Lin Boxu’s clothes were a bit loose on him, hanging slackly off his slender frame. Even the Zhou family’s wealth hadn’t managed to put any weight on his bones.
Zhou Zhuoyuan had calmed down by now. He dragged a chair over and sat across from Lin Boxu. “Forget it. I don’t want anything else—just give me back my scholarship money. I think it adds up to around ten thousand yuan.”
Lin Boxu slid the cup beside him across the table. “Drink your medicine first.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan eyed it warily. “What medicine? I’m not sick. I don’t need any.”
Lin Boxu could read his mind. He picked up the cup, took a sip himself, and passed it back. “Banlangen. You got soaked in the rain—aren’t you worried about catching a fever? What kind of person do you think I am? If I wasn’t going to pay you back, I’d have thrown you out already. Why bother drugging you?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan pursed his lips.
Lin Boxu pulled out his ace. “Don’t drink it, and you won’t see a dime.”
They were so close to wrapping this up—one last step, and he could leave. Zhou Zhuoyuan had no choice but to reluctantly lift the cup. The distinctive herbal scent of banlangen rose with the steam, stirring an unexpected illusion of calm.
Under Lin Boxu’s steady gaze, he took a sip. Warmth flowed through his limbs, his body briefly coming alive again.
Good things never lasted. A piercing ringtone shattered the fragile peace. Lin Boxu glanced at the screen—it was his mother. Not sure if the Zhou family had caught wind of something, he motioned to Zhou Zhuoyuan and slipped into the bedroom to take the call.
“Mom, what’s—”
He didn’t get to finish. A barrage of furious curses exploded from the receiver. “You heartless wretch! Your own little brother was murdered, and you won’t even come take a look? Do you know who killed him? Lin Yuan! That beast! I always knew he was rotten to the core! The Zhou family is hiding him now. The second I track him down, he won’t get away with it! Should’ve fed him to the dogs when he was a kid!”
The line was noisy on her end, making her voice boom even louder. His phone’s speaker was lousy, and her words echoed through the empty room like they were on loudspeaker.
Lin Boxu’s heart clenched. Something was wrong. He spun around sharply and saw Zhou Zhuoyuan standing in the doorway, the flush from the hot water fading from his cheeks, turning them ashen white, inch by inch.
He ended the call abruptly.
Zhou Zhuoyuan turned and ran.
Lin Boxu chased him down three flights of stairs before it hit him to shout, “Stop! I haven’t given you the money yet! They called me earlier too—I didn’t sell you out. No one knows you’re here! In this downpour, with no cash on you, where do you think you’re going?”
Lin Boxu wasn’t close to Zhou Zhuoyi, much like how Zhou Zhuoli only ever recognized that one little brother. No matter how rocky things were with Zhou Zhuoyuan, he’d never once considered swapping out one family member for another.
Zhou Zhuoyuan came back. He’d been trading words with Lin Boxu just fine earlier, but now he sat mute at the table, not touching the banlangen.
Lin Boxu regretted it bitterly. He never should have picked up that call.
Truth be told, he couldn’t even recall exactly how much he’d taken from Zhou Zhuoyuan. He’d just been buying time, coaxing him to crash here for the night. Now the mood was soured. He scribbled some quick math and told him, “Roughly twenty thousand. But I’ve only got a bit over three thousand on hand right now. Take the three thousand, and I’ll pay you back a thousand a month after. Sound good?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan nodded in silence.
A moment later, Lin Boxu asked hesitantly, “Cash? A transfer might leave a trail they could trace.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan looked up at him.
“The typhoon’s nasty out there—most transport’s shut down. I get you’re pressed for time, and I’m itching to get you gone too. But we wait it out. Checked the forecast: things reopen at three a.m. Grab some sleep. I’ll hit an ATM, get your cash, and drive you out at three.”
It all made sense. Zhou Zhuoyuan dug his nails into his palm and agreed, though grudgingly.
But the instant his head touched the pillow, he was out cold. Perhaps after days of fitful sleep, his body had simply hit its limit.
Lin Boxu tucked the blanket around him. Looking up, he realized the guy was already asleep. Unable to help himself, he reached out and ruffled Zhou Zhuoyuan’s soft hair before shrugging on his jacket and heading out to withdraw the money.
Remembering the scrape on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s leg, he stopped at a pharmacy for some ointment and picked up a few everyday meds for good measure.
Zhou Zhuoyuan must have been having a nightmare; low whimpers escaped his throat. Lin Boxu dropped his haul and gently stroked his back to soothe him.
Then he felt it—something off. His hand brushed over several unnatural ridges.
Lin Boxu lifted the hem of Zhou Zhuoyuan’s sleep shirt. What he saw on that back made his chest seize with pain.
Crisscrossing purple-black bruises marred the frail spine, no patch of unblemished skin anywhere. Several wounds had split open, now crusted with thick, hideous scars.
He trembled as he carefully removed Zhou Zhuoyuan’s pajama pants. Sure enough, the wounds on his buttocks and thighs were even worse than those on his back. Several spots had split open again, the bright red blood shocking to behold.
Lin Boxu’s nose stung.
He had no idea how Zhou Zhuoyuan had made it all the way to his place alone with injuries like that. Nor did he know how the man had endured their earlier tussle without making a single sound.
As a kid, he’d been such a crybaby. Even though no one had ever comforted or protected him for shedding tears, he’d never stopped expressing his feelings.
Now, even the whimpers that escaped his lips in his sleep were muffled to the extreme.
Lin Boxu used up two full tubes of ointment before gently helping Zhou Zhuoyuan redress. Then, true to his word, he called out to wake him.
On the drive to the train station, Lin Boxu chattered endlessly, just like a parent sending their child off on their first long trip.
Zhou Zhuoyuan grew irritated by the nagging and simply covered his ears to catch some sleep.
At the station, Lin Boxu slipped his old phone into Zhou Zhuoyuan’s pocket. “My number’s saved in there. Text me when you arrive. If you feel sick on the way or run into any trouble, give me a call.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan couldn’t stand the act. “Just pay back the money on time. Call you? Who do you think you are, my big brother?”
The air grew tense for a moment.
Zhou Zhuoyuan regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. The train didn’t leave for another half hour—if he pushed Lin Boxu too far, it’d cost him more than it was worth.
Lin Boxu did seem riled up. “Fine, whatever, you little punk! Do whatever you want—I don’t care anymore!”
Zhou Zhuoyuan relaxed upon seeing no real intent to make trouble. He turned and walked away.
Lin Boxu stared, dumbfounded by the abrupt departure. Moments later, he chased after him, trailing close behind.
The announcement blared that boarding had begun for Zhou Zhuoyuan’s train. Clutching his little pink umbrella, he rose to join the line.
Lin Boxu dropped the tough act and called out from behind. “Call me when you get there! You’ve got a fever—take the medicine I packed for you. Two pills…”
The early-morning music buzzed with energy.
Zhou Zhuoyuan rubbed the corner of his eye and rose first thing, as usual, to wash up.
For the first time since his rebirth, he found himself wondering: If his soul had left his original body, had that body died? If it had…
【Please stop with the malicious speculation. You were sent to this world after your death.】
Zhou Zhuoyuan froze mid-motion.
So he was already… dead.
~~~
Zhou Zhuoyuan spent the entire day in a fog. Aside from attending classes, he stared blankly at his books the rest of the time.
By evening self-study, he finally snapped out of it a little.
The price of spacing out was a mountain of unfinished work. He was forced to keep studying in the classroom until after eleven.
Ji He, still stinging from being called “dead last” last time, had silently vowed to outwork him. He stubbornly stuck it out until after eleven as well.
By then, everyone else had cleared out. Only a few lights remained in the hallway.
Zhou Zhuoyuan packed up his desk and, out of habit, checked the doors and windows. This time, though, Ji He didn’t dart out ahead of him. Instead, he trailed eagerly behind.
Zhou Zhuoyuan had no patience for him. After finishing his checks, he switched off the lights, locked the door, and headed straight for the stairs.
Ji He scrambled after him. “W-wait! Wait for me…”
The stairwell lights suddenly flickered out. The emergency exit sign glowed faintly green. Panicking at the thought of being left behind, Ji He didn’t watch his step and slipped.
He let out a miserable yelp as he pitched forward.
Zhou Zhuoyuan saw Ji He’s body tumbling down the stairs. On instinct, he reached out to grab his arm and pull him back—but a powerful tug dragged Zhou Zhuoyuan down with him instead.
The two crashed together right in front of the emergency exit sign.
“Hiss…” Ji He sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.
He’d broken Zhou Zhuoyuan’s fall, so Zhou Zhuoyuan was mostly unscathed.
Zhou Zhuoyuan scrambled to his feet, fuming. “How do you even walk? Can’t coordinate your limbs or what?!”
Ji He knew he was in the wrong and didn’t snap back. Instead, he wailed pitifully, “It hurts so much, Zhou Zhuoyuan! It hurts! Am I gonna die?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan rolled his eyes and turned to leave.
The lights flickered back on. Zhou Zhuoyuan glanced over and halted.
Ji He sensed something was wrong too. He touched his forehead—and his hand came away covered in sticky blood.
“Zh-Zhou Zhuoyuan, I don’t wanna die! Save me! Waaah, save me…”
Young Master Ji had never seen so much blood in his life. He panicked completely, too rattled even to think of calling for help. All he could think was that if Zhou Zhuoyuan left, he was done for. Pride, grudges—everything flew out the window.
Zhou Zhuoyuan approached with a cold expression, glanced at the wound on Ji He’s forehead, then squatted down with his back to him and said impatiently, “Stop being dramatic—you’re not going to die. Get on. I’ll take you to the school infirmary.”
Seeing this, Ji He scrambled onto Zhou Zhuoyuan’s back hand over hand and foot over foot, as if terrified he might change his mind. He sniffled hard. “Thank you… thank you.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t respond.
The campus was nearly deserted by now, and the quiet path was filled only with the rustle of leaves in the trees.
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s calm demeanor helped steady Ji He’s nerves a little. With his nose pressed to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s shoulder, he caught faint, elusive whiffs of camellia scent.
To break the silence, Ji He asked shyly, “What brand of shower gel do you use? It smells amazing.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan shot back without a shred of politeness, “None of your business. Acting all clever, huh?”
Ji He: “…”
This guy was as obnoxious as ever!
As they neared the school infirmary, Zhou Zhuoyuan asked, “Shouldn’t you call your family?”
He didn’t know much about Ji He’s home life, but judging from the boy’s personality, he didn’t seem like the kind of kid no one cared about.
“Ah! I forgot!” Ji He exclaimed, fumbling for his phone.
Afraid of catching secondhand stupidity from prolonged exposure to low-IQ types, Zhou Zhuoyuan handed him off to the doctor and turned to leave.
A nurse called out to stop him, pointing out that Ji He’s blood was smeared on his face.
Ji He had his eyes closed, waiting for the doctor to treat his wound. Hearing this, he opened them just in time to see Zhou Zhuoyuan raise a hand to wipe away the bloodstain.
The blood didn’t wipe off easily. Instead, it smeared across his skin, like deliberate strokes painted on his pale cheek—vivid and strikingly alluring.
