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…
Unrequited love?
Sitting in a taxi on the way to the hospital, Xu Yinghuai stared absentmindedly out the window, watching raindrops merge on the glass like countless silver necklaces falling. She recalled a conversation she had overheard years ago.
It happened during her second year of high school, before she had fallen out with Zhou Zirong and before anything had gone wrong with his family.
During a break, Xu Yinghuai and Mu Xiao were walking arm in arm to fetch water downstairs.
Before they even reached the water room, she heard Zhou Zirong’s group of friends chattering loudly.
It took her only a second to conclude that Zhou Zirong must be inside.
A smirk played on her lips, her fox-like eyes gleaming mischievously. She quickly pulled Mu Xiao to a stop at the doorway, planning to jump out and scare him.
She held her breath and got ready. Just then, she heard someone ask,
“Zhou Zirong, do you like Xu Yinghuai too?”
At the word “like”, Xu Yinghuai inexplicably tensed up. She let go of Mu Xiao’s hand, her body stiffening slightly. But her ears pressed against the cool wall, inching forward to listen more closely.
Zhou Zirong’s deep, magnetic voice came through, mixed with the hum of the water heater,
“Are you crazy?”
“What do you mean ‘too’?”
Xu Yinghuai felt as if her blood had frozen.
At the time, she didn’t understand why. Why did those ten words from Zhou Zirong make her feel so disappointed?
She composed herself, forcing her suddenly heavy heart to stay steady. She swore she’d catch Zhou Zirong off guard.
“Oh, so you don’t like Xu Yinghuai, but Xu Yinghuai has a crush on you?”
“Crush?” Zhou Zirong repeated.
“Yeah. Xu Yinghuai is pretty, sure, but she’s got a temper. At the beginning of the semester, a few guys tried confessing to her, but at first, they were subtle about it—writing poetic, flowery love letters. She didn’t get it. She thought they were just reciting ancient literature and kindly pointed them to the teacher’s office.”
“Or she thought they were just complimenting her looks, so she smiled, said ‘thank you,’ and walked away.”
“It took those guys ages to make their feelings clear. And when they did, she shut them down with a cold, ‘I don’t want to date you.’”
“One guy was particularly stubborn. He kept confessing over and over again. But Xu Yinghuai’s rejections got harsher each time. Eventually, he got mad and decided to mess with her—he stole her schoolbag and told her he’d only return it if she agreed to date him.”
“You know what she did?”
“If you knew, you’d be impressed. Xu Yinghuai grabbed his ear, dragged him straight to the teacher’s office, and reported him for stealing and trying to pressure her into an early romance.”
“Hahahaha, that’s our Xu Jie—fierce as ever. But after that, no guys dared to approach her anymore. Except for you. Tsk, she even gives you snacks now and then. If that’s not a crush, what is?”
“Hey, seriously though… you really don’t like her?”
Xu Yinghuai held her breath, afraid to miss a single word.
At that moment, the bustling hallway noise seemed to vanish. The hum of the water heater became deafening, like the erratic pounding of her heart.
But Zhou Zirong didn’t respond right away.
Xu Yinghuai always thought she was patient.
The things that guy said about her were true, and she didn’t care about being talked about behind her back. After all, she really had rejected people that way.
But right now…
Her heart had only beaten three times, and she had already lost count.
She thought that if the answer was “I like her,” it should come faster than “I don’t like her.”
After all, it was just two words.
But if Zhou Zirong were going to say he didn’t like her, he’d have to explain their history—how they grew up together, walked home together. It’d take a whole lot of words.
Before she could hear that silent yet obvious answer land, she turned and left.
Mu Xiao stayed behind for a second, just long enough to hear Zhou Zirong’s response.
“I never said that.”
“Said what?”
“I never said I don’t like her.”
In the hospital room, Zhou Zirong sat with an IV in his left hand and his phone in his right. His thumb hovered over the screen but didn’t move.
Before Chen Xi even stepped inside, he heard him mutter,
“Seven days.”
“What’s seven days?” Chen Xi walked in carrying several bags.
Zhou Zirong pressed the side button on his phone, making the open calendar and the red-circled date—November 11—disappear.
“Nothing,” he replied quietly.
Just as he finished speaking—
“Zhou Zirong!”
A figure dashed past the doorway.
As if electrified, Zhou Zirong’s head snapped up. He recognized her in an instant, wanted to call out her name—
But Xu Yinghuai had already run off.
Chen Xi walked out of the bathroom with a freshly washed apple. He stood at the doorway, puzzled.
“Did someone just call you, or was I hearing things?”
Zhou Zirong sighed, picked up his phone, and called her.
She answered quickly.
“You ran too far,” he said.
Sitting at Zhou Zirong’s bedside, watching him eat the porridge she brought and the apple Chen Xi peeled, Xu Yinghuai rested her hands obediently on her lap. She was lost in thought, recalling the message she had received earlier from the staff.
Chen Xi, munching on his own apple, scrolled through trending news and read aloud:
‘Zhou Zirong suffers mistreatment on set, works 96 hours straight, collapses from exhaustion.’
Then he turned to confirm, “A’Rong, have you been resting properly?”
Zhou Zirong: “Just one all-nighter. Otherwise, I’ve been filming normally.”
Chen Xi nodded and kept reading.
“Take care of your health.”
He patted Zhou Zirong’s blanket. “That’s for you.”
“Speak up if you’re struggling.”
Another pat. “That’s for you too.”
“Zirong has the best temper. These people just pick on the nice ones.”
Chen Xi hesitated, then eyed Zhou Zirong. “Your temper is… average, at best.”
Zhou Zirong, pale-faced, shot him an unamused glare.
Chen Xi, sensing danger, quickly changed the subject.
“Hey, Shi Yi, during your interview, Linda asked you—‘What’s your opinion of Zhou Zirong? Speak from your heart.’”
Zhou Zirong leaned in, locking eyes with Xu Yinghuai.
“You can say anything,” he murmured. “No matter what, I’ll pay you.”
His gaze carried an overwhelming presence, suffocating yet strangely steadying.
Xu Yinghuai looked straight into his eyes, her lashes fluttering.
“I…”
Zhou Zirong’s expression flickered, as if waiting for something.
And then—
“Zirong!”