Zhou Zhuoli jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
He sat on the sofa, panting rapidly for a few breaths before getting out of bed to check on Zhou Zhuoyuan.
His forehead felt slightly warm—not as bad as it had been during the day. The stomach pain had passed. He drew his hand out from under the blanket; his bloodless face wore a relatively calm expression.
Zhou Zhuoli grasped the hand Zhou Zhuoyuan had left outside, the one with the IV needle freshly removed. It was a little cool, and the needle mark on the back stood out clearly, circled by a ring of dark purple bruising from the Little Red Dot.
He warmed the hand in his own before tucking it back under the covers, then sat there in a daze for a while.
~~~
The next morning, Bai Shuzhi stepped into Zhou Zhuoyuan’s room to say goodbye. “I have to head back.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan was sitting up, waiting for the doctor to bring his medicine. At the sight of him, his fingers clenched unnaturally. “What does it have to do with you… cough cough… if I go back… cough cough?”
Bai Shuzhi let out an “oh” and walked right out. The Zhou Family, top to bottom, weren’t exactly gracious hosts—especially this jerk Zhou Zhuoyuan. Though to be fair, Bai Shuzhi wasn’t much of a guest himself.
Zhou Zhuoli emerged from the bathroom to find Zhou Zhuoyuan staring at him with a weird expression. “What’s that look for?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s mind was full of the bruises on Bai Shuzhi’s face. “Didn’t think you could actually take him in a fight.”
Zhou Zhuoli arched his brows proudly. He had no idea that Zhou Zhuoyuan was inwardly relieved he’d fled decisively in his last life, sparing himself a fall into this guy’s hands. Otherwise, this trashy abusive romance novel might have morphed into a revenge-beat-the-scum saga. He wouldn’t have needed any clever schemes—just straight-up beatings would have left him battered and broken over and over.
The thought made Zhou Zhuoyuan shiver.
“You cold? The AC isn’t even that low,” Zhou Zhuoli asked, puzzled.
Far from low—the room was sweltering. Zhou Zhuoyuan shoved the blanket aside a bit. The fever had triggered a nasty cough. “Not cold… cough cough… burning up.”
Zhou Zhuoli hurried over to pat his back. “It got late yesterday. I’ll call Mom and Dad right now and have them come home.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan stopped him cold. “Don’t. You that embarrassed… cough cough… after throwing punches… cough cough… to go crying to Mom and Dad?”
Embarrassed, sure—but as Zhou Zhuoli gazed into his brother’s trembling eyes, he realized it ran deeper. Was he scared Mom and Dad wouldn’t rush back even if they knew he was sick? Or scared they’d chew him out for stirring up trouble and falling ill right when Little Yi needed them?
In that moment, it was like he’d unlocked Zhou Zhuoyuan’s mindset, peering past the paper tiger bluster to the fear underneath.
Because this was a wounded, fragile little tree. Once cast aside by its owner for competing with the sapling next door for nutrients, all it could do now was huddle in its tiny patch of soil, staring longingly at the water in passersby’s hands. If they didn’t share, it’d snap, “I wouldn’t want yours anyway”—as if scorning them meant it hadn’t been rejected time and again.
The doctor arrived with the medicine, now at room temperature. “Exactly. If it’s stuffy, no need to bundle up tight. Just stay warm enough—no chills. For the cough, drink plenty of water and try to talk less.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan nodded obediently and fell silent. He typed on his phone: Can I study today?
The doctor, a man in his fifties, met his earnest, anxious gaze with a kindly smile. “Of course. If studying brings you peace and joy, go right ahead—as long as you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”
~~~
A few days later, Zhou Zhuoyi came home from the hospital. The marks on Zhou Zhuoli’s face had faded to near-invisibility. Spotting nothing amiss, he threw his arms around his big brother in an enthusiastic hug before dashing to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s door and knocking. “Bro, I’m back!”
Zhou Zhuoyuan yanked it open on the third knock, irritation plain on his face. “I’m doing practice tests. Don’t bother me.”
Zhou Zhuoyi didn’t dare hug him. He stood there twisting the hem of his shirt, mumbling, “Sorry, Bro. I didn’t mean to.”
Even as he kept telling himself Zhou Zhuoyi was innocent and sweet, Zhou Zhuoyuan couldn’t muster any fondness for him. He shut the door coldly in Little Yi’s face.
At lunch, Zhu Wan announced they were heading to the city’s famous temple to pray for blessings.
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s first instinct was to refuse—but then she added, “Aren’t you coming up on the Gaokao? I heard the top scorers from the past few years around here all prayed at XX Temple.”
He was a staunch materialist. Still, people sometimes couldn’t help seeking a bit of spiritual solace from certain places. And with the bizarre things that had happened to him lately, his skepticism had shifted from one out of ten to a solid three.
He wondered if Pei He had ever gone. He fired off a quick message.
Pei He: !
Pei He: How’d you know I prayed to Manjushri Bodhisattva there a couple days ago?
Incredible, Zhou Zhuoyuan marveled to himself.
Zhou Fuxuan had some urgent business come up at the last minute and didn’t join them. Zhou Zhuoyuan obediently trailed behind Zhu Wan, bowing reverently before one Buddha statue after another. Sometimes there weren’t enough cushions available, so he had to wait for the next round before he could kneel and pray. Once he finished, he hurried back only to find Zhu Wan waiting for him.
He froze in place, a sudden sting prickling at the bridge of his nose. Why hadn’t she waited for him in his previous life? Why had she regretted ever bringing him home? He could endure the beatings from Zhou Fuxuan and Zhou Zhuoli—as long as Zhu Wan still wanted him, he never would have left.
But Zhu Wan hadn’t wanted him anymore.
Zhou Zhuoyi came running over and grabbed his hand. “Come on, big brother?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan slowly, carefully extracted his hand from Zhou Zhuoyi’s grasp, one finger at a time. Only in moments like these—trivial ones that didn’t truly touch on Zhou Zhuoyi’s interests—would she wait for him.
When they reached the main hall, Zhu Wan dropped the prepared offering of incense money into the donation box. Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t brought any cash with him, so he pulled out his phone and scanned the QR code to donate some instead.
A young monk approached and waited politely for them to finish their prayers before leading them toward the side hall. Along the way, however, they were stopped by an elderly monk.
The young monk’s face registered surprise. “Shishu…”
The old monk appeared to be in his seventies or eighties, his face etched with fine wrinkles, yet his eyes were sharp and clear, his back ramrod straight.
He approached Zhou Zhuoyuan with a kindly smile. “Little benefactor, this poor monk shares a karmic bond with you. Would it be all right if I gifted you a few items?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”
The old monk nodded. “Yes, you.”
From within his robes, he produced two strings of utterly ordinary-looking Buddhist prayer beads. “You can wear these around your wrists. They will protect you from calamity and grant you a long life.”
With that, he looked up, clearly expecting an expression of awe and reverence from the boy. Instead, Zhou Zhuoyuan was staring eagerly at his chest, as if anticipating more treasures to emerge.
“…”
Resigned, the old monk reached in once more and pulled out a simple multicolored hand rope. “And this is a Barrier-Breaking Rope. It will ensure your name tops the Gaokao gold list.”
Satisfied at last, Zhou Zhuoyuan happily accepted the prayer beads and the rope. He clasped his hands together and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Master. How much do I owe you?”
The old monk waved him off with a genial smile and strode away steadily, humming a little tune under his breath.
Zhu Wan followed the young monk into the side hall, instructing the three boys to wait outside. Zhou Zhuoyuan slipped the rope and both strings of beads onto his wrists. He felt a thrill of excitement—the master had given them only to him. Of course, Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t truly believe these trinkets held any real power. After all, out of everyone present, the master had singled out him, the side character, rather than the protagonist.
Zhou Zhuoyi gazed at them enviously. “Bro, you’re so lucky.”
The sound of his voice snapped Zhou Zhuoyuan out of his momentary euphoria.
Sure enough, as they emerged from the temple, Zhu Wan paused at the entrance, hesitating before speaking. “Zhuoyuan, can Mom talk to you about something?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan met her eyes evenly. “What is it?”
Zhu Wan’s face twisted with inner conflict. After a long moment, she finally spoke. “Master Wen Zhi gave you those two strings of prayer beads, right? You know how Little Yi’s heart condition leaves him in constant danger—his life could be at risk at any moment. The master gave you two… Could you give one to Little Yi? As compensation, Mom will transfer one percent of the company’s shares to you.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan held her gaze calmly, watching as her expression shifted from guilt to panic and finally to grim resolve.
He broke into a sudden smile. “Of course. Why not?”
He slipped one string of beads from his left wrist and tossed it casually to Zhou Zhuoyi.
Perfect. This was exactly how things should unfold.
~~~
Zhou Zhuoyi treasured the prayer beads like they were priceless. At the dinner table, he proudly showed them off to Zhou Fuxuan. “Dad, look—these are the prayer beads big brother gave me. We have matching ones now.”
Eagerly, he reached for Zhou Zhuoyuan’s hand to lift it up and show their father. But before he could make contact, Zhou Zhuoyuan jerked away.
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face remained impassive as he quietly ate his meal.
Of course Zhou Fuxuan knew all about these beads. He’d find it strange if he didn’t, considering they had cost a full one percent of the company’s shares. “I’m glad you like them. Take good care of your health. Zhuoyuan, you did a fine job this time.”
Zhou Zhuoyi bit his lip, swallowing down the pang in his chest, and hurried to explain to Zhou Fuxuan. “Master Wen Zhi gave them to big brother. The current richest man in the country only skyrocketed to success after receiving a gift from Master Wen Zhi. The master only bestows items on one fated person each year.”
Zhou Fuxuan’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “I know Master Wen Zhi. So it was him who gave them to you boys?”
Zhou Zhuoyi stressed the point. “He gave them to big brother alone—not to us. Then big brother gave one to me.”
Zhou Fuxuan turned to Zhu Wan, who gave a subtle nod of confirmation. He studied Zhou Zhuoyuan thoughtfully for a moment. “You’ve really grown up this time. I’ll transfer one percent of the shares to you as well.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan: “…”
If it weren’t for the shares being transferred to him—and since he had nothing else the Zhou Family might covet—Zhou Zhuoyuan would have seriously suspected these people were street-side shills putting on a synchronized act, or just shills with abysmal acting skills.
Was that master really all that impressive?
He touched the colored cord on his wrist. So, this lifetime, he would definitely take the Gaokao without a hitch and top the charts.
