Wang Yibo, a second year student at the Tsinghua university of Beijing living in Choyang Park is only 21 years old. Despite his young age his life has been tumultuous. He grieved for three terribly long years for one person who means the world to h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Xiao Zhan braced himself for the day. He couldn't slide back to how he was yesterday. He had to go back home and he had to keep up the pretense of being fine.
He couldn't believe it was finally Saturday, the first week of May. Spring was right around but it felt like it was the heart of winter.
Definitely, not due to the weather conditions it was more of what to do with his heart. His heart was like a glacier, an emotion he had sweltered through purpose.
He couldn't break not when his father seemed to be onto something that would snap him anyway. He boarded the train due at twelve noon so that he would reach Shanghai by evening.
He was one hour away from home when he was shaken awake from a rather loud ringing of his phone. He sleepily picked it up and placed it next to his ear.
The earth-shattering scream of his name from the other side evaporated the lousy head and he sat ramrod straight, clearing his throat.
"Baba? What's wrong?" He asked cautiously.
"Zhan, you were supposed to be here in the morning. Where are you?" He thundered; Xiao Zhan shuddered involuntarily.
"Baba, I'll be there in about an hour or less." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower to stop himself from trembling.
"Come straight back here before you go to your apartment."
"But baba, it wouldn't be right. I'll shower and be there."
"Xiao Zhan what did I say?" He asked again, his voice dangerously low.
"I'll be there, baba," he promised.
When the call dropped the tears fell, so did his confidence and self-worth fell like a tree. Xiao Zhan had never been assaulted emotionally, at least not from the time he remembers.
This behavior was breaking him more than he would like to admit. The feeling was beyond the nightmares he experiences almost every day.
When the bullet train halted at Shanghai his eyes were wrinkled with all the tears he had shed on the way. He quickly reached his own car and sped through the busy streets and stopped only when he saw his house in sight.
His body was heavy like it would be when someone wore armor as a soldier. He knocked his head on the steering wheel before grabbing some wet wipes and cleaning his face of any residue tears. He stepped out and the gush of wind against his rosy cheeks was his prior warning for an impending storm.
He wasn't looking forward to it. Definitely not. He wanted to sleep, get lost in those amber eyes that stamped themselves in his mind but sometimes his decisions didn't matter. Right now, was the perfect example for his claim.
He walked in. The white-washed walls were suffocating, like a looming funeral. The day couldn't get any worse when he saw his grandfather and grandmother sitting on the black leather couch.
