So much blood.
Sticky, warm blood splattered across the weeds, the big tree, and Zhou Zhuoyuan’s clothes.
The weight on his back gradually lightened until it vanished completely.
Zhou Zhuoyuan braced himself against the tree trunk, trying to stand, but his legs were too weak to support him. He collapsed headlong into Pei He’s arms.
Pei He’s heart pounded like a drum, yet he forced his voice to remain steady. “It’s all right now, Little Yuan. I got here late, but everything’s fine.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan was lifted carefully into Pei He’s arms, his ear pressed even closer to the other man’s chest—so loud.
The noise drowned out the piercing ring in his ears.
His pale fingers clutched at the fabric over Pei He’s chest as he struggled to speak. “I’m… cough cough… fine… Same amb’lance… cough cough… as him…”
Pei He had listened to him once before, and this was the result. Now, he simply replied with calm assurance. “They’ve already gone. Don’t worry—we’ll meet up at the hospital soon.”
But some things couldn’t be avoided simply by wishing them away.
After Zhou Zhuoyuan climbed out of the car, he overheard the medical staff talking rapidly nearby.
Shock. Critical condition notice. Prepare the family mentally.
The breath he’d mustered with sheer force scattered in an instant.
Less than thirty meters from his biological parents and brother, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s body gave out completely. His head spun as he pitched forward, and if Pei He hadn’t been watching closely and caught him in time, the fall might have claimed what little life he had left.
Before consciousness slipped away entirely, Zhou Zhuoyuan heard Zhu Wan’s sobs.
“Zhuoyuan, I’m sorry,” she cried. “Mom came too late. Just hold on a little longer… please hold on…”
In that moment, a torrent of memories flooded his mind.
Five years ago, his vicious words had triggered Zhou Zhuoyi’s heart attack. As the man was rushed to the hospital, Zhou Fuxuan spat that if not for a scum like him, Zhou Zhuoyi could have received that heart transplant and been reborn free of his illness.
One year ago, Aunt Wu lay skeletal on her deathbed, tubes snaking across her frail body, but they couldn’t save her. Her son shoved Zhou Zhuoyuan away with brutal force, screaming at him to get lost—that if Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t worn her down with exhaustion and worry, she wouldn’t have died so young.
Half a year ago, the System had forced him to relive this novel. Devastated by Zhou Zhuoyi’s death, Zhou Zhuoli sank into endless gloom and took his own life while still so young. The readers’ seething hatred pierced through the plane itself. They declared that if not for the selfish, jealous Zhou Zhuoyuan, everyone could have found happiness.
One month ago, Zhou Zhuoyuan had tried to return the Buddhist prayer beads to He Qinglan. Unaware of his impending doom, He Qinglan left the Worry-Free Jade with him instead, urging him to take good care of himself. In his previous life, the homeroom teacher had proudly announced to the class that He Qinglan—Qinglan—had been accepted into a top university in Country A.
Yesterday, Zhou Zhuoyuan had promised to get Liu Kuo out safely. Not a single bullet had struck him, but Liu Kuo—who had remained lively right up to Zhou Zhuoyi’s birthday in the previous life—now lay riddled with gunshot wounds. The doctors told the family to prepare themselves.
Zhou Zhuoyuan had never believed these tragedies were his fault. He possessed a fierce will to survive; otherwise, he wouldn’t have split off from Liu Kuo to act alone—he would have stayed put, waiting for the kidnappers.
Through it all, he’d never once thought he didn’t deserve to live. Sure, there were times he felt his life wasn’t worth as much as others’, but he didn’t want to die. He wanted to thrive. He dreamed of attending X University alongside Pei He, of making new friends, of losing himself in the stacks of X University’s library. He longed for holiday trips with those friends, for a future as a doctor saving countless lives.
He wanted to live fully.
But… he truly didn’t want to be the cause of anyone else’s death anymore.
~~~
At 3:26 a.m., Zhou Zhuoyuan began coughing up blood, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bright red stains bloomed across the white pillow and sheets.
Zhu Wan’s heart twisted like a knife in her chest. Her trembling hands reached out to wipe it away, but the blood refused to yield.
Zhou Fuxuan’s eyes were bloodshot from the long vigil. He pulled his distraught wife aside to clear space for the doctors.
By 3:35 a.m., the test results were in: eighty percent of Zhou Zhuoyuan’s lungs showed infection, turned ghostly white. He was transferred to the RICU. To keep him from yanking out the breathing tube in his distress, the staff planned to strap his hands to the bed rails. At the sight of the restraints, Zhu Wan teetered on the edge of collapse, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. Only after Zhou Fuxuan offered repeated assurances and signed the necessary forms did the doctor relent, permitting family members to take turns holding his hands from inside the unit.
The doctor delivered the warning in icy tones. “If the person watching him lets their guard down for even a second, your meddling could kill him.”
Zhou Fuxuan’s expression darkened, but he swallowed his retort. “Understood.”
He was the first to follow the doctor through disinfection and into full protective gear before entering the RICU and taking his seat.
Zhou Zhuoyuan began to struggle, just as expected. His hands lifted feebly against Zhou Fuxuan’s restraints, his face twisting in agony.
From behind the mask, Zhou Fuxuan’s voice emerged hoarse: “Hang in there. Dad knows you’re a strong kid.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan had no idea who was tormenting him like this. His tears mingled with sweat, denying him even a moment’s peace amid his delirium. Perhaps he never should have tried to escape—better to let the kidnappers gun him down. At least that would have been quick.
oml- when is it gonna be unlocked- my heart hurts already