Sweet Temptation: After Rebirth, The Campus Heartthrob Can’t Hide His Feelings Anymore - Chapter 63

“Tell me,” Xu Zhizhi looked up, her eyes shimmering with anticipation as she gazed at Zhou Xuci.

“We’ve met before.”

“No,” she shook her head, rephrasing her words. “You knew me when I was sixteen, didn’t you?”

Zhou Xuci cupped Xu Zhizhi’s face in his hands. “Yes, I did.”

Xu Zhizhi frowned in confusion. “But I have no memory of it.”

Zhou Xuci asked softly, “Would you like to hear the story about my grandmother and me?”

“Mm,” Xu Zhizhi nodded.

“When my mother gave birth to me, she had a difficult delivery, lost a lot of blood, and nearly died. Her health was very poor afterward, she was admitted to the ICU several times for emergency treatment. She was so weak that she spent almost a year confined to bed.”

“It was my grandmother who raised me with her own hands. I grew up following her around, and she doted on me, giving me all the best things in life. I was cherished and pampered by her.”

“Grandmother was a pianist and practiced regularly every day. Growing up surrounded by her music, I naturally learned to play the piano well.”

“She was a bit contradictory at times. She would sternly lecture me about believing in science, yet in private, she was a superstitious old lady. Later, I realized that her superstitions were all because of me.”

Through Zhou Xuci’s description, Xu Zhizhi began to envision the kind and gentle image of the elderly woman.

Zhou Xuci lifted his gaze to the boundless night sky. “Have you heard of Hanshan Temple in Nancheng? It’s a place known for its auspicious energy.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Xu Zhizhi whispered. “People in Nancheng love to visit Hanshan Temple to pray, for academic success, wealth, or love. They say it’s very effective.”

“Yes, it’s very effective, but there are a thousand steps to climb.” A trace of melancholy gathered in Zhou Xuci’s eyes. “Grandmother was a romantic. Every time she went up the mountain to pray, she would pick a bouquet of roses.”

“For seventeen years, she regularly climbed that mountain to pray for me, for my health, for everything to go smoothly in my life, and for me to be carefree and happy.”

“From the time I was six, I accompanied her, tirelessly climbing those steps, a thousand up and a thousand down. I always urged her to take the cable car, but she would insist that it wouldn’t be sincere.”

As Zhou Xuci spoke of his grandmother, his eyes reddened, his words filled with endless nostalgia for the past.

He missed her so much.

“The year I turned eighteen, I was supposed to accompany her to Hanshan Temple again, but that day I couldn’t go. I had a fever and was bedridden at home.”

“Grandmother went alone. She climbed those thousand steps, holding roses in her hands, and placed them among the mountain wilds, adding a touch of romance to the wilderness.”

She was a woman who cherished life’s rituals.

She understood how to live.

She loved life.

“But on her way down, she had an accident. She slipped on the steps and was severely injured… so severely that she couldn’t be saved.”

Zhou Xuci lowered his head, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at Xu Zhizhi. “It was only later that I learned Grandmother hadn’t always been superstitious. It started when my mother was pregnant with me and had several bleeding scares, showing signs of a miscarriage. Panicked, Grandmother listened to an elderly neighbor and climbed those thousand steps to pray.”

“Later, I was born safely, and my mother recovered her health through rest. From then on, Grandmother developed the habit of praying. She used to say that sometimes, you have to believe in the mystical.”

Xu Zhizhi reached out and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of Zhou Xuci’s eyes, her heart aching for him.

Zhou Xuci lowered his head, burying his face in Xu Zhizhi’s shoulder, and said with self-reproach, “Countless times, I’ve wondered, if I hadn’t been sick that day, if I had accompanied Grandma on that walk, would the story have been rewritten? Would that accident never have happened?”

Xu Zhizhi raised her hand and gently stroked the back of Zhou Xuci’s head, her nose tingling and her eyes growing warm. “A-Ci, it wasn’t your fault.”

“After Grandma’s accident, no one blamed me,” Zhou Xuci held Xu Zhizhi tightly. “They all knew it was an accident, a twist of fate. But I blame myself. I’ve been trapped in a whirlpool of self-blame, struggling endlessly, unable to break free from this confining cage.”

“After Grandma passed, Grandpa became silent. Most of the time, he stayed in the rose garden, busily trimming the roses. His silhouette looked so lonely, working from morning till night, as long as he kept moving, he could briefly forget his sorrow.”

“In the greenhouse sat the piano Grandma played every day. Grandpa wiped it clean each day, but that piano… no one ever played it again.”

Zhou Xuci took a deep breath. “Grandpa didn’t even dare show his sadness in front of me, worried it would put too much pressure on me. Until one night, I discovered him sitting alone in the garden, quietly wiping away tears. He didn’t even dare cry aloud, only weeping secretly when no one was looking.”

“We were all trapped in the pain of Grandma’s departure, struggling bitterly, only to sink deeper, almost suffocating.”

Zhou Xuci’s arms tightened around Xu Zhizhi’s waist, his voice choked with emotion. “No one ever blamed me, but I can’t forgive myself. I live in extreme self-reproach.”

Xu Zhizhi felt heartbroken, as if a piece of her heart had been carved out.

All words of comfort reached her lips but turned to emptiness.

She understood all too well the feeling of losing someone dear.

“Grandpa didn’t dare cry in front of me, and I didn’t dare cry in front of him either. I left early and returned late every day, studying until very late because I was afraid to go home.”

“Finally, a heavy spring rain came down, giving me a suitable excuse for my wretched state. The night wind carried a chill as I ran through the downpour and accidentally fell into a mud pit, getting covered in filth.”

“Taking advantage of the rain, I curled up in a small alley, crying miserably, finally finding an opportunity to release my grief.”

Zhou Xuci cupped Xu Zhizhi’s face, gazing at her deeply. “Suddenly, the rain stopped falling on me. A girl was holding an umbrella over me.”

“I slightly raised my head and saw the spring rain falling all around, landing on her shoulders and soaking two-thirds of her skirt.”

“A kitten’s meow came from her backpack. On her way home, she had found a kitten fallen into a puddle and put it in her backpack to take with her.”

“Xu Zhizhi,” Zhou Xuci’s eyes were terribly red. “That was you at sixteen.”

“You gave me your umbrella and told me, ‘The weather has turned cold, hurry home.'”

You saw me at my most wretched, but you don’t remember me.

“The kitten was in your backpack, the zipper not fully closed. You ran so fast that your ID photo fell out. I picked it up and kept it hidden all this time.”

Xu Zhizhi desperately tried to recall that heavy spring rain, she had indeed rescued a kitten.

The alley had been too dark for her to see the boy’s face clearly, but she had sensed his sorrow and offered what warmth she could.

“Later, at the opening ceremony of our first year in high school, I attended as the student representative of the first campus.”

“I saw you again… you stood on the stage, delivering a speech as the student representative.”

I wanted to get closer to you.

But your gaze was fixed on Shen Yu.

…