After Losing My Memory, I Became Sweet - Chapter 2

Qin Huaichu felt as if he had been struck by lightning out of a clear sky.

He hadn’t expected that Zhu Yun had forgotten him.

And on top of that—after losing his memory, Zhu Yun actually called him “gege” (big brother)?

That was something Zhu Yun would never call him while in a normal state of mind.

Although Qin Huaichu was three years older than Zhu Yun, ever since they had met, he had never felt that Zhu Yun regarded him as an elder brother.

Qin Huaichu stared at Zhu Yun with an utterly shocked, absurd expression, completely losing control of his face.

Zhu Yun was clearly startled by his reaction. He immediately tried to lift the blanket and get out of bed from the other side:
“Sorry, I can’t stay here any longer. I want to go home.”

Qin Huaichu, still stunned, asked softly:
“Go home? Which home?”

Zhu Yun answered warily:
“I can’t tell you.”

Qin Huaichu: “……”

The two of them reached a stalemate. Zhu Yun didn’t dare walk past Qin Huaichu to the door, so he hugged a pillow, leaning against the headboard.

That pillow looked as if it were his weapon of self-defense.

Qin Huaichu gradually calmed down. He believed he had the ability to deal with the problem before him.

First, he needed to figure out just how much of Zhu Yun’s memory was missing.

“Zhu Yun.” He deliberately softened his tone as he spoke his name.

Zhu Yun’s guarded expression eased just a little.

After all, this “big brother” knew his name.

“I’d like to know some basic information about you.” Qin Huaichu unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat down on the chair beside him, and spoke as if having a heart-to-heart talk.
“Can you tell me—how old you are, where you live, and who’s in your family?”

To avoid making Zhu Yun suspicious again, he added:
“You don’t need to be afraid of who I am. I and you—”

He had almost said ‘we share the same household registration book’, but fearing that would scare Zhu Yun, he changed it to:
“We have a very good relationship.”

His tone was awkward, and Zhu Yun eyed him suspiciously:
“If you and I have such a good relationship, how come you don’t even know how old I am?”

Qin Huaichu took a deep breath. It seemed that even with a broken memory, Zhu Yun was still very sharp.

“Were you the one who brought me to the hospital? Didn’t you need to report my age at registration?” Zhu Yun pressed further, growing more doubtful. “At this time, I should be at school. Why did you bring me to a hospital?”

“School?” Qin Huaichu tried to follow his timeline. “College?”

“High school, obviously. I just turned eighteen.” Zhu Yun looked at him as though he were an idiot.

Qin Huaichu: “…………??”

When Dr. Feng pushed the door open, Qin Huaichu was still stuck in stunned disbelief.

The nurse who followed him in saw Zhu Yun already sitting up. She hurried over:
“Mr. Zhu, you can’t sit like this. Let me raise the bed a little, you’ll rest better against the pillow.”

Zhu Yun froze, as though startled by her addressing him as “Mr.”

While he was still dazed, the nurse quickly slipped the IV needle into the back of his hand.

Zhu Yun’s eyes widened as he stared up at the hanging IV bottle above his head.

He had wanted to go home. Did this mean he wasn’t going anywhere now?

“Awake already?” Dr. Feng was a little surprised, but his hands never stopped moving. In a short while, he had finished Zhu Yun’s basic examinations.

Zhu Yun seemed dumbfounded by Dr. Feng’s speed, letting him handle him without resistance, not even thinking of refusing.

Meanwhile, Qin Huaichu had adjusted his mood again, leaning casually against the railing, watching Zhu Yun.

It was rare to see Zhu Yun so compliant. Perhaps this would be the last time.

“Mr. Zhu is likely suffering from poor bl00d circulation caused by working late into the night at his desk, leading to severe cerebral hypoperfusion. What he needs now is more rest, proper nutrition, and moderate exercise.” Dr. Feng wrote down the orders unhurriedly.

Zhu Yun blinked, staying silent.

Seeing that Dr. Feng was about to leave after his instructions, Qin Huaichu straightened up and called out:

“Dr. Feng, I think Zhu Yun needs a more thorough examination.”

“Mr. Zhu’s body shows no abnormalities. As long as he follows my advice and rests well, he’ll be fine.” Dr. Feng smiled. “If possible, Huaichu, stay with him more these days. Go out for walks together, get some fresh air—it’ll help his recovery.”

Qin Huaichu skipped over the friendly advice and pointed at Zhu Yun:
“But—he’s lost his memory. Can you determine the cause?”

Before Dr. Feng could respond, Zhu Yun protested loudly:

“Who said I lost my memory?”

“You did lose your memory.” Qin Huaichu stated calmly, as though giving a fact.

“Show me the proof! What part of me looks like I’ve lost my memory?” Zhu Yun argued back. “I clearly remember what happened yesterday and this morning!”

Qin Huaichu stared coldly at him. This sharp-tongued, quick-witted Zhu Yun was closer to the one he knew.

“What did you do yesterday and today?” Qin Huaichu asked, for once wasting his time on what seemed like nonsense.

“I went to school yesterday, and today I played in a basketball game,” Zhu Yun answered without hesitation. “I must have hit something while playing, that’s why I fainted.”

Qin Huaichu commented mercilessly:
“You’re wrong.”

Zhu Yun: “……”

“You’re married. Do you remember that?” he asked flatly.

As expected, Zhu Yun’s clear black-and-white eyes widened instantly.

“I’m only eighteen. Who could I possibly be married to?” Zhu Yun exclaimed in disbelief.

“Me.” Qin Huaichu replied coldly.

“I’m your husband,” he added, brutally delivering the truth.

Zhu Yun’s reaction was spectacular.

He glared at Qin Huaichu as if wishing to dismantle and rebuild his language faculties—unable to comprehend how he could say something so utterly absurd.

Dr. Feng coughed twice, trying to break the awkward tension.

“Mr. Zhu, our hospital has professional psychologists. Would you be willing to take a simple psychological test?” he asked.

Naturally, this was to assess whether Zhu Yun truly had amnesia.

Zhu Yun hesitated, looked at Dr. Feng, and asked with some frustration:
“Doctor, do you believe him too?”

Qin Huaichu: “?”

Dr. Feng coughed again. Honestly, in all the years he had known Qin Huaichu, this was the first time he’d seen him so helpless.

Dr. Feng was an old friend of Qin Huaichu’s father and somewhat of a senior to him.

Though they didn’t interact much day-to-day, two years ago he had attended the grand “wedding of the century” when Qin Huaichu and Zhu Yun married.

Even though Zhu Yun now was clearly different from the one at that wedding, Dr. Feng still had to give a definitive judgment:
“Yes, you two are married. I even attended your wedding.”

Zhu Yun said nothing, while Qin Huaichu couldn’t help glancing at him several times.

From the dimmed light in Zhu Yun’s eyes, it was clear he had taken quite a blow.

After his IV finished, a psychologist from Mingkang General Hospital quickly arrived.

Qin Huaichu headed for the door, intending to give Zhu Yun some space.

He guessed that Zhu Yun probably didn’t want him to witness the psychological consultation.

His fingers touched the doorknob, but on impulse, he turned back.

He caught sight of Zhu Yun staring at his retreating figure, with what looked like a trace of loneliness in his eyes.

Though it was fleeting—and perhaps just Qin Huaichu’s imagination.

Zhu Yun quickly looked away, listening intently to the psychologist instead.

Qin Huaichu’s hand lingered on the door, unable to push it open. After some internal struggle, he returned to the room.

The VIP ward was spacious, with not only a patient area but also a sitting room, a caregiver’s room, and even a small office with a computer.

Qin Huaichu opened the sitting room door, sat down near the entrance, and left the door slightly ajar.

This way, Zhu Yun would know he hadn’t truly left, while still having some privacy during the consultation.

In truth, the psychologist spoke softly, and Zhu Yun even softer. Sitting in the sitting room, Qin Huaichu couldn’t hear a word.

After a while of silence, he heard footsteps approaching.

The sound snapped him out of his thoughts. He realized he had spent the past half hour sitting there, doing nothing.

He glanced at his watch—he’d already been at the hospital for two hours.

The business engagements and professional caretaker arrangements he had planned had completely evaporated.

The footsteps stopped outside the sitting room. Qin Huaichu stood, straightening his suit.

As expected, it was Dr. Feng.

He looked back once, then entered the sitting room, closing the door with a grave expression.

“Huaichu, you need to prepare yourself,” Dr. Feng said in a low voice.

Qin Huaichu frowned. This was the second time today he had heard those words.

“Go ahead. I’m prepared,” he said flatly.

“Mr. Zhu was examined upon admission. No external injuries, no abnormalities on his head CT.” Dr. Feng paused. “However, the fact remains—he has lost all memory from the ages of eighteen to twenty-five.”

Qin Huaichu sneered softly. Wasn’t that exactly the problem—that Zhu Yun had inexplicably lost a whole stretch of memories?

If even the doctors couldn’t explain his amnesia, perhaps he had trusted the wrong so-called top hospital.

“His psychological report will come later. But our current opinion is this—Mr. Zhu has suffered some kind of blow and is subconsciously escaping from reality,” Dr. Feng continued. “Huaichu, I suggest you take him home today. Being in a familiar environment will help him relax and recover his memory more smoothly.”

Qin Huaichu raised his eyes slightly.
“He can be discharged today?”

“I believe his medicine isn’t here at the hospital,” Dr. Feng said.

Qin Huaichu: “……”

In other words—the cure lay with him.

But the doctors didn’t know that his relationship with Zhu Yun wasn’t particularly deep.

To Zhu Yun, his so-called husband was probably even more of a stranger than a regular friend.

And the period Zhu Yun had lost happened to be exactly the time from when they met to when they married.

Right now, Qin Huaichu didn’t even exist in his memory. How could he possibly heal him?

Qin Huaichu sat in the sitting room for a while.

Then, when he heard the nurse outside say:
“Mr. Zhu, your IV is finished. Will you be staying in the hospital tonight?”

He immediately stood and opened the sitting room door.

Zhu Yun was just having the needle removed, and at once he lifted the blanket to get out of bed.

He had only been wearing a thin shirt and black trousers when brought in. Because of the rush to get him into the ambulance, his shoes had been lost.

Zhu Yun’s bare feet touched the cold hospital floor, and he frowned.

When Qin Huaichu opened the door, he saw Zhu Yun standing somewhat uncertainly by the bed.

From his angle, all he saw was Zhu Yun’s back.

The hem of his shirt was tucked into his waistband, making his waist look very slim.

That old-fashioned way of dressing somehow looked clean and elegant on him.

His bare, fair toes pressed against the icy floor.

He stood straight at 183 cm tall. Though lean, his frame didn’t look frail.

He stood there silently, expression cold, reminding Qin Huaichu of the Zhu Yun he’d seen just two mornings ago.

But then Zhu Yun spoke, shattering the illusion.

“My shoes are gone.” He held out his hand, his voice soft with a touch of innocence.
“Can you carry me to the car?”