Chapter 48: Zhou Zhuoli: Did You Forget? Those Wounds Inside Are All…

Ever since Zhou Zhuoyuan’s gastric bleeding surgery last time, Zhou Zhuoli had known his brother’s constitution was frail. But he never imagined that in just half a day at home, Zhuoyuan could fall this ill.

His heart raced. There was no time to settle scores with Bai Shuzhi. He hurried forward, touched Zhuoyuan’s scorching cheek, and swiftly wrapped him tightly in the blanket like a spring roll.

Zhou Zhuoyuan groggily cracked his eyes open and saw Zhou Zhuoli’s grim expression. “What are you doing?”

Seeing him awake, Zhou Zhuoli scooped up the human spring roll while laying into him, his voice trembling with barely contained fear. “I’m taking you to the hospital! Didn’t I tell you to call me if you felt off when I left? Why didn’t you call? Do you have any idea what shape you’re in right now? If I hadn’t come back tonight, were you planning to fever yourself into a vegetable?”

The thought alone made him shudder. If not for the lingering trauma from Zhuoyuan collapsing at the doorstep last time—and noticing his listlessness before he left—he never would have doubled back to check. Without that, Zhuoyuan burning alone in his room all night might have left him brain-fried or voiceless for good.

Zhou Zhuoyuan had no clue what Zhou Zhuoli was ranting about. He only caught the word “hospital,” and the last thing he wanted was to end up there with Zhou Zhuoyi. “I’m not going… not… to the hospital…”

What an impossible patient. Last time he’d been half-dead and demanded a hospital trip to pull through; now he flat-out refused.

With no other choice, Zhou Zhuoli set the spring roll down. He watched Zhuoyuan curl into a tight ball again, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His fingers trembled as he lifted them to his mouth to bite, only to pull them away when it stung. Instead, he clutched the blanket’s edge and jammed it between his teeth. His other hand stayed buried under the covers, pressed hard against his stomach.

It wasn’t just the fever—his stomach was acting up too—yet he wouldn’t utter a single word, as if holing up in his room would magically fix everything.

Zhou Zhuoli ought to have been furious. A brother this stubborn was infuriating. But after days of bringing him meals, some reluctant affection had taken root. In the end, he simply crouched down and slid his hand under the blanket to cover Zhuoyuan’s. “Let your brother warm it for you, like last time. Okay?”

His prior success easing the pain had earned him a sliver of trust in Zhuoyuan’s eyes.

Still crouched on the floor, he dialed the doctor from last time with his left hand.

~~~

By the time the doctor arrived, Zhou Zhuoli’s legs had gone completely numb from squatting. He leaned against the wall outside for ages before they steadied.

Bai Shuzhi ascended the stairs just then. He knew Zhou Zhuoli had returned not long ago and summoned a doctor. “How is he?”

Zhou Zhuoli scowled. “I should be asking you that. How did you look after him? He was fine at lunch—why’s he like this now?”

Bai Shuzhi’s tone turned rigid. He wasn’t the type to dodge blame; otherwise, he’d have left the Zhou Family long ago. “He cursed my whole family as brain-dead, so I hit him… once…”

Zhou Zhuoli’s face darkened in an instant. He’d despised Bai Shuzhi since childhood—outwardly affable, but utterly unable to rein in his temper. Little Yi chanted “Brother Shuzhi, Brother Shuzhi” endlessly, clinging to this outsider more than his own flesh and blood. They’d drifted apart after growing up, thank God. But when Bai Shuzhi did show up, he always targeted Zhuoyuan.

Rage boiling over, Zhou Zhuoli stormed forward and slammed a brutal fist into Bai Shuzhi’s smug, two-faced mug. “Why the hell did you hit him?! He calls your family brain-dead, and you can’t fire back the same? Why lay a hand on him?!”

Zhou Zhuoli had no reason to doubt Bai Shuzhi’s story—not out of any faith in the man’s character, but because it sounded exactly like vintage Zhuoyuan.

Bai Shuzhi reeled back two steps, sneering as he wiped blood from his lip. Sure, he was in the wrong, but that didn’t give Zhou Zhuoli license to play moral superior and whale on him. “Didn’t you hate his guts back in the day? Now you’re playing doting big brother? You think he hasn’t cursed his own family as brain-dead?”

~~~

The two had barely unclenched their fists when the doctor emerged, both sporting black eyes and swollen noses as they tugged their clothes straight.

Zhou Zhuoli caught his breath and asked, “How’s Zhuoyuan? Does he need the hospital?”

The doctor motioned them aside. “He’s sleeping. Watch him for two hours—if the fever breaks, you’re good.”

Zhou Zhuoli pressed, “He has external injuries too. Did he mention them? How bad?”

The doctor nodded. “He did. I put medicine on them. Nothing serious.”

He’d spill everything to the doctor but wouldn’t spare Zhou Zhuoli so much as an “okay.” Gnashing his teeth, Zhou Zhuoli seethed. Bullied and he says nothing? Why not call me?

He used to have a terrible attitude all the time, but hadn’t he been good enough to Zhou Zhuoyuan lately? Hadn’t he shown him enough respect? He made a point of remembering Zhou Zhuoyuan’s favorite foods and personally brought him meals whenever he had the time. He covered up his illness for him, even asked their parents for permission when he wanted to go on trips—because Zhou Zhuoyuan had gotten sick while out and caught hell from Mom and Dad for it. What more could he possibly be unhappy about?

After seeing the doctor off to the guest room, Bai Shuzhi was nowhere to be seen. Zhou Zhuoli paid him no mind and stormed back to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s bedroom to stew in silence.

Zhou Zhuoyuan lay on his side, the IV needle plunged into the back of his bony hand where the veins stood out plainly. It was always this hand; he insisted the other one was for writing.

“You’ve got such a foul mouth, but you won’t even tattle,” Zhou Zhuoli grumbled at him. “No wonder people pick on you.”

As if he’d overheard the insult, a low growl rumbled in Zhou Zhuoyuan’s throat—like a warning to the intruder who’d breached his territory. But his body was too weak for it to carry any real menace; the sound was barely a whisper.

Caving under that feeble growl, Zhou Zhuoli threw up his hands. “All right, all right, my bad. I won’t say another word about it. It was wrong of me not to stay and keep you company…”

But as he trailed off, a distant look came over his face. Truth be told, Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t wanted him to stay—like during his last hospital stay. If Zhou Zhuoli hadn’t noticed and asked about it himself, Zhou Zhuoyuan probably never would have sent so much as a text.

Just two years ago, Zhou Zhuoyuan had been so clingy with him. He’d chatter on about all the latest middle school gossip, stumbling over the details until his face turned beet red, then gaze up at Zhou Zhuoli with big, hopeful eyes, begging him to fill in the gaps.

The higher the hopes, the harder the fall. And Zhou Zhuoyuan was no fool; after a handful of letdowns, he’d stopped expecting anything from him at all.

Had school really worn Zhou Zhuoyuan’s body down this much? A few short months, and most of that time spent in class—could it really have left him in this state? Or had no one in the Zhou Family paid him any attention? No favorite foods to lift his spirits, just one bad day bleeding into the next until he couldn’t take it anymore and begged to live in the dorms?

Zhou Zhuoli shied away from the thought. After all, he was the one person in the entire Zhou Family who’d made his rejection of Zhou Zhuoyuan the most obvious. If that was the case, then he was the root cause of all those illnesses.

Two hours later, the doctor checked Zhou Zhuoyuan’s temperature. The fever had broken, but his face was still ghostly pale from being roused.

“Does your back still hurt?” the doctor asked.

The question brought a flush of embarrassment to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s cheeks. He shook his head at once. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Then is it your stomach?” the doctor pressed. “You should eat something now that you’re awake. If you can’t keep it down, we’ll have to take you to the hospital.”

Zhou Zhuoli had a meal brought up. The doctor took the bowl and fed Zhou Zhuoyuan most of it without a hitch. Zhou Zhuoyuan was unusually compliant with him—Zhou Zhuoli had never seen him cooperate like this before. Once he was full, he even volunteered, “I’m stuffed,” instead of turning his head away.

After the doctor left, Zhou Zhuoli took his place at the bedside. “Why didn’t you tell me Bai Shuzhi hit you?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan had been lying there calmly on his side, but at those words, he clutched the blanket and dissolved into a fit of violent coughing. He managed to cough some color back into his face.

Zhou Zhuoli hurried over to pat his back. “What’s got you so worked up? You got hit—so what? I hit him back for you.”

The coughing gradually subsided. Then Zhou Zhuoyuan noticed the bruise blooming on Zhou Zhuoli’s face. “Did you… hit him back? Or did he… get you too?”

Seeing that Zhou Zhuoyuan still wasn’t quite himself, Zhou Zhuoli dropped the subject. “That’s just how fights go. Get some rest—I won’t bother you anymore. Want me to rub your back?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan gave a faint shake of his head. His eyes drifted shut almost immediately, though his brows remained pinched in pain.

Zhou Zhuoli’s own stomach wasn’t great either—he knew how miserable the cramps could be. His had come from too much booze at business dinners, but he never would have guessed Zhou Zhuoyuan would develop stomach issues at his age. They had gotten so bad at one point that he’d needed surgery.

He stretched out on the sofa in Zhou Zhuoyuan’s room and dreamed of that little tree again.

The little tree’s trunk was bent, its posture utterly listless.

Zhou Zhuoli flew into a rage the instant he saw it. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you call for me?”

The little tree angrily shed its leaves and refused to speak to him.

The big tree nearby recounted what had happened. Zhou Zhuoli circled the little tree, confirming the footprints marring its already frail trunk. “I told you cursing out someone’s whole family was asking for trouble! You got bullied, didn’t you?”

The little tree bristled. “Your whole family’s got problems!”

Zhou Zhuoli nearly saw stars. “And my whole family doesn’t include you?”

The little tree shot back, “My whole family’s got problems!”

Unable to get the upper hand, Zhou Zhuoli gave up. “I’m not gonna argue with you. Why didn’t you call me when they bullied you?”

Little Tree fell silent again. Zhou Zhuoli asked Big Tree for the potion and applied it to the wounds on his body, but the more he applied it, the more wounds appeared, as if they could never be wiped clean no matter what. He anxiously broke out in a sweat on his forehead: “Is this really potion? Why is it getting worse the more I rub it? Big Tree, you actually dared to deceive me!”

Big Tree sighed: “Did you forget? Those wounds inside were all chopped by you.”