PPS Chapter 104
by VolareGu Yusen had become like a little tail attached to Chu Zhaoyi—wherever Chu Zhaoyi went, he followed.
Chu Zhaoyi spent most of his time in the painting studio. Gu Yusen even dragged a stool over and sat down, his eyes glued to Chu Zhaoyi without ever looking away.
Chu Zhaoyi let out a weary, mature sigh.
“Brother Sanmu, what’s wrong?”
“Ah Yi, I…” Gu Yusen began, though he wasn’t really sure what he was doing; he simply found himself subconsciously wanting to be close to Chu Zhaoyi.
He had thought that once those childhood memories resurfaced, Chu Zhaoyi might get angry and demand to know why—or even complain about why he’d never shown up at the Mushroom House.
But Chu Zhaoyi’s reaction was very calm. He merely retorted that he wasn’t a little beggar, offered his opinion on the nickname, then got off him, slipped on his slippers, and went out for breakfast—just like every morning. After breakfast, he headed to the painting studio to work.
Chu Zhaoyi blinked, waiting for Gu Yusen to say more. He rarely saw Gu Yusen speak haltingly like this.
“After that day, did you wait at the Mushroom House for a long time?” Gu Yusen hesitated a moment before slowly asking. He could have discovered Chu Zhaoyi’s experiences on his own—but he wanted to know. He wanted to learn about the life that Ah Yi had described—the six years in which he hadn’t been involved at all.
“Hmm, just a little while,” Chu Zhaoyi nodded, setting his paintbrush aside and obediently taking a seat on his own stool.
“Then, did those little boys still bully you?” Gu Yusen asked. He recalled that those who had been more deeply involved had already been persuaded to leave, and the remaining ones had merely received warnings. Normally, such behavior would have been curbed at school.
“They said you had died—and I was sad for a long time,” Chu Zhaoyi remembered, his brows drooping at the recollection.
Everyone assumed his autism was caused by the aftereffects of school bullying, but only he knew—how could those idiots possibly have affected him? Except for Brother Sanmu.
“They said those things. I got so angry that they went to the Mushroom House to pick on me. Then, after getting stung by bees, they ran back to tell their parents that I’d done it—and those parents came to school, scolding me fiercely.”
Gu Yusen thought about how Chu Zhaoyi was just such a little “black sesame ball” and vaguely felt that those boys probably weren’t entirely at fault in this matter—but he still couldn’t help letting his imagination run wild.
The little Chu Zhaoyi stood among a group of adults being reprimanded. Li Yuroong and Chu Yu, of course, didn’t care at all.
“Later, after the incident spread, nobody would play with me anymore.”
“Honestly, I didn’t mind much; it was just that sometimes they’d secretly tease me—and that got a little annoying.”
Gu Yusen already had a rough idea of Chu Zhaoyi’s experiences, but hearing it all spoken aloud still sent a suffocating feeling deep inside him. Yet he knew that Chu Zhaoyi wasn’t the kind of person who would be easily swayed by others; after all, it’s unlikely that these events could have caused autism.
“And then?”
“Then I thought you were dead, so I wasn’t really happy. Later the school bullying incident escalated—one teacher, unable to stand it any longer, reported it to the school authorities. Although Li Yuroong and the others acted like they didn’t care, the school, fearing things would blow up, had me examined and even called in a psychologist.”
At that, Chu Zhaoyi paused and frowned.
“He’s a hack—so incompetent.”
His ability was poor. Chu Zhaoyi, naturally so reserved, was even more down that day since he’d believed Gu Yusen was in trouble.
Unexpectedly, that very person had concluded he was severely depressed.
“But Chu Yu—he realized something during all this. He could’ve easily confined me to the house on the pretext of my autism.”
“I was so young, I couldn’t really fight back.”
Gu Yusen stared at Chu Zhaoyi’s face and suddenly reached out to pinch his cheek.
Though Chu Zhaoyi didn’t understand the gesture, he behaved obediently.
“So, Ah Yi doesn’t have autism. After staying home for a few days and noticing that fewer troublesome incidents were occurring, they just went along with it and cemented that narrative.”
Gu Yusen could easily imagine little Chu Zhaoyi in his bedroom, resting his head as he carefully pondered his mischievous ideas.
But it was clear: Chu Zhaoyi’s autism was genuine, and his mental struggles were real.
Gu Yusen had seen his episodes too many times—they weren’t something that could be faked.
For a moment, Chu Zhaoyi’s heart wavered, then he quickly straightened up and spoke confidently.
“At first, it was like that—but Chu Yu wouldn’t let me go out, kept me confined. I wanted to hear news about you, but I had no way to check, so I grew a bit anxious.”
“Over time, it just turned out this way.”
At first, it was indeed just an act. Perhaps Chu Zhaoyi didn’t even need to pretend; his very nature fit the stereotypical image of autism. But children are naturally energetic—and Chu Zhaoyi was no exception. Even an adult, if confined at home, would struggle; much less a child.
In time, Chu Zhaoyi’s mental state gradually began to crumble.
The Chu family had no intention of treating him; to his adoptive parents, his condition was even beneficial—so they never bothered with proper treatment.
Gu Yusen tenderly patted the boy’s head, wanting to embrace him—but he knew deep down that he, too, was partly responsible for this tragedy.
He had no right.
“Did Chu Yu… did he ever bully you?” Gu Yusen finally asked—a question he’d long avoided for fear of dredging up unpleasant memories. Now, though, Mason had said that Chu Zhaoyi’s condition was gradually stabilizing.
“Bullying?” Chu Zhaoyi mulled over the word. In his memory, there weren’t many recollections of Chu Yu at all.
To him, Chu Yu was nothing more than a cowardly, arrogant, yet utterly inept father.
After learning that Chu Yu wasn’t his biological father, he even felt a small relief—fearing he might have inherited that idiot’s genes.
He didn’t care much for the man; when he was very young he might have expected paternal protection, but once he realized Chu Yu didn’t care, he abandoned that unrealistic hope.
“The way he looked at me was disgusting—I didn’t like him much. Other than that, nothing serious happened. The worst was that he hit me once, and then I lost hearing in one ear.”
Chu Zhaoyi rubbed his ear, straining to recall his memories of Chu Yu.
Gu Yusen squeezed Chu Zhaoyi’s hand, unconsciously applying a bit more pressure. He knew that Chu Zhaoyi’s ear and Chu Yu were inextricably linked—and hearing it firsthand was a completely different matter.
But at least Chu Yu still had a semblance of a moral boundary; he never actually laid a hand on Chu Zhaoyi.
“They got off too easy,” Gu Yusen muttered through gritted teeth. If only Chu Zhaoyi’s adoptive parents had even a shred of conscience, his life wouldn’t have turned out this way.
Does Chu Zhaoyi hate them?
It seems not.
He didn’t like harboring unfounded hatred—his world was simply divided between those he loved and strangers. Strangers might hurt him, but he wasn’t overly concerned; he just didn’t like trouble.
Because his adoptive parents had caused him so much trouble—their very existence had blocked his path to finding Gu Yusen—he ended up being the one who set in motion both of their deaths.
Hatred, after all, is always a burden.
So he didn’t harbor clear resentment toward the Xie family either—in this matter, they, like him, were merely victims.
And as for now, making up for past regrets felt entirely unnecessary. Everyone must look forward; nothing or no one from the past should affect the present self.
Especially regarding Gu Yusen—he didn’t resent Gu Yusen’s absence. In realizing that Gu Yusen was still alive, the joy that swelled in his chest made him feel that he was indeed alive.
So he went off to find Gu Yusen.
And sure enough, in that person’s presence he could feel a spectrum of emotions—longing, affection, anger—emotions that any normal person would experience.
Chu Zhaoyi found these feelings in Gu Yusen, and it felt wonderfully novel.
That’s why Gu Yusen was so important to him; he never wanted anyone to snatch that person away.
Zhang Xuan is—so is Mu Xi.
Sensing a tinge of negativity emanating from Gu Yusen, Chu Zhaoyi patted his hand and, in return, comforted him: “It’s okay, they’re already dead.”
Gu Yusen sighed. Chu Zhaoyi’s adoptive parents were gone, and Xie Haoran had now been persuaded to withdraw from school. In the art world, originality is everything—plagiarism is utterly detestable—and the Xie family had kicked him out without a second thought.
They hadn’t spared him out of any sentiment; by the time the Xie family’s hatred could even form, it was too late.
Everyone who had ever hurt Chu Zhaoyi seemed to have been dealt with by his own hands.
Gu Yusen couldn’t help but feel a surge of defeat.
“Then… my broken promise, Ah Yi…”
“I’m not angry. Brother Sanmu must have had something and couldn’t come.”
Chu Zhaoyi knew Gu Yusen well—he’d known him since they were little.
Back then, Gu Yusen must have had another reason for not showing up on time.
Gu Yusen was momentarily stunned. Even though he didn’t want to find excuses, he still recounted the entire incident to Chu Zhaoyi—even if he appeared nonchalant.
“I was set up by someone. My head was hit, and then I had a fever for a week. My memories became fuzzy afterward—that’s why I didn’t remember you, and why I didn’t go to the Mushroom House to find you.”
“Ah Yi, I’m sorry.”
Gu Yusen’s apology, sincere yet belated, came far too late.
But Chu Zhaoyi didn’t mind the lateness; he even patted Gu Yusen’s head with genuine compassion.
“Must have hurt, right? Brother Sanmu.”
He didn’t mind Gu Yusen’s absence—after all, he had managed to find him on his own. He just felt pity… pity for that little Gu Yusen who had been knocked unconscious in a narrow alley and ended up in the emergency room several times.
Chu Zhaoyi’s understanding and tenderness only deepened Gu Yusen’s heavy heart; he realized he owed Chu Zhaoyi so much—not just for that one broken promise.
Taking a deep breath, Gu Yusen tried to steady his voice.
“Ah Yi, I…I should have remembered sooner, instead of making you wait so long. Even after we met, I couldn’t recall.” His voice trembled; he still couldn’t forgive himself for his personal negligence and misfortune that forced Chu Zhaoyi to bear so much alone.
Chu Zhaoyi gently shook his head, his eyes free of blame.
“Do all you can, and leave the rest to fate. Everything is arranged for the best.”
Gu Yusen looked at Chu Zhaoyi, who was slowly beginning to accept it all. Guilt was guilt—but guilt was always pale and powerless. He only needed to bury that guilt deep in his heart and treat Chu Zhaoyi well.
In the days that followed, he vowed to nurture Chu Zhaoyi until he flourished—transforming that little beggar into a little beauty.
The two of them continued talking sporadically. In truth, their conversation wasn’t much at all—most of the time, it was just Gu Yusen teasing him and Chu Zhaoyi replying in kind.
But today, Gu Yusen asked about many things from Chu Zhaoyi’s past, and Chu Zhaoyi answered each question earnestly.
They talked for two hours straight, and Gu Yusen felt left wanting more. In truth, Chu Zhaoyi’s life was rather dull—mostly just painting—but since those monotonous days were ones he had missed, he wanted to know every detail; how could they be boring?
Yet Chu Zhaoyi grew tired and, not very cheerfully, snuggled into Gu Yusen’s embrace and said he was exhausted.
But in the afternoon, they still had classes. Gu Yusen ordered lunch for both of them, and after eating, he carried Chu Zhaoyi to bed for a nap.
Gu Yusen had a class in the first period, while Chu Zhaoyi’s was in the second. Usually, they would go to school together; then Gu Yusen would attend his class while Chu Zhaoyi went to the painting studio for a bit before his own class. Today was no exception.
However, Gu Yusen kept holding onto Chu Zhaoyi, reluctant to let go—he even considered tucking him into his pocket and taking him to class together, though he quickly realized his own class was far too dull for the young man. Gu Yusen didn’t want Chu Zhaoyi to be unhappy.
So he sent Chu Zhaoyi to the teaching building of the painting studio. With time nearly up, Gu Yusen hurried off to class while Chu Zhaoyi slowly shuffled into the studio.
“Ah Yi!”
Unexpectedly, a familiar female voice called out. Chu Zhaoyi perked up his ears and shifted his gaze—and sure enough, he saw the figure of Xie Yuyin.
“I’m also a student at A University,” Xie Yuyin said. As the decisive heir of the Xie family in the business world, she was usually formidable in public—but in front of her own younger brother, she became incredibly tongue-tied. She even didn’t know where to put her hands.
She really was a student at A University, though now a senior with hardly any classes, so she seldom came to campus.
Chu Zhaoyi tilted his head, not quite understanding what she was trying to say. He recalled that she was from the Xie family—yesterday she had barely spoken, just staring straight at him.
“I…I just want to tell you that Xie Haoran has already been kicked out. The school has also taken steps to persuade him to withdraw—you won’t see him around at school anymore!”
Xie Yuyin had come specifically to deliver this news. They had discussed it at length after returning home—Chu Zhaoyi’s determination not to come back was especially clear, even vehement. They wouldn’t force him; they merely had to set the right tone. That very day, they expelled Xie Haoran to ensure he would never again get in Chu Zhaoyi’s sight.
“Oh.” Chu Zhaoyi nodded, indicating he understood, and tentatively took a step forward—almost as if, thanks to their blood relation, Xie Yuyin silently asked, “Are you done? May I leave now?”
Seeing his seemingly indifferent expression, Xie Yuyin felt a twinge of sadness—but soon she lifted her spirits.
“Ah Yi, what I want to say is that your name was chosen by Mom. Back then, Mom and Dad had already decided on your name—Zhaoyi. Somehow, Chu Yu found out and preemptively gave his own child the same name. When you were both born in the same hospital, Mom didn’t want a name collision, so she gave Xie Haoran a new name.
So, Ah Yi, you are truly Mom’s child. By a twist of fate, your name turned out exactly as Mom and Dad had intended.
Mom said she hoped her child’s future would be filled with light, wisdom, integrity, and talent. She wished for you to always be happy and radiant.”
Chu Zhaoyi hadn’t known any of this. Hearing it now stirred a strange feeling in him—reminding him that everything in the world has its destined order, and what truly belongs to you will always be yours… just like your name.
“Back then, things weren’t what she wished for—but our negligence indirectly led to what happened. So we don’t expect you to come back. We only hope that if you encounter any difficulties, you won’t refuse our help. If you choose to live with the Gu family—if that’s your wish—we certainly won’t stand in your way.
We hope your life from now on goes smoothly, that you can happily do what you want. And remember—you’ll always have us behind you: your parents and your sister.”