Chapter Six

After school, Hugo and Xiao Jian shared a silent taxi ride to the hospital. Hugo’s expression was cold and distant—a stark contrast to his usual self, especially when it concerned his close friends.

Xiao Jian was much the same; his mood mirrored Hugo’s, both carrying a heavy burden as they arrived at the hospital entrance.

Inside, they approached the front desk. Xiao Jian inquired about Zhang Yan’s room. The nurse informed them he was in Room 302 and reminded them not to disturb the other patients and, above all, not to cause undue distress. The two friends understood.

Entering Room 302, they found Zhang Yan lying in bed, his body frail and surrounded by machines. Xiao Jian could hardly bear the sight. He turned to Hugo, his voice trembling on the verge of tears, “Hugo, I’ll leave you two alone. Talk to him for a bit. I’ll wait outside.”

Hugo recognized the quiver in Xiao Jian’s voice, understanding that he didn’t want Hugo to see him break down.

“I understand. Go ahead.”

Xiao Jian left the room, waiting by the door. Hugo turned back and slowly approached Zhang Yan. Abandoned by his parents as a child, Zhang Yan had been taken in by Hugo’s coach, who was also now Xiao Jian’s coach—Coach Tian.

Zhang Yan had once had a promising future, but when the diagnosis of leukemia came, it struck him like lightning out of a clear sky. He could hardly believe he was ill. When Coach Tian revealed Zhang Yan’s true background, despair overwhelmed him—his coach was not his mother, but the one who had adopted him after his parents left him.

Coach Tian did everything possible to provide Zhang Yan with the best treatment. This ordeal lasted six years—six years of fighting the disease. Throughout, Zhang Yan’s greatest wish was to see Hugo.

Hugo was his faith, his sanctuary. Since their first meeting, Hugo had treated Zhang Yan like a younger brother, their bond deep and unbreakable.

But when Zhang Yan’s condition became critical, the hospital issued a notice, urging immediate treatment. Yet, such interventions would only prolong his suffering. With tears in her eyes, Coach Tian made the agonizing choice to accompany Zhang Yan through his final days.

Seeing Hugo arrive, Zhang Yan forced himself to speak, his voice barely audible. “Hugo… senior brother…”

Hugo sat by his side, taking his hand, his voice wavering. “Don’t speak. Just rest. Coach, Xiao Jian, and I are all here with you.”

A faint smile appeared on Zhang Yan’s pale face. “Brother… you really… don’t have to… give up your… your own life… for me. I hope… you won’t… end up… like me… lying here… just waiting for… the end.”

Hugo tried to hold back his emotions, but tears welled up, streaming down as he watched Zhang Yan slip away. He simply couldn’t accept it.

Zhang Yan continued, “Brother… I never… had parents… I always… thought of you… as my brother… I hope you… can stay by my side… until the end… then I’ll… be content.”

“Don’t say that,” Hugo replied, his voice thick. “If you leave, Coach Tian will be devastated. Have you thought about her?”

Zhang Yan’s face was full of apology, though his pallor hid it. “I’m so… sorry to her… She’s been… like a mother to me… but I’ve only… been a burden… I can’t… go on like… this…”

Hugo could feel Zhang Yan’s breathing grow weaker, his own tears falling onto Zhang Yan’s body.

“I wonder… if I could… have one last… wish… would you… help me with it?”

“Tell me, I’ll make it happen,” Hugo replied, his voice hoarse from crying.

Zhang Yan took a breath and whispered his last wish. “I’ve never… heard a lullaby… Brother… would you… sing one for me?”

This was Zhang Yan’s final request. It wasn’t much, but to Hugo, it was the last thing Zhang Yan would ever ask of him. So, with a trembling voice, Hugo sang a lullaby.

“Sleep, sleep, my dear child…”

He sang for a long time. Zhang Yan’s face relaxed and content, and slowly, he closed his eyes, his arm falling limply to his side. The monitor beside him flatlined—Zhang Yan’s life had reached its end.

He had died young, just like Xiao Jian, with so much life ahead of him.

Hugo could no longer hold back. He broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Outside the door, Xiao Jian was just as distraught, unable to contain his tears for his lost brother.

“So this is pain,” Xiao Jian murmured. “My heart hurts so much.”

Time seemed to stretch endlessly. For Hugo, every minute felt like a year. He couldn’t accept that Zhang Yan was gone.

Xiao Jian entered to comfort him. “Hugo, let him go. I believe he’ll be alright, wherever he is.”

Hugo’s voice was hollow, “I still can’t accept it, he…”

The doctor came and took Zhang Yan away. The room was now empty, leaving only Hugo and Xiao Jian behind.

“Hugo, it’s alright to cry. Just let it all out,” Xiao Jian consoled him.

“Cry? I’m not crying. I’m strong,” Hugo protested, but Xiao Jian embraced him, and Hugo’s tears flowed freely onto Xiao Jian’s face. They wept together for a long, long time.

The next day, two seats in the class were empty—Hugo and Xiao Jian had gone to Zhang Yan’s funeral.

Lin Zimo worried about Hugo, wishing she could shoulder some of his pain. But who could truly understand Hugo’s grief? How could it be shared?

After Zhang Yan was laid to rest, on the way back, Hugo stared out the car window, lost in thought. Xiao Jian, sitting beside him, was the same—both refusing to accept the pain of Zhang Yan’s loss, living as if he were still with them.

Zhang Yan was born in 2002, adopted by Coach Tian—Hugo and Xiao Jian’s coach. He was the youngest in the national team, and though he never did anything extraordinary, he never regretted meeting Hugo.

Having a brother who truly understood him was his greatest happiness.

When others asked about him, he would smile and say, “I have a brother who understands me. Do you?”

For Zhang Yan, Hugo was truly his brother, and Hugo felt the same.

After Hugo retired, the one he felt he had failed most was Zhang Yan. How he wished he could turn back time, to play every game and taste every food together with Zhang Yan.

Like Li Xiaoyao said to Lin Yue Ru, “When we find Ling’er, I’ll travel the world with you, tasting everything there is to eat.”

To eat until old age, to play until old age…

But like Lin Yue Ru, Zhang Yan too was taken by fate before his time.