Three days passed, and little Ye's desire to fall in love had fizzled out completely.
Work wears a person down, shattering all romantic bubbles. More exhausting than the body is the mind, and Ye Wushu had already completely forgotten about the object of her fleeting infatuation.
But her senior brother still remembered.
That day, as Ye Wushu was typing away at medical histories, Lu Junran walked over carrying a bag of milk tea. His opening words left her utterly bewildered: "I asked around for you."
Little Ye looked up, confused. "What?"
"That Zhao Hongxi from ENT." Lu Junran appeared nonchalant, but in reality, he was watching Ye Wushu's expression closely. "He has a girlfriend he's been with since middle school…"
Had this been a few days ago, Ye Wushu might have felt a twinge of regret. But today, she only froze for a second before continuing to type. Whatever.
"But they broke up." Lu Junran hesitated, but ultimately didn't hide this crucial piece of information. "I heard it was because of years of long-distance."
"Not that I'm badmouthing him," Lu Junran emphasized deliberately. "Who knows if he's the type to 'slay his beloved first upon reaching shore.'"
"Maybe it's just that after so long apart, feelings faded. Or maybe the girl couldn't take it anymore and initiated the breakup." Ye Wushu disliked how in all similar narratives, women were always passive, always the ones "being accepted" or "being rejected."
She wasn't defending Zhao Hongxi, though that's certainly how it sounded to Lu Junran.
An inexplicable emotion surged in his chest. Lu Junran said, "Women value relationships more and are more reluctant to let go of sunk costs. Zhao Hongxi is decent-looking with a bright future—why would his girlfriend choose to break up at this point?"
Ye Wushu said matter-of-factly, "She probably just got tired of not being able to see or touch him. And besides, maybe she has her own bright future too—why should she stick with someone she can only reach through a screen?"
Ye Wushu unknowingly struck her senior brother's heart: "Bright future? It's just okay. He's only a first-year master's student. If he wants to work in surgery, he'll need at least a PhD, and that takes years more."
Lu Junran: "…" He couldn't argue with that.
Lu Junran then said, "But a man with a long relationship history like that—if this is your first relationship, I'd advise you not to touch it."
Ye Wushu waved her hand. "Not dating, not dating." She let out a mournful sigh. "Wanting to date was pure delusion on my part." She was already losing her hair from work stress.
Lu Junran pressed his lips together hard, but still couldn't suppress the corners of his mouth from curling up. He handed her a cup of milk tea, pretending to ask casually, "So why did you want to date him specifically?"
Ye Wushu was startled. "I didn't specifically want to date him. I just wanted to date someone—I've never been in a relationship, so wanting one is normal, right? Senior Brother, don't you feel envious when you see classmates showing off their relationships every May 20th or Valentine's Day?"
He really didn't.
Lu Junran had seen his college roommate go "crazy" for love, even taking out loans to buy gifts. He found it hard to understand—he couldn't comprehend the mentality of needing to satisfy the other person no matter what.
Ye Wushu said, "Well, and he happened to be the best-looking guy I've encountered recently."
Lu Junran was not pleased.
Ye Wushu didn't notice his displeasure. Even if she had, she would have thought it was normal—at work, being happy would be the strange thing.
Her senior brother just suddenly went quiet.
Ye Wushu tore open the straw, poked it in, and took a big gulp. The sweetness made her eyes squint with delight.
The next second, a message popped up in the group chat: [New admission: multiple trauma from fall, male, 16, emergency surgery scheduled, will transfer over post-op.]
Ye Wushu looked down at her cup: Mango green milk tea, regular ice, half sugar.
Ye Wushu: "…" She should have known better than to drink it.
The new patient was transferred in during the afternoon, with an oral endotracheal tube and chest drainage bottles. His parents were stopped outside the ICU doors. When Ye Wushu went to find them for consent, the mother had cried her eyes red, nearly hysterical, muttering things like "she shouldn't have…"
Ye Wushu glanced outside—the corridor was full of people, looking like teachers from the school.
During bedside handover, Ye Wushu overheard the nurse say:
"Tube can go all the way in, no gag reflex."
"No pupillary light reflex. Pupils unequal—left 1.5, right 1."
The anesthesiologist who had brought him in adjusted the ventilator, seemingly familiar with the nurses here, and chatted: "This kid was caught having a relationship at school by teachers and parents. The parents were pretty extreme—they tore into the girl with some harsh words. The boy couldn't take it and jumped off the school building."
Nurse: "…"
Ye Wushu stood close enough to clearly see the exasperated look on the nurse's face.
"His mom is something else—why go after the girl! And the girl didn't even jump, so why was he the one trying to off himself?"
The anesthesiologist always had a detached, otherworldly air about him: "Sigh, impulse is the devil. If this kid wakes up, he'll regret it too."
"Oh? Is this the new young lady?" Zong Xiahuai noticed Ye Wushu standing at the side.
Ye Wushu quickly stepped forward. "Hello, attending. I'm the ICU rotation doctor this month."
"Oh." Zong Xiahuai said with a smile, "This is a neurosurgery patient. Although he might need orthopedic surgery later, right now he's under neurosurgery. If you need anything, just @ them in the group chat. That way you won't handle things and make them unhappy—they're a bunch of jerks!"
Ye Wushu didn't dare to chime in, only saying, "Okay, okay."
"Ye Wushu?" Zong Xiahuai noticed her name badge. "That's a nice name. Want to consider joining our department?"
New offer +1.
"Don't go corrupting this young lady." A nurse pushed her out. "Your department is like being in prison all day. She's a neurology specialty master's student—isn't that way more promising than yours?"
Zong Xiahuai sighed regretfully. "I can tell this young lady has the temperament for our department."
"Then go talk to her advisor about it."
Ye Wushu blinked.
This anesthesiologist wore red scrubs and a floral cap, with sharp, striking features like a blade—very dashing, carrying herself with a clean, decisive aura.
Ye Wushu envied her. She wondered when she would shed her student naivety and grow into a clinical doctor who could stand on her own.
Ye Wushu sat back down at the work area. After a while, the neurosurgery team came for their rounds. They went to check on the young man who had jumped, then deliberately circled back to speak with Lu Junran. "Junior, about that patient who jumped—someone higher up has put in a word. Keep an eye on him."
So he was a connection. No wonder he got a VIP monitoring room in neurosurgery.
Ye Wushu waited until the neurosurgery team was far away before mysteriously sidling up to Lu Junran. "Senior, let me tell you—that guy who jumped was trying to die over love…"
Lu Junran wasn't surprised in the least. "I already knew." They had a small group chat in neurosurgery; he'd learned the full story from his seniors long ago.
Ye Wushu: "!!"
Ye Wushu was indignant. "Senior, how could you!"
Lu Junran: "?" Why was his junior suddenly angry?
"Aren't we work buddies? How come you never share any news with me!" She'd been so excited to share the gossip she'd overheard.
"This… does it matter?" Lu Junran genuinely didn't think it was a big deal.
A teenage boy jumping off a building over love—it sounded weak and foolish, impulsive and irresponsible toward life. As a doctor, he found it hard to sympathize with someone who didn't cherish their own life.
Lu Junran explained, "I think this kind of thing is boring. Don't you?"
One look confirmed it—her senior was a dull person.
Lu Junran didn't understand why his junior suddenly lost interest, so he added another explanation: "Things like this happen in neurosurgery every day."
Ye Wushu: "Like what?"
Lu Junran said, "Like a lover and a spouse hacking at each other?"
Ye Wushu: "That intense? So who won in the end?"
Lu Junran: "…Neither survived."
Ye Wushu looked at her senior with hopeful eyes. "Next time something like that happens, can you call me in for the gossip?"
If this had been some seasoned player of romance, he would have definitely bargained for a condition—at the very least, a solo dinner invitation.
Lu Junran thought for a moment and said, "How about you write a few medical histories for me?"
Ye Wushu agreed without hesitation.
She'd been getting better and better at writing medical histories lately. Writing them wasn't hard—it was just that she often didn't know the attending's diagnostic reasoning. Every time she organized a patient's treatment course, she would think it through and reason it out repeatedly.
His junior looked at him with sparkling eyes. "So does your department have any other stories? Is it true that lots of professors are on their second marriage?"
"No." Lu Junran had recently learned to tell deadpan jokes. "One professor is already on his fourth marriage and has eight sons to support now."
Ye Wushu's mouth formed a big "O."
At 3 PM, it was family visitation time. Only one family member per patient was allowed in, and they had to wear protective gowns, masks, and caps. Families lined up at the door on their own, waiting for the nurse to call their names.
A senior doctor passed by and sighed. "Ugh, it's turned into a marketplace again."
This was the liveliest hour of the day in the ICU.
The monitoring room wards were all transparent, so Ye Wushu could see the few rooms closest to her.
Some patients were awake, and their families could whisper comfort by the bedside—hang in there a little longer, once you're better, you can come out.
But more were comatose patients on ventilators, unconscious, with families standing silently to the side, tears streaming quietly.
The 15-minute visitation flew by. The moment the bell rang, the nurse started urging people out: "Visitation time is over. Come back tomorrow."
Everyone walked out with different expressions. Some were uplifted, eyes full of hope for the future; others were dejected, hands clasped together in helpless prayer.
Families would talk to each other.
One would say, "Mine is slowly getting better—the tube's been capped, he'll be out soon." Another would say, "Hope I can borrow some of your good fortune, so mine wakes up soon too."
The ICU is a place full of both hope and despair.
Ye Wushu saw a young woman standing at the ICU entrance, red-eyed and refusing to leave. She answered a phone call and said to the person on the other end, "Thank you, teacher. Sorry for the trouble. I'll come pick up the child in a little while."
For some reason, Ye Wushu felt a pang in her heart.
At 4 p.m.
A man and a woman, both family members, knocked on the desk in front of Ye Wushu. "We're here to pick up the death certificate for Bed 32. Last night we were only given one copy."
Bed 32?
Ye Wushu said, "I'm sorry, but we're not the doctors in charge of liver transplants. Maybe you could ask someone else?"
The male family member grew impatient first. "Who else is there? Didn't they tell us yesterday to come today to get it? Now where are we supposed to go?"
The family members were getting agitated, so Ye Wushu quickly sent a WeChat message to Lu Junran: [Senior! Help! Two family members are here to pick up a death certificate, and I have no idea how to handle it. Save me, save me, save me.]