TWMOV Chapter 4: The Poor Little Thing Who Suffered Domestic Abuse 04
Yu Mu nodded, his expression grave. “I saw it.”
You’d have to be blind not to!
The little red heart above Liang Han’s head, which had finally started to fill up, was now steadily draining of color—on the verge of fading entirely!
This brat probably said those words on purpose—to test him, to see whether Yu Mu would still treat him well, even after hearing a student casually talk about murder.
That explained the previous deliberate distancing. He was too insecure to accept Yu Mu’s kindness, keeping his distance just in case his "true nature" was ever revealed—so it wouldn’t hurt as much when the person finally walked away.
Now the kid was probably imagining a whole inner drama: “See? I scared you, didn’t I?” “You’re just like all the other teachers, you don’t care about me either.” “Hmph, everyone’s the same, no one likes me, boo hoo hoo.”
Talk about twisted all the way to grandma’s house!
Yu Mu quickly considered his words, then walked up and grabbed Liang Han’s arm just before the red heart completely faded.
The falling affection level came to a sudden stop—but Liang Han didn’t turn around.
Yu Mu let out a sigh of relief and didn’t force him to face him. Instead, he spoke firmly.
“Whether in school or outside of it, I’m your teacher. Whether I care about you or not—that’s not for you to decide.”
“I saw what happened just now. You were involved in a fight. You need to write a reflection report. That’s your punishment.”
“As for what you just said, it made absolutely no sense.”
“Let me ask you,” Yu Mu tightened his grip on Liang Han’s arm, “Is Chen Ping dead?”
Liang Han pressed his lips together and stayed silent.
Yu Mu raised his voice. “Answer me!”
Liang Han flinched and finally replied, “…No.”
“If he’s not dead, then you didn’t kill anyone. So why are you calling yourself a murderer?”
“I…”
“Let me ask you again: Are you a murderer?”
“…No.” A flicker of light passed through Liang Han’s eyes, but it was quickly snuffed out. He suddenly turned, one hand on Yu Mu’s chest, pushing him against the wall, voice hoarse and choked, yelling:
“But even if I’m not now—I will be! I enjoyed it, do you understand?! Teacher, I enjoyed watching someone bleed—I wanted to laugh! I’m messed up!”
“I want to inflict on others what my dad inflicted on me! I’m going to turn into a piece of trash just like him, can’t you see?!”
Liang Han was like a trapped beast, baring his sharp claws at Yu Mu, eyes bloodshot as he screamed:
“Mr. Yu, I’m not like your other students! I will screw up. You can’t control me. Stop being nice to me. I’m not worth it!”
His grip was so strong that Yu Mu’s shoulders ached.
Yu Mu stared at the teenager for a moment, then reached out and brushed Liang Han’s bangs aside, revealing the chaotic face underneath, finally seeing the tears welling up in those eyes.
His heart felt like it had been pierced.
Frowning, Yu Mu gripped Liang Han’s collar and yanked him closer. His eyes narrowed, a hint of roguish defiance in his expression.
“Then I’ll just keep watching you! I’ll watch you like a hawk! I won’t let you mess up, I won’t let you kill anyone. I will stop you. I can’t change your father, but I can change you.”
“Liang Han.” Yu Mu’s eyes reflected the boy’s image. He made a vow. “I will never let you become a murderer.”
In the modern world, Yu Mu had lived smoothly up to age twenty-eight. He had both parents, a loving family, and had never suffered real hardship. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hell Liang Han lived in.
But he knew one thing clearly—right now, Liang Han needed someone to pull him back, to stop him from falling.
Maybe this world was fictional, but these words… they were from the heart.
After he finished speaking, Yu Mu released Liang Han’s collar, straightened his clothes, and softened his tone.
“So, come on. Let’s go home. I’ll clean your wounds, and then you’ll sit right under my nose and write that reflection report.”
Yu Mu had calmed down—but Liang Han hadn’t. His hand still clutched Yu Mu’s shoulder.
He needed to be sure.
His right hand relaxed, reaching behind Yu Mu’s neck, fingers trailing across his skin, leaving a trail of shivers until his palm landed on Yu Mu’s back. Then he suddenly pulled him into a hug.
All the fear, all the anxiety, all the confusion—it all vanished the moment he embraced this man.
Liang Han clutched Yu Mu tightly, holding him for a while before suddenly letting go.
He responded with a quiet, “Mm.”
Yu Mu blinked, realizing that “mm” meant he’d agreed. Agreed to come home with him. Agreed not to throw another fit.
Hopeful, Yu Mu sneaked a glance at the little heart above Liang Han’s head—only to find it hadn’t gotten any redder.
With a sigh, he turned to push his bicycle.
They walked out of the alley. Liang Han followed obediently—not walking beside him, but not far behind either.
In the golden sunset, Yu Mu’s shadow stretched long on the ground.
Liang Han quietly stepped into his shadow, overlapping with it, letting a strange sense of safety wrap around his heart.
He raised his hand, pretending to reach for Yu Mu’s neck, fingers mimicking a gentle tightening motion in the air.
In that hidden moment, where Yu Mu couldn’t see—Liang Han’s red heart filled rapidly. One, two… halfway through the third heart, it finally slowed.
You said you’d take responsibility for me, Mr. Yu. That means you can’t ever let go now.
After informing Liang’s father, Yu Mu brought Liang Han back to his place.
This was Liang Han’s first time inside Yu Mu’s home.
They’d been neighbors for almost a month. Yu Mu had never interfered too much in Liang Han’s family matters. He’d only step in when the domestic violence got loud enough for the whole courtyard to notice. And he never tried to comfort Liang Han directly.
He’d always been mindful of the boy’s pride.
But now that things were out in the open, it seemed he could finally step into Liang Han’s life more directly.
The place only had two rooms: a living room and a bedroom. The kitchen was part of the living room. The bathroom was outside, shared by the four households in the courtyard.
“Sit wherever you like.” Yu Mu poured him a glass of water and went inside to fetch the medicine box.
Liang Han cradled the cup, scanning his surroundings. His eyes passed over the soft, clean cotton sofa before he quietly dragged over a small stool from the corner and sat on that instead.
When Yu Mu came out with the medicine box, he saw Liang Han’s long legs folded awkwardly on the tiny stool. It looked so uncomfortable.
He asked curiously, “Why aren’t you sitting on the sofa?”
Liang Han took a sip of water, his voice quieter now. “I might get it dirty.”
He tried to place the cup on the coffee table but froze at the sight of five bloody handprints on it. Stiffening, he picked the cup back up and stood.
“I’ll go wash this.”
“Oh, leave it. Don’t fuss so much.” Yu Mu could tell he was being too cautious. He pushed Liang Han back down onto the stool, then went inside to grab clean clothes and fetched a basin of water.
“I told your dad. Tomorrow’s Saturday. You can stay here tonight.”
“Your school uniform’s all dirty. Take it off and wear mine. I’ll wash yours for you.”
Yu Mu was in a good mood now—he’d seen that the red heart above Liang Han’s head was halfway full. A huge breakthrough. Worth celebrating.
Liang Han hesitated at his enthusiasm but still shook his head. “Mr. Yu, I’m sorry… I need to go home tonight.”
“Why?”
“I don’t trust my dad alone with my mom.”
Silence fell.
Yu Mu’s good mood vanished.
He thought about the scenes he’d witnessed over the past month—the fights, the screaming, the mother’s madness, despite her son’s constant protection.
“…Then don’t stay.” Yu Mu sighed and told Liang Han to change his clothes and wash up.
Liang Han wet his blood-caked hair and slowly picked apart the matted strands until his hair and face were clean. The basin water turned a pale red.
He sat on the sofa, and Yu Mu came behind him with a dry towel to rub his hair.
Liang Han tensed but didn’t resist.
That barrier between them seemed to break. Everything Yu Mu did for him now—even the smallest things—made Liang Han feel warm.
He found himself craving more contact. Closer contact.
After drying his hair a bit, Yu Mu moved in front of him and lifted all his bangs up to the top of his head with the towel.
The man leaned forward, one leg bent and pressing into the sofa cushion between Liang Han’s legs, his hand holding the towel, carefully examining the young man’s face.
At school, Liang Han had heard the girls whisper about how handsome their new teacher was. How even though Mr. Yu dressed properly and acted proper, he always gave off this wild, rebellious air.
Back then, Liang Han hadn’t paid attention.
But now, up close… he finally understood what they meant.
He held his breath, his heart beating faster.
His eyes landed on Yu Mu’s lips.
Such a pale color.
A sudden thought passed through his mind.
If I bit down hard on those lips… would they turn red?
Realizing what he was thinking, Liang Han startled and quickly looked away, not daring to meet Yu Mu’s gaze again.
“You really do look like…” Yu Mu reached out and touched the petal-shaped scar on Liang Han’s forehead. “Up close, this part’s almost identical.”
Like? Like who?
The blush that had just crept up Liang Han’s face vanished at those words. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask more—but Yu Mu suddenly pulled away the towel and ruffled his hair.
Yu Mu leaned back and smiled. “Liang Han, how about we go get you a haircut tomorrow morning?”
Liang Han agreed.
But while writing the reflection, his thoughts kept drifting—who did he look like? A man or a woman? What kind of relationship did that person have with Mr. Yu?
They agreed to meet at 9 a.m. to get his hair cut. By the time Liang Han got home, it was already 8 p.m.
Opening the door, he saw his father sitting on the couch drinking beer and watching TV, with empty bottles scattered across the table. His mother sat to the side, eyes vacant.
“Dad, Mom, I’m home,” he said, putting his schoolbag away and heading to clean up the dinner table.
He covered the leftovers, washed the dishes, and tidied the kitchen before going to do his homework.
Late at night, he was woken by a commotion.
His mother’s screams and cries echoed through the house.
He jumped out of bed and rushed out to see his mother crawling out of the curtain, wearing only a vest and underwear, hair in disarray.
His father was kicking her in the back, straddling her, tearing her clothes and hair, beating and cursing.
“Let go of my mom!”
Without thinking, Liang Han ran forward and yanked the man off her.
Liang Hua stumbled back, furious. He punched Liang Han in the face, then grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the wall.
Reeking of alcohol, he yelled, “You little bastard! Laying hands on your old man?! You got a death wish?!”
Liang Hua was big and strong—far stronger than the malnourished Liang Han. His grip was like iron. Liang Han couldn’t escape.
His face turned purple. His right hand fumbled behind him, landing on a wooden comb.
It had a long, sharp handle. If he could stab it into his father's eye—it’d hurt enough to make him let go.
He could push it in hard—let the blood smear that vile face, maybe even pierce the brain.
He’d die. His father would die.
The thought made his whole body tremble—with something close to… excitement.
His vision doubled. His throat burned. His fingers went cold. His whole body went cold.
This was the closest he’d ever been to death.
He tightened his grip on the comb. His eyes were bloodshot.
Kill him. Just kill him!
Do it! Kill him!
“I will never let you become a murderer!”
Suddenly, Yu Mu’s voice echoed in his mind.
Sanity returned.
Startled, Liang Han let go of the comb.
His last bit of strength drained away.
He gave a bitter smile… and closed his eyes.
Final Note:
Liang Han: Teacher, since you’ve grabbed onto me… you’re not allowed to let go now.
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🌸🌸🌸
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