuan threw himself in the way to save you. By the time I got there, the blade was less than an inch from his neck. He nearly died right there—his arm was stabbed clean through, and the floor was covered in his blood…”

Zhou Zhuoyi took a step back. He opened his mouth to ask why Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t told him himself, but the words died on his tongue.

Why else? That was just the kind of person Zhou Zhuoyuan was.

As Zhou Fuxuan spoke, pain etched across his face. “We told you not to blame him—not because you can’t hate, but because we wanted you to hate us instead. Little Yuan doesn’t owe you anything. He only said those things because we mistreated him first. We’re the ones who owe you… His health has always been poor. In his previous life, he only lived five years longer than you…”