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“Son, I just woke up. What do you want to eat?” Li Huang Xuan called Zhuang Zi’ang.
He had only managed six hours of restless sleep. Deep down, he feared waking up to a world where his best friend no longer existed.
He struggled to suppress his sorrow as he spoke.
“I want fried potatoes from the snack street outside the school. Tell Auntie to add extra chili, and bring me a cold Coca-Cola,” Zhuang Zi’ang replied.
“Are you crazy? Spicy and cold?!” Li Huang Xuan frowned, worried about his health.
“If I don’t eat these things, do you think I can survive?” Zhuang Zi’ang chuckled bitterly.
He was simply following the doctor’s advice—eating whatever he wanted.
On the other end of the line, silence stretched between them.
After a long pause, Li Huang Xuan finally said, “I’ll go get it. Just wait.”
“Oh, and if you pass by a bookstore, get me a children’s joke book. Make sure it has pinyin; I can’t handle anything too complicated,” Zhuang Zi’ang added.
All these memories were tied to Xiao Yudie.
That night, Li Huang Xuan arrived at the hospital, carrying a bag of fried potatoes and an ice-cold Coca-Cola.
Zhuang Zi’ang, concerned for Lin Mu Shi’s safety, had urged her to leave earlier. She agreed, promising to return in the morning to take over for Li Huang Xuan.
Leaning against the headboard, Zhuang Zi’ang took a bite of the fried potatoes, savoring the familiar taste.
“Good?” Li Huang Xuan forced a smile.
“So good it makes me want to cry,” Zhuang Zi’ang whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek.
“This was the first thing I ate the day I met her,” he continued. “The potato vendor told me she had a beautiful name—Xiao Yudie.”
Li Huang Xuan’s eyes welled up. “I’m so afraid of running into her at school. My acting skills are terrible—I’d slip up immediately.”
By now, he completely understood Zhuang Zi’ang’s intentions.
True love meant letting go.
“Don’t tell her the truth. She won’t hate me for a lifetime—at most, two weeks. Then she’ll forget this scoundrel completely.”
“Zhuang Zi’ang, you really are something else.” Li Huang Xuan swore through his tears.
Having read The Butterfly Lovers and Romeo and Juliet, he realized that no fictional tragedy could compare to the real-life story unfolding before him.
It turned out that love could be so selfless.
Zhuang Zi’ang sighed. “Actually, the kind of love your parents have—that’s true greatness.”
Impulsive, passionate love was easy.
But staying together for a lifetime without parting—that was far more difficult.
“When you have children one day, make sure to give them lots of love,” Zhuang Zi’ang added. “They never asked to be born, so don’t let them be unhappy.”
Li Huang Xuan forced a grin. “If I have a son, how about naming him Li Zi’ang?”
“No way!” Zhuang Zi’ang scoffed. “At most, you can use the ‘Ang’ part. If you use both names, I might as well be your son.”
“Fine, but if you get better and have a son, name him Zhuang Huang Xuan. Then I won’t object,” Li Huang Xuan said, voice heavy with sorrow.
“When I’m gone, keep the competition exam book I have. Consider it an early gift for your future son.”
“I’ll be sure to thank you for him.”
In the quiet hospital room, the two boys laughed through their tears.
Their friendship gleamed like gold.
The next morning, Lin Mu Shi arrived, bringing savory tofu pudding at Zhuang Zi’ang’s request.
At first glance, the ingredients seemed similar, but one bite revealed a distinct difference—Xiao Yudie’s chili oil had a unique taste.
Li Huang Xuan refused to leave, insisting on staying until noon.
The three of them sat together, chatting.
Zhuang Zi’ang read aloud from his joke book, filling the room with laughter. Li Huang Xuan’s forced chuckles were unnatural, but Lin Mu Shi was a natural actress—she laughed at even the most absurd jokes.
Zhuang Zi’ang was touched. They were trying so hard to make him happy.
By noon, Zhuang Wen Zhao arrived—this time, bringing Qin Shulan and Zhuang Yuhang.
Seeing the three of them together, the smile vanished from Zhuang Zi’ang’s face.
Li Huang Xuan was blunt. “What are you doing here? You’re not welcome.”
Zhuang Wen Zhao held back his anger, forcing a smile. “I came to see Zi’ang. I won’t stay long.”
“Why now?” Lin Mu Shi scoffed. “Feels fake.”
Last night, Zhuang Wen Zhao had lost his temper at home.
Only then did Qin Shulan and Zhuang Yuhang learn of Zhuang Zi’ang’s terminal illness.
To be honest, they didn’t feel much attachment to him.
In fact, on a purely objective level, his absence might even be beneficial to them—one less competitor for the family inheritance.
Still, for Zhuang Wen Zhao’s sake, they had to put on a show.
Qin Shulan approached with a thermos. “Zi’ang, Auntie made you something delicious. You need to eat well.”
Zhuang Zi’ang smiled slightly. “Aunt Qin, you don’t have to pretend. It’s awkward. I preferred you the way you used to be.”
Her expression hardened, but she held back, placing the thermos on the bedside table. “Eat it while it’s hot.”
“Take it back. I won’t eat it. Let’s be honest—we have no real relationship. No need to put on a show.”
Qin Shulan glared at Zhuang Wen Zhao, exhaling sharply before storming out.
If he weren’t a patient, she would have exploded in anger.
Zhuang Wen Zhao turned to his son. “Apologize to your brother.”
Zhuang Yuhang hesitated, his face still bruised from last night’s punishment.
In a stiff tone, he muttered, “Brother, I’m sorry. I… I wasn’t good to you before, and I… I realize my mistake now…”
“Enough!” Zhuang Zi’ang cut him off impatiently. “At least memorize your script before coming here.”
Zhuang Yuhang looked nervously at Zhuang Wen Zhao for guidance.
“Your brother knows he was wrong. Can’t you forgive him?” Zhuang Wen Zhao asked.
Zhuang Zi’ang scoffed. “In my eyes, he doesn’t even exist. What’s there to forgive? Just leave so I can talk with my friends in peace.”
This ridiculous performance was truly irritating.
It was laughable that Zhuang Wen Zhao thought this farce would work.