At first, Ren Jiayun thought Han Yue was talking nonsense about medicine. Only after rushing upstairs did he realize every word Han Yue said was true.
That kick had indeed caused Chu Ci to develop a gastric hemorrhage.
Pei Zhi, who was relatively close to the Han family, also arrived. As soon as he entered the room, he saw Chu Ci lying on his side on the bed, already coughing up a mouthful of blood. Bright red splattered across the sheets. Han Yue was holding Chu Ci tightly, sitting at the bedside, his expression rarely showing panic.
Ren Jiayun immediately got a headache. From the presentation alone, it was clearly upper gastrointestinal bleeding caused by blunt trauma to the stomach, likely rupture of gastric fundal varices. What exactly did this engineer do to make Han Yue hit him so hard?
Pei Zhi was also alarmed. “What happened? What happened? Why did you start hitting each other for no reason?”
“He slapped me. I didn’t react in time and just kicked out…” Han Yue’s voice was no longer just trembling; even his teeth were chattering. “I really didn’t mean it. I was just drunk and acted on impulse…”
Pei Zhi immediately snapped, “He hit you and you just let him? How hard could it have been? Look at what’s happening now! Old Ren, did you call an ambulance?”
Pei Zhi worked in business. Years in the commercial world had made him more composed and pragmatic than many of the military-cadre families around him, and he was usually steadier under pressure. Seeing him this anxious felt unfamiliar even to Ren Jiayun, who paused before replying, “Yeah, I already called… damn it, do you people think I’m incompetent or something?”
As it turned out, Ren Jiayun—chief of surgery—was at least competent enough. Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived with sirens blaring, startling the entire hotel.
By that point Chu Ci was nearly unconscious. Han Yue, panicked and full of remorse, picked him up and rushed downstairs, with Pei Zhi and Ren Jiayun following closely behind.
They ran into Zhao Ting on the way. When Zhao Ting saw a man who had been fine half an hour earlier now being carried out like this, his face turned instantly pale.
Han Yue was too furious to even look at him and brushed past as if he hadn’t seen him. Pei Zhi, however, stopped briefly and asked with a dark expression, “Old Zhao, tell me the truth. You really didn’t have anything to do with engineer Chu, right?”
Zhao Ting looked like he was about to cry. “Do you think I dare?!”
“…Yeah.” Pei Zhi sighed. “I don’t think you do either.”
Getting Chu Ci to the hospital was like a battlefield operation. In the middle of the night, half the hospital was thrown into chaos. Ren Jiayun felt like he had lost several years of his life.
Although Chu Ci was not well-known in those circles and few people recognized him, no one dared to neglect him with Han Yue present. As soon as they arrived, a gastroscopy was performed. Results came back quickly: Chu Ci had a pre-existing gastric ulcer. Emotional agitation and intense anger had caused vascular congestion and engorgement; Han Yue’s kick then ruptured already fragile blood vessels, causing blood to violently surge upward through the esophagus.
Because there was still residual blood in the stomach, an emergency gastric tube was inserted and medication administered. Several specialists were called in overnight. Once the diagnosis was confirmed, Chu Ci was immediately sent into surgery.
Han Yue sat outside the operating room, back straight, but rigid as if it might snap at any moment.
Ren Jiayun paced the corridor a few times, then stopped and sighed. “Is your lover still taking paroxetine hydrochloride?”
Han Yue nodded stiffly.
“Don’t… don’t overthink it. He already had a gastric ulcer. Emotional instability alone could’ve caused bleeding. Your kick was just an aggravating factor.” Ren Jiayun hesitated. “Long-term depression can contribute to ulcers. Antidepressants aren’t great for the digestive system either. Most people on them have some kind of gastrointestinal issues, so it’s not entirely your fault.”
Han Yue sat there silently, head leaning against the wall behind him. After a long pause, he said in a low voice, “I… I didn’t want to hit him. I just… lost control.”
Ren Jiayun thought to himself that his temper had probably been forged in childhood and would not be easy to change.
“I was actually planning to give him a house today,” Han Yue continued slowly. “I just wanted to live properly with him… have a normal life, affectionate, peaceful, until old age…”
Ren Jiayun chose his words carefully. “Does he still refuse to use your money?”
Han Yue shook his head. “Never uses it.”
“What’s his salary? Spending habits? Where does the money go?”
“You interrogating him now?” Han Yue snapped, then paused. “He hasn’t been working long. Maybe a few thousand… plus benefits. The apartment rent alone is 4,300 a month. Books and software another thousand or so. He spends a lot on food—likes good things, doesn’t eat what he dislikes. He also cares about home aesthetics, buys fresh flowers every day, furniture and carpets all have to be comfortable. Damn it, honestly, he lives more carefully than I do.”
“So he values quality of life,” Ren Jiayuan said. “Then why would he have depression?”
Han Yue scoffed. “And his clothes—everything is branded, always well-pressed, professionally ironed… he looks really good in them.”
“So your lover doesn’t save money at all?”
“He never saves.”
“That’s unusual,” Ren Jiayun frowned. “A single outsider in Beijing, renting, not working long, not saving anything… that doesn’t fit. With his income he could at least make a down payment, but he’s renting a decent three-bedroom in a good location. Either he never planned to stay in Beijing long-term, or he has backup support.”
Han Yue sneered. “What backup? His mother died in childbirth. His father died when he was in high school. He has almost no relatives—if there are any, they’re distant and not in contact.”
Ren Jiayun sat down, thinking for a moment. “Does he have any plans for his future career?”
“Plans?” Han Yue frowned. “Not sure. But a couple months ago he had a research project. He could’ve been promoted to deputy section level, but he turned it down. Said it was meaningless.”
Ren Jiayun was stunned for a long time and said nothing.
The waiting and anxiety made Han Yue increasingly restless. Ren Jiayun’s silence only made him more agitated.
“What are you thinking about? You’ve been asking questions for half a day—did you reach a conclusion or not?”
“…Second Young Master Han,” Ren Jiayun chose his words carefully and asked very cautiously, “don’t you think… your lover… has never actually planned for the future?”
“—What? The future?”
“Normal people all plan for the future. For example, your mother wants to arrange a powerful position for your older brother. I’m planning to import new equipment for my department next year, and you’re planning to be promoted to deputy bureau level next year. These kinds of plans show a person’s drive to move forward, a will to live. Any normal person has some kind of plan for the future. But your lover—he has no relatives, no friends, lives alone, doesn’t save money, doesn’t buy property, keeps no surplus funds, spends whatever he needs to spend, enjoys whatever he can enjoy, and even refuses opportunities like promotions…”
He paused and concluded, “He might not have ever thought he has a future at all.”
Han Yue’s hidden fear was instantly struck, almost making him jump up.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to say severe depression leads to suicidal tendencies again? I—I admit I wasn’t exactly kind before, but I didn’t beat him or yell at him every day! I had good moments too… I mean, my temper is a bit bad, but I can change! I really do care about him…”
He was getting confused, increasingly agitated, like something scratching at his insides.
Ever since he discovered Chu Ci was taking antidepressants, he had observed carefully. Chu Ci was indeed quite pessimistic in temperament. Apart from being meticulous about food and daily comfort, he had almost no interests. Most of the time, when idle, he just sat quietly, staring out the window without speaking—sometimes for an entire afternoon.
He also had no friends. After nearly two years at work, he hadn’t become close with any colleagues. When people went out together, no one thought to invite him; he always went about everything alone and never initiated contact.
Yet he wasn’t truly antisocial. In fact, Chu Ci’s personality was very good—polite, gentle, and proper in interactions. At work, he neither competed nor caused trouble; even the most critical colleagues couldn’t find fault with him.
He simply kept his distance from everyone—polite and composed beyond that distance, warm but detached.
If someone like that truly had suicidal tendencies, it would not be strange at all.
The more Han Yue thought about it, the more terrified he became. He almost wanted to rush into the operating room right then, shake Chu Ci awake, and force him to swear he had no such thoughts—just to beg him to live properly with him.
Han Yue had never truly loved anything deeply in his life. His feelings toward his family were ordinary; he was close with his brothers and had good relations with his comrades, but those were rough, resilient bonds between men who could joke and fight together. He had never loved someone like he loved Chu Ci.
At times he wanted to hold him like treasure in his palm. At other times, he wanted to chain him up so he could never leave, never look at anyone else, never speak to anyone else—so that his eyes would contain only him.
Sometimes he resented that he had no excuse to be good to Chu Ci. Yet even when he tried, Chu Ci didn’t seem to care. It was only when he was being difficult or angry that Chu Ci would look at him—though those looks were often indifferent, disgusted, even hateful.
At that moment, the isolation door opened. A specialist came out, greeted Ren Jiayun with a smile, then turned to Han Yue.
“Second Young Master Han, he’s awake now. You can go see him.”
Han Yue immediately perked up like he’d been injected with adrenaline. Without waiting for a second word, he nodded urgently and rushed inside.
Ren Jiayun, behind him, rolled his eyes in a very restrained manner and shrugged.
Chu Ci lay on the stretcher, his face as pale as the blanket covering him. When he saw Han Yue enter, he merely lifted his eyelids slightly before turning his head away again.
Han Yue awkwardly stopped beside the bed. He wanted to go around and look at his face but froze halfway, uncertain and stiff. The doctors nearby exchanged polite greetings with him; seeing his distracted state, they all tactfully excused themselves and left.
Once the room emptied, Chu Ci closed his eyes. His face showed no expression at all.
Han Yue paced around the bed twice, wanting to apologize but unable to say the words. After a long pause, he finally forced out, “…It’s good that you’re awake. It’s good.”
Chu Ci moved slightly. Han Yue tensed, startled—but saw only Chu Ci turning his face deeper into the pillow and remaining still.
Han Yue stood there for a long time, conflicted and silent, watching his motionless back.
After an unknown amount of time, he finally heard Chu Ci’s slow, steady breathing.
He had fallen asleep.
Only then did Han Yue slowly sit down by the bedside.
At that moment, he finally realized that he had never actually said the apology he intended to give.