Chapter 79: Zhou Zhuoyi: Merely Doesn’t Want to Be Erased

Before entering the operating room, Zhou Zhuoyi called Zhou Zhuoyuan, but he hung up on him.

He was no longer harming Zhou Zhuoyi, and Zhou Zhuoyi had successfully waited for that heart, which already satisfied the System and the readers of this abusive romance novel. They had no reason to make things difficult for him anymore.

After the second-to-last class in the afternoon, Zhou Zhuoli sent him a message saying that Zhou Zhuoyi’s surgery had gone very smoothly, but he still hadn’t woken up.

Zhou Zhuoyuan didn’t reply to this message either.

Zhou Zhuoli didn’t blame Zhou Zhuoyuan’s indifference, whether because he was too busy or simply in too good a mood from the successful surgery.

At dinner, Zhou Zhuoli was so happy that the corners of his mouth wouldn’t come down. He started planning where to take them traveling after Gaokao, saying that Mom and Dad were prepared to work overtime to handle all the urgent matters so their whole family could go together…

“I won’t go.”

Zhou Zhuoli froze completely. “What?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan took a sip of soup with his head lowered, then continued pouring cold water on the idea. “I have my own plans. You guys can go ahead.”

Zhou Zhuoli’s voice sounded a bit anxious. “The time isn’t set yet. We can adjust it to fit your schedule…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s expression remained flat. “I won’t go no matter what time it is.”

Zhou Zhuoli fell silent and didn’t try to persuade him further. He knew that if he kept pushing, Zhou Zhuoyuan would only say even harsher things.

Why? Clearly, just two days ago at the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s attitude had been so compliant—he had even smiled at Zhou Zhuoyi, said “thank you” before blowing out the candles, and given each of them a hug at Zhou Zhuoyi’s request.

Zhou Zhuoli had thought their relationship was improving, that the ice was melting, that everything was heading in a positive direction and their family would grow more harmonious. But only two short days later, Zhou Zhuoyuan could say so coldly to him—you guys go ahead.

Was this Zhou Zhuoyuan’s new method of revenge? Lure him in with a sweet date first, then hit him hard with a stick?

Zhou Zhuoli’s fingers trembled slightly. If that was the case, he could only endure it and wait for the deeply grudge-holding Zhou Zhuoyuan to calm down. No matter what, they were family. If one year wasn’t enough, then two; if two wasn’t enough, then three. He would eventually wait for the day when Zhou Zhuoyuan was willing to call him “big brother” again.

–

Zhou Zhuoyuan suspected his anxiety was related to Zhou Zhuoyi’s surgery. After evening self-study ended, he and Pei He walked hand in hand through the shadows. Since they weren’t studying those extra one or two hours like the others, the roads back were crowded with students, so Zhou Zhuoyuan preferred to stick to spots where no one would notice them.

In the shadows, he said to Pei He, “Hehe, come with me for a check-up on our day off. Let’s see if I can reduce my medication.”

He had come up with this nickname the day before yesterday. Pei He had discovered he took two extra pills and argued with him, demanding to know why he hadn’t kept his promise or told Pei He right away when he felt unwell. Zhou Zhuoyuan knew he was in the wrong and apologized, but Pei He wasn’t having it anymore—he nagged fiercely and relentlessly.

Zhou Zhuoyuan eventually got annoyed too, but he couldn’t argue back, so he let out a “hehe” to express his frustration.

Pei He’s face flushed red on the spot. “Don’t think you can call my name in that tone and get me to forgive you easily!”

Zhou Zhuoyuan paused, stunned, then tested it out again. “Hehe?”

Pei He kept his expression tense for a long moment before saying, “This is the last time. If there’s a next time, I won’t go easy on you—I’ll definitely make you regret that choice.”

It turned out Pei He liked being called “Hehe,” just like Zhou Zhuoyuan liked being called “Little Yuan.”

At that moment, Pei He was extremely pleased that Zhou Zhuoyuan had immediately asked for his company. “Alright, what reward do you want?”

His mind wandered to romantic ideas: a candlelight dinner, a figurine, a set of sportswear to match the sneakers from his birthday gift, or a precious kiss from Pei He himself…

Zhou Zhuoyuan said, “I want to stay up half an hour later tonight. Help me figure out why I lost so many points on this English essay.”

Pei He: “…”

He decided he would never ask Zhou Zhuoyuan what kind of reward he wanted ever again.

At eleven o’clock, under Pei He’s urging, Zhou Zhuoyuan lay down in bed and closed his eyes. He thought that with his wish fulfilled and his condition improving, he could finally get a good night’s sleep.

However, he suffered insomnia again—or perhaps fell into nightmares once more.

His eyes were tightly shut, yet he could still see his dorm mates moving quietly around the room. His body wouldn’t budge, his heart pounded with violent force that made his chest ache, and waves of suffocation crashed over him one after another—just like back when he had been strapped down in the Intensive Care Unit with a ventilator shoved down his throat.

Zhou Zhuoyuan wanted to cry out for help, to shout Pei He’s name, but his mouth refused to open. He had no idea what was happening to him. Everything should have been over by now—his mission successfully completed. He’d even forced a perfect coming-of-age ceremony on the protagonist. So why was he still trapped in this nightmare? Why was this ominous premonition threatening to drown him?

[In their day-to-day interactions, the Zhou Family Big Brother’s affection for his little brother gradually turned perverse.]

Was the information the System fed him really accurate?

It was true that Zhou Zhuoli doted on Zhou Zhuoyi, but had it truly twisted into something perverse? Was there really some unethical entanglement?

A novel like this was nothing more than scraps of disjointed info tossed to an AI, spitting out a mishmash of truth and lies, utterly incoherent.

Zhou Zhuoyuan spent the entire night trapped in that dream. He watched his roommates take turns washing up and climbing into bed, drifting off to sleep. In the dead of night, Pei He came down to check on him once. Zhou Zhuoyuan forced his breathing to stay even, ensuring Pei He noticed nothing amiss.

Only when the alarm clock blared did he finally regain control of his body.

The next day, Zhou Zhuoyuan told Pei He that he planned to visit Zhou Zhuoyi in the evening, now that his surgery was done. Pei He was welcome to come along if he had time.

That evening, everything proceeded as normal. The hospital was too far from school, so they booked a room at a nearby hotel.

While Pei He was in the shower, Zhou Zhuoyuan noticed that the hands on his watch had stopped moving.

【Zhou Zhuoyi is in trouble.】

Zhou Zhuoyuan clutched the Buddhist prayer beads on his left wrist. “What does that have to do with me? Does it mean if something happens to him, I’ll get erased?”

The System offered no reply. It was as if it had vanished completely, ignoring his every call.

Gritting his teeth, he checked his watch again. The hands weren’t stopped—they were moving excruciatingly slowly, but now they were gradually picking up speed.

Zhou Zhuoyuan shot to his feet. “Pei He!”

“Wha—”

He didn’t wait for the word to finish. Zhou Zhuoyuan bolted out the door, his own time stretched to a crawl while the world around him lagged.

He wove past cars creeping like sloths, his heart pounding as he raced to Zhou Zhuoyi’s hospital room.

The hallway outside was quiet. It was a private suite on the top floor, with top-notch security. There shouldn’t have been any problems.

Zhou Zhuoyuan popped two pills into his mouth, grimacing at the thought of Pei He nagging him later.

He shoved open the door. A knife glinted coldly, hovering right above Zhou Zhuoyi’s heart. A figure in black clothes and a mask was slowly driving the blade downward.

The knife hadn’t even broken Zhou Zhuoyi’s skin yet, but it pierced Zhou Zhuoyuan’s mind like a dagger.

That day, Zhou Zhuoyi had clutched his chest, collapsing into Zhu Wan and Zhou Zhuoli’s arms. “Bro, please stop… It hurts so much…”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s reason had shattered. Every word from his mouth dripped with venom. “Who’s your bro? You’re nothing but a cuckoo in the nest—a thief! Your real parents are violent thugs, your real brother a good-for-nothing gangster. What right do you have to call me bro?!”

Tears finally spilled from Zhou Zhuoyi’s eyes. “Why? Bro, isn’t today our birthday? Why say all this? It hurts… Do you want me dead?”

“Yes! I want you dead. I wish you’d drop dead right now! Your face makes me sick. Hearing you call me bro makes me want to vomit! Why did you steal my life as the young master for all those years and still get to stand here, basking in Mom and Dad’s love?!”

Those words brought Zhou Zhuoyuan a rush of satisfaction like nothing he’d ever felt before. Then he watched Zhou Zhuoyi’s body start to convulse, his breaths growing fainter and fainter. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to steal your life…”

Zhou Zhuoli shot him a vicious glare before scooping up Zhou Zhuoyi and hurrying away amid a swarm of people.

Zhou Zhuoyuan was left standing alone. A moment later, he muttered into the empty air, “I wish you’d drop dead right now.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan really did wish Zhou Zhuoyi would drop dead right now.

Time crawled so slowly that before the knife could fall, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s mind raced with thoughts.

Even if Zhou Zhuoyi apologized to him, even if he handed over every gift from their parents and brother, even if he stayed pitiful and kind forever—Zhou Zhuoyuan still wished he’d drop dead.

But he didn’t want to be erased.

He merely didn’t want to be erased.

In the sluggish flow of his own time, Zhou Zhuoyuan surged to the bedside. He threw his arm around the intruder’s neck from behind while his other hand snatched for the knife. Time snapped back to normal, and the two of them grappled fiercely.

The black-clad figure was slim but nimble, with surprising strength. Zhou Zhuoyuan was quickly pinned down, the cold blade plunging toward him. He gasped, throwing up a hand to block it. The knife veered sharply at the last second, sinking into his left arm instead.

The icy, searing pain tore a muffled cry from Zhou Zhuoyuan’s throat. The assassin scrambled up and took two steps before Zhou Zhuoyuan caught up again, locking his arm around the man’s neck once more. Harsh, ragged gasps—mingled with agony—filled his ears.

The person, seething with rage, pinned Zhou Zhuoyuan down once more. This time, the knife tip plunged straight toward his neck.

Zhou Fuxuan arrived at the sound of the commotion and witnessed exactly this horrifying scene: Zhou Zhuoyuan’s left arm was nearly drenched in blood, the sharp blade hovering less than four inches from his vulnerable throat.

Zhou Fuxuan’s eyes bulged with fury. He couldn’t wait for the doctors and nurses trailing behind him. Instead, he lunged forward, seizing the blade with his bare hand and grappling fiercely with the attacker. But he quickly gained the upper hand—no, fell at a disadvantage, several gashes opening up across his body. Fortunately, the medical staff rushed in and helped subdue the assailant.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s face had gone deathly pale from blood loss. He struggled to prop himself up and shoved away Zhou Fuxuan’s reaching hand. Instinct told him this was the mastermind behind his earlier kidnapping.

He fixed the person with a stubborn stare, locking eyes. “Who are you?”

A tumult of emotions churned in the person’s gaze, but they offered no reply.

One of the doctors reached out and yanked off the mask.

Zhou Zhuoyuan stared in shock, his mind blanking out in an instant.

He Tiaosheng.