Chapter 99: Zhou Zhuoyi Crematorium: Liking Someone Isn’t Like This

Zhou Zhuoyi only felt waves of blackness washing over his vision. “Impossible! I’m already dead. You won’t ignore him anymore because of my illness. Why would his health get even worse?”

Zhou Fuxuan’s words caught in his throat.

After a moment, he suddenly raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.

Zhou Zhuoyi froze.

Zhou Fuxuan was arrogant and obsessed with saving face. Zhou Zhuoyuan had inherited some of those very flaws from him. Not even Zhu Wan had ever seen him reflect on himself like this.

“After you died, I laid hands on Little Yuan. I kept him from going to school. On the day of your funeral, he ran away from home and never came back. He made it all the way to North City alone, couldn’t properly recover from his injuries, and struggled just to survive. By the time we found him, he was already…”

Here, Zhou Fuxuan slapped himself again. “I killed Little Yuan. I killed you too. If I hadn’t scolded him for coming home late that day, he never would have lost control and said those things to you.”

~~~

The door to the ward opened, then clicked shut.

Zhou Zhuoyi slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The corridor echoed only with the footsteps of passing nurses and doctors.

So after his death, Zhou Zhuoyuan hadn’t gotten anything at all. He hadn’t given Zhou Zhuoyuan a single thing in return.

He had still smugly assumed that proud, willful Zhou Zhuoyuan had finally matured, that he could handle a place as rough as a teacher dormitory in the mountains. In truth, Zhou Zhuoyuan had already endured far worse out in the real world—years in dingy rental apartments, scraping by however he could.

When Zhou Zhuoyuan died, no one had even noticed. Dying alone like that—how agonizing, how utterly helpless must it have been?

He really was no better than an animal, terrorizing Zhou Zhuoyuan with his own desperation on the brink of death!

What did he mean by “just one bite”? He had torn open every scar on Zhou Zhuoyuan’s body, rubbed salt in them all, and then acted baffled at why the boy shattered so easily.

Everything the clueless Zhou Zhuoyi had done to Zhou Zhuoyuan had been cruel beyond measure.

Pei He had run here flat out. He brushed past Zhou Zhuoyi and grabbed the door handle. His palms were slick with sweat and kept slipping. He wiped them roughly on his clothes before finally twisting the knob and bursting inside.

Zhu Wan was gently moistening Zhou Zhuoyuan’s cracked lips with a cotton swab. He had sobbed through the night before, then burned with fever ever since—his mouth was parched.

He still hadn’t woken. In just a few days, all the scant weight he had put on had melted away. He lay there with breaths so faint that even Pei He’s rage had nowhere to land.

Zhu Wan straightened up, her face ashen. “Why weren’t you with Little Yuan?”

Ever since learning what Zhou Zhuoyuan had been through, Pei He couldn’t muster a polite face for any member of the Zhou family. “That’s between me and Little Yuan. It’s got nothing to do with you. You can go now—I’ll take care of him.”

Zhu Wan clutched the cotton swab so tightly her knuckles whitened. “You’re the one who said you’d always be by his side. That’s the only reason I didn’t try to stop him from going off to teach in the mountains.”

Pei He’s voice was ice-cold. “And just how were you planning to stop him? By locking him in the house? How is that any different from what Zhou Zhuoyi did?”

Zhu Wan fell silent, managing only a feeble protest. “Regardless… this time, you left him all alone up in those mountains.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan woke to the sound of Pei He’s voice, sharp as splintered ice. “You’re right. I regret it more than I can say. I never should have left him, even for a moment—let Zhou Zhuoyi bully him into this state.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to still be asleep.

Zhu Wan noticed the flutter of his lashes. Her breath hitched for a second before she crouched down and brushed his forehead. “Sorry, Little Yuan. We were too loud. Does anything hurt?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s eyelashes trembled again.

Pei He’s face was thunder-dark as he translated. “You should go. He doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Zhu Wan went rigid. She stared at Zhou Zhuoyuan’s tightly shut eyes, then slowly drew her hand back.

After a long moment, footsteps echoed down the hall, growing fainter until they were gone.

Zhou Zhuoyuan fidgeted nervously with the edge of his blanket. Pei He sat beside him, fussing with something or other, staying silent.

At last, Pei He spoke up—his tone still frosty as broken glass. “Quit pretending. Sit up and take your medicine.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s eyes were swollen half-shut, guilt practically oozing from them.

Pei He’s expression was grim, but he helped Zhou Zhuoyuan upright with his usual gentleness. He slipped the pill into his mouth and held out the straw from the water cup right away.

It was for his anxiety disorder. The latest tests showed some improvement, but he couldn’t just stop cold turkey.

Zhou Zhuoyuan drank down the whole glass obediently, his voice a raw rasp. “Hehe, I…”

Pei He cut him off. “That’s enough. We’ll talk once you’re better.”

Zhou Zhuoyuan hung his head, the picture of misery.

Pei He ground his teeth.

He steadied his expression and sat on the edge of the bed, carefully easing open the collar of Zhou Zhuoyuan’s hospital gown just a little. “Let me check on that wound.”

The bite mark was deep, still an angry deep red even now. Pei He brushed it lightly with his fingertips, his voice softening further. “Does it still hurt?”

Zhou Zhuoyuan shook his head listlessly.

Pei He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his eye. “Aunt Wu just twisted her ankle—she can walk normally again now. Get some more rest. I’ll sit right here with you. Everything’s okay now.”

For some reason, Zhou Zhuoyuan’s chest suddenly ached with a sharp pang, and tears began splattering onto the blanket, one after another.

He couldn’t understand why those simple words—”Everything’s okay now”—hit him so hard. He lifted a hand to wipe them away, but fresh ones welled up immediately.

So useless. So humiliating.

A stab of pain twisted in Pei He’s chest. He pulled Zhou Zhuoyuan into his arms and stroked his back soothingly, over and over. “I’m right here. Don’t be scared…”

But those words only made Zhou Zhuoyuan cry harder. Unlike the stifled sobs of the night before, he clutched at Pei He’s clothes, gasping for breath between wails, his words tumbling out in broken fragments. “I thought… he came for me… to drag my soul away… I don’t want… to go to hell… or be locked away on that mountain…”

Pei He paused for a moment. He chose not to press Zhou Zhuoyuan to reflect on his mistake of trying to drive Pei He away—not right now. “You won’t go to hell. You won’t be locked up. I won’t let anyone bully you ever again…”

~~~

Zhou Zhuoyi had only taken one day off, and Pei He wouldn’t let him anywhere near Zhou Zhuoyuan. After lunch, he lingered for a while outside the hospital room door before getting up to head back to the mountain. Zhou Zhuoli happened to be there, so he offered to have his driver take him.

Zhou Zhuoyi thought it over for a second. “Big Brother, could you drive me yourself instead?”

Zhou Zhuoli blinked in surprise, realizing his brother had something he wanted to discuss.

On the drive, Zhou Zhuoyi stared down at his own fingers. “Is there anything else about Zhou Zhuoyuan that you all are keeping from me?”

Before Zhou Zhuoli could respond, he pressed on. “I know you’ve hidden a lot from me, claiming it was for my own good. But it’s only made me blunder into one mistake after another with a clear conscience. I don’t want to keep fumbling around in the dark like this.”

Zhou Zhuoli drove on in silence for a stretch until they reached a traffic light. At last, he spoke. “Your biological parents—Uncle Lin and Aunt Jiang—and your biological older brother, Lin Boxu—they treated Little Yuan terribly from the time he was little. Back in the Lin Family, he was constantly beaten, singled out for mistreatment, and had even his pocket money stolen away…”

The car couldn’t go any farther, so Zhou Zhuoyi got out and watched Zhou Zhuoli drive off.

He still cherished his life too much to go alone, so he hired escorts for the trip up the mountain. Normally, he’d chat amiably with them—Zhou Zhuoyi, ever the easygoing one, rarely let a conversation fizzle out. But today, he simply had no heart for it. He trudged silently all the way to the school in the hills.

Zhou Zhuoyuan’s dorm room door stood wide open, his belongings still untouched. But Zhou Zhuoyi knew he would never come back.

Zhou Zhuoyi didn’t head to his own room. Instead, he darted into Zhou Zhuoyuan’s dorm and swiftly slammed the wooden door shut behind him.

The instant that door clicked closed, his tears broke free at last.

Fifteen years—full fifteen years. For fifteen years, Zhou Zhuoyi had been doted on by the entire family, held in the palm of their hands. Yet Zhou Zhuoyuan had endured fifteen years of torment in the Lin Family. How could he not hate? How could he not grow extreme in his resentment? How could he not lash out at Zhou Zhuoyi?

Refuse to lend his brother money, and he’d get beaten black and blue. He had only one extracurricular book, a reward from his teacher, which he read over and over. Sneak a single peek at his brother’s books, and he’d be kicked in the gut and called a thief. Fight back against his brother, and their father would thrash his palms raw with branches scavenged from the roadside. Even getting bitten by a rabid dog sparked arguments from his parents over whether to waste money on vaccines!

How old had Zhou Zhuoyuan been when he suffered through all that?

Zhou Zhuoyi couldn’t fathom how a child like that had managed such stellar grades in that hellish environment. All on his own, clawing his way from a school with abysmal advancement rates into one of the nation’s top high schools—what superhuman effort must that have taken?

And there was Zhou Zhuoyi, telling him—at the moment when Zhou Zhuoyuan had struggled through two lifetimes of hardship to earn a spot at Da University, the best in the country—that he owed Zhou Zhuoyi his very life. That he’d spend the rest of it locked away in some desolate mountain nowhere.

How could he have the gall, after tormenting Zhou Zhuoyuan, to tell him, “I forgive you forever”? What right did he have to forgive Zhou Zhuoyuan? Without Zhou Zhuoyuan, he might have died in the Lin Family years ago!

Zhou Zhuoyi—the gentle, kind soul who was tolerant and forgiving toward everyone—had been utterly cruel only to the boy he claimed to like.

Why had he never bothered to understand Zhou Zhuoyuan’s feelings? Why had he never once considered what Zhou Zhuoyuan wanted?

That’s not how you love.

He finally understood the meaning of those words. It wasn’t that Zhou Zhuoyi’s affection was any less—it was that Zhou Zhuoyi’s love was far too selfish. He had never truly put himself in Zhou Zhuoyuan’s shoes or considered things from his brother’s point of view. That was why Zhou Zhuoyuan still lived so miserably and unhappy even after returning to the Zhou Family. That was why every attempt he made to draw close only filled Zhou Zhuoyuan with pain.

Sunset light streamed through the window, illuminating the binding rope where it had fallen in the room’s brightest spot. The rope was stained with Zhou Zhuoyuan’s blood.