It was the skeleton of a boy, with a deep bronze hue, resembling an exquisite work of art cast in pure copper. The eye sockets of the skull held crystallized eyeballs, looking like golden glass beads. While it resembled a human skeleton, there were significant differences upon closer examination—nearly a thousand delicate bones, some fused together, others forming organs unseen in any anatomy textbook. Two thin bone structures spread behind like fans—his wings. His outstretched arms grasped the wing bones behind him, and the skull hung low, as if crucified like Jesus on the cross.
A Dragonbone cross.
Chu Zihang lay amidst yellow and white flowers. If the sheet were pulled over him and a mourning couplet hung at the head of the bed, the scene would be complete.
The Lionheart Society’s leaders couldn’t decide what kind of flowers to bring, so they decided to clear out the entire flower shop in the college. The flowers there weren’t imported—they came from the greenhouse run by the Genetics Department. A whole greenhouse of yellow and white tulips was harvested, and the Lionheart Society took them all. Tulips symbolize “love, care, elegance, and wealth,” which seemed fitting to the Frenchman Lancelot. However, once these flowers were placed in the ward, the effect was a bit awkward. Lancelot thoughtfully had someone fetch some red roses to place by the bedside.
“This looks better,” Lancelot said, slightly satisfied with the final arrangement.
Chu Zihang could only smile and nod. Right now, he felt like he was lying on a white cream cake covered with lemon sauce, the red roses spelling out something like “Happy Birthday.”
This was the first day the intensive care ward allowed visitors. Besides the Lionheart Society, some other prominent figures in the college also appeared in the room—like Professor Schneider, head of the Execution Bureau. Various campus societies sent visiting groups too. The large-scale visitations during the investigation into Chu Zihang’s bloodline seemed to suggest some secretive orchestration behind the scenes. Andrew read the campus news and was furious; the campus, funded by family money, was once again resisting the intervention of the Board. In Andrew’s opinion, Chu Zihang should have long been sent directly to Rome, bound and secured.
In the end, all the visitors left, and the afternoon sunlight filled the room. Against the wall opposite the bed stood a person staring absentmindedly out of the window.
Lu Mingfei.
Chu Zihang looked at him quietly, not saying anything. Lu Mingfei had snuck in while the Lionheart Society members crowded around the bed. There were always a lot of people by the bed, so he never got a chance to say anything and ended up just leaning there, lost in thought. Whenever Chu Zihang’s gaze passed through the comings and goings, he would see Lu Mingfei leaning or sitting there, his eyes empty, reflecting the changing sunlight throughout the day. Occasionally, he would leave to buy a bottle of water, return, drink, and then continue zoning out.
It was like a kid left alone in the park on a summer afternoon. He didn’t know where to go, but he wasn’t afraid either. He just wandered back and forth between a tree and the lake.
Suddenly, Lu Mingfei realized the visitors had all left, and he quickly stood up, scratching his head. He wanted to say something to his stoic senior, but all that came to mind were clichés like “How are you feeling?” He could have said, “I’m glad you’re alive,” but it didn’t feel like they were close enough for that—they’d only done one mission together in China. He nodded at Chu Zihang, then turned to leave.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Chu Zihang suddenly said.
“Hmm?” Lu Mingfei turned back.
Chu Zihang hesitated for a moment. “What does it feel like to like someone?”
“Pretty damn miserable!” Lu Mingfei blurted out.
He suddenly lowered his head, realizing that liking someone wasn’t necessarily miserable—it was only miserable for him. And the worst part was that he had said it without thinking.
It was like admitting defeat. A gambler who always loses, when asked what poker is like, can’t help but answer, “Losing money.”
“What do you mean, senior?” He looked at Chu Zihang with some caution, wondering if he knew something.
“You’ve liked Chen Wenwen and Nono, haven’t you?” Chu Zihang continued coldly.
“Actually, I also like Lin Chiling, but I feel like our age gap isn’t quite right.” Lu Mingfei couldn’t help saying something foolish. It felt like Chu Zihang was conducting an investigation.
He suddenly felt irritated. Why couldn’t Chu Zihang just say what he meant? Everyone already knew he was foolishly in love; did Chu Zihang really have to beat around the bush? Was he trying to make a fool of him?
“Just say what you want to say already,” Lu Mingfei said, scowling. But halfway through, he softened his tone—after all, Chu Zihang was still lying in a hospital bed.
“I’m asking why you like someone—what might cause it?” Chu Zihang said seriously.
“Because they’re good-looking.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Thin waist, long legs, long hair.”
“I’m not talking about appearances,” Chu Zihang frowned. “I mean, are there any reasons beyond looks?”
“Does liking someone need a reason? Does it? Does it? Does it?” Lu Mingfei got irritated again. “It’s a damned mystery. Originally, you don’t care about anything, you’re just happy, eating hotpot, riding a train, singing on your way out of town… Suddenly the train gets flipped into the water, you climb out, and there’s this long-haired, long-legged girl standing over you, putting her foot on your face, looking majestic, saying, ‘This mountain is mine, this tree is mine. If you want to pass, pay the toll. If you say no, we won’t bury your corpse!’ In that moment, something moves in your heart, and you just want to stay with her and be a bandit… And in that moment, you like her.”
He remembered that night in the dark theater, the moment Nono forcefully and boldly entered his world, and a wave of bitterness washed over him.
Chu Zihang clearly couldn’t follow this kind of explanation. “Can you be more specific? Like, maybe because this girl treats you well or something.”
“Bullshit!” Lu Mingfei was tired, so he just sat on Chu Zihang’s bed. “It’s often those who order you around and don’t care about you.”
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