After the Secrets of the Passerby Were Leaked, He Was Cherished by the Entire Family of Antagonists

For the first time in his life, Song Zhehan felt an overwhelming sense of regret.

Zhang Qiran sat on the bed, tears streaming uncontrollably from his swollen eyes. He choked out, “After I saw it... I got sick. That period of time is really hazy for me. I don’t even remember what happened after that…”

“Stop,” Song Zhehan’s heart clenched painfully, and he interrupted Zhang Qiran, trying to stop him from continuing.

But Zhang Qiran seemed unable to hear him. “I just remember waking up to find my mom there… She took me away. For a long time, I lived in a fog, day in and day out… Song Zhehan, I…”

Once the floodgates opened, no matter how much Song Zhehan tried to stop him, Zhang Qiran couldn’t hold back his urge to confess everything. Song Zhehan decided to listen in silence, not wanting to be a killjoy.

Zhang Qiran, with tearful eyes, looked at Song Zhehan. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to contact him—it was that, at the time, he simply couldn’t.

Witnessing his father’s suicide had devastated him. For a long time, Xiang Yang, as he was known before becoming Zhang Qiran, had even lost his ability to speak.

The memories of that time were so painful that Xiang Yang couldn’t bear to revisit them. He recalled lying in a hospital bed day after day, with doctors and nurses frequently restraining him to administer medication.

He couldn’t distinguish between night and day, and the only vivid memory he had was of his mother.

That strong, beautiful woman, who hadn’t shed a tear even after divorcing his father, had broken down sobbing beside his bed.

Looking at her, Xiang Yang thought of Song Zhehan.

He remembered what Song Zhehan had once told him:

“Xiang Yang should live up to his name and grow towards the sun.”

Xiang Yang wanted to see Song Zhehan again.

He wanted to know how Song Zhehan would comfort him and if, after seeing him in such a miserable state, Song Zhehan would still have the patience to offer him solace.

Xiang Yang longed to see Song Zhehan.

So even though he felt like he was drowning, even though he was utterly exhausted, he continued to strive upward.

Toward the surface, toward the sunlight, always moving forward.

Until the waves receded, and the setting sun bathed him in its light.

Xiang Yang had made it.

But he had missed the sunrise.

It took him an entire year to heal.

But a year later, he couldn’t contact Song Zhehan anymore.

Song Zhehan hadn’t just changed his phone number. After graduating middle school, his entire family had moved away.

So not only could Xiang Yang not contact him—he couldn’t even find him.

“Where did you go…” Zhang Qiran asked, his voice filled with hurt. “Were you already mad at me by then?”

Looking into his eyes, Song Zhehan felt like his heart was being pierced by countless needles. It was so painful that he could hardly breathe.

Song Zhehan didn’t lie. He nodded. “Yes, I was mad at you back then. After middle school, my parents’ work changed, so we moved away…”

Zhang Qiran gazed at him, as if he understood the explanation but also didn’t. Shaking his head slightly, he whispered, “It’s all my fault… If only I had reached out to you sooner…”

But there had been too many misunderstandings between them.

And Zhang Qiran had been too scared.

Even a year ago, when they met again, if Zhang Qiran had been braver and revealed his identity, perhaps they wouldn’t have lost another year.

But Zhang Qiran didn’t know.

Song Zhehan took Zhang Qiran’s hand, his thumb gently brushing away the tears from his eyes, feeling a deep sense of sorrow.

“It’s not your fault,” Song Zhehan said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s my fault…”