After Losing My Memory, I Became Sweet - Chapter 5

In Zhu Yun’s eighteen-year-old mind, the fact that Qin Huaichu was willing to spend so much money on him could only mean one thing—because he was family.

He just needed a lot more time to slowly digest the sudden identity of being a married man.

Qin Huaichu hadn’t expected that Zhu Yun saying he believed him would only lead to endless questions.

For the first time, he felt somewhat overwhelmed.

He took Zhu Yun to a few other properties they owned in Mingshi.

As soon as Zhu Yun stepped inside, he headed straight for the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and checked the clothes inside.

“There are only my clothes here, none of yours,” he said with absolute certainty after inspecting them.

Qin Huaichu felt a headache coming on.

“Because this was the first house you bought, it counts as pre-marital property,” Qin Huaichu quickly gathered his thoughts and answered calmly, “I hardly ever stayed here.”

“The first house I bought?” Zhu Yun’s eyes immediately lit up. “When did I buy it?”

“When you were eighteen,” Qin Huaichu said. “Your design won an award, with a prize of five million. You used that money to make the down payment on this house, because it was close to the university you were attending.”

“Eighteen? That’s just after high school graduation, right?” Zhu Yun asked.

“In fact—” Qin Huaichu paused, “by the time you were eighteen, you were already in your third year of university.”

“Huh?” Zhu Yun pointed to himself. “But I’m eighteen now. I should still be in my last year of high school.”

“You lost your memory, and your sense of time is mixed up,” Qin Huaichu explained in an even tone. “You skipped a grade in both middle school and high school, so you started university at sixteen.”

“Then how old am I really?” Zhu Yun asked.

“You just turned twenty-five,” Qin Huaichu answered truthfully.

“And you?” Zhu Yun pressed further.

“I’m twenty-eight. I’ll turn twenty-nine early next year,” Qin Huaichu said.

Zhu Yun looked at Qin Huaichu with clear eyes for a long while, as if he had finally accepted their real ages.

Qin Huaichu let out a sigh of relief, thinking that Zhu Yun would probably stop insisting that he was eighteen.

Zhu Yun hugged his knees and sat on a chair, quietly taking in the house.

This was his first house. It should have carried great meaning for him, and he should have been able to glean lots of information from it.

But no matter how long he looked, not a single memory surfaced.

While Zhu Yun was observing the house, Qin Huaichu took out his phone to check emails and reply to a few. When he looked up again, he vaguely saw the shimmer of tears in Zhu Yun’s eyes.

This time, Qin Huaichu was truly startled.

All of Zhu Yun’s odd behaviors up to now couldn’t compare to seeing him cry in front of him.

Zhu Yun seemed to notice his gaze, quickly turned his head away, and used his fingers to block his eyes.

Qin Huaichu was a little flustered. He turned to grab tissues, only to find that the house had been unused for so long that the tissue packs hadn’t even been opened.

After struggling to tear one open, he strode over to Zhu Yun and awkwardly handed him the tissue box.

Zhu Yun had already lowered his head, his shoulders slumped. He hooked the box with a finger and set it on his lap.

“Thanks.” His voice was a little hoarse.

Hearing that tone, Qin Huaichu became even more certain Zhu Yun had cried.

After a moment of silence, Qin Huaichu cautiously began to comfort him: “Your memory loss should only be temporary. The doctors believe it’s better to let you return to familiar environments instead of relying on medical equipment or drugs. That shows your condition isn’t serious.”

He went on to analyze, cite facts, and argue his case—carrying the same force he once had during university debate tournaments.

Zhu Yun kept his head down for a long while, giving no response. Just when Qin Huaichu was starting to feel parched, Zhu Yun suddenly said softly, “Can you hug me?”

“Yes.” Qin Huaichu stood up without hesitation, walked to him, and opened his arms.

The first motion was a little stiff, but once he started, everything flowed naturally.

He wrapped his arms around Zhu Yun’s shoulders, his fingers lightly patting his back twice.

“I want to remember faster,” Zhu Yun whispered as he hugged Qin Huaichu’s waist. “How we met, how we came to build a family together—I don’t want to lose that part of my memory.”

“When you have time, just tell me about our past. Maybe I’ll remember more quickly.” Zhu Yun lifted his head, making the suggestion earnestly.

Qin Huaichu’s heart skipped. He failed to notice that Zhu Yun’s eyes were perfectly dry and clear, with no trace of recent tears.

He forced himself to agree: “Once I get through these next few busy days, I’ll spend the weekend at home with you and tell you about the past.”

Zhu Yun nodded happily. “It’s a deal.”

Qin Huaichu meant it.

Even if most of what he said about “the past” would be made up, if it could bring Zhu Yun temporary happiness, it seemed worth it.

After that, Zhu Yun didn’t ask to visit other houses. Instead, he pulled a basketball from the trunk of Qin Huaichu’s car.

“I noticed this yesterday—you’ve got a basketball back here,” Zhu Yun said excitedly. “Do you play in your free time too?”

Qin Huaichu glanced at it. He honestly didn’t quite remember when the ball had ended up in his car.

He always kept some sports equipment in there—like tennis rackets and golf clubs—so having a basketball appear wasn’t that strange.

“Mm, occasionally,” he replied vaguely.

Zhu Yun’s eyes sparkled immediately. “Let’s go play now. At my high school—it’s not far from here.”

“Play basketball at a high school?” Qin Huaichu frowned. “I doubt the guards would let us in.”

“No worries, I can help you climb over the wall.” Zhu Yun bounced the ball in his hand, still eager.

Qin Huaichu: “……”

At that moment, he felt Zhu Yun’s physical age might really be only eighteen.

Before they left, Qin Huaichu went home to change into lighter clothes.

It was early winter. Though not as freezing as the north, the cold air was still sharp and dry.

Besides changing, he also packed two pairs of wrist and knee supports, hydrating spray, and some emergency medicine.

Zhu Yun’s body hadn’t fully recovered yet, and too much exertion could leave him short of breath.

Zhu Yun didn’t change. He stayed in the same hoodie he’d worn when they left.

While waiting with the ball in the living room, he grew bored—until Qin Huaichu came out with a large travel bag.

“Are you… going on a trip after the game?” Zhu Yun asked.

“These are essentials for outdoor sports,” Qin Huaichu said firmly, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Zhu Yun simply looked at him with a “whatever makes you happy” expression and asked no further.

“You don’t want to change clothes?” Qin Huaichu glanced at the ill-fitting hoodie on him.

They’d just retrieved several of Zhu Yun’s clothes from his place.

“No need, I’ve got a T-shirt underneath,” Zhu Yun tugged at his collar to show him. “I’ll get hot while playing and take this off anyway.”

When they reached Mingtong High, Zhu Yun glanced at the tightly shut gates and was already itching to climb the fence.

Qin Huaichu told him to wait in the car while he went to talk to the guard.

Coincidentally, the school was hosting a citywide high school basketball tournament, so many teams from other schools were borrowing the court to get familiar with the venue.

The guard rejected him outright: “You’re obviously rich. Surely you can find a place to play without taking the students’ court.”

Qin Huaichu felt awkward and glanced back at his Cullinan.

Through the window, Zhu Yun had already rolled it down, resting an arm on the sill, looking at him expectantly.

Qin Huaichu had no choice but to call the principal.

His only tie to this school was that he had donated a library five years ago.

Back when he founded Chuyu, he needed charity projects to build a good reputation. For some reason, the first place he thought of was Zhu Yun’s high school.

A few minutes after his call, the guard received confirmation over the walkie-talkie.

“Sorry about earlier, Mr. Qin. I was just trying to protect the students. Please forgive me.” The guard’s attitude flipped completely. “You can use the side gate. I’ll lift the barrier for your car.”

Qin Huaichu turned back to his car.

As expected, Zhu Yun greeted him with a dazzling smile.

By now the sun had already set, leaving only traces of afterglow on the ground. The sky was painted in pure shades, like brushstrokes of clean color.

But Zhu Yun’s smile outshone the twilight.

Qin Huaichu’s chest felt warm. Sitting back in the driver’s seat, he realized he might really be overdressed.

Zhu Yun gave him a big thumbs-up before turning his gaze back outside, taking in the campus scenery.

“Nothing’s really changed… and over there too. I think I can see my old classroom.” He kept murmuring softly in awe. “You said I graduated nine years ago, but it doesn’t look that way at all.”

Qin Huaichu didn’t answer. He knew Zhu Yun was immersed in memories and didn’t need interruption.

He thought, maybe bringing him back here really could awaken some of his hidden memories.

“What’s that new building?” As the car pulled into the lot behind the teaching block, Zhu Yun suddenly unbuckled and leaned halfway out the window, staring at the red building on the hill.

“There are words on the plaque—I can’t read them clearly,” he said, sounding urgent.

“That’s the library.” Qin Huaichu slowed the car, pulling Zhu Yun gently back by his hoodie. “Stay inside. If you want to go to the library, I’ll take you.”

“How do you know so much about new buildings at my high school?” Zhu Yun looked at him curiously.

“I donated that library.” Qin Huaichu’s voice was calm, but he sat a little straighter. “That was five years ago.”

He half-expected Zhu Yun to give him another thumbs-up.

But after a pause, all he heard was Zhu Yun’s envious, slightly jealous remark: “Qin Huaichu, you really are loaded.”

Qin Huaichu: “……”