What If I Ended Up Marrying My Enemy? - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Time Flows

 

After receiving his college acceptance letter, Yu Wenxuan stayed out of town for over two months, only returning a few days before school started.

 

He hadn’t expected to come back from a trip and run into such a heavy rain. The person picking him up hadn’t arrived yet, so he had to find shelter somewhere.

 

Just a few steps up the stairs, Yu Wenxuan spotted someone sitting there—fluffy hair, crouched low, hugging their knees.

 

The kid was wearing a school uniform Yu Wenxuan didn’t recognize. His slender wrists and ankles hinted that he was quite young.

 

…A middle schooler from the area?

 

The person on the phone started asking where he was. Yu Wenxuan scanned the crowd, then walked over, holding his phone.

 

Before he could say anything, the kid suddenly looked up.

 

Caught off guard by the movement, Yu Wenxuan froze. But the boy only glanced at him before quickly looking down again. After a pause, Yu Wenxuan finally asked for directions.

 

He repeated the address into the phone. The person on the other end noticed:
“You asked someone? There’s still people outside in this weather?”

 

Yu Wenxuan glanced back. “Yeah, there’s a kid here.”

 

Only then did Yu Zhixue realize that “the kid” meant him. He caught sight of the man putting away his phone and silently wished he’d go away.

 

But the guy didn’t move, annoyingly persistent.

 

The sound of rain filled the silence again.

 

“You’re crying,” the guy suddenly said.

 

Yu Zhixue reflexively touched his cheek, realized he’d been tricked, and coldly replied, “No, I’m not.”

 

The man seemed unfazed by his denial and continued, “Are you sad?”

 

Yu Zhixue found him truly irritating. “I said I’m not.”

 

“Mm.” The man fell silent.

 

A long while later, Yu Zhixue heard him sigh and say gently, “You’re really crying now.”

 

Thinking it was another trick, Yu Zhixue glanced down—and in that moment, a tear dropped onto his knee. Only then did he realize he really was crying—without even noticing it.

 

But there was no pain.

 

Seeing him fall silent, Yu Wenxuan figured the kid had realized. He leaned against the wall, not turning to look.

 

After all, middle schoolers were prideful. Who knew if this one might bite him out of embarrassment?

 

He probably ran away from home or ditched school. Sitting here alone… looked pretty pitiful.

 

Out of a rare moment of kindness, Yu Wenxuan softened his tone and offered:
“If you’re upset, go home early. Don’t stay here crying alone.”

 

The boy’s voice was scratchy, going through puberty, and he replied off-topic, “How did you know?”

 

Yu Wenxuan answered simply, “I could tell.”

 

Yu Zhixue’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “You didn’t even look at me properly. How could you tell?”

 

Yu Wenxuan paused mid-text, confused. “Does something that obvious really need a closer look?”

 

Does something that obvious really need a closer look?

 

Yu Zhixue’s pupils shrank.

 

He said it was obvious—but no one had noticed for a long time.

 

When Yu Wenxuan first looked up and saw his eyes, they’d been like lakes veiled in mist.

 

Though the kid looked calm on the surface, his unspoken sorrow slowly crept to Yu Wenxuan’s feet.

 

“…Are you local?” Yu Zhixue suddenly asked, changing the subject.

 

Yu Wenxuan debated whether to answer honestly. In the end, he said, “I’m going to college here.”

 

Seeing the kid was a student too, he added casually, “At Jing University. You can come find me someday.”

 

He just meant to motivate the kid—JingU was a prestigious university, after all.

 

Yu Zhixue didn’t expect that kind of answer. He looked up at the older boy.

 

The man still wasn’t facing him. Yu Zhixue stared hard, trying to commit his features to memory.

 

“Is this… considered a promise?” he asked.

 

Yu Zhixue didn’t really understand what a “promise” meant. He’d only heard it in passing.

 

“Hm?” the man responded.

 

He thought kids this age could be a bit stubborn. But give it a few months—they’d forget.

 

So he answered with a soft laugh, “Mm.”

 

…

 

When Yu Zhixue got home, his family had already handled the school incident. By the next day, the kid who harassed him was gone.

 

Everything gradually improved as the weather cleared.

 

Yu Zhixue still couldn’t understand why he’d asked that stranger those questions. Maybe it had just been a moment of impulse.

 

That night, he had a long dream.

 

He was walking alone down a hospital hallway. Though he was grown now, the shadow he cast was still the size of his younger self.

 

The familiar rush of noise returned. Yu Zhixue turned and saw a team of nurses and doctors—panicked faces he remembered all too well.

 

Like always, he followed them back to the ward.

 

But this time, before the icy sting of the needle, he felt warmth.

 

That person—just a fleeting encounter—was squatting beside him, holding his hand, and said to the nurse:
“Please be gentle.”

 

The nurse froze. “Did I hurt you a lot?”

 

Yu Zhixue wanted to say no, but his throat felt choked.

 

Of course you did.

 

So many thoughts swirled in his head, but he couldn’t speak. He could only gasp for air.

 

Then that voice returned, louder than his breathing, saying the words he couldn’t:

 

“It hurts. From the first day I came here, it’s always hurt.”

 

“I hate taking medicine. I hate being alone.”

 

“I really want to leave.”

 

One sentence after another, the voice laid his heart bare. As soon as everything was said, the dream began to collapse—falling, shattering.

 

In the chaos, Yu Zhixue couldn’t even see the stranger’s face clearly. But he reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

 

Time lost all meaning. He looked for what felt like forever. Until—He leaned forward and kissed him.

 

…

 

Children in hospitals weren’t allowed to go out. So his mother would bring storybooks and read to him at his bedside.

 

The stories were always simple.

 

The prince braved countless trials to finally reach the trapped princess. He drew his sword, cut through her chains, and rescued her.

 

In the end, the princess would kiss him.

 

Yu Zhixue asked, eyes closed, “Mama, why does the princess kiss him at the end?”

 

His mother figured he was too young to understand love, so she simplified:
“It’s to thank the prince for saving her.”

 

Yu Zhixue mumbled, “I like this story. Will it happen to me too?”

 

His mother patted his head with a laugh:
“What, you want to go slay monsters and save princesses already? At least wait until you’re grown.”

 

Yu Zhixue fell silent. His mom kissed his forehead and said, “Sleep now, sweetie.”

 

The room fell dark. Not a sound.

 

Yu Zhixue opened his eyes in the silence.

 

He didn’t understand why his mom thought he wanted to be the prince.

 

But he didn’t argue.

 

The prince would slash through all dangers, cut every chain, and take the princess away.

 

If that were really true… could it happen to him, too? Could someone come and say all the things he’d buried deep—and lead him out of the darkness?

 

He clasped his hands together like he was making a wish.

 

—I could thank you with a kiss, too.

 

…

 

When he woke up from that dream, Yu Zhixue finally understood what that rainy day had meant.

 

That unspeakable feeling—now he knew what it was.

 

The grief he’d kept hidden, once seen and named by someone else… made him happy.

 

After all these years, someone finally saw through him—stood by his side, and said:

 

Don’t cry anymore.

 

Yu Zhixue touched his lips.

 

He had long since realized that the kiss in the fairy tale wasn’t just gratitude.

 

So…

 

I think I like someone.

 

…

 

Yu Zhixue’s grandmother’s old house needed repairs, so he went with his parents to help out.

 

The place had an old-fashioned charm, cozy and natural. But after many years, it needed maintenance.

 

One repairman suggested they dig out the yard and build a small manmade pond.

 

The idea was lovely—especially since elderly people loved tending plants. But there was a huge tree in the middle.

 

Not a problem, the man said. They could dig it up and flatten the ground.

 

But the grandmother refused.

 

Yu Zhixue asked his mom why.

 

She replied gently, “Just think of it as… keeping a memory.”

 

That tree they planted in the courtyard marked a long passage of time.

 

Yu Zhixue lowered his eyes, thoughtful.

 

Later during dinner, he spoke up:
“Mom, about my hair…”

 

“You really want to cut it? If you don’t like it later, I’ll take you again, okay?”

 

She assumed he still wanted to shave it like before.

 

But Yu Zhixue set down his chopsticks and said, “No, I don’t want to cut it. I want to grow it out. Is that okay?”

 

His mom let out a breath of relief.
“Of course.”

 

“Not short,” he added seriously.
“I want it long. Like yours.”

 

The sudden idea made his mother pause—but a few seconds later, she smiled gently and said, “Okay.”

 

So Yu Zhixue began to grow out his hair.

 

A year passed. It finally reached the tips of his ears.

 

Standing in front of the mirror, he gently touched the strands near his face.

 

A commemoration… huh?

 

The first time you like someone is worth remembering too.

 

When I see you again, how long will my hair be? Will you be surprised when you see me?

 

But this time, I won’t cry. I won’t lower my head.

 

Yu Zhixue let go of the strand, turned, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

 

With every inch of growing hair, time flows—quietly, and lovingly—toward you.