Chapter 87: Dislike

Inside the haunted house, it was pitch black. The moment Cheng Hui stepped in, she screamed in terror.

"What’s there to be afraid of? Don’t worry, I’m walking ahead of you," the boy said.

Cheng Hui was so frightened she couldn’t move, pressed herself against the wall, unsure where to look. It didn’t matter; everywhere she looked was terrifying, so it made no difference.

Seeing her so scared, the boy thought his chance had come. He calmly walked over and took her hand, saying, "Don’t be afraid, just follow me."

"I want to leave. I don’t want to go any further," Cheng Hui’s voice was hoarse.

"You really are timid. What’s there to be afraid of? I’ll take care of you, and besides, we’re already here. Come on." The boy, ignoring Cheng Hui’s struggle, pulled her arm with all his strength and dragged her further inside.

He was strong, and Cheng Hui, with her slender arms and legs, couldn’t break free. Besides, inside the haunted house, she was afraid that if she ran blindly, she might not find her way out.

Staff dressed as horrifying creatures did their best to create an atmosphere of terror, jumping out unexpectedly to scare visitors.

After several scares, Cheng Hui was utterly drained.

"I will never come here again, not even if someone forces me." After shouting this, she broke down completely, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.

Finally, they made it out of the haunted house. Only then did the boy realize she was truly crying. He checked his pockets—no tissues—so he dragged her by the hand to the wall, standing beside her, and tried to comfort her by gently holding her shoulders.

"Don’t be afraid, it’s over now. Nothing scary here. How can you be this frightened? Aren’t you older than me? I’m not scared at all."

Cheng Hui, sensing the intimacy, instinctively broke away from him and stepped back. "You’re happy, but I’m terrified."

The boy saw her delicate tears and said, "You have such a gentle temperament."

To him, gentle meant easy to bully. But the boy had no idea—Cheng Hui simply pitied him. So young, and on his birthday, no one accompanied him. He reminded her of someone.

He Chuan.

He Chuan’s parents had never cared for him, only for He Cheng. In the past, He Chuan never celebrated his birthday. Later, when she learned it, she was the one who celebrated with him.

Thinking of He Chuan made Cheng Hui’s mood sink instantly.

That night, He Chuan asked her out, saying he’d been drinking and couldn’t drive home, asking her to keep him company.

She offered to call a driver, but he refused. The next moment, he dragged her into a dark corner.

It was then that He Chuan leaned close to her ear, his voice seductive: "Huihui, tell me, am I good to you or not?"

Cheng Hui was utterly bewildered, unable to respond for a long while.

They were too close; she couldn’t speak.

"Lost your words? Still not recovered your voice?"

"No..." Cheng Hui shook her head woodenly.

"Then answer me."

"Yes, I suppose you are..." With Cheng Ji absent, He Chuan almost acted as her brother—a role he filled whenever she needed help.

"Still mad at me?"

She lowered her head, determined not to respond.

She missed the complicated, struggling look in his eyes, as if he were hesitating to confess.

"Huihui, I was wrong. Don’t be mad, okay? I’ve never tried to coax anyone before. I drank at midnight and came to find you—don’t you understand?"

"I don’t know." Cheng Hui’s mind was a mess. She didn’t know what he meant, nor did she want to.

He Chuan gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him—

...

He Chuan called the boy who’d taken Cheng Hui away, speaking with the authority of a guardian: "Where’s Cheng Hui?"

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"I’m Cheng Hui’s big brother. Are you with her?"

"Yes."

The boy had heard Cheng Hui had a brother, and also that the art teacher, Xin, was Cheng Hui’s sister-in-law. So he wasn’t suspicious.

He Chuan asked: "Where are you?"

"We’re at..." The boy gave an address, reluctant but unwilling to offend Cheng Hui’s brother.

He Chuan said, "Good, I know now."

...

Since Cheng Hui’s brother was coming, the boy no longer dared to act on his intentions.

He Chuan saw Cheng Hui alone at the amusement park entrance; the boy was gone. She was still wondering why he’d taken so long in the restroom, but when He Chuan approached, she instantly understood.

But she didn’t know how He Chuan had found her here.

Letting her mind wander, she figured it must have been He Chuan’s doing.

Autumn was turning; Cheng Hui wore shorts and a T-shirt, unafraid of catching cold. Looking closely, her wrist was reddened—a mark left by the boy who’d dragged her too hard in the haunted house.

He Chuan frowned: "What happened to your hand?"

Cheng Hui looked down—oh, it was from earlier.

He Chuan withdrew his gaze, letting it go. "Come on, let’s go home."

He asked nothing more. Cheng Hui frowned: "I’ll go back myself. You don’t need to bother."

"Come with me."

"No."

"Why?"

"He Chuan, I said no and I mean it."

He Chuan’s expression was serious. Suddenly, he smiled: "Is it that you don’t want to go with me, or you don’t want to be with me?"

He could say such things calmly, but for her it was impossible to treat it as normal.

That night, he’d forced himself on her, disregarding her feelings, and kissed her.

...

Cheng Hui’s emotions collapsed; she ran off as if terrified by ghosts.

Now, He Chuan brought it up again. Cheng Hui’s face went deathly pale. She thought for a long time, then said, "Aren’t you afraid people will find out what you did to me?"

"There’s nothing I’m afraid of," He Chuan replied confidently.

Cheng Hui was no match for him, nor as cunning. Her thoughts were too simple, easily seen through.

He said, "If you want to stand here talking, I don’t mind doing it again."

Cheng Hui gave in. She cared about her dignity—she didn’t want to be kissed by him in broad daylight. Embarrassing, shameful, infuriating.

She was forced into his car, sitting in the passenger seat, sullen and unhappy.

"He Chuan, I only ever saw you as my brother. You can’t have those feelings for me."

"I never agreed to be your brother. Cheng Ji asked me to look after you, but not as a sibling," He Chuan said, starting the car.

Cheng Hui’s face was as pale as paper—scared in the haunted house, now scared by He Chuan—her heart could hardly take it.

He Chuan said, "I’ll give you time to process."

Cheng Hui’s eyes reddened: "I always regarded you as my brother... always..."

He Chuan wouldn’t allow rejection: "From now on, that changes. I’m not Cheng Ji, and I don’t have a sister."

He’d already taken the step, letting everything go. It didn’t matter anymore.

Cheng Hui wept silently, anxiety and unease flooding her heart, like drifting on a boundless sea, unable to see the shore.

He Chuan drove her straight to his place.

Afraid she’d resist, he said, "If I wanted to force you, you couldn’t fight back. Cheng Hui, just behave—I won’t do anything to you."

"You know my home well, and it’s not your first time here. Nothing to be scared of—I’m not scary either."

...

Cheng Hui’s throat was tight; anger made her fingers tremble. "You weren’t like this before..."

Her first kiss, gone. All because of him.

"The past is the past. From now on, you can’t treat me as your brother. I’m He Chuan—the He Chuan who wants to treat you well. You can keep calling me He Chuan, no need for any suffix. We’re equals. You don’t have to accept being with me, but you can’t be with other men—I’ll get jealous."

...

Cheng Ji was on a mission, worried about leaks. His phone was off, not carried with him; he had another for the operation.

He led a team of five, departing overnight.

Late October in North Yu, winter had set in. Some places were already snowing and bitterly cold.

Their mission was secret; the vehicle was stocked with supplies, enough for the operation.

Before departure, Commander Meng reminded them to stay vigilant and complete the plan flawlessly.

Whether Cheng Ji could retire successfully depended entirely on this mission.

Jiang Yang was also on this mission.

Commander Meng originally didn’t allow Jiang Yang to join, but Jiang Yang insisted stubbornly, repeatedly requesting permission.

He’d been part of the plan, but had run into trouble midway. Now, he demanded to participate, and after consideration, Commander Meng approved, warning him this was his only chance—failure wasn’t an option.

...

Arriving in Anlig, they noticed discarded water bottles and other abandoned household items by the roadside. The items were still clean—clearly, someone had been there recently.

Night was falling. Going deeper into Anlig could be dangerous.

Cheng Ji couldn’t risk his team’s safety, so he ordered them to camp where they were and rest, continuing their journey at dawn.

Night brought falling temperatures, even colder. No matter how cold, they couldn’t sleep in the car—tents had to be pitched, and someone had to keep watch.

The stars overhead shone brilliantly. For miles around, there was no sign of humanity—only endless mountains, desolate, primal, silent, inspiring awe.

They gathered around, eating military rations. The taste was poor, but the calories high—enough to sustain them.

Jiang Yang sat furthest from Cheng Ji, silent throughout the journey, barely speaking to anyone, not even to his teammates.

As rest time came, Cheng Ji assigned watches; the others retired to tents.

"Brother Ji, why aren’t you resting? I can keep watch."

The sentinel had to mind the fire, add wood, and stay alert for movement—wild animals like wolves roamed at night.

Cheng Ji lit a cigarette. "Go sleep. I’ll watch. I’ll call you later."

He couldn’t sleep anyway.

"Alright, I’ll sleep then. Remember to call me."

Everyone else slept. Cheng Ji sat alone by the fire, smoking.

Operation phones couldn’t contact outsiders—regulations dictated it. Cheng Ji stared at his phone in silence.

In his tent, Jiang Yang watched firelight flicker on the canvas. Making sure everyone was asleep, he turned over, pulled out a hidden phone, and sent a text to Jiang Tang, reporting their location.

After sending, he powered off and hid the phone, then finally slept.

At dawn, they woke one by one, packed up the tents, collected trash, gathered, and continued their journey.

...

Xin Gan was worried about Cheng Hui. Cheng Hui hadn’t replied to her messages, and she felt uneasy. So she contacted He Chuan, asking, "Mr. He, have you seen Cheng Hui?"

He Chuan replied, "Yes, she’s here with me."

"I see. Is everything alright?"

"No problem. I’ll send her back to school."

Xin Gan didn’t notice anything amiss in He Chuan’s tone. Considering his close relationship with Cheng Ji, she had no suspicions, agreeing easily.

After hanging up, He Chuan sighed deeply, bent down beside the sofa, and resumed soothing his little troublemaker.

"Stop crying, alright? It’s hard enough to calm you down, and now you won’t stop crying. I never noticed you were such a crybaby before."

Cheng Hui truly felt aggrieved. She liked Tang Que, but was rejected; Tang Huaihuai came along, mocking her for pursuing him and being rejected. Now, as her counselor, she’d have to face her for the next four years. Meanwhile, He Chuan bullied her, taking advantage of her brother’s absence—everyone seemed to walk all over her.

He Chuan didn’t bother fetching tissues, simply used his hand to wipe her tears.

His hands were too rough. Cheng Hui, disgusted, dodged: "Stinky He Chuan, aren’t you afraid my brother will come back and settle accounts with you?"

He Chuan didn’t get angry, gentle and patient: "If you dare tell Cheng Ji, I don’t mind."

"What do you mean?"

"You’re still young. For now, we can’t let others know. Wait until you graduate."

Cheng Hui felt he was even more of a pervert, sniffling and about to cry again.

He Chuan was amused, unable to help himself: "I’m joking. Stop crying, stop. Your eyes are swollen."

"I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home!" Cheng Hui protested.

"Call Aunt Cheng, tell her you’re here with me, and I’ll send you home later."

"You’re just counting on me not daring to let them know. He Chuan, why are you scheming against me? Don’t you have Tang Huaihuai? Aren’t you dating her?"

He Chuan laughed: "Who told you I’m dating Tang Huaihuai, hmm?"

"Stop pretending—I saw it. Her social media is full of you."

"She posted it, not me." He Chuan was thick-skinned, unaffected. "It’s not what you think between me and Tang Huaihuai. Stop crying. Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? I’ll treat you."

"No," Cheng Hui shrank away. "I don’t want to eat with you. I don’t want to stay here. I want to leave."

"I’ll take you."

"No need!"

He Chuan stood, gazing at her for a while. "Huihui, why have you started to dislike me?"

He actually asked!

Cheng Hui wanted to crack his head open—wasn’t it obvious? How could she accept that the brother she’d respected all her life suddenly kissed her and spoke such ambiguous things?

Sniffling, Cheng Hui said haltingly, "I can not dislike you, but you have to stop doing things that scare me."

He Chuan said, "Who wouldn’t scare you then, hmm? Tang Que? Or the boy who went to the amusement park with you?"

Cheng Hui: "..."

"They can, but I can’t?"

What kind of logic was that?

"I like Tang Que, not you."

"Tang Que doesn’t like you."

"I like him, that’s all."

"You won’t like him forever."

"I will."

"I’m better than him," He Chuan insisted. "I’m better suited for you, Huihui. There’s no need to be sad for someone irrelevant. I won’t let you be sad or hurt. With me, what’s wrong? I’m older, I can protect you. I’ll bear every hardship for you. I’ll protect you, do everything I can, never force you to do anything you don’t want."

Such was his view of love.

Cheng Hui stood there, goosebumps rising, limbs cold, silent as she stared at him.

He Chuan hadn’t meant to frighten her. Acting too hastily would only backfire, so he’d tried to approach gradually, letting her sense his feelings, getting her used to the idea.

But Cheng Hui wasn’t like that. She was only eighteen, a freshman, young and immature, unable to accept him...

They could be friends, partners, even family—but never lovers.

How could they?

If their families found out, what would happen?

She didn’t dare think further.

She was afraid, hesitant, unable to meet his gaze.

For the first time, He Chuan felt powerless, his voice softening: "Good girl, right now you can’t hear anything I say, so I’ll stop. Let’s go eat. Here, put on your shoes."

Cheng Hui didn’t want to eat, but he took her anyway.

She followed him like a mummy.

They went to their usual place, eating seafood—her favorite. As always, He Chuan peeled shrimp and ladled soup for her, treating her like a child.

Cheng Hui calmed down a bit, protesting quietly: "I’m not a child anymore—I can do it myself."

He Chuan replied, "Doesn’t matter. You eat, I peel."

"Why would you like me?" Cheng Hui muttered, eating tastelessly.

"No reason. When I realized it, I couldn’t take my eyes off you," He Chuan said with a self-deprecating smile. "I’m not scary, and I’m not in a rush for you to accept me. I just want you to get used to how we’ll interact from now on."

Cheng Hui sniffled. "I can’t get used to it."

"It’s alright, I’ll give you more time."

They ate in a private room. In the next room, several people arrived.

Suddenly He Chuan’s phone rang, interrupting him.

A woman’s voice: "He Chuan, have you eaten? Want to have dinner together tonight?"

"I already have plans," He Chuan replied.

"With whom?"

"Is there something you need?" He Chuan changed the subject.

Tang Huaihuai couldn’t hear any background noise, it was quiet—not like a social occasion. "I have a hospital follow-up. I’m worried about the results and wanted to talk. I feel safe and relaxed with you. Also, about Cheng Hui—she’s been skipping class a lot lately, who knows what she’s up to. She calls you brother, so please help me talk to her. Skipping classes as a freshman isn’t a good sign."

He Chuan glanced at Cheng Hui. "I know. We’ll talk next time."

Tang Huaihuai: "You’re so cold, what are you doing? Busy?"

"I’ve got things to do. Hanging up now."