Be Strong
“No, I’m not telling you two to come here,” Su Mingyu hurriedly explained into the phone. “Something came up over here. No, Suisui’s fine. I’m hanging up now.”
He ended the call, clenched his jaw, and strode forward. Grabbing his younger brother by the collar, he pulled him behind him and demanded of Gu Yilan, “What do you think you’re doing?”
The man’s thin lips parted, but before he could speak, the younger brother jumped in to defend him. “He wasn’t doing anything.”
Su Mingyu looked at his brother, who was clearly taking someone else’s side, and his anger flared.
Enough was enough.
Right there in front of someone else, he pinched his brother’s ear and lowered his voice in warning. “What did I tell you before? Did it all go in one ear and out the other? Hm?”
Su Zesui winced and clutched his ear. “N-no…”
“Relax, he just took a look.” Gu Yilan brushed away the hand causing the boy pain and, in passing, rubbed Su Zesui’s ear.
Su Mingyu could only watch as his brother’s ear turned an even deeper shade of red under the man’s touch. “Stay away from my brother,” he said, exasperated.
Fortunately, Gu Yilan had only meant to offer a gentlemanly reassurance. After the quick rub, he did nothing else.
“Farther,” Su Mingyu repeated through gritted teeth.
Gu Yilan stepped back half a pace.
“Today, I’m his big brother, and I’m taking him to see the doctor,” Su Mingyu said. “You can come along, but just stand back and act as my brother’s bodyguard.”
Gu Yilan took no offense. Looking at Su Zesui, he smiled. “Alright.”
When his brother made a move to run to Gu Yilan’s side again, Su Mingyu blocked him with an arm and said firmly, “You—keep your distance from the bodyguard.”
Su Zesui stopped mid-step and lowered his head. “Okay…”
He didn’t know why, but even though they had only been apart since yesterday, it felt like three long autumns had passed. He wanted nothing more than to stick close to him all the time—better yet, to be held.
But Su Mingyu wouldn’t give him the chance.
“You’re in the passenger seat. The bodyguard sits in the back,” Su Mingyu ordered as he opened the car door, making sure his younger brother slumped into the correct seat.
In the passenger seat, Su Zesui swung his legs idly, watched the scenery for a while, then habitually snuck glances at the driver.
Seeing Su Mingyu at the wheel made him freeze for a moment before realizing—of course, his own brother was driving. He stiffly turned his head back toward the window and resumed counting the identical trees along the highway.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed.
[11th Dimension: Still scared?]
Su Zesui’s eyes lit up as he quickly typed back:
[(o^^o): Scared (bunny trembling.jpg)]
[(o^^o): The smell of disinfectant is awful. It really scares me.]
[11th Dimension: I’ll be right behind you the whole time. If you get scared, just turn around and you’ll see me.]
[(o^^o): Then I’ll want a hug.]
. . . . .
Su Mingyu drove on, his expression cold, listening as his brother’s phone buzzed once—followed immediately by the man’s phone buzzing in the back seat.
The sound of a “buzz” came, then another “buzz” went. What the two of them were doing needed no cover-up—it was obvious without a word.
Su Mingyu: …
——Do they think I’m dead?
He pretended to be deaf all the way until Gu Yilan let out a small chuckle, at which point he could no longer hold back. Glancing sideways, he said coldly to his brother, “Using your phone in the car will make you carsick. Put it away.”
Su Zesui froze mid-typing and pouted.
Normally, being scolded meant apologizing and complying—otherwise the tension could escalate, and he might even get smacked. But this time he felt wronged, so he didn’t want to speak.
Before he could decide, Gu Yilan in the back smoothly put away his own phone and said for him, “Sorry. We won’t.”
His voice was calm, flat, completely devoid of any real remorse—like someone blandly asking, “Are you still alive?”—and that soft, effortless reply neatly brushed off Su Mingyu’s warning.
Su Mingyu: …
——These two are going to be the death of me.
After exiting the highway, Su Mingyu drove into the hospital’s underground parking lot.
Even though he had forced his brother to come to the hospital, his heart was still full of worry and concern.
“Feeling dizzy?” he asked.
Su Zesui lifted a hand to test his forehead’s temperature, then shook his head. “No.”
“When we get out, don’t run off. Stay close to me,” Su Mingyu instructed.
Almost reflexively, Su Zesui looked toward Gu Yilan. When he saw the man give a slight nod, he obediently replied to his brother, “Okay.”
Although he had agreed readily enough, the moment Su Zesui caught sight of the hospital’s stark white building, his eyes widened in shock.
A wave of suffocating familiarity crashed over him, flooding his mind with countless flashing images. It felt as if invisible hands were tightening around his throat. His knees went weak, and he nearly collapsed right there.
Fortunately, he was standing close to Su Mingyu, who caught him just in time and kept him from hitting the ground.
“No,” Su Zesui muttered, unwilling to go inside. He turned to Gu Yilan with a pitiful expression, stretching out his arms. “Carry me.”
“Stand up straight.” Su Mingyu grabbed the boy and firmly pushed his arms back down to his sides. “How old are you now? Today, you’re walking in on your own.”
“Close your eyes, breathe out,” Gu Yilan said as he approached quickly, his tone calm and steady. “Slow your breathing.”
Following the man’s instructions eased the tightness in Su Zesui’s chest, though his voice still trembled as he pleaded, “Can’t… can’t we not go?”
“No.” Su Mingyu’s reply was flat. “Can you promise you’ll never set foot in a hospital for the rest of your life?”
Left with no choice, Su Zesui forced his weak, trembling legs to move. Step by small step, he shuffled toward the hospital, each one making the weight on his heart feel heavier.
He wanted to go home. To bury his face in that warm chest and be like an ostrich, hiding from the world, caring about nothing.
On their way to the psychiatric wing, they crossed a glass-walled hospital corridor.
The moment he stepped onto it, Su Zesui’s entire demeanor shifted.
Outside the glass, the sun blazed down on a bustling crowd—bright, vivid, and undeniably real. But in his mind, the scene didn’t match. It shouldn’t look like that.
——…So what should it look like?
The world outside should have been locked in winter, snow falling thick and heavy.
He should have been pushed along that endless glass corridor, passing lush green plants, staring blankly at the distant blue sky and white clouds. His hand should have had an IV needle in it, his body wrapped in a blanket despite the heating inside—yet still trembling with a deep, bone-chilling cold.
Like passing through a gateway to death.
. . . . .
Su Mingyu saw his younger brother suddenly shudder, then start collapsing straight toward the ground.
He reached out at once to catch him.
Earlier, Su Zesui’s legs had only been weak, threatening to give way. But now, it was as if he was actively forcing himself downward—like he wouldn’t stop until his knees slammed hard against the floor.
With one hand holding the registration slip, Su Mingyu found himself struggling to hold him up.
In his daze, Su Zesui wasn’t even aware he was pushing down with all his strength. All he knew was that something monstrous from the depths of hell was clawing at his legs, trying to drag him into a frozen abyss.
And then, in that desperate moment, a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, lifting him high—out of the monster’s reach.
The next instant, he was in the warm embrace he had longed for in countless dreams.
“Wuu…” Su Zesui squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face firmly against the man’s chest, holding him tightly and soaking in the heat radiating from his body. Once again, that sense of safety wrapped around him.
Gu Yilan patted the boy’s back. “Breathe.”
The man’s voice was firm and steady, striking Su Zesui’s eardrums and jolting a thread of awareness back into him. Only then did he realize he had been holding his breath without knowing it, his cheeks flushed bright red.
“Huu— huu—”
Su Mingyu, startled by his condition, quickly came closer to comfort him. “Suisui, don’t be scared. This hospital uses odorless disinfectants—there’s no smell of antiseptic here. Try sniffing.”
Su Zesui twitched his nose.
Sure enough, there wasn’t a trace of that sharp disinfectant smell in the air—only a faint floral scent.
Meanwhile, under the man’s gentle pats, his stiff back gradually loosened. He whispered, “Scared.”
Su Mingyu reached out to feel his brother’s forehead, muttering to himself, “Why is it this bad now…”
Getting no response, Su Zesui repeated in a soft, wilted voice, “Want to go home.”
Su Mingyu frowned, weighing the possibility of leaving. He exchanged a glance with Gu Yilan, who was still holding his brother.
He had assumed that, with Gu Yilan’s usual bottomless indulgence toward Su Zesui, seeing him this frightened would have made him insist on taking him home immediately.
Truth be told, seeing his brother like this hurt his heart as well. Desensitization therapy could be restarted at any time—there was no rush—and an appointment with the specialist could always be rescheduled.
But to his surprise, the man only ruffled Su Zesui’s hair. He didn’t suggest leaving. Instead, he said, “Be strong.”
Su Zesui’s eyes reddened, and he buried his face against the man’s neck without a word, leaving only the back of his fluffy head visible.
“When we’re done here, you can move back to my place tonight,” Gu Yilan said, shifting the boy’s attention.
Seeing this, Su Mingyu also stepped forward and added, “Yes, I’ve agreed to it. Just hold on a bit longer, alright?”
Su Zesui murmured into the man’s neck, echoing his words: “Be strong.”
Gu Yilan adjusted his hold on the boy’s legs, walking with a steady, unhurried pace as if carrying no weight at all. “Mm. Good boy.”
The psychiatric wing was far from the hospital entrance. With his eyes closed, Su Zesui made it past the long corridor, and his emotions gradually settled.
The man’s arms were warm and steady. His chest rose and fell with each heartbeat, and the heat, softened by muscle and a thin shirt, seeped into Su Zesui’s body, warming him from skin to heart.
Gu Yilan’s stride was smooth and sure—there was hardly any jolt to his steps. But suddenly, a thought struck Su Zesui, and he struggled to get down. “Does it hurt? I—I can walk.”
“It doesn’t hurt if you don’t move,” Gu Yilan replied.
At that, Su Zesui immediately froze and stopped struggling.
By the time they reached the psychiatric wing, the specialist was already waiting at the door.
Su Mingyu had briefed him in advance about the young patient’s condition, so when the doctor saw the boy being carried in, he wasn’t surprised. Instead, he nodded. “We also have a psychologist assisting with treatment, and they’re already inside.”
Hearing the stranger’s voice, Su Zesui clung tighter to the man’s neck, making it clear he had no intention of getting down or talking to any doctor—no matter what.
“Your brother can’t breathe,” Gu Yilan said.
Only then did Su Zesui loosen his hold on the man’s neck.
The doctor turned to Su Mingyu, the one who had made the appointment. “From his file, he’s already an adult, correct? We may need to speak with him alone for a while. Could I trouble you to wait outside?”
Su Mingyu nodded, softening his tone to coax his brother. “Suisui, come down now.”
But Su Zesui shook his head hard. “No—don’t leave me.”
Having worked in medicine for decades, the doctor had seen all sorts of patients with mental or psychological conditions, and he understood well the importance of earning their trust.
He extended his hand to the boy with a kind smile. “Hello, I’m Dr. Liu. What’s your name? Would you like to talk with me?”
But the boy continued to play ostrich, his soft voice politely refusing. “S-sorry, I already have a good brother. I don’t want to talk to you.”
It was a line Mr. Gu had taught him back at the university cafeteria—one he always used online whenever strangers tried to add him as a friend. It worked like a charm. Most people left him alone as soon as they heard it.
This time, it worked just as well. As soon as he finished speaking, the three people in front of him fell into a deathly silence.
But in the end, it was still Gu Yilan’s simple line—“I’ll be waiting outside for you the whole time”—that coaxed Su Zesui into stepping into the consultation room.
The moment Su Zesui left, Su Mingyu sharply turned his head toward Gu Yilan, his expression practically screaming, “What have you been teaching my little brother?”
“He’s been led astray again,” Su Mingyu said with a deeply troubled face as he sat down on a chair outside the consultation room. “From now on, please don’t say nonsense in front of him. I’m begging you.”
Gu Yilan also sat down, but instead of responding to the plea, he abruptly asked, “Has he ever received MECT treatment before?”
The question hit Su Mingyu like a thunderclap, shaking loose memories from the past.
He froze for a moment, then turned his stiff neck toward Gu Yilan. “How… do you know that?”
“I guessed,” Gu Yilan replied. “But he didn’t tell me—probably forgot.”
“He didn’t lie to you. He has forgotten a lot,” Su Mingyu said, raising a hand to half-cover his face and tapping his temple with his index finger. “Back when he had that accident at your family’s racing club, he hit his head.”
Rather than dwell on the memory loss, Gu Yilan pressed on with the earlier topic. “Why did you use MECT on him?”
MECT—Magnetic Convulsive Therapy—is used for patients who don’t respond to conventional treatment or can’t tolerate other methods, especially those with severe and persistent mental disorders.
It comes with many side effects, and the process is difficult to endure.
Su Mingyu let out a long sigh, as if sinking into painful memories. After a long silence, he finally said, “It’s my fault. I was too busy to give him the attention he needed.”
“How so?” Gu Yilan asked.
Running his hands through his hair, Su Mingyu lowered his voice. “You’ve seen… news reports about school bullying, right?”
Gu Yilan’s brows furrowed, and the hand rubbing his fingertips froze mid-motion.
“He was a victim too,” Su Mingyu said. “In middle school, he accidentally walked in on two classmates who were dating, doing inappropriate things on campus. Those two spoiled brats came from rich families. Afraid their parents would find out, they started threatening him, playing nasty pranks, beating him… pouring all their malice onto him. They even forbade him from telling any teachers or his parents.”
Su Mingyu’s voice caught, but the hatred in his eyes was unmistakable. “They bullied the weak and feared the strong. They got other classmates to join in, crushing him mentally. At that time, his parents and I were all away from home, so we didn’t even realize he was being bullied.”
Then Su Mingyu suddenly asked, “Have you seen the scars on his arm?”
Gu Yilan’s gaze sharpened.
He had seen them—or rather, Su Zesui had once shown them to him.
The boy had told him it was because two classmates insisted on playing with him and tricked him into thinking an outdoor ‘adventure’ was perfectly safe. That accident had injured his arm, which was why he hated liars so much.
“Those two brats tricked him into the gym where there were no cameras, locked the door, and poured boiling water from a thermos all over his arm. The entire arm was badly burned. Even after scar-removal treatments, there are still marks.”
Years later, Su Mingyu was still shaking with rage as he spoke.
Gu Yilan was silent for a long moment before asking, “He didn’t tell you?”
“No. We thought the housekeeper was taking good care of him. We were so busy that we hardly reached out to him. He had a mental breakdown, was trapped in that dark place, thinking about dying every day, and had no energy to talk to his family.”
Turning to Gu Yilan, Su Mingyu said, “Alright, stop staring at that door like you’re about to storm in and kill someone. He’s already recovered. He can stand on his own now. Those brats all got what they deserved.”
Gu Yilan’s voice was hoarse, his gaze still locked on the door. “Recovered?”
“Depression, bipolar disorder…”
Su Mingyu hesitated, then added vaguely, “And a few other mental health issues. After a long hospital stay, most of them were treated, but there are lingering aftereffects. He’s terrified of hospitals, and the smell of disinfectant triggers him, because for him, it always means another painful treatment. You could call it a form of PTSD.”
“Can I go in?” Gu Yilan asked.
The consultation room door was soundproof to protect patient privacy; from outside, you couldn’t hear anything inside.
“Trust him this time,” Su Mingyu said. “You’ve been through something similar—you know how important exposure therapy is for him. You can’t shield him forever.”
At last, Gu Yilan looked away from the door and gave a muffled “Mm.”
“Besides, even if you went in, what would you do? Help him answer the questions? Or put him on your lap, comfort him, and coax him into answering?” Su Mingyu said. “After he hit his head at the club, some of his old conditions started showing signs of relapse. This is the perfect chance for more exposure therapy.”
Gu Yilan’s frown deepened.
“But honestly,” Su Mingyu sighed, “for him to get to where he is now, he’s already been incredibly strong. Sure, he’s got a bit of a temper and doesn’t like school much, but we’re not expecting him to be a top achiever. As long as he’s healthy and alive, that’s enough…”
Before he could finish, crying suddenly came from the consultation room.
It was Su Zesui’s soft, easily recognizable voice.
But this time, it wasn’t the quiet, muffled crying of a small wounded animal—it was heart-wrenching, unrestrained sobbing, the kind that tore at the listener’s chest.
Su Mingyu froze in confusion. Before he could react, the man beside him shot to his feet, slammed his hand on the doorknob, and with a loud bang, kicked the consultation room door open.