Only I Understand His Gentle Heart - Chapter 104.3

Lin Ziyu missed her squad leader.

“Squad leader, do you like it when I call you that? Or should I use your name? But calling you Wulin makes you sound like a kung fu master… It doesn’t sound nice either.”

“You can call me whatever you like. Calling me ‘squad leader’ is fine—it feels different when you say it.”

“Different how?”

“Well… it just sounds nicer.”

“Alright, my squad leader.”

On the premiere day of Counterterrorism, Lin Ziyu sat in a corner of the theater. Her eyes were glued to the big screen as she watched the scene where a vehicle sped forward at an extreme pace. Her heart shattered as she counted—counting to fifteen seconds—until the car turned into a fiery inferno.

In that instant, it felt like her heart had been ripped apart, the pain suffocating her. She crouched down and sobbed uncontrollably.

Fifteen seconds. What can someone think about in fifteen seconds?

In those fifteen seconds, did the squad leader think of her, even for one of them?

Fifteen seconds took away such a good man.

Life was so cruelly unfair.

After the film ended, Ming Zhu and Tang Xin stood nearby, unsure how to comfort her. Ming Zhu had witnessed that tragic moment herself and wished she could forget it forever. How much worse must it have been for Lin Ziyu?

Lin Ziyu refused their consolation. Instead, she stayed in the empty theater, crying in the silence for a long time.

That night, she had nightmares.

The explosion replayed in her mind over and over again, tormenting her to the point of near madness.

She could no longer write scripts.

Her company granted her a leave of absence, likely arranged by Tang Xin, so she could recover.

Lin Ziyu went to Zhang Wulin’s grave. She didn’t bring flowers or any offerings. She came empty-handed, standing before his tombstone and gazing at his young face etched in stone. She spoke to him for a long time—about how much she missed him, how much she regretted their breakup, how she couldn’t find anyone she liked anymore…

She talked and talked for what felt like forever.

As dusk approached and she prepared to leave, she ran into a simple, middle-aged woman.

Startled, Lin Ziyu hastily wiped her tears. “Auntie…”

It was Zhang Wulin’s mother.

The older woman looked at her kindly and smiled faintly. “You’re Xiao Yu, right? Ah Lin mentioned you to me…”

Lin Ziyu’s red, tear-streaked eyes widened. She didn’t want to face Zhang Wulin’s mother in such a state, but hearing his name made her look up, her expression filled with longing. “What… what did he say?”

Zhang Wulin’s mother studied her for a moment before sighing deeply. “Child, have you still not forgotten Ah Lin?”

Lin Ziyu said nothing.

The older woman began speaking, her voice filled with wistfulness. “Two years ago, when he came home on leave, he was always on his phone—sending messages, going out for walks after meals but never going far. He’d just wander around nearby, talking on the phone. I wondered if my boy was finally in love—he’d never been one to use his phone much before. I asked him a few times, and only after pressing him did he admit he was dating someone. I think he was shy about it because he didn’t say much. He just said, ‘When the time is right, I’ll bring her home to meet you.’ Who could’ve known… fate would be so cruel?” Zhang Wulin’s mother began to cry softly. “In his will, he mentioned you.”

Lin Ziyu’s breath caught in her throat. “He… he mentioned me?”

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “He wrote…”

“I broke up with Xiao Yu and won’t be able to bring her home to meet you. I truly regret that.

But it’s not her fault. It’s mine—I wasn’t good enough.

I really liked her. Even if she doesn’t like me anymore or isn’t my girlfriend, I’ll always hope she finds happiness and lives the life she’s dreamed of.”

In the third year after Zhang Wulin’s death, Lin Ziyu turned 30.

During these three years, she had been in two short-lived relationships. She had kissed, but never gone further. Her family was beside themselves with worry, calling her an “old maid.” They warned her that if she didn’t marry soon, she might never marry at all. In desperation, they even lowered their expectations, saying that as long as the man was good, it didn’t matter if he didn’t have a house or a car. They would help wherever they could.

Lin Ziyu wondered, if she had been braver and stayed with Zhang Wulin, would her family have eventually said the same thing after a few years of resistance?

But there was no if.

Perhaps this was her punishment.

She still couldn’t forget Zhang Wulin.

She still couldn’t forget her squad leader.

After her 30th birthday, Lin Ziyu went on another blind date. This time, her match was more patient than the men before him. He was two years younger than her, and he confessed that he had known her for two years. He told her, simply, “I like you.”

By this point in her life, Lin Ziyu had seen and endured so much that she felt like an old soul. The words “I like you” stirred no ripples in her heart.

But the man was persistent, pursuing her for six months. Finally, Lin Ziyu agreed to date him. She reasoned that life must go on. Everyone needed a companion—living alone was unbearably lonely.

The morning after they were intimate for the first time, the man made her breakfast, millet porridge.

Over the years, Lin Ziyu had grown to love millet porridge. It had become her go-to breakfast, along with steamed buns.

That afternoon, he asked her, “Is there a market nearby?”

Lin Ziyu paused, caught off guard, and looked at him.

He smiled warmly. “I’ll cook lunch for you. I’m a pretty good cook.”

Lin Ziyu bit into her bun, and suddenly, tears began to fall.

She cried like a child, her mouth still holding half a bun as she sobbed uncontrollably. Snot and tears flowed together, making her look utterly unkempt. Her loud, unrestrained wails were heart-wrenching to witness.

He panicked, unsure of what had triggered her tears. He tried everything to comfort her, but nothing worked.

When Lin Ziyu turned 31, she decided to get married.

She was marrying the man who had said he would cook for her.

The day before her wedding, Lin Ziyu visited Zhang Wulin’s grave.

Standing before his tombstone, she gazed at his eternally youthful face and softly called, “Squad leader.”

Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she noticed herself aging bit by bit. Her skin wasn’t as radiant as it used to be, and fine lines had appeared at the corners of her eyes. But Zhang Wulin’s face remained unchanged. Every time she visited him, she felt the cruelty of time.

Bending down, she touched his photo gently, her lips curling into a wistful smile. “Squad leader, I’m getting married. I’m marrying a man who said he’d cook for me. He’s two years younger than me, a good man, and he treats me well. But he’s not as good as you. His cooking is great, but not as good as yours…”

As she always did, she sat by his grave and talked to him for a long, long time.

As dusk fell, Lin Ziyu stood up and slowly walked away.

Finally, she turned back, looking over her shoulder in his direction.

He’s there.

He would always be there.

In her heart.

🗣️ Kliraz’s Side Note Shenanigans!

Oh, where do I even begin? This chapter is a heart-wrencher, but let’s lighten the mood with some cultural curiosities! Lin Ziyu’s family pressuring her to marry reminds me of global matchmaking traditions. In China, matchmaking corners in parks are iconic! Parents still post profiles of their “eligible” children, which is kinda like Bumble but… offline and VERY parent-driven. Now, compare this to India’s matrimonial ads, or Korea’s boom in matchmaking agencies. In Japan, omiai (formal matchmaking) has its own charm, emphasizing family approval. It’s fascinating how everyone dances the same marriage waltz—just with different choreography! (´▽`)

Now, the contrast between Lin Ziyu’s youthful memories and Zhang Wulin’s eternal 24-year-old face shows how aging perspectives vary worldwide. In America, “aging gracefully” often means embracing wrinkles, while in France, beauty remains a quiet rebellion—think skincare instead of Botox! In China, though, staying youthful is tied to skincare and health tea. Guess who’s making me consider ginseng masks now? (°ロ°)

Behavioral science alert! That sudden emotional burst Lin Ziyu had while eating her bun? It’s called an emotional trigger. Ever smell an old cologne and suddenly miss someone? Same concept! Fun idea, next time you crave connection, try journaling. It’s like a personal vent hotline!

Now, if you had 15 seconds to think of someone, who’d it be? Tell me in the comments! (｡♥‿♥｡)