Only I Understand His Gentle Heart - Chapter 104.2

Zhang Wulin stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. His mind went blank, and for a moment, he couldn’t process anything. But he heard her words clearly. Lowering his head like a child caught doing something wrong, he whispered, “I’ve been trying so hard. I can become better in the future… Can we not break up?”

“Zhang Wulin,” Lin Ziyu’s tears slid down her cheeks. At that moment, she deeply regretted ever getting involved with him. “Don’t try to stop me. Let’s leave it at this… You’re such a good person. You’ll meet someone better than me someday. I’m really not a good person—I’m selfish, materialistic, unkind, and vain. I’m not good at all…”

“You’re good. I just like you,” Zhang Wulin said, wiping his eyes. The joy he had felt all day, the happiness he’d carried since seeing her, was swept away by the cold wind. His heart felt like it was being torn apart, the pain unbearable.

Lin Ziyu took a step back. “I’ve already made up my mind. Don’t try to hold me back, Zhang Wulin. I’m afraid…”

Afraid that she’d soften her resolve. Afraid that she’d regret it.

Fear is always rooted in the unknown. Lin Ziyu didn’t know what she might regret in the future—whether it would be getting involved with him or breaking up with him. She was also scared that she might never meet anyone who would treat her as well as he did.

But more than anything, she feared she couldn’t shoulder the responsibilities of being a military spouse: the long periods of waiting, the isolation, the loneliness.

Without waiting for Zhang Wulin’s response, Lin Ziyu turned and ran.

Zhang Wulin stood there for a long time, his eyes red. The tall, strong man couldn’t suppress a few choking sobs. The pain was overwhelming.

But he didn’t hate her.

He hated himself.

If only he were better, maybe he could hold on to more.

On the way back, Lin Ziyu sat in Ming Zhu’s car, her emotions still raw. After some silence, she asked, “Are all soldiers this loyal?”

Ming Zhu replied with something that struck a chord in her. “It’s not that all soldiers are like this—it’s just that the person you met happens to be this way.”

Later, Lin Ziyu often thought back to what Ming Zhu had said. If only she could be as resilient and clear-minded as Ming Zhu—if she had the courage to wait, and keep waiting, and wait some more—would the ending have been different?

Some people, she realized, only cross your path once in a lifetime.

And if you fail to hold on to them, they’re gone forever.

Meanwhile, Zhang Wulin’s performance in training took a steep dive during that period. Captain Lu Zhuofeng scolded him harshly and imposed extra punishments.

But Zhang Wulin didn’t mind the exhaustion. In fact, he welcomed it. Being physically drained made it easier to dull the pain. During his peacekeeping mission in Goliath, his mind gradually found some semblance of calm. Yet, despite the time and distance, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lin Ziyu.

He didn’t know how long he would keep thinking about her.

Because he still liked her.

When trouble struck the Counterterrorism production team, Lin Ziyu was at home the day the news broke. Like everyone else, she was deeply worried about her colleagues. But she had no idea that Zhang Wulin was involved in the rescue operation—until a blurry video began circulating online.

In the grainy footage, she recognized Lu Zhuofeng.

Her heart started pounding, an unsettling feeling spreading through her. Even her eyelids twitched uncontrollably.

If Lu Zhuofeng was there, what about Zhang Wulin?

She spent the entire day waiting anxiously for updates. Eventually, news came that some crew members had been injured, but no one had died.

Relieved, Lin Ziyu immediately began asking around, “What about the rescue team? Are they okay?”

But no one had any answers.

The news hadn’t come through yet.

For days, Lin Ziyu was plagued by unease. The restless feeling didn’t subside until Ming Zhu returned to the country, bringing devastating news. Over the phone, Ming Zhu hesitated but eventually said, “Lin Ziyu, there’s something I think you should hear in advance… It might help to know early.”

Lin Ziyu held her breath as she listened.

“The squad leader… he’s not coming back…”

Lin Ziyu’s mind went blank. Dizzy, her heartbeat seemed to stop for a moment. In a daze, she stammered, “Not coming back… what does that mean?”

“A peacekeeping soldier was killed during the rescue mission,” Ming Zhu said softly.

After that, Lin Ziyu couldn’t hear anything else. Her surroundings blurred, her vision clouded by tears that streamed uncontrollably down her face. She screamed in agony, her voice cracking with despair, “How could this happen? Why him? Why did it have to be him?”

She didn’t want to hear anything Ming Zhu said, but her words still pierced through, lodging themselves in Lin Ziyu’s heart.

What followed was a pain like no other, an ache so profound it was beyond words. Lin Ziyu cried until she nearly fainted, her grief so overwhelming that she felt like she might die from it.

She regretted everything.

She regretted not waiting for him. She regretted breaking up with him. She regretted the things she had said to him.

If she could go back in time, she would have told him, “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. I’ll wait for you my entire life.”

When Zhang Wulin’s ashes were brought back to the country, Lin Ziyu attended his funeral alongside Ming Zhu and Tang Xin. The ceremony was held at the Martyrs’ Cemetery.

That day, she met his parents and his younger brother.

His brother resembled him, sharing some of his features. Lin Ziyu stared at him blankly for a long time before lowering her head to unlock her phone. She still had pictures of her and Zhang Wulin together—selfies they had taken, candid shots she had snapped of him.

As she scrolled through them, her heart felt like it was being torn apart all over again.

She turned to Ming Zhu, her voice trembling. “Do you think… if I hadn’t broken up with him, would he have been more careful? Would he still be alive?”

If he still had her, would he have cherished his life more?

Later, she broke down completely, clutching Tang Xin and crying. “Didn’t you say he’d be a captain in seven or eight years? Then why…”

Why did he die?

Why him?

He was such a good person.

She had imagined his future—what he would be like in a few years. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But the reality was inescapable.

On his tombstone, Zhang Wulin’s young face was frozen in time forever.

Lin Ziyu couldn’t bring herself to think about what must have gone through his mind when he drove that bomb-laden vehicle away. Was he afraid? How much pain did he endure?

Just the thought of it made her wake up from her dreams, crying in pain.

The Year After Zhang Wulin’s Death.

For most of the first year after Zhang Wulin passed, Lin Ziyu lived in a haze. People around her noticed the change: she seemed distant, indifferent to everything. She stopped talking as much, avoided gossip, and showed no interest in shopping, skincare, or even smiling.

She didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. She had also lost a significant amount of weight.

Her friends and family worried that she was sick. They took her to the hospital for tests, but nothing was wrong with her physically. She simply suffered from severe insomnia. All she wanted was to be alone.

Her family arranged blind dates for her, and she went.

But nothing came of them.

Even when she met men with excellent qualities, she couldn’t muster the slightest interest. She didn’t want to fall in love.