Fortunately, Zhu Wan and Zhou Fuxuan had never been ones to notice Zhou Zhuoyuan’s odd behavior. He steadied his nerves and said, “I want to start living in the dorms from tomorrow on.”
That afternoon, Zhou Zhuoyuan mulled it over for a long time. If he kept sharing a roof with Zhou Zhuoyi, who could say he wouldn’t get another urge to “harm the protagonist” over some trivial thing? He couldn’t control his emotions, and the last thing he wanted was to get erased.
Besides, he had no desire to keep living with the Zhou Family. This place wasn’t his home.
Zhu Wan hesitated. “Why the sudden urge to live at school? It’s not like home—you won’t be comfortable there.”
“It’s too far away. The commute takes forever.”
“Then we’ll buy an apartment near the school and hire a couple of aunties to look after you.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan frowned in irritation. It wasn’t about their money bruising his pride; it was the inevitable tangles with other people that came with living off-campus, plus Zhou Zhuoyi’s periodic attempts to redeem him. The thought alone filled him with disgust.
He’d had a nasty temper in the past and offended plenty of folks. At least the dorms would keep him safe.
“I want to live in the dorms. I managed it just fine in junior high. What’s the issue now?”
He dragged up junior high again, as he always did in arguments—raking over old coals to make them feel guilty.
Zhou Fuxuan despised that habit of his. Truth be told, there wasn’t a single thing about Zhou Zhuoyuan that he could stomach.
So petty and small-minded—not a bit like a Zhou Family child.
Zhou Fuxuan set down his chopsticks. “What’s the point of insisting on the dorms? We offered to buy you a place. You really want to cram in with three other guys?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan played his ace. “If I can’t live in the dorms, then Mom can come stay with me.”
He’d earned his spot at a top public high school on his own, miles from the Zhou Family estate. Zhou Zhuoyi’s spot, by contrast, had been secured by pulling strings at a nearby Private Aristocratic High School, right by a renowned tertiary hospital and a private clinic specializing in cardiovascular and cerebrovascular diseases—the very place that had brought in Doctor Xu. Even with all those layers of care, they hadn’t been able to save Zhou Zhuoyi.
If Zhu Wan fretted over Zhou Zhuoyi, she wouldn’t come. If she agreed to join him, then living off-campus wouldn’t be an issue either.
Sure, Zhu Wan had ultimately cast him aside, but Zhou Zhuoyuan got it. She was soft-hearted by nature, and years of bonding with Zhou Zhuoyi weren’t something you just shook off. If she said yes this time, he could let those cruel words slide.
Her own workplace was even closer to his school, come to think of it.
“But Little Yi isn’t well. Mom needs to look after him. Zhuoyuan, I know—you…” Her voice faltered midsentence.
Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t catch a word of what came after.
Whatever.
Let it be, then.
The next evening, Zhou Zhuoyuan moved into a dorm room in their class with an empty bed still available. His new roommates were off at evening self-study, leaving him alone to make up his bunk.
The school’s accommodations weren’t bad: four sets of bunk beds, desks opposite each one, and a private bathroom to boot. Best of all, he’d scored a lower bunk—a real win for Zhou Zhuoyuan, who’d never slept on top.
Maybe it was the emotional rollercoaster of the last couple days, or just the fatigue of packing, but when he stood up, his head throbbed. He washed up early and hit the sack.
He hadn’t been out long when a burst of noise roused him—his roommates, piling into the room. Spotting someone asleep, the one nearest his bed piped up right away with an apology. “Sorry about that. We’ll keep it down—you go back to sleep.”
The voice was mild and soothing. Zhou Zhuoyuan eased up, murmuring a sleepy acknowledgment laced with congestion. He figured he might be coming down with a fever, but exhaustion weighed him down like lead. His body refused to budge.
Sleep it off, and he’d be fine.
He was on the verge of drifting off when a chill touched his forehead.
“Whoa, he’s burning up! Guan Qi, feel this—is my hand too cold?” It was that same gentle voice.
The name Guan Qi yanked Zhou Zhuoyuan straight out of his haze. He snapped his eyes open and there he was: his old friend from back in the day, leaning in to take the other guy’s place, hand outstretched toward him.
On pure instinct, Zhou Zhuoyuan swatted it away with a sharp smack.
Guan Qi went rigid.
He recovered in a flash, though—grabbing Zhou Zhuoyuan’s arm to hold him still while his free hand checked his temperature. “You’re scorching. I’m taking you to the school infirmary.”
With that, he snatched a jacket off a nearby chair, bundled Zhou Zhuoyuan in it, and made to scoop him right off the bed.
“Don’t touch me!” Zhou Zhuoyuan bristled at the manhandling, wriggling feebly. Drained as he was, his fuse blew. “Get lost! I’m not going!”
“What’s wrong?” Guan Qi paused what he was doing, looking utterly baffled. “Why are you taking it out on me for no reason?”
Realizing his words had come out a bit harsh, he quickly tried to make amends. “Alright, Eldest Young Master, don’t avoid seeing a doctor out of pride.”
Guan Qi had been his one and only true friend once upon a time.
That was in the past—ever since he learned that Zhou Zhuoyi had been killed by him.
For some reason, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s breathing quickened sharply. He pushed himself up, swatting away Guan Qi’s outstretched hand once more. With a cold expression, he enunciated each word: “Don’t touch me! I’ll go by myself. I don’t need you to take me.”
But his cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, and his hands trembled as he tried to dress himself, unable to button even a single button after several attempts.
Seeing him like this, Guan Qi couldn’t muster any anger and could only say helplessly, “What did I do to set you off? Swallow some dynamite?”
As they remained locked in a standoff, that gentle voice from earlier spoke up again. “I’ll take you there.”
Only then did Zhou Zhuoyuan remember that the speaker was their roommate and class monitor, He Qinglan. He didn’t have much of an impression of the class monitor—only that he was quite popular at school, and the novel hadn’t mentioned him at all.
Finally giving up on his futile battle with the buttons, Zhou Zhuoyuan grasped the arm extended before him. The school uniform felt cool and comfortable against his skin, so he leaned his head against it too. “Sorry to trouble you.”
He didn’t remember much of what happened after that. When he opened his eyes, he was already lying in a bed at the school infirmary, the faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the air.
It felt like he’d slept for a long time. Turning his head slightly, he saw He Qinglan sitting in a chair, his head propped on his arm as he dozed lightly. The morning sunlight fell on his face, casting a gentle warmth.
As if sensing something, He Qinglan opened his eyes, their gazes meeting directly.
A beautiful pair of eyes, their color lighter than most people’s.
Their owner smiled and asked, “Feeling better? Want some water?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan let out a soft “Mm,” his voice still sounding weak.
He Qinglan carefully helped him sit up, propping a pillow behind his back. Then he went to the table to pour water, and as he adjusted the temperature, he couldn’t help but remark, “Zhou Zhuoyuan’s being surprisingly cooperative today.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan flushed with embarrassment and annoyance, but he didn’t want to say anything rude to this stranger who’d taken care of him all night.
After inserting a straw, He Qinglan sat on the edge of the bed. Noticing his expression, he realized Zhou Zhuoyuan seemed upset and quickly explained, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. It’s just that you’re not quite like I imagined.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan grudgingly accepted the apology and took a few sips from the cup held to his lips, clearing his throat before saying, “Thank you. I’ll rest a bit more; you can go back now.”
He Qinglan set down the cup without responding, instead handing him a thermometer. “Let’s check your temperature first. You had an IV last night, but it didn’t work that well. Your fever spiked again this morning, and this new one was just hooked up. According to the doctor, you shouldn’t just rest a little—you need to rest all day.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan obediently took it and tucked it under his arm.
Knowing that He Qinglan had truly cared for him all night, he felt a bit guilty. “Sorry for wasting so much of your time. I’m much better now and can take care of myself. You should head back quickly.”
He Qinglan smiled lightly. “It’s fine. I already asked for leave from the teacher. What do you want for breakfast? I’ll go buy it.”
And so Zhou Zhuoyuan’s train of thought derailed again. He thought seriously for a moment before answering, “Century egg and lean pork congee.”
Not long after He Qinglan left, he took out the thermometer. Sure enough, the fever had gone down.
Over the past few years, his constitution hadn’t been great—colds and fevers were commonplace. But he’d never had one come on so suddenly and fiercely like last night; otherwise, he would’ve died alone at home long ago. Could it be that this System hadn’t just reverted his body to its state at twenty-three, but also worsened his health?
【This is your body. Please stop with the malicious speculation.】
The familiar, chilling warning appeared in his mind. Zhou Zhuoyuan angrily lay back down. Feeling that wasn’t enough to express his defiance, he angrily pulled the covers over his head and rolled over.
When Guan Qi came in carrying congee and steamed buns, this was the scene he walked into.
He patted the bulging quilt, unable to hold back a chuckle. “Are you still a little kid? Get up and eat breakfast.”
After waiting a long time with no response from Zhou Zhuoyuan, the smile faded from his face, and he plopped down heavily on the edge of the bed.
Zhou Zhuoyuan suspected the bed might collapse.
Guan Qi demanded, “What exactly are you sulking about? What’s gotten into you these past couple of days? The teacher said you weren’t feeling well—why come to school before you’re better?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s muffled voice emerged from beneath the covers. “None of your business.”
Guan Qi took several deep breaths and forced a smile onto his face. “How could it not be my business? Aren’t we friends? Eldest Young Master, I haven’t done anything to upset you lately, have I?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan yanked the covers aside and sat up, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “How could a petty, jealous, selfish little villain like me possibly deserve to be your friend? You’re such a saint, overflowing with compassion—putting up with the disgust of hanging around someone who has breakdowns every single day. It must be so hard on you, right?”
At those words, Guan Qi panicked for a split second before pressing on. “Who told you that? How could I ever think of you that way?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan stared at his expression, a storm of complex emotions surging through his heart.
He had assumed Guan Qi’s disgust was kept hidden away, that on the surface they were still the best of friends—at the very least, good friends. He never imagined this man had been badmouthing him behind his back. Who were those people? The ones who had mocked him? The ones he had clashed with? The ones he had pointed at and cursed to their faces?
There were far too many people who disliked him. He had long since forgotten whom he had offended and who harbored resentment toward him. But no matter who they were, hearing Guan Qi speak of him with such disdain must have been utterly satisfying for them. They must see him as nothing more than a clown, toyed with mercilessly by Guan Qi.
He was just like a clown.
