Zhou Zhuoli glanced back at his younger brother one last time before leaving.
Zhou Zhuoyuan was wearing two jackets—one his own, the other probably Pei He’s.
After enduring so much abandonment, he could still trust others without reservation.
But Zhou Zhuoli would never regain Zhou Zhuoyuan’s trust.
Pei He held up that massive umbrella and wrapped an arm around Zhou Zhuoyuan’s shoulder as they plunged into the rain.
Endless silver threads of rain fell in sheets, pedestrians weaving through the downpour. Gradually, Zhou Zhuoli lost sight of their retreating backs.
Back when Zhou Zhuoyuan had clung to him, Zhou Zhuoli had found him noisy and irritating, convinced he’d be stuck putting up with this bothersome little brother for life. Later, when the annoyance faded and he tried to mend their bond, he’d still been overconfident. After all, Zhou Zhuoyuan bore the Zhou name. He’d inherit the family business alongside them one day. The Zhou Family’s assets were all right here—where could he possibly run off to?
He hadn’t realized his brother had already been killed by him once before.
That was the real reason Zhou Zhuoyuan insisted on staying at school, refusing to go home, and planning to settle down in the Capital City.
Zhou Zhuoyuan must have regained his past-life memories months ago, just like Zhou Zhuoli had, which explained his completely different behavior from their previous life.
Zhou Zhuoli thought back to the warning he’d given Zhou Zhuoyuan shortly after the boy had moved into the dorms and recovered from that high fever. What must Zhou Zhuoyuan have been thinking at the time? Why hadn’t Zhou Zhuoli regained his own memories sooner? If he had, he never would have uttered such cruel words.
A heavy ache settled in Zhou Zhuoli’s chest. Unable to help himself, he trudged toward the dormitory building, desperate for one more glimpse of the vibrant, living Zhou Zhuoyuan.
But at the base of the building, he halted, too afraid to take another step.
Mealtime had passed, and the paths were emptying of students.
Zhou Zhuoli forced his stiff legs to move and slowly walked away from the school.
~~~
Because of Zhou Zhuoli’s words at lunch, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s mood had soured a little.
As Pei He toweled off his damp hair, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan shook his head—only to be pinned down on the bed. Pei He wedged a knee between his legs, his brows knitted tight. “No shaking your head.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s eyes went wide. He shot a panicked glance at the dorm room door. “What the hell are you doing? They’re coming back any second!”
Pei He shrugged. “So?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan wriggled a bit before giving up. “I just… feel like I’ve forgotten someone important.”
Pei He froze, his expression turning hurt. “A lover from your past life? Wasn’t that me?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan stared at him. “…”
“I didn’t have any lovers in my past life. Hell, I never even held a girl’s hand. Happy now?”
Pei He shot back, “How do you know? Didn’t you drink the Meng Po Soup?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan was going out of his mind. “You’re so annoying—get off! I’ll tell you after the Gaokao.”
The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the door. Pei He swooped down for a quick peck on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s lips, then hopped off the narrow bed like nothing had happened.
Ji He noticed nothing amiss and burst in excitedly, sharing chocolates with them. Zhou Zhuoyuan took his piece and flopped back on the bed to message Pei He: No more compensation for you, you bastard.
Pei He read the text and arched a brow. Given Zhou Zhuoyuan’s usual repertoire of insults, “bastard” was basically flirting. Was he coquettishly begging for those extra three minutes of study time? How cute.
He glanced back and spotted the heart-shaped chocolate in Zhou Zhuoyuan’s hand. Then he looked at the plain round one in his own. His smile vanished. He snatched Zhou Zhuoyuan’s chocolate and tossed it back to Ji He. “Swap one. Little Yuan wants a round one too.”
Ji He gnashed his teeth. Now he finally understood just how tolerant and magnanimous He Qinglan was, with all the grace of a principal consort.
~~~
These past few days, Zhou Fuxuan had been swamped at the company with a mountain of backlog. He hadn’t even eaten lunch and didn’t catch a break until two in the afternoon—when he finally had a moment to sift through the flood of new memories in his mind. Or rather, when he mustered the courage to face them.
His assistant brought him a cup of coffee. Still dazed, Zhou Fuxuan reached for it but fumbled the grip. The cup shattered on the floor, coffee splattering everywhere—especially all over his pant leg, leaving a huge stain. Luckily, the assistant had adjusted the temperature; there were no burns.
The assistant apologized profusely in a panic, but Zhou Fuxuan waved him off and sent him to fetch someone to clean up. He grabbed his jacket and slipped into the adjoining lounge.
The lounge held a few childhood toys that had belonged to Zhou Zhuoli and Zhou Zhuoyi, displayed on a shelf to give the office a touch of home.
But there were none that had been Zhou Zhuoyuan’s.
When Zhou Zhuoyuan came home, it was already late. He was swamped with studies and had no interest in toys. He had only visited the company once, on a weekend. Zhou Zhuoyi had brought him into this lounge and shared some of his childhood toys with him. Zhou Zhuoyuan paused by the cabinet for a moment before quietly sitting down at the desk to study.
Zhou Fuxuan had said at the time, “Keep your brother company for a bit. Studying can wait.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan had replied that he didn’t like such childish things.
Back then, Zhou Zhuoyuan had already grown into a tall, upright young man. His white shirt was spotless, and he cut a handsome, refined figure.
So Zhou Fuxuan hadn’t said anything more.
But why hadn’t he asked what Zhou Zhuoyuan actually liked? Why hadn’t he bothered to learn about the preferences of a boy who owned no toys?
He had killed his own son.
Zhou Fuxuan hadn’t changed his clothes. He sat down at that desk where Zhou Zhuoyuan had once studied, but nothing of his remained.
This child of his was more stubborn than anyone else in the Zhou Family. If it didn’t hurt too much to bear, how could he have ever said something like “Don’t hit me anymore”? What kind of heartless monster was he, to lay hands on a Zhou Zhuoyuan like that—to drive a perfectly healthy boy into this state?
Yes, Zhou Fuxuan remembered now. Before leaving the Zhou Family, Zhou Zhuoyuan had been in excellent health. In the physical exam before the Gaokao, everything had been normal except for his slight underweight frame.
It wasn’t a bad mood at the Zhou Family that ruined his health. It wasn’t poor self-care on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s part. It was that brutal beating, which left a good kid covered in bruises. Then came the ordeal of wandering through heavy rain all the way to that distant small city. No body, no matter how strong, could withstand such torment.
In the end, Zhou Fuxuan was the real scum.
~~~
That afternoon, Zhu Wan arrived at the hospital. She hovered by Zhou Zhuoyi’s bedside, hesitating to speak.
Zhou Zhuoyi had died once. He found himself much sharper now, more attuned to the subtle shifts in others’ emotions. Propped up against the headboard, still adjusting to the feel of this healthy heart in his chest, he said, “Mom, what do you want to say?”
Zhu Wan wavered. “Little Yi, since you woke up… have you remembered anything?”
The moment Zhou Zhuoyi heard those words, he realized he and Zhou Zhuoyuan weren’t the only ones with extra memories—Zhu Wan had them too. He smiled. “Is it about Big Brother telling me to go die?”
Zhu Wan went cold all over in an instant. After a long pause, she forced out the words, stiffly. “Don’t blame him. Your big brother… he’s suffered a lot. We let him down. And we let you down too…”
Zhou Zhuoyi’s gaze was as soft as ever. “Don’t worry, Mom. How could I blame Big Brother? If anything, I owe him. I stole all that love from him for so many years.”
Zhu Wan detected nothing amiss. Her face twisted with guilt. “I knew it. You’re always so kind-hearted—you’d never hold a grudge against your brother. Sigh, Little Yi, you’re a good kid. But all these years, we’ve been so focused on your illness that we’ve wronged Zhuoyuan terribly. Think about it: hasn’t he treated you well in this life? So, Mom wants to discuss something with you…”
Ha. Zhou Zhuoyuan had treated him well? That meant not even allowing him near. Before the surgery, the call he’d made to Zhou Zhuoyuan had been hung up without a second thought. Afterward, not a single word asking after his condition.
Zhou Zhuoyi snickered inwardly, but kept up his sweet, obedient facade. “I know. Uncle Lin and Aunt Jiang are my real parents. It’s fine. I can move out of the Zhou Family. I’m an adult now—I want to try living on my own first. I won’t go back to the Lin Family. Is that okay?”
His maturity only deepened Zhu Wan’s guilt. But they couldn’t wrong Zhou Zhuoyuan any longer. She clutched his hand. “I’m sorry, Little Yi. We’ll give you enough money to live comfortably forever. You can come home anytime—your room will always be waiting.”
Zhou Zhuoyi knew his thoughts had grown rather extreme. He didn’t care what Zhu Wan said. His mind was filled with Zhou Zhuoyuan’s words: “I wish you’d die sooner.”
His eyes met hers, pure and clear. “Okay.”
