Chapter 56: Zhou Zhuoyuan: That Bunch, Up to You, Don’t Mention It Again…

By the end of the meal, Zhou Zhuoyuan had sobered up a bit. He reached for the spoon and bowl in Pei He’s hands, but Zhou Zhuoli pressed his arm back down halfway. “Don’t move. Your HP will recover soon.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan recalled the muddled words of surrender he’d uttered earlier and grew even more irritated. “What… do you know?”

Zhou Zhuoli thought he had to be one of the most fickle people he’d ever met in his twenty-odd years of life. But given that Zhou Zhuoyuan had just suffered a major setback, Zhou Zhuoli decided to let it go for now. “Fine, if I don’t get it, I don’t get it. Just stop squirming.”

The muddled logic in that response left Zhou Zhuoyuan bewildered all over again. Pei He found his dazed expression rather amusing and felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward, though he quickly smoothed it away. The current Zhou Zhuoyuan might look cute and easy to tease, but Pei He still preferred the healthy version—that prickly, stubborn mix of hedgehog and mule.

~~~

It was probably because Zhou Zhuoyuan trusted Doctor Song so much, and because the doctor always took his side, that after examining him that afternoon, Doctor Song stated firmly, “He’s fine. No need to transfer hospitals. He’s recovering well.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan had just finished his final IV drip at that moment. Hearing the doctor’s words, he really did feel his discomfort easing up.

Zhou Zhuoli no longer insisted. He added Pei He as a contact on his phone and sent him a generous red envelope, then turned to Zhou Zhuoyuan. “I’ve got something this afternoon. Mom might stop by tonight if she has time. Don’t worry—they all know… so no one’s going to pressure you to come home.”

He left with Doctor Song. As they walked, he asked, “Do you think Zhuoyuan needs psychological counseling?”

Doctor Song paused for a moment, which made Zhou Zhuoli’s heart sink.

“If you can make it seem like it’s not counseling, it might be worth a try. Otherwise, it could backfire.”

Zhou Zhuoli looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Because if it’s not his idea,” Doctor Song explained, “he probably won’t open up about his real thoughts. It might just make him more anxious.”

“But his health crashed out of nowhere,” Zhou Zhuoli said. “I can’t think of any physical reason.”

“It didn’t crash out of nowhere. I’d suggest you learn more about his past first, rather than jumping into counseling.”

The words hit Zhou Zhuoli like a thunderbolt, jolting him awake. He thought he was already so caring and indulgent toward Zhou Zhuoyuan, but he’d never once tried to understand his little brother’s history.

Forget the more than a decade he’d spent with the Lin family—even during the years in the Zhou family, Zhou Zhuoli knew nothing about Zhou Zhuoyuan’s life.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it; he’d deliberately turned a blind eye. As if ignoring the hardships and grievances Zhou Zhuoyuan had endured meant he wouldn’t have to feel guilty or heartbroken about them.

People had an instinct to seek pleasure and avoid pain. Zhou Zhuoli wanted to favor Zhou Zhuoyi without reservation, so he’d only seen the worst in Zhou Zhuoyuan—his awful personality, his love of wealth and disdain for the poor, his heartlessness toward his adoptive parents. He’d never stopped to wonder why Zhou Zhuoyuan had turned out that way.

~~~

Zhou Zhuoyuan must have cried himself out the night before. Today, even when he told Pei He the familiar words “Thanks for your trouble—you can head back now,” there was only a fleeting flicker of distraction on his face. No more tears.

Pei He showed him the red envelope from Zhou Zhuoli. “Look at all this money. It’s only right for you to put me out a bit.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan strained to widen his eyes, making it clear he wasn’t just being polite—he genuinely didn’t want to drag down the top scorer’s Gaokao prep. “Only… a hundred… and change… days left. Time’s tight. Even if… your scores… are great… don’t get cocky.”

Pei He couldn’t help thinking he might be a little twisted, because even with Zhou Zhuoyuan lecturing him in that dad-like tone, he still found it adorable.

He cleared his throat lightly. “Once you’re feeling better tonight, we can go over solutions to the toughest questions together. That’ll help me way more than sitting through basics in class.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan thought of Pei He’s rock-solid rankings and scores and had to grudgingly admit that missing a day or two of school probably wouldn’t faze him.

“Your English essays are pretty rough too,” Pei He added. “I can share some tips tonight.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan flushed with embarrassment and anger. “Shut up. I’m still… sick.”

He’d wanted to tell Pei He not to be so blunt with words like “rough,” but Pei He misunderstood. “Sorry. Tomorrow, then.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s voice finally rose a notch in urgency, no longer the faint mosquito-like hum. “No… tonight. Teach me.”

They’d occasionally discussed problems before, and Pei He had offered to share his English essay-writing know-how, but they’d never found the time—until now.

Maybe getting sick wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

~~~

When Zhu Wan arrived, Zhou Zhuoyuan was still napping and hadn’t woken up yet. Pei He sat there with a book in hand. He only noticed her as she drew near.

He closed the book and greeted her softly. “Hello, Aunt.”

Zhu Wan nodded to him and bent down to test Zhou Zhuoyuan’s temperature with the back of her hand.

The familiar fragrance wafted over, and Zhou Zhuoyuan’s eyelashes fluttered uneasily.

There were still more than ten minutes before his usual mealtime. Pei He fetched a chair for Zhu Wan. “He only just fell asleep. Please have a seat here and wait a bit—I’ll wake him up shortly.”

Zhu Wan didn’t sit. Instead, she motioned for Pei He to step outside with her for a word.

They didn’t discuss anything major. Zhu Wan offered a few polite words of thanks and suggested that Pei He persuade Zhou Zhuoyuan to move out somewhere, so the family could keep better tabs on his condition.

Pei He didn’t agree. As if, he thought. If she doesn’t want to risk offending Zhou Zhuoyuan, she’s perfectly happy to let me take the heat.

When their talk wrapped up, Zhu Wan pushed open the door to the ward. Zhou Zhuoyuan had already forced himself upright, but he barely managed a few shaky steps before toppling over. Pei He lunged forward and caught him just in time.

“What do you think you’re doing, running around like that?” Pei He scolded.

Zhu Wan hurried over to help steady him, only for Zhou Zhuoyuan to shove her away—not hard, but with unmistakable resolve.

He didn’t snap at Pei He. Instead, he fixed Zhu Wan with a wary stare. “What did you say to my classmate?”

The gesture and his words stung Zhu Wan. “I was just thanking him. What do you think I’d say? Do you really believe your own mother would harm you?”

Of course she wouldn’t harm him. She simply didn’t want him around. It was Zhou Zhuoyuan who carried the guilt, terrified that others might discover how petty he was—always bullying someone as kind as Zhou Zhuoyi.

Pei He scooped him up and carried him back to bed. Without the ward’s heater cranked up high, all this exertion might have set his recovery back who knew how long.

Zhou Zhuoyuan had no answer for her, so he lashed out unreasonably instead. “Don’t talk to my classmate.”

A flicker of anger rose in Zhu Wan’s chest, but it faded at the sight of his ashen face and the faint panic in his eyes. She pulled out the lunchbox. At least he’d stopped icing her out.

“Fine, let’s eat first. I made tea tree mushroom and pork rib soup with my own hands. You said you loved it last time.”

She was referring to the day Zhou Zhuoyuan had first returned to the Zhou Family, when she’d gone out of her way to cook for him personally.

Back then, he’d thought it was the beginning of his happy new life. Seeing how delighted she looked at his praise had filled him with joy, and he’d polished off bowl after bowl of the soup all by himself.

Truth be told, Zhu Wan—who’d never lifted a finger in the kitchen—had no real cooking talent to speak of.

Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t acknowledge her words. With a bit of his strength returned, he ate on his own, refusing Pei He’s help. When he finished the rest of the meal, he didn’t so much as sip the soup.

Pei He, never one to stand on ceremony, helped himself to a couple of spoonfuls. “Aunt, it’s a little salty.”

Zhu Wan’s face drained of color as she turned to Zhou Zhuoyuan. “So you didn’t like it back then either?”

He didn’t deny it.

So Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t only demanded their love—he’d tried to give it once, too.

Zhu Wan’s gaze drifted to his slender white wrist, where a string of Buddhist prayer beads dangled. She knew he’d given that string to his ex-boyfriend once before, and for some reason had taken it back.

A sharp pain lanced through her heart. They’d thought two strings were perfect for their two frail boys. But it hadn’t occurred to them that, to Zhou Zhuoyuan, someone far more important was He Qinglan—so important that he’d rather go without and insist on gifting it away.

After a moment’s hesitation, Zhu Wan said, “I’ll have Little Yi give that other string of prayer beads back to you.”

Pei He hadn’t realized there was a second string, much less expected the clueless Zhu Wan to bring it up now.

He’d only just gotten Zhou Zhuoyuan to put the matter out of his mind for the moment. But here it was again—the scab ripped away, exposing the raw, bleeding wound beneath.

Zhou Zhuoyuan lowered his gaze. “Don’t mention it again.”

“That string of beads—do whatever you want with it. Just don’t mention it again.”