Chapter 34: Silence

Consciousness sank into a kaleidoscopic mire, dazzling and chaotic, half-dream, half-awake—sometimes muddled, sometimes clear.

A hand brushed past the corner of his eye.

Yu Zhu instinctively braced his hand and tried to retreat.

But before he could exert any strength, his left arm was pressed down, and warm breath swept past his ear.

Someone was speaking close beside him.

But he couldn’t hear.

Silence at his ears.

Desolate.

Utterly soundless.

That pair of hands swept past his ears and gathered his waist-length hair.

The force was gentle, careful, as though afraid of tugging at the roots.

At last, the tied hair fell loosely over his shoulder.

Very gentle.

So gentle it felt unreal.

They would never do this.

Threaten, coerce, force—yes.

But never this kind of delicate care, tying his hair so softly.

A clear, woodsy fragrance lingered faintly at the tip of his nose.

All at once, his mind blurred without warning.

Memories fractured and scattered.

Yu Zhu, dazed, sluggishly recalled other things.

Huo Xin.

He could barely even remember what Huo Xin looked like anymore.

That day in the basement, the light was as dim and murky as ever.

Ming Yue wrinkled the skirt she had just forced onto him, tugged it down to cover the bruises on his legs, then—unlike usual—sat not on the cardboard by the bed but beside him.

She untied his hairband.

With a peachwood comb, she stroked from his shoulders down to the tips of his hair.

The roots ached with dull pain.

Rarely lucid, he murmured like in a dream—calling Huo Xin’s name.

Ming Yue’s hand froze.

The comb dug into her palm.

After a long time, she set it down.

Her hot breath pressed close to his face again.

She lifted the wrinkled skirt once more.

Her reaction was the same as the others.

But after that day, he never saw Huo Xin again.

Yu Zhu’s hazy thoughts drifted here, and stabbing pain struck through his skull.

His train of thought cut off abruptly.

Those hands from before now pressed over his eyes.

The touch was warm, dry.

Yu Zhu closed his eyes.

Cold liquid smeared across his sockets.

Heat spread.

A bandage wound tightly around his eyes.

His body went rigid.

Even the blood in his veins seemed to freeze.

Huo Xin…

His cold, trembling right hand was suddenly clasped.

That clear woodsy fragrance drew closer.

Chaotic fragments of memory flickered rapidly before his mind’s eye.

A dark red night sky.

A raging, merciless fire.

Glistening, icy snowflakes…

Only then did Yu Zhu recall that night.

He broke free of chains.

His body soaked through, step by step, he walked out of the basement.

In total—two hundred and thirty-five steps.

That was the second time he walked out of the basement.

The heat in his palm was real.

Yu Zhu turned his head slightly and twitched his fingers.

The hand holding his tightened further.

This time…

Did it work?

But only after a moment of focus, his barely-cleared thoughts blurred again.

Darkness surged over him.

Consciousness scattered like fireflies.

He lost all sense.

“Is this enough?”

Ruan Suhua finished tying the bandage over the boy’s eyes.

Holding his trembling hand, she lifted her gaze to Zhang Jingliang, who was still pinning down Yu Zhu’s arm.

Even though she knew Yu Zhu couldn’t hear her, she still instinctively lowered her voice.

“From now on, you need to change the medicine every day,” Zhang Jingliang instructed.

“No strong light.

No water.

No chills.

No spicy or stimulating food.

No violent mood swings.

And during the rest of his recovery, he can’t overexert himself.

If all goes well, in half a month, once the bruising disperses, his eyesight should mostly recover.”

“Alright.” Ruan Suhua memorized each word carefully.

“Also—” Zhang Jingliang loosened his grip, “the bandage around his eyes can’t be too tight or too loose. Right now it’s just right. Except…”

“Except what?” Her heart skipped.

“Except that bow you tied. Honestly, it’s kind of ugly.”

“…”

Before she could respond, the trembling at Yu Zhu’s fingertips stopped.

Ruan Suhua’s glance at Zhang Jingliang carried a flicker of panic.

“Just fell asleep. It’s normal. Don’t worry.”

Zhang Jingliang reassured her.

“He only just woke up, and he can’t waste much energy.

Plus, with the side effects of those medicines, he’ll be drowsy through the whole recovery period.”

At his words, Ruan Suhua subtly withdrew her hand.

She adjusted Yu Zhu’s half-reclining body, laid him gently on the pillow, and carefully tucked the quilt around him.

For a moment, Zhang Jingliang had no words.

The eldest daughter of the Ruan family in the Imperial Capital, Ruan Suhua, had always been the epitome of elegance.

Outwardly approachable, warm, and polite.

But having grown up alongside her, he knew well the piece of unmelting ice beneath the springlike surface.

She could speak easily with anyone, be cordial with anyone.

And precisely because of that, few people were ever truly special to her.

She never let people step into her world lightly.

Every layer guarded, lines never blurred.

Even for him—it was only because he had grown up in the Ruan household due to family ties that he could joke so casually with her.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you care for someone so patiently,” Zhang Jingliang said gravely.

“You even went and studied medical care for his sake.”

“So—it’s already decided, hasn’t it?”

Ruan Suhua froze.

Her expression grew serious.

Word by word, she said, “Mm. It can only be him. There won’t be anyone else.”

“Cough, cough…”

Zhang Jingliang coughed to mask his reaction.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“As your friend, I have to remind you—the law clearly states the minimum age when it comes to minors…”

Ruan Suhua: “…”

Her cold gaze swept over him.

Zhang Jingliang fell silent at once.

“We’ll talk outside. Don’t disturb Xi He’s rest.”

She stepped out, closing the door quietly.

The softness in her brows vanished.

Looking at Zhang Jingliang, she asked firmly, “I want to know first—when will Xi He be able to hear again?”

“Hard to say. Depends on his recovery. Maybe tomorrow, maybe a month from now. But definitely not longer than two months.”

He shrugged.

“Either way, he needs to rest. With his health right now, both body and mind, nothing can be rushed. It has to be slow.”

“Alright. I understand.”

“But tell me… is he actually underage?”

Ruan Suhua hesitated briefly, then answered, “No. Xi He is already an adult.”

When she woke to find herself five years back in time, her first move was to re-investigate the campus suicide case that had only been half-checked.

Because only two years had passed, the evidence hadn’t been completely erased.

So, just a few days ago, she had already received a detailed report.

Yu Zhu.

In the graduation photo of Class One, third year, the boy’s flawless features glowed like jade under tree shadows.

Amber eyes carried a faint smile.

Radiant with youth.

Brilliant as the sun.

Completely unlike his current frail, sickly, broken self.

His parents had died in a car accident on the day of the college entrance exam results.

Did he know?

No.

They would never dare let him know.

And she wouldn’t let him find out—not now.

Gu Wanting.

Ming Yue.

Su Zhi.

Huo Xin…

One by one.

Slowly.

“Cough, cough…”

Zhang Jingliang’s heavy cough broke her thoughts.

Ruan Suhua steadied herself.

“What is it?”

“I just want to ask something. Not sure if I should.”

“Go on. Then I’ll have Uncle Wang send you home.”

“So—when exactly did he become an adult? He doesn’t look it at all…”

Ruan Suhua: “…”

“He is an adult, without a doubt.”

Her voice dropped.

“As of… three days ago.”

“…The hell—so, Miss, that makes you older than him by—”

Ruan Suhua cut him off before he could finish.

“Uncle Wang, see him out!”

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