Being "Crushed" - Chapter 28

After coming home with a flushed face, Song Yuhan immediately noticed the familiar gentle figure bustling in the kitchen as soon as she stepped inside.

“Bro, you’re back early again?” she said brightly, her voice tinged with excitement.

Song Zhihan paused, a dark glint flickering in his eyes. After a brief moment, he turned sideways and gave her a look she had never seen before. “Hmm.”

Seeing his expression, Song Yuhan suddenly felt a strange guilt and quickly changed the subject. “Were you worried I wouldn’t do well today?”

Song Zhihan shook his head. “I never doubted you—you’ve always been amazing.” His gaze clouded momentarily, as if holding back a flood of unspoken questions, but he diverted, saying, “I just wanted to see you sooner. Otherwise, I’d feel uneasy.”

Hearing that, something felt off to Song Yuhan, but her mind was mostly occupied by thoughts of someone else, so she didn’t dig deeper. She simply nodded and smiled sweetly.

“Alright, I’ll go to my room first and come down later for dinner.”

“Wait, there’s something else.” He stopped her. “The computer at home is pretty old, so I’m taking it to get fixed. Don’t you need it urgently?”

“I have my phone,” she replied.

Song Zhihan nodded, looking at her sweet smile—the kind only a first love could inspire. Yet behind his usually tender eyes, despair and bitterness flickered unnoticed.

What could he do? The little one he cared for seemed to be slipping away to someone else again.

His eyes dimmed as if making a silent resolution.

No, he would never allow it to happen twice.

In the days that followed, Song Zhihan stayed home every day. They shared meals in silence, and his control over Song Yuhan tightened. As a result, she ventured out alone far less.

He arranged an extravagant graduation trip, but insisted she go only with him.

Song Yuhan, obedient as always, didn’t resist. The trip also gave them a chance to visit their adoptive parents, who were busy abroad. Of course, she agreed.

Ironically, the trip was so packed that Song Yuhan would fall asleep as soon as they reached their lodgings. Throughout the journey, she either stayed with Song Zhihan or slept, barely having the energy to check her phone.

Strangely, each time she woke up, she expected to find a flood of missed messages, especially from Lu Sifang.

But there was nothing—not a single message. The emptiness made her uneasy and tremble. She thought maybe she was just being sentimental. Still, keeping her pride, she never reached out to him again.

Unexpectedly, the intense schedule caught up with her, and she fell ill.

Song Zhihan knew she was fragile, something that hadn’t happened on her previous trips.

She needed time to recover. To prevent distraction, Song Zhihan took her phone away, and they extended their stay abroad, delaying their return.

Once she regained some strength, Song Yuhan insisted on going back.

But after all this time, she still hadn’t heard from Lu Sifang. She planned to see him in person to clear things up—words could be lies, but eyes would reveal the truth.

Song Zhihan couldn’t refuse.

Eventually, they returned to Yunsheng, seemingly stuck in the same place. That day happened to be the release day.

Meanwhile, Lu Sifang had been anything but idle. After securing his qualification for Chungking University’s independent enrollment through the dynamic team, he prepared for his confession and anxiously awaited his college entrance exam results. Though he had to sacrifice his preferred major for basketball—a field he wasn’t passionate about—he bore it without complaint.

However, since Song Yuhan’s trip abroad, their communication had dwindled until she stopped responding altogether.

Growing anxious as the confession day neared, Lu Sifang ignored the unanswered messages and nervously sent her one last request—to meet at the Astronomy Museum the next day.

He wanted to call, but didn’t want to disturb her rest before getting her permission, so he resorted to messaging.

After a long wait, she finally replied—just one simple word: “Okay.”

That brief reply lifted Lu Sifang’s spirits immensely.

On the other side, Song Yuhan was completely unaware of his plan, feeling down that she hadn’t heard from him. She fell asleep on the plane with her phone almost slipping from her grasp.

Back home, after washing up, she lay on the bed and opened her chat with Lu Sifang. Their last conversation was before she left, when he wished her well.

She typed, “Have you been busy lately?” but before sending, doubt crept in.

Staring at the words, her eyes blurred and she soon drifted back to sleep without knocking.

Using his status as her brother, Song Zhihan entered her room without permission, quietly approached the bedside, and gazed at her peaceful face with a heavy sadness.

His eyes fell on her phone. Skilled and swift, he opened it and read the unsent message.

He knew her better than anyone.

Seeing what she had typed, his expression darkened, and his grip on the phone tightened. Without hesitation, he deleted the message word by word.

Looking at the blank screen, he smiled with satisfaction, as if wiping away all evidence of her attempts to reach out.

His plan was clear—to keep her too tired to notice, then quietly give her sleep aids so she would miss these so-called important days.

But she got sick instead.

Though distressed, he felt oddly fortunate.

Song Zhihan set the phone down and gently stroked her hair—a touch as soft as when she was a child acting coy.

But when did she start to change?

She no longer depended on him and was turning her attention to others.

He remained in place, waiting for her to return, never changing.

They were meant for each other—the perfect match who saved one another.

How could he stand to see her leave him behind for someone else?

She was simply mistaken.

Song Yuhan slept for a long time. When she finally woke, it was already evening after the college entrance exams.

A strange unease fluttered in her chest, and her eyelids twitched uncontrollably.

She jumped up, sensing something wrong, and searched desperately for her missing phone. After a long, fruitless search, she remembered the computer was still being repaired at home.

Rubbing her eyes, she hurried downstairs and bumped into Song Zhihan, who looked at her with concern.

“Brother, where’s my phone?”

He frowned, his expression stern. “You were looking for it right after you got sick. What’s going on?”

Song Yuhan hesitated, then tried to make an excuse. “Today’s results came out! I haven’t—”

“They’re excellent. No need to check.” He smiled softly. “The admissions office at Chukyo University called me.”

Surprised, Song Yuhan’s eyes filled with tears.

Song Zhihan gently wiped them away. “Why lie to yourself? This was your goal all along. Why cry now that it’s come true?”

She sniffled, still dizzy. “Brother, I want my phone… I want it now!” Her mind was foggy; she couldn’t think of anything else.

His gaze shifted to the dark sky outside as he dodged the question briefly, then finally relented, “Alright.”

Meanwhile, from dawn to dusk, Lu Sifang stood alone under the dim streetlights outside the Astronomy Museum, clutching gifts, drenched and lonely.

The excitement of his exam results had long faded, and the light in his eyes was nearly extinguished.

He had rehearsed his confession countless times, but the contact between them had become so scarce.

He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t shown up after promising yesterday.

No messages, no calls—nothing.

Growing anxious, he called her again, only to hear the cold automated reply: “The phone you are trying to reach is turned off.”

He walked down the nearest street, staring blankly upward, then suddenly collided with her and another man—Song Zhihan.

For a moment, he was frozen, heart pounding, feeling as if his strength had drained away. His phone slipped from his hand and went dark.

He stood there, pupils dilated and mind blank, utterly helpless.

In the pouring rain, Song Zhihan held an umbrella over Song Yuhan, who was crying so hard it seemed her eyelashes might fall off.

He bent down and wiped her tears, his expression full of pain and helplessness.

“There was a typhoon, so the store closed early. It was safer that way…” he explained softly.

Reaching out to touch her head, he caught sight of the drenched figure behind her.

The boy’s carefully styled appearance was ruined by the rain—hair plastered to his face, his expression pitiful and helpless. From a distance, he looked like a stray dog lost in a storm, silent and broken.

Song Zhihan curled his lips in a satisfied smile, triumphant.

This angered Lu Sifang, who snapped out of his daze and tried to confront them.

But Song Zhihan lowered his umbrella first, leaned in, and kissed the crying girl.

Lu Sifang froze, his face paling, unable to move. He could only watch as she left with another man.

“On a good day, you cry so much your eyelashes fall out. Go home first—you’re still sick…” Song Zhihan teased softly as he tucked a stray eyelash on her cheek.

He led her away, but Song Yuhan wanted to look back. Song Zhihan held her firmly.

“Focus on the road.”

Lu Sifang stood there, pale and stunned, watching until the two disappeared.

He collapsed to one knee, the soaked gift box slipping from his grasp.

Only then did he realize—it was raining, and it was cold.

Eventually, he managed to get home, but no one there cared.

Seeing Lu Sifang like that, Lu Xiubin scolded him, “What a joke you are.”

Without registering the words, Lu Sifang dropped the gift box, scattering his carefully chosen presents on the floor. Among them was his exam pass from Zhongjing University, unmistakable.

Lin Shu’s eyes gleamed as he exchanged a knowing glance with Lu Xiubin, who cleared his throat theatrically.

“Just like you—no use going to Chukyo University. Give up. I’ll handle everything. But if you want to learn skateboarding, do it seriously. I won’t stop you. Agree to that, and I’ll send you abroad for advanced training.”

Whether he listened or not, Lu Sifang’s face dripped with rain and despair. Glancing once at the paper on the floor, he silently slipped into his room, muttering one cold word:

“Whatever.”