Here's Episode 6 of Hidden
Chapter 6 — Red Envelopes, Revealed Worries, and Winter's Departures
Winter's breath had already begun whitening the edges of the world when Sang Zhi accepted her physics results with trembling excitement. A proud 97. Her tutor, Duan Jiaxu, offered quiet praise—and then delivered news that felt as brusque as the cold: their intensive sessions were over. Her heart sank like a rock dropped into still water. Yet he softened the blow: "Text me anytime. And for each exam you improve, I'll send a gift." Relief bloomed inside her chest, warmed by considerate promise rather than idle comfort.
As Lunar New Year approached, her home transformed into a haven of festive bustle. Red envelopes filled with minty notes awaited eager hands. Sang Zhi's heart lurched when Jiaxu politely declined the invitation to dinner, saying his university had a student gathering on campus. Her disappointment was real—but she moved swiftly, retrieving a tiny red envelope she'd prepared: inside, a star-folded note that whispered "Happy New Year." With silent determination, she slid it into the pocket of his jacket.
That New Year's Eve, the Sang family gathered around the table, laughter mixing with scrapings of plates and bold greetings. Sang Zhi tore into her red envelope and found a new phone—surprise and delight shimmering in her eyes. Sang Yan grumbled at his own slender packet of cash; she teased him mercilessly, stealing it with a brotherly punch. Their father, stern but affectionate, waved off her games and warned, "Delete games and any 'online dating prospects' from that phone." She laughed, indignantly innocent.
Then, her phone chimed. From Jiaxu: "Happy Spring Festival—may your dreams all come true." It was simple and heartfelt. She replied in an instant, feeling lighter and surprisingly cherished.
In stark contrast to her warmth, Jiaxu's own New Year was shadowed by fear. A call arrived from a nursing home in Yihe. His father was critically ill—pulmonary edema brought on by a lung infection. He was needed to return immediately to sign hospital papers and be by his father's side. Anxiety tightened his voice. On that night he left Nanwu.
After the Spring Festival break, Sang Zhi discovered a package waiting mysteriously at home: a plush black dog named "Winner," accompanied by a note praising her mock exam scores—a satisfying 95 in physics and a top-20 rank overall. Joy and confusion mingled: he hadn't delivered it in person. She turned to Sang Yan, who revealed quietly that Jiaxu had returned to Yihe for family reasons, left behind unshared with her earlier. A flush of frustration rose—he was leaving and hadn't even told her? But Sang Yan softened the blow: Jiaxu would be back—for graduation, at least.
Her gratitude, mingled with longing, found voice when Jiaxu called. He referenced the plush, inspired by a drawing she had tucked inside an essay. She offered to return the favor—send him a gift—but he gently declined. "Save your pocket money," he insisted, with that familiar caring humility. Then he invited her to his graduation—offering a shining moment to hold again what felt like a gradually fading connection.
Jiaxu's loneliness wasn't left untended. A woman—kind and concerned—approached him, offering money to cover his father's medical needs. He refused politely, his pride quietly firm. She also asked to attend his graduation—but he demurred, suggesting that their meeting could wait until he returned to Yihe in the future.
When graduation day finally came, Sang Zhi arrived with her father in tow, heart fluttering. There he was: Jiaxu in cap and gown, looking different—still cherished, still distant. She presented him with a bouquet. "For the best tutor," she said softly, offering warmth and hope for his new chapter. He accepted with sincere thanks, promising success for both their futures.
He insisted on walking her to the auditorium—standing by her like a brother. Mid-ceremony, he introduced her to a classmate as his sister. The intimacy of that moment was gentle not because of romance, but because it acknowledged their bond. He then bid fond farewells to professors and friends, preparing mentally for the life waiting in Yihe.
A pang of fear knotted in Sang Zhi as she overheard them say that they'd likely not see each other again. Was she forgotten too? He looked at her, recognition soft in his gaze. "You're different," he assured her, citing the red envelope and flowers she'd given him. Then he promised, "I'll come back to Nanwu; I'll let you know when I'm free."
At the graduation celebration, his friends teased him relentlessly for being single. Duan-Jiaxu—quiet and suddenly somber—felt the weight of departure. And Sang Zhi felt every smile and quiet beat of that moment inside her chest. Later, he escorted a drunk Sang Yan home, and Sang Zhi's parents insisted he stay—offering his own bed, fresh towels, tenderly caring for him. In those gestures, Sang Zhi saw once more how loved he was—and how deeply she felt something more than gratitude.
That night, Sang Zhi lay in bed, her thoughts drifting between pride in her growth, fear of being forgotten, and a quiet hope for more chapters to come—whether academic or emotional, they were hers to write.
End of Chapter 6