Chapter Sixty-Five

“I still have so much left unsaid in my heart—do you really think this is all? Let me tell you, there’s far more.” The more Li Li spoke, the more agitated she became, unable to restrain her emotions. It was just as Zhang Yi had expected.

Zhang Yi’s expression didn’t change; he kept smiling, but this smile was deliberate, meant to provoke Li Li into pouring out everything within her. If he listened to someone recount the past and merely mocked them, he’d truly be no better than a cold-blooded creature.

Li Li continued to vent her anger at Zhang Yi. “Why are you so kind to me, you bastard? What makes me worthy of your attention? I’m nothing but an unnoticed thief. Why didn’t you just call the police and have them throw me in jail so I could get a taste of prison food?”

“Hmm, this girl’s temper is still under control. If it all burst out, things could get messy,” Wang Tianqi commented from the observation room. She was skilled at reading emotions—no microexpression could escape her, not even through a monitor.

When Zhang Yi heard Li Li finally say everything, he knew it was time to break his silence. Rising from the bed, he said, “Do you know why I’ve been so tolerant of you? It’s not out of pity—rather, you remind me so much of a friend I once had. His temperament was just like yours, far too impulsive. He once said, what could be better than wild abandon?”

“What does that have to do with me? Just because I remind you of your friend, you treat me well?” Li Li pressed him, trying to determine if he was lying.

Zhang Yi sighed. “It’s natural for you not to believe me. I swear I’m not lying. My friend did things just as directly as you do, but when you push too far, misfortune isn’t far behind. I could only watch as he lay in the hospital at death’s door, unable to visit him, leaving the aftermath for others to handle.”

In the observation room, Wang Tianqi was moved as well. The friend Zhang Yi spoke of was Zhang Yan, the junior fellow student of Yu Xingyue and Xiao Jian. Zhang Yi had joined the Tianyuan Team two years after Yu Xingyue and Lin Ling had left—all thanks to Zhang Yan’s recommendation. The two were the same age, but Zhang Yan had joined earlier, so by seniority, Zhang Yi should call him “Senior Brother.”

Back then, Zhang Yan was ranked second in strength, with Xiao Jian at the top. That was when the two became friends. At that time, the Tianyuan Team had not yet welcomed Lin Zimo, Wang Tianqi, Huang Feifan, or Yu Li. The original team had disbanded, leaving only Xiao Jian, Zhang Yan, and Zhang Yi.

As he recalled those days, Zhang Yi’s eyes brimmed with tears. To whom could he pour out this bitterness? He could only keep it locked inside; those who understood him were gone. Not visiting Zhang Yan in the hospital was his deepest regret, and he hadn’t attended the funeral either. Back then, Zhang Yi was numb, lost, and simply shut himself away in his room.

Li Li listened closely to Zhang Yi’s story, drawn in and unable to interrupt. She was completely absorbed by his tale.

Nor was she alone—Wang Tianqi in the observation room felt the same. He’d never seen Zhang Yi’s vulnerable side before; the Zhang Yi he knew was always cheerful. Hearing him recount his past, Wang Tianqi was just as captivated.

Now came Zhang Yi’s own memories.

He cast his mind back to 2018, when he had just joined the Tianyuan Team. Zhang Yi was the first new recruit after a long hiatus. Some had tried to enter the team through connections, but those never lasted more than a day. Thus, the dojo set a rule: only those with a sixth-degree black belt or higher could enter. Zhang Yi joined just as this rule was instituted.

At that time, the Tianyuan Team had only recently disbanded. Xiao Jian and Zhang Yan strove together to revive it, pinning all their hopes on the newly arrived Zhang Yi.

The first time Zhang Yi met Xiao Jian, his eyes were full of admiration. He’d seen Xiao Jian’s heroic battles on television and was eager to spar with him. Meeting him in person, he could barely contain his excitement.

Back then, Zhang Yi was a shy, bashful youth. He stammered when he met Xiao Jian for the first time. “Um…are you…Xiao…Xiao Jian, the one from ‘Xiao Xiao’s Division’?”

Xiao Jian greeted him with a smile. “You must be the new recruit. Yes, I’m Xiao Jian. How can I help you?” Like a true gentleman, Xiao Jian immediately won Zhang Yi over.

Zhang Yi grew even more flustered, his heart pounding. “I…I want…to…”

“What do you want to do with me?” Xiao Jian asked.

“I…I want…to challenge…you,” Zhang Yi stammered, then fell silent, head lowered, afraid Xiao Jian would refuse.

But Xiao Jian replied, “You want to challenge me? First, make sure you’re confident in your own strength. When you truly have that confidence, then challenge me.”

At that time, Zhang Yi held a sixth-degree black belt and lacked self-assurance. Xiao Jian was already at eighth-degree, just a step from the ninth—if not for team duties, he would have taken the exam already.

After Xiao Jian left, Zhang Yi began to reflect—did he really have confidence, or was he just afraid he couldn’t win? Doubt gnawed at him.

It was later that he became friends with Zhang Yan. Zhang Yi was training alone in the gym, determined to grow strong enough to challenge Xiao Jian and find confidence. Zhang Yan watched him quietly from his wheelchair, already ailing from leukemia. As he watched Zhang Yi train, Zhang Yan couldn’t help but reminisce about the days with Yu Xingyue and Lin Ling—all just memories now.

Zhang Yi noticed Zhang Yan and stopped, walking over without realizing Zhang Yan was his senior.

“Hello, you’re the new recruit, right? Zhang Yi?” Zhang Yan asked.

Zhang Yi nodded. “Yes, I’m the first to join the Tianyuan Team—it’s an honor.”

With Zhang Yan, Zhang Yi spoke fluidly, unlike his nervous encounter with Xiao Jian.

“Zhang Yi, we share a surname. I’m Zhang Yan,” Zhang Yan introduced himself.

“Zhang Yan, why are you in a wheelchair?” Zhang Yi asked.

With a helpless shake of his head, Zhang Yan replied, “I’ve been diagnosed with leukemia. My mother—well, my coach, to be precise, is running around raising money for my treatment. I really wish she wouldn’t. I’ve lost hope of recovery.”

“Even if you’ve lost hope, don’t give up on yourself!” Zhang Yi urged.

Zhang Yan smiled. “I never said I would. You’re a sweet kid, you know. With your concern, I won’t be so afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?” Zhang Yi asked.

“That endless darkness—I don’t want to go to that place,” Zhang Yan replied, meaning death. No sensation, no heaven or hell—just the imaginings of men.

“Are you afraid?” Zhang Yi asked.

Zhang Yan shook his head. “Let it come. Sooner or later, we all face it. But I’ll face death with a smile—only then is there hope for a miracle.” Sadly, the miracle he hoped for never came.

After a moment’s hesitation, Zhang Yi said, “Can I be your friend?”

“Why? Are you afraid I’m difficult to talk to?” Zhang Yan smiled.

“I want to be someone who understands you—a friend by your side,” Zhang Yi said earnestly, grasping Zhang Yan’s right hand. “That way, you’ll feel my warmth.”

“You mean, with this warmth, I won’t fear death?” Zhang Yan voiced Zhang Yi’s unspoken thoughts. Zhang Yi nodded quickly.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I have leukemia,” Zhang Yan said with a frown. “Perhaps this is my fate—perhaps death is my best ending.”

At that moment, Xiao Jian approached, having seen the two talking. “Brother Zhang, I’ve been looking all over for you. Coach said not to let you leave your room, but you never listen. Your only task now is to recover.”

“I’ve given up hope of recovery. All I want is to chat with someone and pass the time. That’s better than sitting in that medicine-scented room all day,” Zhang Yan complained.

Xiao Jian turned to Zhang Yi. “Did you wheel him out?”

“No, I—” Zhang Yi began, but Zhang Yan interrupted, “It wasn’t him. I came out on my own to get some air and just happened to see him training. Xiao Jian, you’ve recruited a real talent!”

“Thank you for the compliment, Zhang Yan,” Zhang Yi said, scratching his head, embarrassed.