Chapter 16 Another Loss
It was my second year of university.
The summer after the college entrance exam, Father died in an accident.
A drowned girl’s body was found locally. Though the face was unrecognizable, the build, age, and even the birthmark on her right wrist matched my missing sister.
Later it was confirmed not to be her.
But Father couldn’t bear the false hope. His heart condition flared up. He died suddenly.
Mother forced herself through the funeral arrangements. Relatives and neighbors pitied the widow and orphan, even suggested checking the family grave for bad feng shui.
Zhou Ke attended. He laid flowers, comforted Mother.
“Auntie, please take care of yourself. From now on I’ll help look after Nanfang too.”
I kept my head down and said nothing. In truth, not one tear fell.
Before grief could reach me, a strange lightness settled in my chest first.
One less person in the world who might discover what I’d done.
Then came a faint regret. I didn’t need to name it.
I deserved to die.
But by then so many things were already beyond my control.
Mother noticed how close Zhou Ke and I were. She didn’t ask much, just patted his shoulder.
“Son, our family situation is complicated. Nanfang has suffered a lot since she was little. If there’s ever any conflict, please be more patient with her.”
Zhou Ke agreed readily.
My exam scores were average. To avoid Mother and to stay near him, I applied to a university in the neighboring province together with him.
He got into a top 985. I ended up at a low-tier 211.
He kept in touch often, asking about me and Mother, never seeming tired of it.
Even my roommates teased, “Nanfang, your boyfriend is so clingy.”
I only smiled.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure myself—whether he was more interested in me or in my family.
But did it matter? If we didn’t share similar family wounds, he never would have come near me.
Since I was already an adult, I didn’t want to keep relying on Zhou Ke for pills. I went to the psychiatric department alone.
The doctor said I showed signs of anxiety and depression and recommended therapy. Too many secrets held me back, so I refused.
I just took some psychiatric medication to get by.
But my body built tolerance quickly. Effective doses kept climbing.
To chase the same relief I often ignored instructions and messed with the amounts myself.
That only made my already fragile health worse.
So two years later, when I heard Mu Weiyi’s name again, I reacted like I’d seen a ghost—shortness of breath, trembling that wouldn’t stop.