Emotional Landmines

The woman—his mother—paced the small hospital room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor like a ticking bomb. Her breathing was uneven, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, and her expression flickered between anger and something much worse—hurt.

Zhao Wei sat stiffly on the hospital bed, gripping the sheets like they were a lifeline. He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do in this situation.

He had handled street fights, debt collectors, and even a kid trying to jump off a rooftop, but this?

This was worse.

"You jumped off a rooftop," she snapped, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel. "A rooftop, Yihan! The investigators said you were trying to kill yourself!"

Zhao Wei's stomach dropped.

Shit.

His "mother" suddenly whirled toward him, and that's when he noticed—the trembling in her hands, the wetness clinging to her eyelashes. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and despite the fury crackling in her voice, there was something even heavier beneath it—grief.

"I tried!" she shouted, voice raw, shaking. "I fucking tried to give you the best life, and this is how you repay me?!"

Zhao Wei stiffened, his throat going dry.

She was crying.

Fuck.

He was terrible with crying women.

She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, exhaling shakily. "You insisted you wanted to live with your uncle, and I let you. Even though I knew it was a terrible idea. Even though I knew his marriage was a mess and that it wasn't a good environment for you. I still let you go because it was what you wanted."

Her voice cracked on that last word.

Zhao Wei sat there, frozen.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to leave. To avoid. To do anything but deal with this.

This wasn't his life. His mother was dead. His problems had nothing to do with this kid's family drama.

She wasn't his mother.

She was Yihan's.

And Yihan had wanted to die.

His fingers twitched against the sheets. He didn't know what kind of hell this kid had been living in, but it was bad enough that he had tried to end it all.

What the hell happened between them?

"I—" Zhao Wei started, but his voice failed.

What the hell was he supposed to say?

It wasn't like he could just blurt out, Hey, sorry, I'm actually a grown-ass man who got stuck in your son's body, so I have no idea what the fuck is going on.

Her eyes bore into him, waiting.

Expecting something.

Say something.

Anything.

"…I don't remember," Zhao Wei finally muttered, hoping to god that was a safe answer.

A sharp breath left her, like she had been punched in the gut. "You don't—" Her jaw clenched. She turned away from him, fingers gripping the chair beside her.

Silence hung between them like a noose.

Zhao Wei swallowed hard, glancing at the screen still hovering in his peripheral vision.

[Quest: Fix Relationship with Parents]

His eye twitched.

How the hell was he supposed to fix this?

The woman let out a hollow laugh. "I don't know what to do anymore."

She was tired. Exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

Zhao Wei had seen it before—on the faces of people who had lost too much, fought too hard, and had nothing left to give. He had seen it before on himself

And goddammit, he hated it.

His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palm. "I wasn't trying to kill myself," Zhao blurted out before he could stop himself.

She turned back to him so fast that for a second, he thought her neck might snap. "What?"

Shit. Think, think, think.

"I—I wasn't," he repeated, forcing his voice to be firm. "I don't remember everything, but I wouldn't… do that."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Then why the hell were you up there?"

Zhao Wei struggled for an answer. "I just… needed air."

Lame. So fucking lame.

She wasn't buying it. At all.

She inhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "Yihan, do you have any idea what you put me through?"

No. Because he wasn't Yihan.

But he could imagine it.

A mother getting a call that her son committed suicide. The panic. The helplessness. The sheer terror that she might have lost him.

His own mother had died when he was young, but if she had ever looked at him like this—

Shit.

He gritted his teeth, looking away. "I'm sorry."

The words felt foreign coming out of his mouth. He barely even knew what he was apologizing for, but he knew it was something.

Her expression softened just a fraction.

She glanced at the door, then back at him. "Your father will be here soon."

Oh, fantastic.

As if this day couldn't get any worse.