“It’s so good. I wasn’t planning on tattling on you anyway.”
Zhou Zhuoli wasn’t lying. For one thing, there was the reason Zhou Zhuoyuan had just mentioned. For another, Zhou Zhuoyuan had been absolutely terrifying those past couple of days.
He had fully cooperated with the doctors’ treatment without a single flaw anyone could pick at, yet it was as if some life-draining spirit had him shackled—his fever simply wouldn’t break.
The Zhou Family wasn’t some cozy shelter from the storm. No, it was the massive boulder pinning down the demon beast that was Zhou Zhuoyuan.
No matter how much he resented or raged at them, those days of watching Zhou Zhuoyuan lose his vitality more and more had still filled Zhou Zhuoli with unavoidable panic. He couldn’t keep any food down—he’d vomit it right back up—and he’d gotten so thin that even Zhou Zhuoyi could scoop him up with ease.
It was like a tree demon on the verge of losing its human form, scorning the ordinary fertilizer they’d given it. Pointing at the fallen leaves littering the ground, it crowed triumphantly at them: “See? I told you—no respect, no dice. Show me some respect, or I’ll just die on you!”
Hearing what he wanted to hear, Zhou Zhuoyuan finally stopped shedding leaves. He slowly finished off the rest of his meal.
Pei He helped clear the dishes and saw Zhou Zhuoli out.
Zhou Zhuoli paused at the door and glanced back inside. “Thanks for taking care of him. If you need any compensation, just let me know.”
Pei He waved it off casually. “No need. We’re just helping each other out. What kind of compensation do classmates need?”
Zhou Zhuoli said, “His personality’s a bit rough around the edges. He’s not the easiest to get along with—cut him some slack. If you’ve got any complaints, you can tell me first.”
Only then did a hint of seriousness enter Pei He’s dark eyes. Zhou Zhuoyuan did have a fiery temper, sure, but it wasn’t like he had a bad personality. “I don’t think he’s hard to get along with at all.”
Zhou Zhuoli blinked, caught off guard, but he didn’t argue.
Once the man was gone, Pei He returned to the bedside. “How are you feeling now? Want to head back to the dorm tomorrow morning?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan clutched his phone, looking a touch troubled. “I’ve got something to do tonight. You go on ahead without me.”
Pei He asked, “What now?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan explained, “Someone added me and said I looked too cool playing basketball, so they started the Far God Fan Support Team. They want to meet up tonight…”
Pei He cut him off with a frown. “You’ve already got Qinglan, and now you’re out flirting? You absolute player.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan flailed his hands in a panic. “No, no! There’s a bunch of them, guys and girls. I’m just going to say hi. They said they’ve got gifts for me too.”
Pei He muttered, “What did I do to deserve this in my past life?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan blinked. “Huh?”
Pei He was practically grinding his teeth to dust. “Huh what? What time? I’ll go with you.”
The Far God Fan Support Group had set the meetup at the East Gate. Zhou Zhuoyuan arrived early, but the entrance was still deserted.
He rubbed his hands, which had gone ice-cold from nerves, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Could you maybe wander off somewhere else for a bit? It’s awkward with you standing here.”
“You’re embarrassed? I’m not.” Pei He couldn’t help pitying himself a little—here he was, tagging along to meet the Far God Fan Support Group instead of the Crane God one. Pathetic.
After a moment of self-pity, Pei He pointed at a nearby teaching building. “I’ll wait over there. Just call me when you’re done.”
The East Gate wasn’t the main entrance and wasn’t near Snack Street, so foot traffic was light in the evenings.
The moon and stars shone sparsely overhead; tomorrow would surely be another clear day. Streetlights mingled with the moonlight, enveloping Zhou Zhuoyuan’s round, solid frame. High schoolers hurried past in waves, but Zhou Zhuoyuan stood rooted in place, one hand lightly pressed over his stomach as he waited for his fan club.
Eight-thirty rolled around, the agreed time, but no sign of the fans.
Zhou Zhuoyuan had a sinking feeling. He whipped his head around and saw Liu Kuo approaching, step by deliberate step.
“Your contact info was a pain to track down. You don’t have many friends on your socials, do you?”
Liu Kuo stopped in front of him. His red hair had grown out a bit, and his earrings barely caught the night light.
“Looking like a total Kill Matt,” Zhou Zhuoyuan remarked.
Liu Kuo’s face twisted into a snarl. “What did you say?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan said nothing. His hand tightened over his stomach.
Liu Kuo noticed and his expression shifted. “You still not better?”
He wasn’t here for a fight this time. He’d won their last scrap and figured that settled years of bad blood. But then he’d seen Zhou Zhuoyuan on the Confession Wall, all brimming with cocky confidence, and it had irritated him. He’d wanted to rile the guy up, make him flush with humiliated fury—eyes red, cheeks red, spitting curses.
But now Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face was pale, and he wouldn’t even talk to him.
Without thinking, Liu Kuo took a step forward.
“Aaah!!!!” A bloodcurdling scream shattered the night.
Liu Kuo clutched at his crotch, doubling over into a huddled ball.
Zhou Zhuoyuan finished kicking the guy and immediately turned to run. As the junior high school 100-meter champion, he put his skills to use right then and there, kicking up gusts of wind wherever he dashed past.
Pei He sat on the flower bed outside the teaching building, gazing at the moon. He had just spent 200 yuan to hire someone to organize the Crane Top Red Fan Support Group for him. He decided against using “Crane God”—it sounded too tacky.
The moon said, “Run! Pei He! Run fast!”
The moon couldn’t talk, of course. Pei He lowered his upturned head and saw Zhou Zhuoyuan charging straight toward him. “Run, quick! Don’t just stand there! Idiot!”
Pei He glanced behind him—nothing there.
“Watch fewer idol dramas. No one’s chasing you at all.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan froze for a second. He turned and looked back himself—nobody was there, not even any footsteps.
He stopped, spaced out for a moment, then started walking back.
Pei He followed curiously. “What’s the deal? Are they that thirsty for you?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t try to stop him. Prideful as he was, he had his principles: admiration won through deception meant nothing—though Pei He didn’t admire him anyway.
They arrived back at the East Gate entrance, where the security guard and a couple of students were crowded around a guy on the ground. He was curled up tight, clutching his crotch for dear life, his Kill Matt hairstyle looking downright comical.
Zhou Zhuoyuan walked over, squatted down, and patted Liu Kuo on the back. “You okay?”
Liu Kuo was practically grinding his teeth to dust. “What do you think? If you leave me unable to have kids, I swear I won’t let you off.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan asked, “You were the one who took me to the hospital before?”
Liu Kuo snapped, “No shit! Who else? Did you sleepwalk there? I even came back and cleaned up the blood you puked!” In truth, he just didn’t want the teachers spotting the blood and checking the surveillance footage, but that didn’t stop him from taking credit with Zhou Zhuoyuan.
Zhou Zhuoyuan thought it over for a moment, looking extremely reluctant. “Fine, I’ll take you to the hospital for a check-up. I can cover the medical bills.”
Liu Kuo turned him down, shakily getting to his feet. It was like he’d been lying there stock-still just to wait for Zhou Zhuoyuan to come back and exchange words with him. Now he could hobble off into the distance, tossing back only, “I’ll settle the score with you later!”
On the way back to the dorm, Pei He was stifling a laugh. “So he’s your fan support group?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan spat bitterly, “Nope. There are no fans at all. He played me—the whole group is just his little minions.”
Pei He finally lost it, cracking up nonstop as they walked. “Hahaha, you total chuunibyou with your Far God Fan Support Group—hahaha, you’re no different from me.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face turned beet red. He reached out and grabbed Pei He’s neck. “Shut your mouth! No laughing!”
Pei He rolled his eyes from the chokehold. “Okay, okay, I won’t say anything! Won’t laugh! Far God, have mercy!”
Zhou Zhuoyuan let go. But moments later, Pei He’s laughter rang out again. “Hahaha, pull me into the group already—let me see how they lay the rainbow farts on you.”
“I said shut up!!!”
The moonlight hung cold and clear, tree shadows swaying in the breeze. The rowdy teenagers in the campus couldn’t appreciate the poignant beauty of the scene, shattering the scattered light and shadows on the ground.
There was actually a twinge of disappointment.
He had hopped out of his hospital bed full of excitement, convinced tons of people liked Zhou Zhuoyuan, so he’d toughed out the pain to go meet them. But it turned out to be nothing but Liu Kuo’s prank and payback, turning Zhou Zhuoyuan into a self-deluded clown all over again—how could that not sting?
Luckily, emotions shift with circumstances. Under Pei He’s relentless teasing, the disappointment morphed into embarrassment and anger, with an even shorter shelf life—it would vanish completely once they got back to the cozy dorm.
Zhou Zhuoyuan was an awfully awkward guy. When he led Pei He to the East Gate, his nerves were shot, terrified that Pei He might start pitying him, treading on eggshells and afraid to speak, treating him like the world’s saddest sack.
Fortunately, Pei He didn’t.
He’d only caught chuunibyou after passing the age when most kids got it—the kind he never had back then.
