Chapter 53: Zhou Zhuoyuan: Why Does Everyone Think He Needs Sympathy…

The dorm door had already been securely shut by Zhou Zhuoyuan. The weather had warmed up over the past couple of days, but He Qinglan still returned to the dorm early and cranked the air conditioning like electricity was free.

In the tiny space, it was so quiet that they could even count each other’s breaths—one ragged rhythm standing out amid the mess. It felt like He Qinglan breathed twice for every three breaths Zhou Zhuoyuan took.

Zhou Zhuoyuan exuded bewilderment from head to toe. Under the bright lights, the shadows of his eyelashes trembled nonstop. His eyes held only confusion, and his fingers curled slightly.

He couldn’t figure it out—why hadn’t things spiraled into the worst-case scenario he’d imagined?

He Qinglan was on the verge of cracking in this oppressively silent atmosphere. He couldn’t help taking a step forward. If Zhou Zhuoyuan said anything right then to express unwillingness or displeasure, he might just throw in the towel immediately—abandon all the tangled grudges and schemes, pull Zhou Zhuoyuan into his arms, and beg for forgiveness.

But He Qinglan knew Zhou Zhuoyuan wouldn’t do something he saw as humiliating. Instead, he would simply say—

“Okay.”

He Qinglan turned his back and started packing his luggage. “I’ve got an early flight tomorrow morning. Who knows when we’ll see each other again. Take good care of yourself.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan just stood there by the door. He couldn’t wrap his head around why He Qinglan had suddenly fallen out of like with him. The affection he’d felt before hadn’t been fake. He wasn’t the type to waver or drag things out, but damn, he wasn’t ready to let go.

He pressed his lips together and, in a rare awkward move, made one last attempt to salvage this relationship. “If… if we’re breaking up, then give me back those Buddhist prayer beads.”

Right. He Qinglan glanced at the beads on his wrist—they should go back to him, so he’d stay healthy and live a long life.

At least he still had that fridge magnet Zhou Zhuoyuan had given him last time as a keepsake.

He Qinglan carefully slipped off the prayer beads. Part of him wanted to help Zhou Zhuoyuan put them on, but he worried it might shake both their resolves. In the end, he simply lifted Zhou Zhuoyuan’s hand and placed the beads into his palm.

Zhou Zhuoyuan slipped on the prayer beads, then opened the safe in his cabinet and pulled out an item, sliding it across to He Qinglan’s desk. “Here’s your Worry-Free Jade back.”

He Qinglan went back to packing. “You keep it.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan shook his head. “I don’t need it. Take it.”

He Qinglan didn’t argue. He always respected Zhou Zhuoyuan’s wishes.

He’d been dumped.

Zhou Zhuoyuan sank into the chair at his desk to collect himself. So what? It wasn’t like he had to be in a relationship.

Fine, if he didn’t like him anymore.

All that talk about wanting to spend every future year together—nothing but lies.

As the rustling sounds of packing filled his ears, Zhou Zhuoyuan pulled out the workbook he’d brought back. He needed to study even harder now. Once he got into a top university, he’d have Pei He pass the word to He Qinglan about how amazing he’d become—make him realize what a huge mistake it was to stop liking him.

~~~

The next day, before dawn even broke, He Qinglan had already left the dorm. Zhou Zhuoyuan had only suffered half an hour of insomnia and wasn’t haunted by the breakup for long.

He woke up a bit late. Pei He hadn’t left yet and only slung on his bag to follow when Zhou Zhuoyuan rushed through washing up and bolted out the door.

Pei He trailed right behind him. “Did you two break up?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan couldn’t shake him off. He snapped irritably, “Yeah! Go ahead and laugh if you want!”

Pei He replied, “We’re both losers in love. I’m not laughing at you.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan shot back, “Who’s a loser with you? If I’m a loser, then you’re the king of losers—the ultimate failure!”

With a scowl, he hurried to the cafeteria and grabbed breakfast from the driver. It was two portions, originally both meant for He Qinglan. Now he shoved the extra one into Pei He’s arms to shut him up.

Once in the classroom, he picked up his textbook. The lingering discomfort had mostly faded. It wasn’t that his feelings for He Qinglan were shallow; it was just that over the past twenty-odd years, he’d grown accustomed to cutting ties—one after another. If others took a small step back, he’d leap a giant one. Friends, family, lovers—it didn’t make much difference.

Unlucky, selfish Zhou Zhuoyuan had learned to protect himself from getting hurt.

Ji He’s cast had just come off. Over the past few days, because of Zhou Zhuoyi’s hospitalization, he’d been afraid to talk much to Zhou Zhuoyuan. Zhou Zhuoyi was the thorn between them—bringing him up would just make Zhou Zhuoyuan mad at him.

This time, though, Ji He didn’t think Zhou Zhuoyuan was in the wrong. Zhou Zhuoyuan must have been through a lot, but as Zhou Zhuoyi’s best friend, Ji He couldn’t badmouth him just to curry favor with the guy he liked. Better to steer clear of the topic altogether.

Today, however, Ji He was a little excited. He knew He Qinglan was going abroad—maybe Zhou Zhuoyuan would be single again, giving him a chance to swoop in.

Sure enough, the homeroom teacher came in and announced they needed to elect a new class monitor.

Ji He poked Zhou Zhuoyuan’s thigh, feigning ignorance. “Where’s He Qinglan? Did he transfer schools?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s attention was fixed on his textbook. “He went to study abroad in Country A.”

Ji He hesitated. “Oh… so you two…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan cut him off impatiently. “We broke up. Don’t ask.”

Satisfied with the information he’d gleaned, Ji He patted his shoulder with mock sympathy. “Don’t be sad. You’ve still got us.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan ignored him.

Not long into the third period, Ji He’s phone buzzed. He snuck a glance and opened the message from Pei He.

Pei He: Don’t let Zhou Zhuoyuan see your phone.

Ji He had no idea why Pei He had sent that. Just then, a news alert popped up above it. He tapped it open, and his face drained of color. He quickly darkened the screen and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Zhou Zhuoyuan was intently watching the blackboard, oblivious to his friend’s movements.

Ji He took several deep breaths, willing his racing heart to slow.

A moment later, Pei He slipped out to use the restroom. Zhou Zhuoyuan’s gaze flicked toward him briefly before returning to the blackboard.

During breaks, Zhou Zhuoyuan sometimes napped with his head on the desk or worked on his evening homework. But today was the update day for the web novel he’d been following, and he was eager to read the new chapter.

The instant he pulled out his phone, Ji He grabbed his hand. “Yuanyuan.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan frowned. “What?”

Ji He struggled to keep his voice steady. “I’ve got a question I don’t understand. Can you explain it to me?”

With a sigh, Zhou Zhuoyuan put his phone away. “Fine.”

Ji He might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed; he still didn’t get it by the time the bell rang to end the break and start the next class.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s throat was parched from talking. He reached for his water cup, only to find it empty, and let out a sigh.

Ji He quickly offered his carton of milk. “Here, drink this.”

After the final bell rang for lunch, Ji He could no longer keep Zhou Zhuoyuan from checking his phone—he had to coordinate with the driver delivering their meals. All he could do was pray his friend wouldn’t see the news.

His prayers went unanswered.

The headline Zhou Zhuoyuan saw first was about a flight bound for Country A that had crashed shortly after takeoff. The death toll was still being tallied.

Had something like this happened in his previous life?

A sharp pain lanced through Zhou Zhuoyuan’s head. The air he drew in struck his chest like a hammer, and his memories of the latter half of senior year turned into a hazy, chaotic blur. He couldn’t tell if it was because he’d been such a zombie back then or if he was deliberately shoving it all away now.

His fingers trembled as he scrolled down. It was a small passenger plane with over seventy people aboard, including the crew—more than twenty dead, over thirty injured, and the rest still missing.

One news outlet had published the full list of fatalities.

Zhou Zhuoyuan froze there. His other hand clenched into a tight fist, his face growing paler with every name he read.

And there, at the very end of the list, was the one name he had dreaded most.

He Qinglan.

Heh.

Zhou Zhuoyuan stared at it until calm settled over him like a shroud.

See? This was the price of dumping him.

A choked whimper escaped Ji He’s throat. He seized Zhou Zhuoyuan’s ice-cold hand. “Yuanyuan, if you’re sad, just cry it out. It’ll make you feel better.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Why would I be sad? He was the one who dumped me and insisted on going abroad.”

Ji He stared at his friend’s blank expression, the face so deathly pale it bordered on the grotesque. Yet Zhou Zhuoyuan seemed utterly unaware of how awful he looked, stubbornly holding on to his tough act.

“I’m going to eat.” Zhou Zhuoyuan yanked his hand free from Ji He’s warm grasp. “My condolences.”

~~~

Zhou Zhuoyuan headed to the usual spot where he met the driver, but there was no sign of him. A moment later, Zhou Zhuoli came running from the direction of the classroom.

Zhou Zhuoyuan wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but his brother’s voice sounded oddly gentle. “I thought you might still be inside. Hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan asked, “Is your Little Yi better?”

Zhou Zhuoli shrugged it off. “It was nothing serious.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan fell silent. The lunchbox was already waiting at their regular table. He sat down and unpacked the meal himself.

Zhou Zhuoli hurried over. “Let me get that. You just sit.”

Halfway through the meal, Zhou Zhuoli spoke up. “Zhuoyuan, why don’t I take you home to rest for a couple of days?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t pause in his eating. He asked casually, “You trying to force me again?”

Zhou Zhuoli’s breath hitched. He rushed to explain, “No, no—if you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

The air at the table grew even heavier.

After a long silence, Zhou Zhuoli couldn’t hold back any longer. “I heard about what happened. Don’t be too upset. Sigh… he probably wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan slammed his chopsticks down with a sharp clack, staring intently into Zhou Zhuoli’s eyes. “What am I like?”

How amusing. Why did everyone think he would be heartbroken and needed their sympathy and pity?