Zhou Zhuoyuan led the group to the dining room in a complete fog. It was only when he sat down that he seemed to wake from a dream. He forced the corners of his mouth into a smile. “Sorry, you all saw my little show…”
No one had dared make a sound on the way there. They all breathed a sigh of relief when he finally spoke. He Tiaosheng patted his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. The one at fault is that little thug who blackmailed you.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan murmured, “Right. It’s him who’s wrong.”
In truth, it wasn’t entirely that. He simply lacked the confidence to change Lin Boxu. All he wanted was to break free.
That night, when he got home, he had a dream. It was the day of Zhou Zhuoyi’s funeral, and he was locked in his bedroom with no one paying him any mind.
A violent storm raged outside, so no one was guarding the door.
He touched the welts on his back and legs from the whipping. They didn’t hurt as badly anymore.
If he wanted to escape, today was his one and only chance—the last one.
Zhou Zhuoyuan glanced down at the bushes below. Expressionless, he pulled out a thicker jacket, opened the window, and jumped without a second thought.
He was lucky. He didn’t twist anything, and he’d protected his head well.
In his youthful hot-bloodedness, Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t take the card Zhou Fuxuan had given him. He only grabbed the cash from his room and his ID.
Zhou Fuxuan had confiscated his phone, so he had no choice but to wait by the roadside for a taxi.
He didn’t know how long he waited, but by then his clothes were soaked through. He looked like a drowned rat. A car finally came along, but when the driver saw his miserable state, he flipped up the “empty” sign and sped right past.
Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t care. He leaned against the wall and waited for the next one.
In the end, a middle-aged woman picked him up. In her somewhat loud voice, she asked, “My goodness, how’d you get soaked like that?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan gave her the address and closed his eyes, ignoring her.
The woman shook her head and let out a sympathetic sigh.
The sound grated on him intensely. He snapped at the kind stranger, “Can you just leave me alone?”
His temper was truly awful. He was always doing things that hurt others.
The woman froze, wanting to complain, but when she took a look at him, the words caught in her throat.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the destination, Zhou Zhuoyuan handed over five soggy hundred-yuan bills. He wanted to say “thank you” or “sorry,” but the words churned in his throat for ages without coming out.
The woman didn’t mind at all. She cheerfully took the five hundred and pulled a pink umbrella from beside her to hand to Zhou Zhuoyuan. “It’s fine, auntie gets it. Lots of kids these days have that social anxiety thing. Auntie knows you didn’t mean it. Here’s an umbrella—take it.”
He remembered Zhou Zhuoyi once saying that accepting someone’s kindness could make them feel good too. So he took the umbrella.
There was no point in using it now—his clothes were drenched through, and he’d dirtied the woman’s car. He had no idea if the extra money would even cover the cleaning fee.
Still, Zhou Zhuoyuan opened the umbrella. Maybe it was psychological, but he felt a bit warmer.
Before heading upstairs, he wrapped the cheap umbrella in his jacket and hid it in a corner under the stairs.
The rain outside was pouring down hard. When Lin Boxu heard the banging at the door, he thought he’d misheard. Only when he recognized Zhou Zhuoyuan’s voice did he hurry over to open it.
A utility knife was pressed against his neck.
Zhou Zhuoyuan wiped the water from his face and threatened, “Give back all the money you took from me! Or else!”
Water still dripped from his sleeves, and his pants were torn in several places. Through the wider rips, his scraped skin was visible. His face was deathly pale—whether from the cold or something else, his hand trembled as he held the knife.
In this state, Lin Boxu could have pinned him down without breaking a sweat. Yet Zhou Zhuoyuan seemed oblivious, his expression fierce and utterly reckless.
He must have been bullied by someone outside, with nowhere to go and no one to vent to. Soaking in the rain, he’d come here, driven mad enough to try reclaiming his money with a tiny utility knife.
Hadn’t he said that going back to that family would mean all the money he could want and happiness beyond measure?
Lin Boxu stared at him in a daze, clearly still not processing what was happening.
“Did you hear me?! Quit playing dead! I said give back my money!” Zhou Zhuoyuan pressed closer, his tone edging into agitation. “Don’t make me do it!”
Lin Boxu asked, “What do you need the money for?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s voice grew shrill. He could hardly believe it. “What do you mean, what for? It’s my money!”
Lin Boxu sneered. “Heh. You disown your parents, but you still have the nerve to call the money they gave you ‘your money’?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s breathing hitched for a moment, but he quickly steadied his nerves. “No! The Zhou family already paid you—that was my child support! Even setting aside the pocket money, there were my scholarships. I won two scholarships in junior high, and you borrowed them both!”
Lin Boxu let out a sigh, feigning compromise. “Fine, I’ll pay you back. Every cent. Just put the knife down first, come inside, take a shower, and change your clothes. Then we’ll settle the accounts.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan eyed him suspiciously, his right hand still clenched around the utility knife, pointed squarely at the other man. “No need. Calculate it right now. I’m in a hurry.”
Lin Boxu shook his head. “Accounts from all these years will take time. You’ll make yourself sick standing there like that.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan only grew more distrustful. “I don’t need you worrying about me! I said I’m in a hurry! Hurry up!”
Lin Boxu tried again. “If you come inside, you’ll get my place all wet. Aren’t you afraid I’ll run off if you don’t keep an eye on me?”
By now, Zhou Zhuoyuan had already taken two steps after him. He glanced down at the trail of water stains he’d left behind and furrowed his brow tightly. “Deduct the cleaning fee from it… Ah!”
Lin Boxu lunged forward and seized the hand gripping the knife. In one swift motion, he spun Zhou Zhuoyuan around and pinned him in a tight hold.
“Let go of me! Let go!” Zhou Zhuoyuan’s heart sank inch by inch, but he thrashed wildly all the same, desperate to break free.
Fearing he’d hurt himself in the struggle, Lin Boxu gritted his teeth and pressed his own hand down onto the blade. Blood welled up instantly. Zhou Zhuoyuan froze in shock, and Lin Boxu seized the moment to wrench the knife away and fling it under the sofa.
No hope left.
Whatever. He hadn’t truly expected to get much money back anyway.
Without it, he’d just face some hardship—maybe go hungry for a few days, sleep on the streets for a bit.
That was all.
Countless homeless folks scraped by out there just fine. He could do the same. Once he found a job, everything would turn around.
Zhou Zhuoyuan curled his fingers into fists, forcing himself to sound calm as he spoke to Lin Boxu. “Let me go. You don’t have to pay me back anymore. Just let me leave.”
Once again, Lin Boxu had won—but he felt no triumph in it.
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s body was ice-cold, shivering in tremors against him.
After a long moment, Lin Boxu spoke in a tone tinged with helplessness. “Why are you crying? I never said I wouldn’t pay you back. I’ll go calculate it right now. You take a shower first, and when you’re out, we’ll talk it over nice and slow, all right?”
“Re-really?” The sudden reversal caught him off guard. Zhou Zhuoyuan’s voice broke on the word, and the tears he’d been holding back spilled over one after another.
“Really. I swear it. If I don’t pay you back, may I get hit by a car and die.”
Only then did Zhou Zhuoyuan relax. He followed Lin Boxu into the bathroom and stole a glance at his own wretched reflection in the mirror before quickly looking away.
“Wear my pajamas. The rain’s coming down too hard outside. Stay the night here, and tomorrow, once it lets up, I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan shook his head. He hadn’t even gotten the “no” past his lips before Lin Boxu cut him off. “If you insist on leaving right now, then I won’t pay you back.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan panicked. “No! We already agreed! You swore on it! It’s my money—you owe me. It’s mine…”
It was as if his mind had gone blank, leaving him to repeat the same words over and over.
Lin Boxu decided to drop the back-and-forth for now. “You’re right. I forgot—I swore. Go ahead and shower. By the time you’re done, I should have the accounts figured out.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan let out a breath of relief. His gaze fell on the blood pooling on the floor, and he hesitated. “Your hand’s still bleeding. You should take care of it first. I can wait that long.”
Just moments ago, he’d been too frantic to string a sentence together. Now he claimed he could wait.
Lin Boxu didn’t know what to say.
The rain pounded even harder than before. He drew back the curtain and watched a bolt of lightning tear across the sky, briefly turning the night into blinding day.
His phone rang out of nowhere.
Lin Boxu answered without a second thought. His mother’s voice came through, raw with grief. “Boxu, your brother’s had an accident! The Zhou family killed him! Come with us to the Zhou house—we need to demand justice for him!”
A chill crawled up Lin Boxu’s scalp. For an instant, he wondered if he’d stumbled into some ghost story. Then it hit him—his mother wasn’t talking about Zhou Zhuoyuan.
Her voice brimmed with venom. “He was perfectly fine just a couple days ago. How could he have a sudden attack out of nowhere? The Zhou family must have done something! If I find out who harmed Little Yi, I’ll make them pay with their life!”
Lin Boxu’s pupils contracted. His mind had never raced so fast.
He’d grown up alongside Zhou Zhuoyuan—no one knew the man’s temperament better than he did. Zhou Zhuoyuan would never walk away from the Zhou family’s wealth unless he’d stirred up some massive disaster. He wouldn’t show up here covered in injuries, throwing pride out the window.
The Zhou Family doted on Zhou Zhuoyi immensely—a fact even he knew all too well. So when Zhou Zhuoyuan returned home, the lack of the familial attention he had envisioned was bound to breed resentment toward his brother.
In just a few seconds, he pieced together the whole story.
Lin Boxu’s heart pounded wildly.
Right now, the Zhou Family members were preoccupied with arrangements for Zhou Zhuoyi’s funeral and likely hadn’t even noticed that Zhou Zhuoyuan had fled. The cause of death was a heart attack, probably triggered by something Zhou Zhuoyuan had done. But given what he knew of Zhou Zhuoyuan, it wasn’t murder—so legally speaking, the man should be in the clear.
Still, Lin Boxu had heard whispers of the dark underbelly in elite families like theirs. With how much the Zhou Family treasured Zhou Zhuoyi, who knew what they might do to Zhou Zhuoyuan? No wonder he seemed so desperate.
He truly had nowhere else to turn.
Zhou Zhuoyuan emerged from the bathroom after a quick shower, only to find Lin Boxu already bandaged up. The man sat at the dining table, scribbling away on some paper, a calculator placed neatly beside him.
