The children chattered excitedly as they tugged Zhou Zhuoyi toward the trash bin at the back, where a dead bug lay inside.
The student who had spoken up earlier said, “Teacher Zhou’s neck turned bright red after it bit him.”
Zhou Zhuoyi snapped a photo of the bug and turned to them. “Go sit back down and get on with class. After school, I’ll take you to see Teacher Zhou.”
In the summer, it was still light out when school let out. Zhou Zhuoyi stood at the entrance to the Teacher Dormitory and lightly rapped on the wooden door twice. “Teacher Zhou, the students said they wanted to check on you.”
The children chimed in from behind him.
It was a moment before Zhou Zhuoyuan came to open the door. He had changed into a short-sleeved high-neck shirt, and his face was somewhat pale. “What are you here to see me for? Hurry home now—it’s about to get dark.”
His stern tone frightened the students a little. Only the boy who had spoken the most boldly during class mustered his courage. “My grandpa says lots of the bugs in the mountains are poisonous. Are you really okay, sir?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s attitude softened somewhat. “I’m fine. I brought some medicine with me. Go home and tell your families to stock up on that ointment too. You can use it if you ever run into one of these bugs again.”
He shooed all the children away.
Zhou Zhuoyi didn’t leave. Instead, he slipped into the room after him. The air was thick with the smell of ointment.
In front of the students, Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t told him to get lost. He’d simply cleared the desk with an ashen face.
Zhou Zhuoyi grabbed his wrist. “Let me take a look at you. Was it on your neck?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan clutched the tube of ointment in his hand, cold sweat beading on his forehead. “Look at what? You’re no doctor. I already told you I applied the medicine. Don’t touch me.”
Zhou Zhuoyi bit his lower lip, looking utterly aggrieved. “What if you missed a spot? I looked up that bug—it’s extremely venomous. How can I rest easy without seeing for myself?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan hated seeing that expression on his face, as if Zhou Zhuoyuan were the one bullying him. “Do I need you worrying about me? You think I’m as fragile as you, keeling over at the slightest touch? Stop getting in my way. I need to rest.”
With that, he shook Zhou Zhuoyi off and opened the medicine box to put the ointment away.
Zhou Zhuoyi glanced at the box a couple more times. At the sight, his brows furrowed tightly. Before Zhou Zhuoyuan could close it, he snatched the ointment out, his tone uncharacteristically firm. “This isn’t the right ointment, is it? It’s not the one you mentioned earlier at all!”
Zhou Zhuoyuan nearly caught his hand in the lid. Hearing the usually docile and obedient Zhou Zhuoyi speak to him like this sent his anger surging. “What do you know?! Put my things down and get out!”
Zhou Zhuoyi’s eyes turned red at the harsh words. “Maybe I don’t know anything, but what’s the point of putting on a brave front in front of me?! Is your pride really that important?!”
Smack.
Zhou Zhuoyuan froze the instant he struck. He slowly drew his hand back, curling his fingers awkwardly, at a complete loss.
He knew he was the type to stubbornly cling to his pride and suffer for it. Zhou Zhuoyi had only pointed it out—he hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet Zhou Zhuoyuan always took his frustrations out on him. Ever since they’d met, he’d blamed all his misfortunes on Zhou Zhuoyi.
But he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw this man, he remembered how everyone around him adored Zhou Zhuoyi, how they all liked him. In his presence, Zhou Zhuoyuan always lost control of his emotions and ended up hating so many people.
That damn System was so unfair. It had given all the good traits and popularity to Zhou Zhuoyi, leaving the bad temper and rotten personality for Zhou Zhuoyuan.
He didn’t want to be like this. He’d already killed Zhou Zhuoyi once—he didn’t want to hurt him again.
He knew he harbored jealousy toward this man, that he was impulsive and hot-headed, which was why he kept his distance. It was all Zhou Zhuoyi’s fault for always pushing closer.
It was all Zhou Zhuoyi’s fault for being like that.
The slap plunged the entire room into silence.
Outside the window, the cicadas droned on relentlessly, one cry after another, grating on the nerves.
A faint red handprint bloomed on Zhou Zhuoyi’s face. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be in pain. I read online that a bite from this bug can hurt so badly you can’t sleep all night. I have the medicine you mentioned. I want you to get better sooner.”
Zhou Zhuoyuan sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice stiff. “In that case, lend it to me. Thanks.”
Zhou Zhuoyi placed the medicine in his hand but didn’t leave.
Zhou Zhuoyuan seemed to have calmed down. “Is there anything else?”
Zhou Zhuoyi licked his lips. “Let me help you apply it?”
Zhou Zhuoyuan badly wanted to curse him out again, but the handprint on his face made him hold back. “No.”
Back in his own room, Zhou Zhuoyi tossed and turned for hours. In the dead of night, he finally couldn’t stand it any longer. He climbed through the window into Zhou Zhuoyuan’s bedroom.
The mosquito net billowed inward on the breeze. Zhou Zhuoyuan lay sprawled on the cooling mat, a thin quilt tangled haphazardly across his back. The exposed skin gleamed red.
Zhou Zhuoyi quietly tugged down a corner of the blanket, his breathing halting for a moment.
Zhou Zhuoyuan’s slender, pale back was now a swollen expanse of red. The bite mark was on the left side of his neck, just below, surrounded by a ring of deep crimson blood spots, along with several finger marks—likely from his own scratching.
It was a spot that was hardest for him to reach on his own. Zhou Zhuoyi wanted to help, but Zhou Zhuoyuan might not agree.
The light from the phone screen dimmed, leaving only the moonlight filtering into the room.
Zhou Zhuoyi rose and fetched the ointment, then impassively applied it to Zhou Zhuoyuan’s wounds once more.
The next day—perhaps because there were fewer than three days left before they descended the mountain, or perhaps due to a twinge of guilt from striking him the day before—Zhou Zhuoyuan’s attitude toward Zhou Zhuoyi was much warmer. During breakfast, he even asked, “Is there anything you need? If I have it, I can leave it for you.”
Zhou Zhuoyi shook his head and softly replied, “No.”
That evening, he climbed through the window into Zhou Zhuoyuan’s teacher dormitory once again.
The medicine had worked well; the swelling on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s back had subsided, leaving only a few small blood spots.
Zhou Zhuoyi squeezed out some ointment. Yesterday, he hadn’t thought much of it, but this time, as he applied it directly to the skin, his thoughts began to wander.
The skin was soft and smooth—completely at odds with Zhou Zhuoyuan himself.
A gust of wind rose outside, and amid the chorus of cicadas, two frog croaks suddenly intruded, starkly out of place.
Zhou Zhuoyuan jolted awake. He snapped his eyes open, and the instant he saw Zhou Zhuoyi, his heart lurched violently as a cold sweat broke out over his body.
