After receiving his terminal diagnosis, Zhuang Zi'ang was at a loss about who to tell. Most people would naturally think of their parents first, but his situation was a bit...complicated.
His father, Zhuang Wenzhao, and his mother, Xu Hui, had divorced when Zhuang Zi'ang was only five. Most professions in this world required training and exams before one could practice. For example, you needed a driver's license to drive, and a teaching certificate to teach. But to become a parent? No exam required. A moment of passion, a single accident, and a new life was brought into the world.
Few people ever considered whether that child actually wanted to come.
Zhuang Zi'ang's childhood was far from happy. From as far back as he could remember, his parents fought constantly. The furniture was often overturned, and the floor was littered with shards of glass and broken porcelain. Finally, on one otherwise ordinary day, they decided to call it quits for good.
During the divorce negotiations, Zhuang Wenzhao initially didn't even want custody of Zhuang Zi'ang. He felt that having a child would hinder his chances of remarriage. Only after his grandparents intervened, citing the need to carry on the family line, was Zhuang Zi'ang allowed to stay in the family home.
A year later, Zhuang Wenzhao brought home a heavily made-up woman. Two years after that, they had a son of their own. In fairy tales, children with stepmothers always had a miserable life. While reality wasn't quite so dramatic, Zhuang Zi'ang constantly felt like he had to walk on eggshells and be mindful of others' moods. Even though it was his own home, he often felt like an unwelcome guest.
His mother, Xu Hui, never remarried. Her job as a train attendant kept her constantly on the move, and she was only home once every week or two. She rented a small apartment near the school, and Zhuang Zi'ang would sometimes stay there when he didn't want to go home. Gradually, he became even more of an outsider in his own family.
His parents were both at work, and Zhuang Zi'ang didn't want to disturb them. He went to a quiet corner of the balcony, hesitated for a long time, then dialed a landline number.
The phone rang for a while before someone finally picked up.
A frail voice answered, "Hello, who is this?"
Tears welled up in Zhuang Zi'ang's eyes. "Grandpa, it's me, Zi'ang. I miss you."
Zhuang Jianguo's voice immediately brightened. "Zi'ang! Grandpa misses you too!" He then called out loudly for his wife to come and listen to their grandson on the phone.
Zhuang Zi'ang rarely felt any familial warmth. Only during summer and winter breaks, when he visited his grandparents in the countryside, did he find some much-needed solace in the company of these two loving elders.
"Grandpa, Grandma, I'll come see you this weekend," Zhuang Zi'ang said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"No need, your studies are important now. Don't worry about us. Just come back during summer break," Zhuang Jianguo replied with a chuckle.
"Okay... Okay, Grandpa, Grandma, take care of yourselves. I have to go to class now," Zhuang Zi'ang quickly made an excuse to hang up. He was on the verge of breaking down in tears.
He simply couldn't bring himself to tell his beloved grandparents about the devastating news. How heartbroken would they be when that day finally arrived?
The school bell rang, signaling the start of class.
Zhuang Zi'ang wiped away his tears and tried to compose himself before returning to his seat. He attempted to lose himself in the sea of knowledge and forget his sorrow.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The class schedule was written on the far right side of the blackboard. Up next were two consecutive math classes.
"The Exterminator Nun" Wu Qiufang strode to the podium, her textbook in hand.
Math class had a remarkable soporific effect. Within five minutes, more than half the class was dozing off.
Li Huangxuan, seizing the opportunity while Wu Qiufang was writing on the board, stealthily pulled out his copy of The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. He randomly flipped to a classic scene:
"The Eighteen Riders of Yan Cloud, charging like tigers, raising a whirlwind of dust."
"Dude, are you crazy? Reading a novel in Exterminator Nun's class?" Zhuang Zi'ang whispered, trying to warn his deskmate.
But Li Huangxuan was determined to live dangerously. The flashing swords and heroic deeds of the martial arts world were far more captivating than mathematical formulas.
Zhuang Zi'ang, the ever-diligent student, sat upright and tried to focus. But unlike before, he could only see Ms. Wu's lips moving; he couldn't hear a word she was saying. It felt as if the warmth of life was slowly draining from his body.
"Master Murong, Master Zhuang, Old Freak Ding, come at me all three of you. What does Xiao Feng have to fear?"
Li Huangxuan was just getting to the good part when he suddenly felt a murderous aura wash over him. He looked up and met Wu Qiufang's piercing gaze.
"Li Huangxuan, come up to the board and solve this problem."
Teachers, standing at the front of the class, often had a clear view of all the students' little shenanigans. Wu Qiufang was known for her strict teaching style and had zero tolerance for any tomfoolery.
Li Huangxuan reluctantly dragged himself to the front, chalk in hand. He stared at the cryptic symbols on the board as if he were petrified, unable to move. This kind of problem was beyond anyone's ability, except maybe those emotionless study machines.
Wu Qiufang's face turned ashen. "With your math grades, you have the nerve to read novels in class? You're sitting right next to Zhuang Zi'ang, why don't you learn a thing or two from him?"
Li Huangxuan mumbled, "He's the one who bought me the novel!"
"Confiscated. And you, stand at the back of the class for the rest of the period," Wu Qiufang scolded.
Then, her tone softened. "Zhuang Zi'ang, come up and solve this problem. Show everyone how it's done."
Zhuang Zi'ang, the academic superstar, consistently scored near-perfect marks in math. Solving a problem of this difficulty should have been a piece of cake for him.
But when he heard his name, Zhuang Zi'ang seemed to freeze, as if his soul had drifted off somewhere and was suddenly yanked back. He stood at the board but remained frozen, unable to write.
His mind was consumed by the diagnosis report, or rather, his death warrant. The once-familiar numbers and symbols now seemed utterly foreign.
"Zhuang Zi'ang, what's wrong?" Wu Qiufang asked, surprised.
"Ms. Wu, I don't know how to do it," Zhuang Zi'ang choked out, his voice thick with emotion.
"What do you mean, you don't know?" Wu Qiufang knew Zhuang Zi'ang well. This level of math problem was definitely within his capabilities. She had called on him to solve it as a way to indirectly reprimand Li Huangxuan, but her plan had backfired.
Zhuang Zi'ang's shoulders began to tremble, and the piece of chalk fell from his hand. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He was engulfed by an overwhelming wave of sadness, like a lonely, lost child.
Wu Qiufang's heart ached at the sight. She had an urge to embrace him.
The other students, bewildered, started whispering among themselves.
"There's no way Zhuang Zi'ang can't solve this problem. What's going on?"
"Only a top student would get so upset over a math problem that he'd cry."
"Hey Mu Shi, did he confess to you and you rejected him or something?"
...
Lin Mushi stared at Zhuang Zi'ang's back, her beautiful eyes wide with concern. A sudden pang of anxiety shot through her. In all their time as friends, she had never seen him so distraught.
He was definitely hiding something.
"Zhuang Zi'ang, it's okay. Go back to your seat," Wu Qiufang said softly.
"Ms. Wu, may I go to the restroom?" Zhuang Zi'ang asked, his voice choked with sobs.
Wu Qiufang sighed softly and nodded in understanding. Teachers always had a soft spot for their best students.
Once he was out of the classroom and in the hallway, Zhuang Zi'ang could no longer contain his emotions. He broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Every teacher, every classmate – he cherished them all deeply. In just three months, they would be separated by the veil of death, never to meet again.