Safe and Sound (2/2)
After this scare, Su Zesui cherished every moment in this world even more, facing his moderate fever head-on, actively building his resilience, and living each day earnestly.
He didn’t go live again, but that night, as his fever slightly receded, he sent a reassuring message to his followers.
“Tomorrow I have to go register at school.” Sitting cross-legged on the bed with an ice pack on his head, Su Zesui checked his schedule on his phone.
“If there’s a special situation, you can take leave. I’ll have someone help you register,” Gu Yilan said, taking the thermometer the boy handed him to check his temperature.
The moderate fever didn’t stop Su Zesui from moving, but it was stubborn. No matter the medicine, ice packs, or rest, each morning his temperature read exactly the same.
And tomorrow he had an unavoidable academic conference, so he might not be able to wait for him at the school entrance.
“It’s okay, just a little dizzy. I can handle it.”
Seeing Gu Yilan frown in thought, Su Zesui reassured him, “Don’t worry. Maybe in a few days, it’ll go down on its own, like before.”
For some reason, seeing the boy’s optimism gave Gu Yilan a bad premonition.
It was as if some fated, ferocious beast was approaching them. They couldn’t see it, but they could hear the crunch of dry leaves under its steps.
The calm they displayed now was only a mask, forced to comfort each other despite their worries.
All words of reassurance felt hollow. Gu Yilan could only say, “The driver will wait for you at the gate. I’ll pick you up at noon after school. If you feel unwell, call me.”
Su Zesui nodded. “I’m fine. I was just thinking—registration only takes a few hours. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll go live! I want to chat with them; they keep asking about us every day.”
His tone betrayed his excitement, clearly buoyed by the overwhelmingly positive energy from online attention.
Gu Yilan raised an eyebrow. “What about me? Should I appear on camera?”
Su Zesui looked at him and laughed, “They’ve already dug up a lot of your photos. They know what you look like.”
The boy rarely went online and lacked awareness of privacy issues. He only saw the praise and didn’t realize that this could be problematic.
Gu Yilan, used to being discussed online, didn’t care. He even teased, “Hmm? But they probably don’t have any pictures of me kissing you. I’ll show them that someday.”
Su Zesui rubbed his flushed cheeks, puffed them out, and muttered, “Even hotter now.”
Smiling, Gu Yilan changed the topic. “Tomorrow’s time is for your fans. The day after, I’ll take you to see houses. I’ve picked out the neighborhood and layouts—see if you like any style. We’ll move soon.”
“Wow.” Su Zesui clapped his hands.
Although this villa held most of his memories with Mr. Gu, it had always been overshadowed by the presence of Mr. Gu’s parents.
Once they moved out, Gu Yilan could finally break free from the chains of the past and start a brand-new chapter of life with him.
Everything seemed full of promise, as if a beautiful life was just around the corner.
Determined as ever, after finishing dinner, Su Zesui—despite his fevered, overloaded brain—still opened his phone, eager to review the registration process for tomorrow.
His old WeChat had not only small friend groups but also class groups without teachers.
Since registration was tomorrow, the class groups, silent all summer, suddenly came alive—chatting, joking, boasting, discussing gossip about neighboring classes, and asking questions about tomorrow’s procedures.
Su Zesui had forgotten the registration steps and planned to secretly take notes from his well-informed classmates.
But unexpectedly, the class monitor mentioned him directly:
[Class Monitor: Recently Su Zesui, are you sick lately? Is it convenient for you to come to sign up tomorrow? Your health comes first, don’t overexert yourself. It’s also not a problem to have a parent come for the registration.]
Su Zesui felt a little flattered. He long-pressed to quote the message, treating it as polite small talk, and after repeatedly editing and choosing his words carefully, he finally replied:
[Su Zesui: It’s okay. I’ve been feeling fine lately and can go. Thank you for your concern (love)(love)]
After sending it, his heart raced, and his head felt foggy. He stared at the screen, planning to rest once this brief social interaction was over.
But just two or three seconds later, another message bumped his reply to the top:
[Zhou Qizhao: Did everyone hear? The top student from the other class got a girl pregnant over the summer, and her parents went straight to his. Now he has to take responsibility.]
This explosive gossip caused an uproar—“OMG!” “No way!” “I knew he wasn’t a good student”—and Su Zesui’s message was buried.
The name “Zhou Qizhao” made him uneasy for no reason, yet he didn’t leave the chat.
It wasn’t until he saw the class monitor reply below, laughing, “Haha, the class committee from their class even discussed it with me yesterday—told me not to spread it,” that Su Zesui realized his message would get no further responses.
It was normal—he had only sent a statement, answering a question and politely thanking someone. There was nothing more to respond to, he reasoned.
But being sick made him unusually sensitive. Seeing his lonely, solitary message at the top, he couldn’t help but recall the cold treatment he had once endured.
Before, no matter what he said, classmates would look at him with disdain, never offering a kind response. No matter how he tried to please them—even giving chocolate he treasured—it never changed the feeling of being ignored.
It was like chasing a bus that would never arrive.
“Oh, you’ve been staring at your phone for ten minutes, more than you’re looking at your brother. So sad.”
Hearing this, Su Zesui looked up and saw Gu Yilan smiling at him, though his words sounded concerned. The man’s calm black eyes reflected only him.
It was as if… every small movement of his could tug at the other’s heartstrings.
Su Zesui turned off his phone, trying to resist the urge to throw himself into his arms. Staring at him, flustered, he said, “Then… I’ll watch you.”
Gu Yilan lay down beside him. “Brother’s tired. You lie down and watch me. Let’s see who falls asleep first.”
Believing him, Su Zesui obediently lay down, their eyes meeting, his body warmed by the man’s heat. Within minutes, he was exhausted and asleep.
He slept straight through until the next morning.
Gu Yilan checked his temperature.
It had risen by 0.1°C compared to the previous days—a stark contrast to the prior extreme stability. Given this, it would be safest to observe him at home.
Yet Su Zesui insisted on going to school.
Unable to convince him otherwise, Gu Yilan drove him there himself and had the driver park another car at the school entrance to handle any emergencies.
At the entrance of A City No. 1 High School, the boy wore no mask, hat, or sunglasses. But the thin layer of sweat on his forehead revealed both his moderate fever and inner anxiety.
“Want a hug?” Gu Yilan opened his arms. Seeing him hesitate, he added, “Brother’s scared. I want to hug you.”
Su Zesui’s heart pounded like a drum, heavy and suffocating. Yet the man’s embrace would have been the perfect remedy, restoring his sense of safety and courage.
Still, he held firm. “Brother, don’t be scared. You can’t hug.”
Gu Yilan reluctantly lowered his arms. “Call me if anything happens. Registration ends at 11 AM—I’ll come get you then.”
“It’ll be fine. The jade you gave me will protect me. Bye bye!”
“Mm.” Gu Yilan waved like any parent sending a child off to school, watching the boy walk away. “Brother and your fans will wait for you at noon.”
Considering the boy’s mental state, Gu Yilan had already contacted Su Zesui’s homeroom teacher, explaining the situation and asking for care.
He even messaged the principal—a friend he had added but never spoken to—requesting a school counselor to discreetly ensure Su Zesui’s safety without alarming him.
Gu Yilan, a highly regarded alumnus in the principal’s eyes, combined with the attention Su Zesui had recently brought to the school, made the principal promise to handle it carefully.
With all this in place, nothing should go wrong.
Faced with unfamiliar classmates and teachers, Su Zesui was extremely nervous.
Along the way, he kept fidgeting with his fingers, afraid to look up. He felt like his body temperature had risen again—his head felt heavier, his heartbeat irregular, and a vague sense of unease crept over him.
Fortunately, when he followed the previously saved map of the school’s classroom layout and reached his own floor, he spotted Feng Chengwen and the others.
Feng Chengwen and his friends weren’t fond of gossip and rarely chatted in the group, so they hadn’t seen the message he posted there yesterday; otherwise, they might have warmed him up a bit.
However, they were all avid gamers. Yesterday, before their consoles were confiscated, they had played all night, and now each of them had dark circles under their eyes.
“Hey, man, are you feeling better?” Feng Chengwen asked, noticing the boy’s unusually high temperature as he approached. “I’ll help you carry your books later, though I guess you don’t really need them much anymore.”
The school was crowded, with people streaming past, and Su Zesui’s palms grew slightly sweaty. Still, he politely whispered, “Much better. Thanks.”
“No need to be so formal, we’re all friends.”
Feng Chengwen yawned. Through his blurry eyes, he noticed Su Zesui suddenly lift his head sharply, staring straight ahead as if he’d seen something unbelievable.
He instinctively followed his gaze.
Remembering that Gu Yilan had mentioned Su Zesui had amnesia, Yuan Mingcheng kindly reminded him, “That’s Zhou Qizhao.”
“D-don’t shake so violently,” Feng Chengwen said, flustered. “I told you about him before, remember? He’s the idiot I refused when he wanted us to go out. He was your previous deskmate—you didn’t like him either.”
Seeming to sense their unhidden stares, Zhou Qizhao paused and then walked toward them.
Though Feng Chengwen didn’t want to deal with him, he glanced at Su Zesui and finally saw the trembling stop. He let out a sigh of relief. “Relax. If he invites you to hang out, I’ll help you refuse again.”
The boy standing beside him said nothing.
Zhou Qizhao reached them and stopped about half a meter away. Before he could even speak, Su Zesui moved suddenly, without warning.
He grabbed a fire extinguisher from the nearby transparent box and raised it high, swinging it hard at Zhou Qizhao.
“Whoa!” Everyone around froze in shock.
Despite being sick and expected to be weak, Su Zesui hit with surprising force, smashing Zhou Qizhao’s head on the first strike.
Blood gushed out, dripping onto the school’s pristine white floor.
But Zhou Qizhao wasn’t someone to be trifled with. He struck quickly and accurately, trying to grab the boy’s neck. Blinded by the blood, he lost his aim. His fingers only caught the strap of the fire extinguisher.
In pain, he gritted his teeth and yanked hard. The smooth, green jade instantly flew off, crashing against the wall and shattering into pieces.
Taw’s Note: shick shack shock 😱😱😱
Bruh… I expected everything but THAT 😨