What If I Ended Up Marrying My Enemy? - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: The Child

 

After those words fell with heavy finality, Yu Zhixue couldn’t say anything in response.

 

After so many years, Yu Wenxuan asked the same question again:
“Why did you suddenly start hating me back then?”

 

A long time passed, yet Yu Zhixue still couldn’t answer.

 

In the quiet room, even the sound of breathing felt especially loud. His breathing was muffled and low, and Yu Wenxuan finally realized that something was off with Yu Zhixue’s breathing pattern.

 

He pulled him over and turned him around—only to see Yu Zhixue was crying.

 

His tears weren’t falling drop by drop. Instead, they slowly overflowed from his eyes, sliding down his cheeks.

 

Yu Wenxuan asked, “Why are you crying?”

 

He shouldn’t have said all that. It was all in the past now—no need to bring it up again and make Yu Zhixue sad.

 

Only after Yu Wenxuan pointed it out did Yu Zhixue lift a hand to touch his eyelids, feeling the dampness there.

 

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until now. The tears had fallen unconsciously.

 

Yu Zhixue suddenly realized—he hadn’t cried this unknowingly in a very long time.

 

That question Yu Wenxuan asked, even after all this time, still conjured the scene from back then vividly. It wasn’t just a question that had been stuck in Yu Wenxuan’s heart—it was also a lingering thorn in Yu Zhixue’s own chest.

 

The last time they met, Yu Meng had asked him: Why haven’t you told Yu Wenxuan everything yet? What are you hesitating about?

 

Back then, Yu Zhixue had answered: Because I haven’t forgiven him yet.

 

He loved Yu Wenxuan deeply and wanted to be with him for a long, long time.

 

But those past wounds that had scabbed over—he still wanted Yu Wenxuan to rediscover them on his own.

 

If you had to call it something, it was probably a kind of youthful stubbornness.

 

But now, his thinking suddenly changed. Maybe it was because, after hearing everything Yu Wenxuan said earlier, he suddenly realized—So back then, when we brushed past each other, you felt reluctant too.

 

Yu Zhixue buried his head into Yu Wenxuan’s neck. The dampness that landed on his skin blurred the line between breath and tears.

 

And this time, it finally wasn’t just a “misunderstanding.”
Yu Zhixue opened his mouth and answered, “Because you said… that was our first time meeting.”

 

His hand gripped a bit of Yu Wenxuan’s black hair at the back of his head. He gave a barely perceptible laugh, but it felt more like grief.

 

“You once said it was a pity you never got to see me wearing my high school uniform.”

 

Yu Zhixue’s voice was soft, like mist.
“But you’ve actually seen it before.”

 

…

 

Hospitals were always a pale, washed-out place. After spending too much time inside, it felt like even your ability to distinguish colors faded.

 

Even the people who came and went were silent—just whispering a few words before quickly leaving, afraid to disturb the child lying in the hospital bed.

 

When Yu Zhixue opened his eyes, the first thing that returned wasn’t his sight—but the familiar scent of disinfectant.

 

He reached out to touch the nearby wall, feeling its cold surface. His pale fingertips looked like they could blend into it.

 

He didn’t even know how long he had stayed here.

 

A nurse, seeing he was awake, came over with a tray, hung the IV bag, and prepared the needle.

 

Yu Zhixue instinctively held out his hand. Pain spread across the back of it as the needle went in, but he only frowned a little—he didn’t cry, didn’t resist.

 

The nurse adjusted the drip rate a little slower and sighed in relief.

 

Compared to other kids who cried and thrashed during injections, this delicate child in bed was so much more quiet. Every time she had to inject him, it saved her a lot of trouble.

 

But sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder—why is he so quiet?

 

After the nurse left, Yu Zhixue’s mother came over and hugged him, carefully avoiding his left hand.
“Does it hurt, baby? I asked your dad to buy your favorite snacks.”

 

Yu Zhixue used his free hand to pat her back, burying himself into her embrace.
“Mommy, it doesn’t hurt.”

 

…But that wasn’t true.
It really hurt.

 

The medication dripped through the needle into his vein, a chill crawling up his throat and making his bl00d feel frozen.

 

Still, he kept his eyes down and comforted his mother who was holding him.

 

The first time he came to this place, he hadn’t realized what it all meant.

 

When he first felt the pain in his hand, he burst into tears, crying loudly and kicking out in panic. He couldn’t breathe properly between sobs.

 

Doctors rushed in and held down his hand.

 

That’s when Yu Zhixue finally understood—he must be sick.

 

But he was still too young to understand the medical terms. All he could gather from the adults’ expressions was that it must be something very bad.

 

The medicine was bitter, the bruises on his hands never faded, and every time he saw a nurse approaching, he’d turn over in bed and silently resist.

 

When he couldn’t avoid it, he’d blink away tears, red-rimmed eyes welling up.

 

After spending time in the hospital, he learned to recognize the patterns of when he’d get injections or medicine. One day, he took advantage of a chance and ran out.

 

But the hallways were no better than the ward—just as empty.

 

He didn’t dare stop in one place for long, afraid of being found, so he wandered around the floor.

 

Eventually, at the far end, young Yu Zhixue heard familiar voices.

 

On a bench outside a hospital room sat his parents.

 

His mother was silently crying, hands covering her face, tears soaking her shirt without making a sound. His father held her tightly, lips trembling without saying a word, his eyes shimmering with tears.

 

Yu Zhixue didn’t even remember how he got back to his room. His memory served him well—he retraced his steps.

 

The medical staff had been frantic searching for him. The moment they saw him, they quickly carried him back.

 

Unlike his usual resistance, Yu Zhixue was unusually quiet.

 

To this day, he still didn’t know what illness he had or why he had to stay there.
But he’d learned one thing:

 

Because of his illness, others were suffering too.

 

Even when he tried to stay calm, when the pain came again, he couldn’t hold back the tears.

 

The nurse finished tidying up and gently stroked his head.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Next time, big sis will bring you candy.”

 

Yu Zhixue wiped away his tears with his small hand and said with a choked voice,
“Next time, I won’t cry.”

 

The nurse just thought he was embarrassed and didn’t think too much of it.

 

But next time, though his eyes were filled with tears, he didn’t let them fall.

 

And after that—he really never cried again.

 

For years after, he had to spend a few months each year in the hospital. No matter how much time passed, Yu Zhixue still felt the pain—but he never showed it again.

 

The turning point came in his first year of high school.

 

His condition was finally treatable. A successful surgery would mean he wouldn’t need to return to the hospital anymore.

 

To prepare for the operation, his hair had to be shaved. He wore a knitted hat.

 

The surgery went well, and after a few weeks of recovery, he could return to normal life—go back to school.

 

His hair had started to grow back, but it looked messy. He thought about cutting it all short but was stopped by his mother.

 

So he put the hat back on.

 

It was already cold then, so walking around with a hat didn’t seem out of place. But inside the classroom, it was different.

 

This school was full of privileged students. The classrooms were fully equipped—with heating, of course.

 

As students looked over at him, Yu Zhixue’s pale fingers gripped his pen tightly.

 

He sat straight in his uniform, wearing the hat, eyes trembling slightly as he looked down at the test paper. His profile was beautiful.

 

Behind him, a boy who thought he was funny stared at him. When he heard a new student was transferring in, he had joked about it.

 

He jabbed at the transfer student’s back with mockery.
“There’s heating. Why are you wearing a hat? Got something to hide?”

 

Yu Zhixue didn’t respond.

 

The boy, not giving up, waited for the right moment and suddenly pulled off his hat.

 

When he saw the hair underneath, he laughed like he’d found a treasure, grabbing his buddy.
“Holy crap, thank god he wore that hat. If I sat behind that all day, I’d probably vomit.”

 

His friends laughed with him.
“I thought he was pretending to be cool. Turns out he’s just too ugly to show his face—”

 

Their noise drew attention. Everyone turned to look.

 

Still, Yu Zhixue showed no reaction.
He just reached out and said, “Give me back my hat.”

 

“What if I don’t?” the boy sneered.
“Sick freak.”

 

His answer wasn’t words—but pain.

 

Yu Zhixue stared at him for two seconds, then silently picked up a chair beside him and smashed it into him.

 

Cold. Decisive. Without even blinking.

 

The boy screamed in agony on the floor, flailing like a dying fish.

 

No one dared stop Yu Zhixue as he approached—not even his friend, who had been egging him on.

 

Yu Zhixue crouched down, picked up his hat, brushed the dust off, and stood up. He then kicked him squarely in the chest again.

 

It was no longer a petty squabble—teachers quickly arrived, the scene escalating.

 

They grabbed Yu Zhixue’s arm, demanding an explanation.

 

The noise was overwhelming.

 

Yu Zhixue brushed their hands off and calmly gave a phone number.
“You can talk to my parents.”

 

Then he left.

 

He dusted off his hat and walked out the school gate, claiming to be sick.

 

He hadn’t gone far before the sky turned dark, and the wind began to howl—a storm was coming.

 

Soon the rain came pouring down, scattering the crowds.

 

He wandered randomly until he ended up sitting on the steps of a closed shop in a narrow alley.

 

The step dipped slightly, and Yu Zhixue sat there hugging his knees, his hat covering him, eyes lowered.

 

He wasn’t really doing anything—just listening to the sound of people’s footsteps echoing in the rain.

 

The shop owner had left a wind chime hanging by the door, and the wind slammed it violently against the frame, like it would break any second.

 

As it clinked noisily, Yu Zhixue lifted his eyes to look.

 

But what he saw wasn’t the wind chime—but a boy in a raincoat standing before him.

 

His eyes were sharp, his bangs still dripping with water. He was holding a phone and looked older than Yu Zhixue.

 

Yu Zhixue instinctively pulled his hat down tighter.

 

The boy didn’t seem to expect that. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react. After a while, he gripped his phone and asked, “Excuse me, where is this place?”

 

Yu Zhixue’s voice was cold as he gave the name of the location—and said nothing else.

 

The boy repeated it into the phone.
Yu Zhixue heard him.

 

The storm and the clattering wind chime suddenly felt a little quieter.

 

The person on the other end seemed to say something, and the boy looked at Yu Zhixue again—then quickly looked away.

 

“Yeah,” he said.

 

“There’s a kid here.”