The lonely child
1448 Words
Diagnosed with a terminal illness, Zhuang Ziang didn’t know who to tell at first.
Most people would think of their parents, but his situation was a bit different.
His father, Zhuang Wenzhao, and his mother, Xu Hui, had divorced when he was five.
In this world, the vast majority of professions require training and examinations before one can take up the job.
For example, driving requires a license, and teaching requires a teaching certificate.
But to become a parent, there’s no exam. A moment of impulse, an unexpected accident, and a life is brought into this world.
Few people ever ask whether that child actually wants to come.
Zhuang Ziang’s childhood was an unhappy one. Ever since he could remember, his parents were constantly arguing.
The tables and chairs at home were often knocked over, and the floor was littered with shards of glass and porcelain.
Finally, on an ordinary day, they parted ways for good.
During the divorce negotiations, Zhuang Wenzhao initially didn’t want custody of Ziang, thinking that having a burden would affect his chances of remarrying.
In the end, under the intervention of Ziang’s grandparents, he kept the child, using the excuse of carrying on the family name.
A year later, Zhuang Wenzhao brought home a woman with heavy makeup.
Two years later, they had a son of their own.
In fairy tales, children with stepmothers often live miserable lives.
Reality wasn’t as dramatic, but there was still the constant need to be cautious, to watch others' expressions and act accordingly.
Even though it was his own home, he often felt like an outsider.
His mother, Xu Hui, never remarried. As a train attendant, she was always traveling, sometimes gone for ten days or even half a month at a time.
She rented a small apartment near the school. Whenever Ziang didn’t want to go home, he would stay there for a few days.
Over time, he became even more of a peripheral figure in his own home.
His parents were both at work at the moment. Not wanting to disturb them, Ziang hesitated for a long time before dialing a landline number from the corner of the balcony.
The phone rang for a long time before someone finally answered.
An elderly voice came through, “Hello? Who is this?”
Tears welled up in Ziang’s eyes. “Grandpa, it’s me, Ziang. I miss you.”
Zhuang Jianguo immediately brightened up. “Ziang! Grandpa misses you too.”
Then, he called out loudly to his wife, asking her to come listen to their grandson’s voice.
Ziang rarely felt any warmth from his family. Only during winter and summer vacations, when he visited his grandparents in the countryside, could he find a trace of comfort from their kindness.
“Grandpa, Grandma, I’ll come visit you this weekend,” Ziang tried his best to sound natural.
“No need, you have a heavy study load right now. Don’t worry about us. Come back during summer vacation,” Zhuang Jianguo said with a hearty laugh.
“Well… alright then. Grandpa, Grandma, take care. I have to go to class now,” Ziang quickly found an excuse and hung up the phone.
Otherwise, he would have certainly burst into tears.
He simply didn’t have the courage to tell his two dearest elders this earth-shattering news.
If that day truly came, how devastated would they be?
At that moment, the class bell rang.
Zhuang Ziang wiped away his tears, composed himself, and returned to his seat, trying to bury his sorrow in the vast ocean of knowledge.
On the far right side of the blackboard, the class schedule was written—next up was two consecutive periods of math.
Wu Qiufang, also known as "Extinction Master Tai," walked up to the podium with her textbook under her arm.
Math class had an excellent sleep-inducing effect.
Only five minutes in, more than half the class was already drowsy.
Taking advantage of the moment when Wu Qiufang turned to write on the board, Li Huangxuan reached into his desk and pulled out a copy of Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils.
A random flip of the pages landed him on a classic scene—
Eighteen Yanyun cavalrymen galloped forward like tigers, their charge stirring up a storm of dust.
"Bro, do you have a death wish? Reading a novel during Extinction Master Tai’s class?" Zhuang Ziang whispered to his deskmate.
But Li Huangxuan was determined to defy the odds, committing his crime in broad daylight.
The flashing swords and thrilling vendettas of the martial arts world were far more exciting than cold, rigid math formulas.
Zhuang Ziang, being the model student, sat up straight, pretending to focus.
But today felt different. He could see Wu Qiufang’s mouth moving, but he couldn’t process a single word.
It was as if the warmth of life was slowly draining from his body.
"Young Master Murong, Clan Leader Zhuang, Old Freak Ding—come at me all at once if you dare! I, Xiao Feng, fear no one!"
Just as Li Huangxuan reached a thrilling part of the story, he suddenly sensed a murderous aura directed at him.
He looked up and met Wu Qiufang’s piercing gaze.
"Li Huangxuan, come up to the blackboard and solve this problem."
From her vantage point on the podium, the teacher could see every little mischief happening in the classroom.
Wu Qiufang had always been strict—she wouldn’t tolerate even a grain of sand in her eyes.
Li Huangxuan dragged his feet up to the board, holding a piece of chalk, staring at the incomprehensible problem as if he had turned to stone.
This problem was impossible! Other than those emotionless study machines, who could actually solve it?
Wu Qiufang’s face darkened. "With your math grades, you still have the audacity to read novels in class? Sitting next to Zhuang Ziang, have you learned nothing from him?"
Li Huangxuan muttered, "He’s the one who bought me the book..."
"Confiscated. Go stand at the back of the classroom and listen from there," Wu Qiufang ordered.
Then, switching to a gentler tone, she continued, "Zhuang Ziang, why don’t you solve this problem for the class as an example?"
As the top student, Zhuang Ziang’s math scores were always close to perfect.
Solving a problem of this difficulty should have been effortless for him.
But when Zhuang Ziang heard the teacher call his name, he visibly froze, as if his soul had drifted somewhere far away and was suddenly yanked back.
He walked up to the blackboard, but instead of writing, he stood still for a long time, unable to put chalk to surface.
His mind was consumed by the image of that diagnosis report—or rather, that death sentence.
The numbers and symbols that had once felt so familiar and welcoming now seemed utterly foreign.
"Zhuang Ziang, what’s wrong?" Wu Qiufang asked in surprise.
"Ms. Wu, I… I don’t know how to solve it," Zhuang Ziang choked out.
"That’s impossible," Wu Qiufang frowned. She knew him well—this level of math problem should have been no challenge at all.
She had called on him to make a contrast with Li Huangxuan, but unexpectedly, the situation had backfired.
Zhuang Ziang’s shoulders trembled slightly, and the piece of chalk in his hand slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor.
Tears welled up again, completely beyond his control.
The overwhelming sorrow engulfed him, making him feel like a lost and lonely child.
Wu Qiufang’s heart ached at the sight. She had the sudden urge to embrace him.
The students, confused by the scene, whispered among themselves.
"Come on, there's no way this problem could stump Zhuang Ziang."
"A top student is still a top student—he can’t solve a math problem, and instead of panicking, he actually cries?"
"Mu Shi, did he confess to you and get rejected?"
…
Lin Mushi widened her beautiful eyes, staring at Zhuang Ziang’s back. A sudden, inexplicable sense of unease washed over her.
They had been friends for so long, yet she had never seen him this devastated.
He must be hiding something.
"Zhuang Ziang, don’t cry. Go back to your seat," Wu Qiufang softly consoled him.
"Ms. Wu, can I go to the restroom?" he sobbed.
Wu Qiufang sighed lightly and nodded in silence.
Teachers were always a little more lenient with good students.
As soon as he stepped out into the hallway, Zhuang Ziang completely lost control, crying so hard it felt like his heart was being torn apart.
Every teacher, every classmate—he cherished them deeply.
Yet in just three months, they would be separated by life and death.
Never to meet again.
- Writer
