What If I Ended Up Marrying My Enemy? - Chapter 34
Chapter 34: Forgive
When the new student enrollment at Jing University began, Yu Zhixue asked someone to look into it. The process was surprisingly smooth—because the newly admitted Yu Wenxuan was quite well-known.
He barely had to put in any effort before he found his name and major.
Yu Zhixue stared at his phone and memorized that information.
Because of the illness, he had fallen behind in school. But like a miracle, he quickly caught up. Within just half a year, Yu Zhixue never left the top three of his class.
As senior year approached, the homeroom teacher handed out sticky notes, asking everyone to write down their dream school and stick it on the back wall for motivation.
Yu Zhixue received one too. Without hesitation, he wrote two characters:
—京大 (Jing University).
But instead of placing the note on the wall, he stuck it directly on his desk.
His deskmate saw this and asked curiously, “You’re not going to stick it on the wall? I can help you take it over.”
“No need,” Yu Zhixue replied, eyes downcast. “I don’t need motivation—I’ll get in anyway.”
His tone was so calm and certain that it struck a chord in his deskmate. So this is what it’s like when top students are confident, he thought.
“Do you… really like that school?” he asked, then immediately regretted it. Who doesn’t like the country’s top university? What a dumb question.
Unexpectedly, Yu Zhixue shook his head and said, “I’m going there to find someone.”
High school years were always filled with the love stories of teenagers. His deskmate never imagined Yu Zhixue would be one of them, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Acting on instinct, he asked, “Is it someone you like?”
The classroom was full of noise as students chatted excitedly about their futures. Amid the chaos, Yu Zhixue nodded and softly said, “Mm.”
The college entrance exam went smoothly. Three months later, Yu Zhixue finally arrived at the day he would leave for school.
His mom wanted to see him off, but he refused. “I can go by myself.”
“Isn’t it inconvenient to go alone?” she asked.
“It’s fine.” Yu Zhixue curved his eyes into a smile, as if remembering something. He laughed lightly, “There’s someone I know there.”
Seeing the smile on his face, his mother couldn’t say anything else.
…
Dragging his suitcase, Yu Zhixue finally arrived at Jing University’s front gate. He was good-looking, so many people offered to help along the way, but he turned them all down.
Two years had passed—he had come, just like he said he would.
He walked a little further and casually glanced over… only to see a familiar figure sitting under a tent in the distance.
Yu Zhixue’s grip on his suitcase tightened slightly. He paused for a moment, then slowly walked over.
The lowered face in front of him had changed a little since that rainy day he’d committed to memory.
Lowering his gaze, Yu Zhixue carefully looked at the person in front of him—like he was updating the image in his mind.
After staring for a while, he finally heard the person say, “Need any help?”
Yu Zhixue could tell he had been recruited to help new students move in. He nodded and said, “I’m lost.”
Just like that rainy day when he’d asked why he was sad, Yu Wenxuan stood up and gently said, “Let me take your luggage.”
Yu Zhixue wasn’t fond of people touching his things, but it depended on who it was. He hesitated for a second, then handed over the suitcase.
Along the way, Yu Wenxuan kept trying to chat.
But Yu Zhixue was so immersed in the emotion of seeing him again that he didn’t notice how unfamiliar his tone had become.
They walked together all the way to the dormitory. At the door, Yu Wenxuan turned around and looked at him. “Are you always this honest when you talk to people you’ve just met?”
It was a calm question—but to Yu Zhixue, it hit like thunder. His body suddenly felt cold again, and his hanging hand trembled slightly.
It was like his body and mind were disconnected. Even breathing became difficult. But he still heard himself speak.
“…First time?”
…
Still unwilling to believe it, Yu Zhixue asked around indirectly—but every answer only made it worse.
It wasn’t amnesia. It wasn’t mistaken identity.
Yu Wenxuan had simply forgotten.
He remembered the weather that day, remembered the school uniform he glimpsed, and even what his friend said on the phone.
But he forgot one person.
It made sense. Just a stranger he met on a rainy day, just a promise made to a kid. Why would Yu Wenxuan remember?
He only remembered what he wanted to remember.
On an ordinary day, in the flood of countless information, Yu Zhixue was the one left out—the chosen forgettable one.
Yu Zhixue clutched his now-shoulder-length hair and suddenly understood what adults meant by “life is unpredictable.” He bent down and let out a laugh—but it was choked with tears.
It all seemed so absurd.
After that, he never went looking for Yu Wenxuan again. He only caught sight of him once during an interview.
The next time they met, his feelings were completely different from that day at the school gate. He was no longer happy—only overwhelmed with sorrow and confusion.
A few days into joining the student organization, he was asked by the vice president to deliver documents to an office.
It was already late. The floor was mostly empty, and his footsteps echoed loudly.
Someone had left the office door ajar, so Yu Zhixue stepped right in.
Inside was only one person, passed out asleep at a desk—exhausted.
It was Yu Wenxuan.
Now, it was just the two of them in the room.
Yu Zhixue thought about leaving quietly, but couldn’t move his feet. After a couple seconds, he gave in and walked closer.
Worried about waking him, he placed the documents down gently.
His pale hand rested on the edge of the table. After a moment, he leaned down. The only sound was the soft rustle of his clothes.
He had tormented himself for a while, trying to understand Yu Wenxuan’s thinking.
He probably thought he was just a kid—that he would forget everything soon enough.
But Yu Wenxuan never expected things to turn out this way. Yu Zhixue let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.
I’m not a child. And I didn’t forget.
You’re the one who forgot.
He looked at Yu Wenxuan’s peacefully closed eyes, leaned closer, and whispered, barely audible:
“I hate you.”
Outside, the autumn leaves rustled as Yu Zhixue said this contradiction aloud.
Yu Wenxuan stirred as if disturbed, and asked sleepily what he’d said.
Yu Zhixue lied.
He wanted to leave, but deep down he wished Yu Wenxuan would see through that lie.
Can you still see my heart, like you did back then?
But Yu Wenxuan didn’t ask again.
It was then that Yu Zhixue realized: maybe he hadn’t grown up after all.
He was helpless, heartbroken, and began to deliberately distance himself from Yu Wenxuan—to avoid him, hoping it would make things easier.
Like a child throwing a tantrum, hoping someone would come and coax him. But no one did.
Half a year passed quietly.
Then, in an unexpected hallway encounter, Yu Zhixue saw Yu Wenxuan again. As they brushed shoulders, Yu Wenxuan called out to him.
He asked, “Why do you suddenly hate me?”
Yu Zhixue replied, “Why would you think that?”
Hate wasn’t quite the right word. If he had to say something…
I just think it’s unfair.
If you don’t remember all of this, then I don’t want to remember either.
…
Among Yu Zhixue’s few confidants, only Yu Meng knew a bit about what had happened.
Seeing him spacing out in the garden with an unusually blank expression, she asked what was wrong and finally heard the story.
After she finished listening, she was uncharacteristically silent before she asked, “Do you want to cut your hair?”
Yu Zhixue replied, “I don’t know.”
Yu Meng looked at him calmly and asked pointedly, “Is it because you’re used to it, or because you still like him?”
His expression stiffened. He echoed her words numbly: “I don’t know.”
He really didn’t know. So later, he even tried to go cut it.
But he couldn’t do it.
Every time he stood in front of the mirror, he hesitated. He ran away.
It was as if his body was saying: I refuse.
Maybe Yu Meng was right. Maybe it was both reasons.
He couldn’t bring himself to cut it short—or to cut off his feelings.
As the strands of hair grew longer, it felt like they were wrapping around his heart. Yu Zhixue calmly watched it spread—but he was powerless.
When this stubbornness finally began to fade with time, Yu Zhixue was finally able to look back.
He thought he’d just thrown a childish tantrum—but when he came to his senses, he realized he and Yu Wenxuan had grown very far apart.
In between them now were countless strangers, and unspoken words.
And so, in the two years that followed, he never got another chance to catch him again.
…
When talking about the past, Yu Zhixue spoke very slowly—his sentences were broken, sometimes pausing to take deep breaths as if it pained him.
Piece by piece, he laid out the time he had endured alone.
Several times, seeing how much pain he was in, Yu Wenxuan wanted to interrupt him. But each time, Yu Zhixue stopped him.
He didn’t stop speaking.
Instead, he said, “Can you hold me?”
So Yu Wenxuan held him—held him tightly, until Yu Zhixue’s final words dropped to silence.
All the years of misunderstanding between them finally became clear.
Yu Wenxuan’s arms around his waist were tight—like he was trying to embed him into his body. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but Yu Zhixue found unexpected peace in it. He finally calmed down.
No matter what happened before, at least now I can feel your warmth.
Yu Wenxuan reached out to touch his cheek and the corner of his eye. Yu Zhixue could feel his hand trembling.
“…I’m sorry,” he said.
Yu Zhixue placed his hand over Yu Wenxuan’s and gently said:
“I used to wonder… when you finally remembered everything, and saw me again—would you cry for me?”
Yu Wenxuan’s voice was hoarse as he let out a small laugh.
The next second, something hot dropped onto Yu Zhixue’s hand.
A tear.
Yu Wenxuan said, “I’m crying now.”
It was the first time Yu Zhixue had seen him cry—and the reason for the tears… was him.
He wiped away that tear and said to Yu Wenxuan,
“I forgive you now.”