Chapter One Hundred and Two

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Lin Xiaxin doubted whether she had heard wrong. A grown man afraid of cockroaches? But there was no rule saying men couldn’t be afraid of them; some still were. For someone like Xiao Jian, whose legs were disabled, it was different. Before, he would have surely smashed the cockroach with a slipper, but now, sitting in a wheelchair, he was helpless.

Yet fear is fear. Lin Xiaxin quickly found the cockroach and smashed it without hesitation. Honestly, she was afraid of cockroaches too, but since Xiao Jian couldn’t do it himself, she was the only one who could save him. After killing it, Lin Xiaxin still looked uneasy—she had to sweep the dead cockroach outside herself, afraid of touching anything dirty.

Xiao Jian exhaled deeply and said, “Good thing you came. I wasn’t afraid of cockroaches before, but I don’t know why I’m so scared now. Maybe it’s because I don’t have legs and I’m afraid it’ll crawl onto my face.” He began to mock himself, which made Lin Xiaxin uncomfortable. Such self-deprecation would only deepen his insecurities.

Lin Xiaxin shook her head vigorously, making Xiao Jian stare in surprise. She held her head to steady herself from dizziness caused by the quick movement. Once composed, she said, “This isn’t your fault. It’s just that this place isn’t very clean. I’ll tidy up the room later so there won’t be any more cockroaches.” With that, she left Xiao Jian’s room, and outside, he could hear the sound of water being prepared—she was going to mop the floor.

Xiao Jian knew Lin Xiaxin was trying to comfort him, but this wasn’t what he truly wanted. What he needed was warmth—not just the warmth of the air, but the warmth of a family. He felt a faint trace of it from Lin Xiaxin, but Lin Zimo’s attitude toward him had soured. Usually warm and enthusiastic during meetings, ever since arriving at Lin Zimo’s home, her demeanor had changed.

Xiao Jian maneuvered his electric wheelchair to the window. The window was small, offering only a glimpse of the outside roof and sky. The weather wasn’t good—cloudless at first, then it started to rain, reflecting Xiao Jian’s melancholy mood.

Should he tell Yu Ge? To tell him would only cause trouble. Xiao Jian had thought many times about calling Yu Xingyue, wanting to leave. Lin Zimo didn’t welcome him, and he had nothing to hold him here. Yet, because of the concern from Lin Zimo’s father, Lin Ye, and Lin Xiaxin, he stayed—at least not wanting to disappoint their goodwill.

Lin Xiaxin came back in, pushing Xiao Jian out of the room. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t dwell on all the bad things about yourself. Think about your strengths. If you hadn’t met my sister, you wouldn’t have met me, and you wouldn’t have achieved what you have now.”

Xiao Jian wanted to laugh at this. Did he really have strengths or weaknesses he didn’t know about? What achievements? He had never done anything great. Sure, he led the Tianyuan team to win the Taekwondo championship, but the other side had voluntarily forfeited out of respect—there was little glory in that victory.

He said nothing, keeping his head down, unwilling to speak. Sensing his mood, Lin Xiaxin didn’t push further. What Xiao Jian needed most now was calm. She was afraid that speaking too much would anger him. But no one should bully a disabled person. Xiao Jian never saw himself as disabled. Even though his legs were amputated, his hands still worked.

In his mind, Xiao Jian thought if he had a second chance, he would never have acted so rashly as to try to jump off a building. He didn’t know why he had done it back then. He felt lost and confused, his thoughts strange. But no one knew. His pain was bottled up inside, unspoken. Yu Xingyue hadn’t said much but had vaguely guessed something.

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Lin Xiaxin began cleaning the room to provide Xiao Jian a clean environment. In the process, she also disturbed Lin Zimo. Upon seeing Xiao Jian, Lin Zimo bowed to him. Xiao Jian was taken aback, unsure what she was about to do. Lin Zimo said, “I’m sorry, Captain. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. It was my fault.”

Was that the proper attitude for an apology? Xiao Jian felt Lin Zimo’s apology was insincere. A heartfelt apology would have called him by his name, not just “Captain.” To him, “Captain” was merely a title, not everything. His mood, already poor, darkened further as he looked down.

“Save your apology. I just want some peace now.” Xiao Jian turned his wheelchair away, unwilling to see Lin Zimo. Her attitude now had changed how he viewed her usual demeanor. He thought bitterly, “Japanese are just Japanese. Even their apologies come with formal titles. Are all my friends ungrateful wolves?”

Refusing Lin Zimo’s apology, Lin Zimo was puzzled. She thought she had apologized sincerely. She rarely caused big problems—mostly small ones for which others apologized to her. Giving apologies herself felt awkward, and she had only learned a few phrases online.

Xiao Jian continued, “I’ve always regarded you as a friend. Have I been wrong all this time? Have I made a friend who’s a thankless wolf?” His anger was evident, questioning Lin Zimo. She was at a loss, having never seen Xiao Jian so angry.

He gave her no chance to respond and went on, “Actually, it’s not entirely your fault. It’s just that my blind eyes made a mistake in choosing you. I had no such thought before, but now I do. Are your apologies always this perfunctory, learned from the internet?”

“I’m sorry, I…” Lin Zimo hurriedly apologized again, but Xiao Jian refused to accept it. She could only say sorry, unable to find other words.

Taking a deep breath, calming himself, Xiao Jian said, “I don’t want to see you anymore. Every second you’re around makes it hard for me to breathe. Just go!” he shouted.

Hearing his outburst, Lin Xiaxin came out of the room and saw Lin Zimo. She immediately sensed something was wrong and pushed Xiao Jian back into the now-clean room. After settling him, she closed the door behind her, then, slightly angry, said, “I told you, sister, your timing for apologies is all wrong. Don’t use those phrases you learned online. Those aren’t sincere, so how can you say them with a straight face?”

Perhaps unaware that Lin Zimo had acted deliberately, Lin Xiaxin’s words were a heat-of-the-moment reprimand. To an outsider, it would seem the older sister was scolding the younger, but in reality, it was the younger sister correcting the elder. It was hard to tell who was sister and who was younger.

As the elder sister, Lin Zimo felt uneasy hearing Lin Xiaxin’s words but understood she was being told what not to do with Xiao Jian. She felt ashamed. Having been in China so long, she still hadn’t learned as much as her younger sister, who seemed more perceptive.

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Lin Xiaxin said no more and simply explained to Lin Zimo how to behave around Xiao Jian. It was best not to quarrel; perhaps their friendship could improve. Xiao Jian’s mood was still fragile; with time, a few days’ calm would help ease his feelings.

...

Clothes and daily necessities were packed into suitcases. One day had passed, with four days left to say goodbye to others. Yu Xingyue was extremely restless. Before leaving, he wanted to give everyone gifts so they wouldn’t forget him. He was afraid that after two years apart, others might forget him. To prevent this, he considered whether to give gifts to all seven people.

Based on individual personalities, Yu Xingyue could guess what Lin Zimo needed. She was Japanese, with Tokyo as her hometown. She missed Tokyo and especially longed for its cherry blossoms. It was impossible to bring cherry blossoms from Tokyo, but Yu Xingyue had already thought of a solution.

As for the others, Yu Xingyue was still preparing and hadn’t finished. Gifts were set aside for now. To avoid forgetting, he made a memo on his phone, so whenever he unlocked it, he would be reminded, no matter how busy he was.

His phone vibrated frequently with incoming calls—usually from Xiao Jian. Xiao Jian only called when something was wrong. Yu Xingyue answered and heard Xiao Jian’s voice: “Brother Yu, I’m so tired right now. I have the impulse to die.”

Yu Xingyue sensed the sadness in Xiao Jian’s tone, like someone facing the ultimate separation of life and death. It was a metaphor, but really, it just sounded like a scolded schoolboy, hurt but stubbornly silent.

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