BURN Chapter 6

Translator: Abo Dammen

In a hospital, nothing stays hidden for long. News of Zhi Zhi’s suicide attempt spread quickly.

Upon learning about the incident, Fu Nan’an’s first concern was for Zhi Zhi, and his second was for Chi Zhao. At this point, Fu Nan’an didn’t yet know that Chi Zhao had returned specifically for Zhi Zhi, but he was aware that a young intern like Chi Zhao would feel deeply affected by such an event. After spending so much time together, Fu Nan’an knew Chi Zhao was a sensitive and thoughtful person. Once he confirmed that Zhi Zhi was safe, Fu Nan’an went to find Chi Zhao. His blindness made it difficult to locate him at first, but eventually, he faintly heard Chi Zhao’s muffled sobs.

“Are you okay?” Fu Nan’an asked gently, sitting down beside Chi Zhao with his cane.

Fu Nan’an’s tone was soft, and the faint scent of sandalwood that always seemed to linger around him helped pull Chi Zhao out of his spiraling thoughts. Chi Zhao forced a strained smile and shifted slightly to make room. “Professor, why are you here?”

“I heard about Zhi Zhi,” Fu Nan’an explained. He had been keeping an eye on Zhi Zhi for a while, and hearing about the incident filled him with both regret and heartache. “I didn’t expect things to escalate like this.”

The low, regretful tone in Fu Nan’an’s voice made Chi Zhao’s heart sink further. All the guilt he had been feeling surged back. Chi Zhao clenched his fists, his voice tight. “It’s my fault. If I had noticed sooner, if I had—”

“There’s no ‘if,’” Fu Nan’an interrupted gently, his brow slightly furrowed. “You’ve already done your best. Without you, Zhi Zhi’s situation could have been much worse.”

“But—” Chi Zhao started urgently, but Fu Nan’an cut him off with a question. “Why were you in Zhi Zhi’s room earlier?”

Chi Zhao answered honestly, “I just felt like something was off with Zhi Zhi’s mood, so I wanted to check on him.”

Fu Nan’an asked again, “When did you notice something was wrong?”

“After I got back to the dorm,” Chi Zhao said, shaking his head in distress as the memories came flooding back. “The dorm was already locked, but the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t let it go. Looking back now, I should’ve stayed with him tonight. I should’ve—”

“There’s no ‘should,’” Fu Nan’an interrupted again. “This isn’t your responsibility.”

At first, Fu Nan’an hadn’t realized that Chi Zhao had returned specifically for Zhi Zhi. Hearing the reason now softened his heart even more. “Everyone’s emotions and experiences are unique. You’re not him, and you can’t predict everything he’s going through. You’ve already done more than enough. I didn’t even expect you to come back for him… You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.”

Talking to Professor Fu was always comforting. He didn’t lecture or preach, but his gentle words always seemed to strike the right chord. The calming scent of sandalwood, which Fu Nan’an often used, filled the air, helping to ease Chi Zhao’s anxiety.

“You’ve already done your best,” Fu Nan’an repeated, reassuring Chi Zhao over and over.

Fu Nan’an explained that even the most skilled doctors couldn’t anticipate everything. He praised Chi Zhao for his quick response, noting that even the expensive caretaker hired by Zhi Zhi’s parents hadn’t noticed the signs that Chi Zhao had picked up on. With his gentle words, Fu Nan’an smoothed out the sharp edges of Chi Zhao’s guilt.

After all, Chi Zhao was just a fourth-year student, a young man in his early twenties who had never experienced life-and-death situations before. Facing such a heavy event so suddenly was overwhelming, and it was natural for him to feel regret and helplessness.

Now, with the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air, Chi Zhao sat on the bench, listening to Fu Nan’an’s voice. The sharp emotions he had been holding in finally found an outlet. He looked at Fu Nan’an, taking in his calm expression and slightly lowered eyes. The weight in his chest began to dissipate, and warmth flowed back into his heart. It was as if a gentle spring breeze had blown through the cold, desolate peak of a snowy mountain, bringing light and hope.

Yes, he had done his best.

The tragedy had been averted, and Zhi Zhi would recover.

Whether the world was dark or bright often depended on one’s perspective.

Though Professor Fu’s world was dark, he could bring light to others.

Chi Zhao looked steadily at Fu Nan’an and said, “I understand, Professor.”

His tone was firm.

Zhi Zhi’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, but the psychological trauma required him to stay under observation in the emergency room for 24 hours. The night passed quickly. Fu Nan’an had morning clinic duties, while Chi Zhao stayed behind to continue caring for Zhi Zhi.

Not long after the incident, Zou Anhe arrived at the hospital, followed by Zhi Zhi’s parents. After the emergency treatment, the couple rushed to Zhi Zhi’s bedside, tears streaming down their faces. The nurses quickly stepped in to stop them.

“Sir, ma’am, please calm down,” a nurse said, blocking them with her arm. “The patient needs rest. Please don’t disturb him.”

Zhi Zhi was still awake, lying silently in bed. His mother wept uncontrollably beside him, while his father’s eyes were red with tears. Zhi Zhi simply lay there with his eyes downcast, unusually quiet for a child his age.

“Let the child rest for now,” Zou Anhe said, stepping forward to pat the parents’ shoulders. “Let’s talk outside.”

Zou Anhe led them to the ophthalmology office, with Chi Zhao following behind. He poured each of them a glass of water.

“Here, have some water,” Chi Zhao said.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

After handing out the water, Chi Zhao stayed quiet. Zou Anhe asked the parents, “Did you say anything to Zhi Zhi recently? He seemed fine a couple of days ago. What happened today?”

“We didn’t say anything!” Zhi Zhi’s father quickly denied.

Zhi Zhi’s mother hesitated, then stammered, “Maybe… it was…”

Zou Anhe pressed, “What was it?”

Zhi Zhi’s father shook his head again. “It’s nothing.”

“Uncle, auntie, it’s best to be honest with Dr. Zou,” Chi Zhao interjected, unable to stay silent any longer. “Otherwise, we can’t address the root of the problem, and Zhi Zhi might face more issues in the future.”

Zou Anhe nodded in agreement. After some hesitation, Zhi Zhi’s mother finally admitted, “Well… we’re planning to leave Zhi Zhi here.”

Zou Anhe frowned. “What do you mean, ‘leave him here’?”

“We mean… keeping him in the hospital long-term,” Zhi Zhi’s mother said awkwardly, instinctively touching her stomach. “I… I’m pregnant. We’re planning to have another child.”

Zou Anhe’s frown deepened. “So you’re planning to abandon Zhi Zhi?”

“No, no, we’ll still pay for his medical expenses,” Zhi Zhi’s mother quickly clarified. “Money isn’t an issue. It’s just that we’re planning to go abroad to have this baby, and Zhi Zhi might have to stay here alone for a while…”

“A while?” Zou Anhe asked. “How long is ‘a while’?”

Zhi Zhi’s mother smiled awkwardly. “We’re not sure yet.”

As the three of them discussed Zhi Zhi’s situation, Chi Zhao listened, feeling a mix of emotions.

Objectively speaking, Zhi Zhi’s parents had provided a lot for him. The hospital fees alone were a significant expense. But now, with Zhi Zhi only six years old, they were planning to leave him behind to go abroad and start a new family… The implication was clear. They had already given up on Zhi Zhi, treating him as a “defective product.”

Zou Anhe understood the gravity of the situation and tried to reason with them. “But Zhi Zhi is so young. How can you leave him alone in the country?”

“We don’t have a choice, doctor,” Zhi Zhi’s father interrupted, his brow furrowed tightly. “You know his condition. Taking him abroad would only make things more complicated.”

It was a difficult situation.

In real life, things are rarely black and white. Zhi Zhi was at an age where he needed his parents, but they had their own lives and considerations. The topic was too heavy, and Chi Zhao couldn’t bear to listen any longer. He quietly left the office and returned to the observation room. Zhi Zhi was still lying silently in bed, his pale face shadowed by his eyelashes, his expression dull.

“Chi Zhao-ge, you’re here?”

Seeing Chi Zhao, Zhi Zhi seemed a little embarrassed. In the heat of the moment, emotions had been intense. Now that things had calmed down, Zhi Zhi forced a weak smile, his lips pale and dry. “I’m sorry, Chi Zhao-ge. Did I hurt you?”

During the struggle over the knife, Zhi Zhi had indeed cut Chi Zhao, but it was just a small wound that Chi Zhao had quickly treated. Now, seeing the guilt on Zhi Zhi’s face, Chi Zhao felt even more heartbroken. This was a kind and sensitive child, yet he had been driven to the point of wanting to end his own life.

“I’m sorry, Chi Zhao. I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Zhi Zhi continued to apologize, his voice trembling. “Please don’t hate me. Please.”

“I could never hate you,” Chi Zhao said, fighting back tears as he gently brushed Zhi Zhi’s hair. “It’s okay. Gege doesn’t hate you.”

“Okay,” Zhi Zhi murmured softly, seeming both reassured and still lost in his own thoughts. His eyes drifted to the tightly bandaged wound on his wrist, and then he suddenly asked, “What about Mom and Dad?”

Chi Zhao was caught off guard. “Huh?”

“Do they hate me?” Zhi Zhi bit his lip, his voice trembling. “I saw them come in earlier… Are they leaving me?”

The soft, nasal tone of his voice struck a chord in Chi Zhao’s heart. Zhi Zhi was scared, and Chi Zhao knew why. The day before, Zhi Zhi’s parents had told him they were leaving, and the child had been unable to process it.

How could a child so young understand being abandoned by his parents? Chi Zhao knew he should comfort Zhi Zhi, tell him, “Of course not, they’re your parents,” or “They won’t leave you.” But looking at Zhi Zhi’s pale, lifeless face, Chi Zhao suddenly felt the need to say something different.

“Zhi Zhi,” Chi Zhao said seriously.

Zhi Zhi blinked. “Yeah?”

“Your parents gave you life and raised you, but your life belongs to you,” Chi Zhao said, lifting Zhi Zhi’s head to meet his gaze. “I know it’s hard, but even if they don’t want you, you have to respect your own life. You can’t end it just because someone else doesn’t love you.”

Zhi Zhi was stunned. He had never seen Chi Zhao so serious before. Realizing he might have scared the child, Chi Zhao relaxed his grip and smiled gently. “I’ve never told you this, but my parents didn’t want me either.”

Chi Zhao knew how to care for children because he had grown up in an orphanage, surrounded by younger siblings. It wasn’t that he didn’t have parents—they just hadn’t wanted to love him. They fought constantly, but they were united in one thing: taking their anger out on him. As a child, Chi Zhao was often beaten until he was covered in bruises, and he wasn’t even allowed to cry.

He grew up in a remote, dark village where no one was willing to help him. From a young age, he had dreamed of escaping. One night, he sneaked into a neighbor’s open truck and made his way to the city. After wandering from place to place, he was eventually found by a kind community worker. In those days, the internet wasn’t widespread, and Chi Zhao insisted he had no parents. Eventually, he was taken in by an orphanage, saving him from a life of abuse.

The memories were distant but still vivid. Chi Zhao shared his story with Zhi Zhi in a gentle tone. As he spoke, he glanced out the window, where the sunlight streamed in. An old man pushing a cotton candy cart passed by.

Chi Zhao looked down at Zhi Zhi and asked, “Do you want some cotton candy?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up. “When I was a kid, no one liked me or cared about me. So I learned to like myself. Back then, all I wanted was to eat cotton candy, but no one would buy it for me. Now that I’m grown up, I can have as much as I want—and I’ll buy some for you too.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel any resentment—that would be a lie. The scars from his childhood were etched deep in his memory, and even now, Chi Zhao sometimes woke up from nightmares.

When he first arrived at the orphanage, his body was covered in wounds. Blood and mud had dried on his clothes, sticking to his injuries. The orphanage teacher asked if it hurt, and though he was in agony, Chi Zhao shook his head firmly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Life wasn’t fair. Some people were born with disabilities, while others carried scars from their families. People came in all shapes and sizes, but Chi Zhao had never given up on himself. He always looked forward.

Chi Zhao smiled as he walked toward the door. “Wait here. I’ll get you the biggest cotton—”

Mid-sentence, Chi Zhao suddenly fell silent.

The door was open, and Fu Nan’an was standing there. He leaned on his cane, his pale gray eyes like a dense, impenetrable fog, silently gazing in Chi Zhao’s direction.