Thirteen Wonders (ShíSānYāo) : Chapter 22 - One Wan, Nine Wan
Chapter 22: One Wan, Nine Wan
Chen Xuze sprinted toward the infirmary at full speed. Some of the people passing by didn’t even get a clear look at his face—just a blur of motion, a gust of wind rushing past them, and then he was gone.
Inside the infirmary, Zhou Yao was asleep on the bed. The school nurse was tidying up a tray of medical supplies when she saw him enter, pausing slightly in surprise.
“You…”
“I’m Zhou Yao’s neighbor. We live very close to each other. I can take her home.” Chen Xuze rarely spoke this much in a single day, let alone in a single sentence.
Hearing this, the nurse hesitated for a moment. Seeing that he was a boy, she initially had some reservations but chose not to voice them. “Alright then. Sit here and keep an eye on her. If she shows any improvement, call someone. I need to go help the first-years transport some medical supplies. If you have class, don’t let this delay your studies. You can ask a student from PE class to help, got it?”
Chen Xuze nodded. But whether he actually registered what she said—no one could tell.
After the nurse left, the infirmary door remained slightly ajar. From outside, anyone passing by could glimpse the scene inside. Chen Xuze pulled a chair over and sat down next to Zhou Yao, inside the white medical curtain.
The curtain was partially open, leaving just enough space for one and a half people to fit through, while the rest enclosed them in a small, isolated world of pale white.
Zhou Yao lay still, her eyes tightly shut. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, her hand limp on the bed with an IV needle inserted. The medicine dripped steadily into her veins. Though her face was burning red, she appeared fragile and pallid, even quieter than usual.
Chen Xuze didn’t look away for even a second, staring at her as if she were something he couldn’t tear his eyes from.
He adjusted his chair, moving a little closer. Seeing that the cool towel on her forehead had warmed up, he reached over to replace it. The water basin and gauze were nearby. His hands moved with a surprising gentleness, careful and precise. Though he rarely did this kind of thing, at that moment, it was as if he had done it a thousand times before.
After replacing the towel, he noticed sweat trickling down her neck. His gaze froze on the droplet for a moment before he lowered his eyes, picked up a clean towel, and carefully wiped it away—one stroke at a time.
Her skin was pale and delicate, so much so that, in certain places, even the faint traces of veins were visible. To him, Zhou Yao had always seemed fragile—at least in appearance. But in reality, he knew better than anyone how strong and fearless she truly was.
Soft yet unyielding—Zhou Yao, to him, was like a dream, both tender and fearless.
It was as if he were possessed. He continued wiping away the sweat, from her neck to her jawline, making sure not a single drop remained. Even when her skin was already dry, he repeated the motion over and over again.
Through the fabric of the towel, it felt as though he were touching her. Just a little more, just the tiniest bit more, and there would be nothing between them.
In her fevered haze, Zhou Yao slowly awoke. Her unfocused eyes drifted toward him, her gaze dazed. Chen Xuze’s hands paused. He set the towel aside and spoke softly, “You’re awake?”
“Xuze…” Her voice was hoarse, like metal scraping against sand, strained from exhaustion.
Yet Chen Xuze didn’t so much as flinch. He didn’t find it unpleasant at all. He simply responded, “Mm. I’m here.”
“Xuze…”
She was still half-conscious, unable to say much, only calling his name over and over.
Chen Xuze noticed this but didn’t seem annoyed. He answered each time without hesitation. “Mm, I’m here.”
“Xuze…”
“I’m here.”
“Xu… ze…”
“I’m here.”
Again and again, even with her eyes closed, she kept calling his name, as if those two syllables were the only thing keeping her grounded. And he never tired of answering, reassuring her with every response that he was there.
A few minutes later, Zhou Yao stirred, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something else. Her brows furrowed slightly. “Xuze…”
“Mm.”
“Xuze, I…”
“Mm.”
“Xu… cough… ze, I…”
Her voice grew weaker and more muddled, and for a moment, Chen Xuze thought she was just too exhausted to speak properly. But then she paused for several seconds, took a deep breath, and mustered all her strength to say— “Xuze, I’m… thirsty…”
Chen Xuze froze. “…”
A brief silence. Then, with a touch of awkwardness, he got up to pour her some water. He gently lifted the back of her neck, helping her drink, and then eased her back down onto the pillow.
“Do you want more?”
She shook her head.
“Do you need anything else?”
She rested for two seconds, then shook her head again.
Zhou Yao seemed exhausted. Lying there with her eyes closed, she muttered, “Why are you here? Don’t you have class?”
“The teacher asked me to watch over you and take you home.”
“Will it affect your—”
Before she could finish, he interrupted, “No.”
She murmured something indistinct, then sighed softly. “That’s good…” And then, she drifted back into sleep.
Chen Xuze sat beside her, silent. No one spoke to him, and he showed no sign of impatience. He didn’t take out his phone or look away—he simply watched her quietly, the steady rise and fall of her breathing beneath the blanket.
He remembered many things. The most vivid memory was from when his grandparents had just passed away. His parents, though somewhat saddened, still prioritized their daily lives. Their feelings for the elderly had long faded over the years.
At that time, he felt that perhaps he was the only one truly grieving their departure.
After all the funeral arrangements were completed, one day, he sat on the rooftop, gazing at the night sky, when Zhou Yao suddenly came looking for him. She wore a cotton skirt that reached just below her knees, and her footsteps were light, afraid of disturbing him.
He didn’t speak, nor did she. They simply sat side by side, quietly looking at the stars from the rooftop where they often sat as children.
After a long time, he finally spoke his first words. He said, “I used to think the world would never change. That they would never leave, just like how they were always there to send me off and wait for me every day when I went to and from school.”
It was strange, yet not strange at all. After all, every person has a soft and vulnerable side, even someone like him, who had always been known for his peculiar ways.
Zhou Yao remained silent for a long time, simply staying by his side, listening to him, letting him talk about his childhood. Eventually, she clenched her hands slightly and, with a tone of quiet certainty, said, “You know, in the end, everyone in this world will leave.”
That day, she gently patted his head, just like his grandmother used to, and told him, “But I promise you, I will do my best, with everything I have, to stay with you for a little longer.”
—If one person isn't enough to fight against the world, then I will be the one to stay with you a little longer. Long enough for you to have the courage to face the world alone, without fear.
At that moment, the gaping hole in his heart seemed to be filled by something. He wasn’t someone who cried easily, but for some reason, every time Zhou Yao appeared before him with her gentle demeanor, he realized he wasn’t as invincible as he had always thought.
……
Zhou Yao was sound asleep on the bed, while Chen Xuze’s thoughts drifted far into the past. When he came back to his senses and looked at her, he noticed that her sleep was restless—she whimpered softly in bed, calling his name.
Chen Xuze frowned slightly and leaned in. “Where do you feel unwell?”
“No…” she shook her head very lightly. “I just… wanted to call you… for a moment…”
Only then did Chen Xuze’s heart settle. “Alright, I’m here. Call me whenever you want, I will always answer you.”
In this small, quiet space, the white curtains fluttered slightly with the wind from the window. The only sound in the room was Zhou Yao softly calling his name.
“Xuze…”
“Mm.”
“Shisan…”
“I’m here.”
“Chen Xuze…”
“I’m here.”
“My head hurts…”
“Want me to massage it for you?”
“Xuze… it hurts…”
Her voice carried a soft, weak tone, a mixture of frailty and vulnerability. It sounded almost like a delicate plea, the kind that could set one's blood aflame if caught off guard—yet she was completely unaware.
Chen Xuze sat stiffly in his chair for a long time, responding to her each time. And when she fell silent for a brief moment, he pulled out his phone, turned on the recorder, and placed it gently beside her.
She called him again, right on cue:
“Xu…ze…”
“It hurts…”
A simple word, spoken with so many subtle shifts in tone, soft and lingering. It left Chen Xuze frozen in place for a long, long time.
……
Ever since Zheng Yinyin started tutoring with Zhou Yao and Ying Nian, she had put in hundreds of times more effort into her studies than before. Whenever she had time—between classes, during recess, even physical education breaks—she could be seen reading and solving problems, her focused expression as if nothing in the world could disturb her.
The most shocking thing was that she would often slap herself—out of nowhere, a sudden smack across her own face, startling everyone around her. At first, no one understood why. Later, someone quietly asked and found out, saying, “She’s afraid of thinking about Ning Qi! Every time she thinks of him, she slaps herself to force herself to concentrate on studying.”
Others found her behavior overly dramatic and mocked her for it. “Everyone knows how much she liked Ning Qi. Now she’s pulling this act—who is she trying so hard to impress? Even if she ruins her books and swells her own face, she’s still going to be at the bottom of the class!”
There were plenty of such comments, but it was as if she never heard them. Even when the people talking were right beside her, she ignored them completely. The time others spent arguing and defending themselves, she spent reading.
When Zhou Yao and Ying Nian learned about this, they sat down with her for a talk. Zheng Yinyin was firm in her stance: “I’m not doing this to punish myself. It’s just… I can’t erase everything from my mind all at once. But I don’t want to waste my life on something so meaningless. This is the only way. Only pain can remind me not to think about him. If I do it enough times, eventually, the only thing I’ll feel when I think of him is pain—and nothing else. One day, I will completely return to being myself.”
Her determination left Zhou Yao and Ying Nian speechless. And so, people often saw Zheng Yinyin sitting quietly in a corner, reading and eating, her face sometimes swollen. At first, she would slap herself six or seven times a day. Later, it only happened when she momentarily lost focus.
The boy who had caused the conflict between Zheng Yinyin and Lin Youyun was named Ning Qi. After Zheng Yinyin quit the club and distanced herself from them, he came looking for her. However, all the tactics and words that used to work on her suddenly lost their effect. Zheng Yinyin only gave him a cold, detached response: “Our personalities aren’t suited to being friends. I don’t get along well with Lin Youyun and the others, either. So, I think it’s best if we stop hanging out together.”
After saying that, she hugged her books and walked toward the classroom. Ning Qi tried to stop her, but she shifted her foot slightly, dodging his attempt with swift precision.
“If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to class now.”
Ning Qi looked at her and said, “If you need tutoring, you can come to me. A few of us have decent grades too—you don't have to go to the top students on the Red Honor, right? They must be difficult to get along with, given how famous they are. Their tempers are probably bad, and you're so soft-hearted. What if you have a conflict with them…?”
Every word seemed to be spoken with her best interest in mind.
Zheng Yinyin only felt like laughing. Back when she showed him the bruises and wounds that Lin Youyun had left on her, what he had said was: ‘Practicing kendo inevitably leads to injuries. It was just an accident. I'll talk to her—don't take it too seriously.’
Thinking about it now, just how stupid had she been back then? From that moment on, Zheng Yinyin disappeared completely from Ning Qi's little circle. She cut ties with them for good.
Three days after Ning Qi tried to talk to her, the results of the quiz were released, and the Red Honor was posted. Zheng Yinyin was walking out of the teaching building, holding her books, when she ran into Ning Qi and his group.
They turned and saw her. Their expressions were complicated. Lin Youyun scoffed, making no effort to hide her malice. “Does she think carrying a book around makes her good at studying? Disgusting. I don’t even know who she's trying to impress!”
Zheng Yinyin acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing. She walked past them without acknowledging Ning Qi’s hesitant gaze, heading straight for the Red Honor in the distance.
Zhou Yao and Ying Nian were already waiting there. They had agreed to check the results together. As she neared them, Zheng Yinyin broke into a small run, rushing to their side.
“You did amazing!”
Ying Nian hugged Zheng Yinyin tightly.
“Seventy-fifth place! Yinyin, you ranked seventy-fifth!”
Her excited shout caught the attention of many people nearby. Maybe for the top-ranking students, this wasn't anything special. But with over a dozen classes in their grade, Zheng Yinyin had always been ranked beyond the thousandth place. Now, she had suddenly jumped into the top hundred. No matter how one looked at it, it was a cause for celebration.
“You were incredible!” Zhou Yao also hugged Zheng Yinyin.
Zheng Yinyin, however, stood frozen in disbelief, staring at her name on the Red Honor. Even as Ying Nian shook her shoulders excitedly, her eyes gradually turned red.
“Seventy-five? Really… really seventy-five? Is this real…”
Her voice was choked with emotion, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to hold back tears.
But in the end, she couldn’t help it—
“I ranked seventy-fifth in the whole grade!”
The three girls laughed and cheered, caught up in their joy. Not far behind them, Ning Qi and Lin Youyun's group had overheard some of their conversation. Their expressions shifted, but no one said anything about it. Their gazes flickered, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.
The slaps she gave herself hurt.
Cutting off people she shouldn't be around was difficult.
Endless practice questions drove her mad at times.
But she had endured it all.
Zheng Yinyin raised her arm to cover her eyes as she sobbed, while Ying Nian shook her arm playfully, and Zhou Yao gently wrapped an arm around her waist. Neither of them interrupted her moment of release.
The golden sunlight fell from the sky, dividing the schoolyard into light and shadow.
Zheng Yinyin and her friends stood on one side, under the building’s shade. Ning Qi, Lin Youyun, and the others were on the other side.
Like a clear boundary line, separating two different lives.
And she would never turn back again.
……
After dinner, Zhou Yao’s mother asked her to bring some chicken soup to Chen Xuze. She had the passcode to his house’s first-floor entrance, so she keyed it in and walked in, setting the container on the table. “Chen Xuze?” she called out.
The first floor was dark. No one was there.
Carefully, she made her way to the stairs and walked up.
Chen Xuze’s room was on the second floor. She reached his door and knocked lightly before turning the handle and pushing it open—
Chen Xuze was lying on his bed with earphones in. The moment the door opened, he yanked them out and sat up halfway. “When did you get here?!”
Zhou Yao was startled, thinking she had frightened him by showing up unexpectedly. She hesitated before explaining, “My mom asked me to bring you some soup. It's downstairs. I didn’t see you there, so I came up. I… I'll leave now. Don’t forget to drink the soup.”
Half a minute later, before she could even make it downstairs, Chen Xuze stepped out of his room. He said, “I was asleep just now. You startled me a little.”
So that was it. Zhou Yao let out a quiet ‘Oh’ and nodded.
“I still have homework to do. Make sure you drink the soup. I’ll head back now, okay?” She never intended to stay long.
This time, Chen Xuze didn’t ask her to stay. He nodded, turned on the hallway light, and watched her leave. Only when he heard the door close downstairs did he switch the light off and return to his room.
The second floor was eerily quiet. Chen Xuze lived alone, so aside from his occasional movements, the house was practically soundless.
Earlier, when Zhou Yao had entered, he had been too distracted to notice, with his earphones in.
But he didn’t go downstairs to drink the soup. Instead, he stood in his room for a moment, staring silently at his phone on the bed. Then he let out a slow breath, lay back down, propped up one leg, and draped his left arm over his eyes.
This time, he didn’t put his earphones in. He unplugged them entirely.
From his phone came a soft, delicate voice, murmuring weakly—almost like a plea.
Anyone familiar with her would recognize that it was Zhou Yao’s voice. But unlike usual, there was a sickly frailty to it, a tone that was unexpectedly seductive.
The entire room filled with her voice, calling his name over and over.
“Xuze…”
“Chen Xuze…”
Eyes closed, head slightly tilted back, he blocked out all the light with his arm. His other hand reached up and turned off the lamp. Darkness consumed the room.
No one knew that, beneath the shadows, his body was tense—from the slight curl of his toes to the faintly visible veins under his skin. He was uncomfortable, but also, inexplicably, a little exhilarated.
“Xuze… it hurts…”
“Xuze…”
“Hurts…”
With that soft, pleading voice ringing in his ears, Chen Xuze clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
The only one who could drive him mad with frustration—was her.
And the only one who could ignite this burning desire in him—was also her.
Chen Xuze thought—maybe he was sick.
And maybe, when it came to Zhou Yao, this sickness was something he would never recover from.
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