“I’m sorry.”
The setting sun bathed the campus in a warm golden hue, with few people on the paths. Xi Ting walked at a leisurely pace, while Wen Zheng trailed two steps behind, his gaze fixed on Xi Ting’s back. His right hand hung loosely at his side, while his left was tucked into the pocket of his riding breeches. No one noticed the faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth.
The infirmary was a standalone white building, situated at the westernmost edge of the campus.
Instead of the sharp, pungent smell of disinfectant common in hospitals, there was a faint, refreshing scent reminiscent of cedar. The interior was spacious, with light gray carpeting underfoot, soft lighting, and brand-new, state-of-the-art equipment—all tailored to serve the aristocratic students.
It resembled a high-end private hospital more than a typical school infirmary.
The school doctor was a blond, blue-eyed foreign professor. After examining Wen Zheng’s right shoulder and arm and reviewing the X-rays, he delivered his diagnosis.
“The shoulder is fine—just a minor sprain. Avoid strenuous activity for the next few days, and it should heal on its own. However, there’s a slight fracture in the wrist that needs to be immobilized. Avoid putting any strain on it during this time, and make sure to come back for follow-up appointments.”
Xi Ting glanced at Wen Zheng’s awkwardly hanging wrist and realized it must have been injured during the accident, likely from hitting the ground while trying to shield him.
The doctor efficiently cleaned the abrasion on Wen Zheng’s elbow, applied ointment, and then bandaged it before securing his right shoulder with a lightweight brace. Throughout the entire process, Wen Zheng remained silent, lost in thought, his usually sharp tongue refraining from uttering any harsh words.
Sitting nearby, Xi Ting watched the unusually quiet Wen Zheng, and his mind drifted back to distant memories.
To be precise, the two of them had known each other for many years.
When Xi Ting was very young—around five or six years old, shortly after being adopted by the Xi family—Wen Zheng was nothing like he was now.
Back then, their families didn’t live particularly close, but ever since Wen Zheng had accidentally seen him once, he would willingly take long car rides just to visit and play with him.
As a child, Wen Zheng was somewhat spoiled. Coming from a prestigious family, he was constantly surrounded by admirers, which often left him with a sour expression and little interest in engaging with others. Yet, strangely enough, he was particularly attached to Xi Ting, always eager to share his treasures with him first.
Once, Wen Zheng came rushing over excitedly, clutching a sapphire as large as his fist, only to find Xi Ting in the garden with his older brother, Xi Xing. The two were huddled together, heads touching, engrossed in some activity and laughing happily.
That was likely the first time Wen Zheng had seen Xi Xing, as Xi Xing attended a closed-off aristocratic primary school, and their visits always seemed to coincide with his absence.
When Xi Ting noticed Wen Zheng’s arrival, he happily waved him over, eager to introduce his brother to his friend. But Wen Zheng stood there, his little face falling instantly, lips pressed tightly together. Without a word, he threw the precious gemstone to the ground, turned, and ran away.
From that day on, Wen Zheng’s attitude toward him began to change subtly. He still visited often, but there was always an awkwardness in his demeanor. His words occasionally carried a sharp edge, and he would frequently take jabs at Xi Xing. Yet, Xi Ting knew that beneath his harsh exterior lay a soft heart, and their “childhood friendship” endured for a long time.
Later, after some time had passed—around when Xi Ting started middle school—Xi Xing suddenly had a talk with him, urging him to keep his distance from Wen Zheng from then on.
Xi Ting pressed for a reason, but his brother refused to elaborate, only urging him to "just listen to me," his expression serious.
Given their years of friendship, Xi Ting naturally couldn’t simply distance himself, but Wen Zheng’s expression when they met was also strange and unpleasant.
Their interactions gradually faded.
Then, after a period of coldness, Wen Zheng began acting oddly.
In the library, Wen Zheng would always beat him to the coveted seats; on anonymous forums, he posted things like "he only knows how to study, he’s just a fool" (though those posts quickly disappeared); when they passed each other in the hallway, he would cast unsettling glances or provoke him with words… all childish and annoying behavior.
It had been a long time since they had been in the same space as peacefully and without tension as they were now.
"All done," the school doctor’s voice interrupted Xi Ting’s distraction. "The precautions and prescription have been sent to your personal account. Please remember to come back for a follow-up."
Xi Ting snapped out of his thoughts, sensing a gaze on him. He looked up and found Wen Zheng watching him at some point.
The emotions in those light blue eyes were complex—not the usual provocation or indifference, but rather a dazed look, as if hiding something… something unreadable.
When Xi Ting met his gaze, Wen Zheng immediately looked away, returning to his usual nonchalant expression.
Xi Ting glanced at his bandaged wound. "You’re fine now, so I can leave, right?"
Wen Zheng glared at him in dissatisfaction, about to speak, when the door to the examination room clicked open.
Someone walked in slowly.
His steps were steady and measured, each one as if precisely calculated, landing without a sound. His posture was upright, with broad shoulders and long legs. The standard academy uniform fit neatly over his sharp shoulders, an ordinary style that he wore with a cold, noble elegance, like some expensive custom-made attire.
The newcomer’s pale ice-blue eyes were somewhat similar to Wen Zheng’s, but lighter in color, like the frozen surface of a winter lake. When his gaze swept over the room, it carried a habitual, condescending scrutiny.
On his chest was a black badge, made of a dark, special gilded material, minimalist in design, with only a cold, rigid iris relief marking its significance.
It was an S-Rank badge.
In Aetheren, which already gathered the world’s top nobility, only those whose family background and abilities had undergone rigorous evaluation, standing at the very pinnacle of the pyramid and even capable of influencing the world’s direction, were qualified to wear it.
He didn’t speak immediately, but simply stood there, and the air in the room seemed to grow slightly heavier.
Xi Ting recognized him.
It would be more accurate to say that no one could fail to recognize him.
Dominic Ravenshire Celeste Fairwind—a name known to everyone in the academy, the S-Rank among S-Ranks. His lengthy name represented his universally acknowledged noble lineage and vast territories.
Dominic didn’t speak upon entering. His gaze lingered for a moment on the bandage around Wen Zheng’s wrist before shifting to him. His voice was steady and cold, as if performing a routine task rather than showing concern for his recently injured cousin. "I heard you had a minor accident. I happened to be nearby."
Wen Zheng seemed somewhat surprised by Dominic's arrival, unsure why his busy, high-status cousin had been troubled. After a moment's thought, he guessed it was his mother's doing again. He nodded at Dominic. "It's just a minor injury. Did my mother disturb you? I'll send her a message later."
Dominic gave a slight nod. His gaze then shifted very naturally—perhaps too naturally—to Xi Ting, as if simply observing an unremarkable person who happened to be within his line of sight.
His eyes lingered on Xi Ting's face for perhaps a fraction of a second longer than normal social etiquette required, his expression showing no fluctuation. Then his gaze slid over the D-Rank badge on Xi Ting's chest before he said nothing further and turned his attention back to Wen Zheng.
"Since you're fine, I won't disturb you further," Dominic said, turning away with elegant poise. "Rest well."
His departure was unhurried, as if each step had been precisely measured. The door to the treatment room closed silently behind him, leaving behind a faint, cool, and sophisticated woody fragrance.
Shortly after Dominic left, Xi Xing arrived.
The corridor outside the medical room was lit by cold, white lights, making the sharpness in his eyes behind his glasses even more pronounced.
He walked quickly, his gaze first locking onto his younger brother. After scanning him up and down and confirming that aside from a slight redness on his wrist, Xi Ting was neatly dressed and unharmed, the tension in his eyes eased.
Then, when his gaze shifted to Wen Zheng leaning against the wall nearby, it frosted over.
He walked to Xi Ting's side, his arm protectively encircling his younger brother's shoulder.
"I warned Xiao Ting," Xi Xing began, his voice low, each word like an icicle, "to stay away from you."
Already irritated by the pain in his wrist and the tangled emotions in his heart, Wen Zheng curled his lips into a sharp, mocking smile at these words.
"It was just an accident," he met Xi Xing's gaze. "Xi Xing, aren't you overstepping? It's a minor matter. Xi Ting isn't a child anymore. How long are you going to follow him around, trying to control his life?"
"An accident?" Xi Xing's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses, his tone still flat but even more oppressive. "Wen Zheng, could you make sure your 'accidents' don't involve Xiao Ting every time?"
"And this is between Xiao Ting and me. We're family. It has nothing to do with you."
He didn't raise his voice, but the sarcasm in his words made Wen Zheng's expression shift.
Wen Zheng's jaw tightened, and his Adam's apple bobbed as if he swallowed a retort that had risen to his lips. He only stiffened his neck and said, "Think whatever you want. Today, I lost control of the horse and nearly hurt him. I admit that. But as for the rest, it's not your place to interfere."
"His matters are my matters," Xi Xing refused to yield. "If the young master of the Wen family wants to play games, find suitable playmates elsewhere. Don't touch my brother."
"Games?" Wen Zheng seemed stung by the word, a flicker of anger igniting in his light blue eyes, his voice rising slightly. "Xi Xing, you—"
"Brother," Xi Ting gently tugged at his brother's sleeve, his voice soft but enough to halt the escalating tension.
He glanced at the white bandage on Wen Zheng's wrist, then at his brother's protective profile, his eyes carrying a soothing tone. "Let's leave it at that. I'm fine."
Xi Xing lowered his gaze to look at his younger brother. He turned his hand to grasp the one pulling at his sleeve, his fingertips lightly brushing over the slightly reddened wrist. Only after confirming it was merely surface redness did he give a slight nod. Without looking at Wen Zheng again, he turned and asked softly, "Were you frightened? Is there anywhere else on your body that feels uncomfortable?"
Xi Ting obediently shook his head.
Watching Xi Xing’s natural, unreserved concern and protectiveness toward Xi Ting, and seeing the complete, trusting dependence in Xi Ting’s expression when facing his elder brother, Wen Zheng suddenly felt utterly pointless.
The nameless anger in his chest seemed doused by a basin of ice water, extinguishing with a sizzle, leaving only a dull, stifling irritation. He glanced at his injured right hand and suddenly felt a bit wretched.
He seemed to want to say something, his mouth opening slightly, but only a cold, faint snort escaped his nostrils—mocking, perhaps self-mocking. He turned and strode away, walking out of the infirmary door without looking back.
That apology he never managed to voice was ultimately swallowed back down.
Author’s Note:
When the still-unenlightened Wen Zheng was in that foolish, self-centered age where he thought the world revolved around him, he always believed the adorable little Xi baby was a child bride specially gifted to him by heaven.
Later, he discovered his wife wasn’t his alone and would smile at others too, leading to his darkening.
After reluctantly accepting the reality of having to share a husband with others, he then found out—what the hell, this isn’t even my wife at all! Thus, in his darkened state, he devolved into a bratty elementary schooler who loves provoking his wife.
(Sympathy) (Fog)