Ji Enyi awoke from his stupor with a raspy voice, sounding like a thin film tearing in the winter wind. “What time is it?”
Cheng Jiayan felt a lump in her throat. “It is twelve-thirty.”
Ji Enyi’s heart pressed heavily against his ribcage, squeezing his body with an oppressive weight, leaving him gasping for air as his lungs struggled to meet the oxygen demand.
“Twelve-thirty,” Ji Enyi murmured, laboriously turning his head to glance at the time on the cardiac monitor by the bedside. The clock on the monitor was tiny; it took him a long while to make it out. Slowly, he turned his eyes toward the nurse nearby. “Go deliver Ji Tan’s meal.”
This was the nurse specifically assigned to care for Ji Enyi; it was she who had delivered the meal to Ji Tan last time. The nurse followed his instructions, set aside the majority of Ji Enyi’s portion, picked up the insulated food container, and left the ward.
Cheng Jiayan, angry and bewildered, blocked her path. “Why are you sending him food?”
Ji Enyi signaled for the nurse to leave, his eyes closing slightly as his strength waned. “It is time for him to eat.”
His voice was as plain as if he were stating the simplest of facts. Yet, here was a critically ill patient, on the brink of death, using his remaining energy to obsess over the trivial meal of a perfectly healthy person.
Cheng Jiayan could not comprehend it. “You are dying, and you are worried about whether he ate lunch? Will he starve if he skips one meal?”
“Enyi, he has twenty million left by Ji Yuan in his hands, yet he refuses to save you,” Cheng Jiayan said, her voice sharp and grating. “You treat him like a brother, but when has he ever treated you like a brother?”
Ji Enyi was exhausted and did not want to argue with her. Cheng Jiayan noticed his irritation and dared not provoke him further, quickly adding, “Mother will say no more. Just rest well.” She busied herself attending to him in a panicked flurry. She raised the head of the bed. “Enyi, eat something.”
Cheng Jiayan held a bowl with a small amount of fish congee, looking at Ji Enyi with extreme caution, afraid of upsetting him. “Shall Mother feed you?”
Ji Enyi remained indifferent. Before long, the nurse returned, still carrying the same insulated container. “Young Master Ji refused it; he said he brought his own meal.”
Ji Enyi retracted his gaze, acknowledging the news. Cheng Jiayan slammed the spoon into the porridge bowl, her brows knitting together. “Enyi, do you see? He does not appreciate your kindness at all.”
“When he was a child, he tried to push you down the stairs out of jealousy, and you forgave him. But what has he done?” Cheng Jiayan cried out, her sorrow uncontrollable. “He has Ji Yuan’s entire inheritance, yet he is unwilling to take out a cent to help you. Is money really more important than his own brother’s life?”
Cheng Jiayan wept as she spoke, her sobbing growing louder. Ji Enyi’s pure black pupils, devoid of any distraction, stared at the trembling Cheng Jiayan, his raspy voice eerily calm.
“Am I Ji Tan’s responsibility?”
The soft, abrupt voice echoed in the ward, cutting through Cheng Jiayan’s suppressed tears. Cheng Jiayan looked at Ji Enyi, whose face was as pale as paper, and stammered, “Enyi, what are you saying?”
Ji Enyi’s obsidian eyes remained motionless, locked onto her face. “I said, am I my brother’s responsibility? Why should he spend his money to treat my illness? Does he owe me anything?”
Cheng Jiayan froze, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Enyi, what do you mean by this?”
Ji Enyi suddenly clutched the quilt beside him, blue veins bulging on the back of his pale hand, his eyes filled with hatred. “Was it not you who, knowing during your prenatal check-up that the baby you were carrying had congenital heart disease, insisted on giving birth to me regardless?” Ji Enyi retorted with a cold sneer. “Why are you trying to push your mistake onto someone else now?”
Knowing full well that she would give birth to a sick child, and then failing to take responsibility, she had pushed it onto another child who had no responsibility at all without a second thought. Were parents meant to be such a fleeting, irresponsible role? There was not a shred of accountability.
Cheng Jiayan was stunned by the undisguised hatred on Ji Enyi’s face; it took her a long time to find her voice. “That is not true, Enyi.” Her throat was dry as she explained. “There were risks, but Mother thought you would be a healthy child.”
Ji Enyi felt sick. “Thought?” Ji Enyi chewed on the word. “Then did you ever consider what would happen if you were wrong? What if that child with congenital heart disease was really born?” He would spend his life in agony, a life worse than death.
Cheng Jiayan shook her head desperately, as if she could fight off the consequences of her wrong gamble. “I am sorry, Enyi, Mother did not mean to.”
Cheng Jiayan continued to cry uncontrollably. Ji Enyi closed his eyes in discomfort, unwilling to argue further. He said softly, “Let it be.”
“You made the mistake, and I am bearing the consequences. I do not resent you, but do not try to shirk your responsibility onto others.”
Zhou She walked past Ji Enyi’s ward without stopping, making his way to Zhou Wenbai’s break room. He knocked on the door and asked Zhou Wenbai, “Why did you call me?”
“You have not left yet?” Zhou Wenbai was surprised for a moment, then revealed Ji Tan behind him. “Perfect, help me take Tuan Tuan back.”
Zhou She glanced at Ji Tan, who was digging through his bag for something, and nodded slightly. Ji Tan pulled out a sandwich he had packed from the café and handed it to Zhou Wenbai as he walked by. “Dr. Zhou, we are not eating Ji Enyi’s food; I brought you some.”
Zhou Wenbai was stunned for a second, then took the sandwich—the packaging slightly loose, but still warm. “You really are something.” Zhou Wenbai sighed helplessly, finding himself unable to do anything about the obedient and thoughtful Ji Tan. “Tuan Tuan, why are you so kind?”
Ji Tan’s eyes curved with pleasure at the compliment. Zhou Wenbai leaned down and kissed Ji Tan’s forehead with emotion. “Have you eaten? If not, ask Zhou She to cook for you when you get back.”
“I have eaten.” Ji Tan had already had two small cakes bought by Zhong Peiyi; he was full.
“Good boy. I will eat it in a moment.” Zhou Wenbai stroked Ji Tan’s hair with a smile. “Go back with Zhou She.”
Ji Tan nodded, waving goodbye to Zhou Wenbai with reluctance. “Dr. Zhou, do not work too hard, and make sure to eat properly.”
A warm current washed over Zhou Wenbai’s heart as he watched Ji Tan leave. Ji Tan got into Zhou She’s car and, seeing the medicine bag Zhou She had tossed into the back seat, realized why Zhou She had still been at the hospital at this hour.
“You bought medicine?” Ji Tan asked. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Zhou She started the car. “No.”
“Do not avoid medical treatment out of fear.” Ji Tan thoughtfully gave an example, “Ji Enyi’s illness got worse because he kept dragging it out.”
Zhou She gave Ji Tan a perplexed look; as far as he knew, Ji Enyi had been receiving proper treatment since birth. “He drags his illness out?” Zhou She asked, confused. “When did he drag it out?”
Ji Tan answered earnestly, “Since he was in the womb.”
Zhou She: “Shut up. It is just some ointment for blood circulation.”
Having been silenced by Zhou She’s preemptive strike, Ji Tan asked, “Blood circulation? Where are you injured?”
Zhou She stared straight ahead, silently gripping the steering wheel, and did not answer Ji Tan. Ji Tan scanned Zhou She’s body briefly, finally resting his gaze on Zhou She’s strong, slender, pale forearm, where vibrant, mottled scratch marks were scattered. Ji Tan recalled carefully and realized it seemed to be where he had scratched him while hiding behind Zhou She at the hospital.
Ji Tan felt a momentary pang of guilt. “Lawyer Zhou, let me help you apply the medicine when we get back.”
“What are you up to now?” Zhou She had known Ji Tan long enough to know he never did anything without an ulterior motive, so he speculated, “Playing doctor? Treating me like one of your little toys?”
That sounded like something Ji Tan would do.
“I am much older than that; I am past the age for role-playing games.” Ji Tan retorted indignantly. “I am just being kind.”
Zhou She did not believe him. “You, kind? The sandwich you gave Zhou Wenbai was just the leftovers from what you ate. Do you really have the kindness to apply medicine for me?”
Ji Tan’s expression changed several times, making Zhou She think he had wronged him. As it turned out, Ji Tan whispered, “How did you see that?”
Seeing that Zhou She remained silent, Ji Tan refused to accept the blame. “I only ate the tomatoes inside the sandwich; Dr. Zhou does not like tomatoes.”
Zhou She parked the car and remained silent for a long moment. “I do not need your help. I will handle it myself.”
Zhou She carried the medicine bag out of the car, and Ji Tan unbuckled his seat belt and followed him. Zhou She returned to his room, closed the door, and took off his short-sleeved shirt. On his back, long, thin red marks of varying depths were swollen and purplish. Zhou She’s expression was cold and indifferent. He had just unscrewed the cap of the ointment when an uninvited guest burst in.
“Do I not have any privacy?” Zhou She turned around, his high-arched brow pressed down, his dark pupils fixed on Ji Tan’s prying little face. Ji Tan simply squeezed his way inside. “I really want to apply the medicine for you.”
Zhou She frowned, and just as he was about to speak, Ji Tan interrupted him. “Your back is covered in injuries; I saw them all. You cannot reach them yourself.”
Zhou She’s clenched palm suddenly relaxed, as if he had given up resistance. “Do as you wish.”
Zhou She lay prone on the bed, shirtless, while Ji Tan leaned over to apply the medicine. Halfway through, Ji Tan suddenly asked, “Do you know of any legitimate donation channels? The kind where you can donate to children whose families have gone bankrupt?”
As soon as Zhou She heard this, he understood why Ji Tan was so insistent on applying medicine to curry favor. “You wanted to push Ji Enyi off the stairs before, and now you want to save him?”
Ji Tan was tired from applying the ointment, so he sat down on the floor by the bedside. He could see Zhou She’s profile if he tilted his head. “Ji Enyi told me he wanted to die, so I was helping him.” Ji Tan explained logically, then became visibly depressed. “But Mom said that is wrong.”
Zhou She’s eyes were deep. “If he asked you to kill someone, would you do it?”
Ji Tan said righteously, “Of course not, that is against the law.”
Zhou She gazed at Ji Tan quietly. Ji Tan dodged Zhou She’s gaze, unable to help but whisper, “I would have when I was a child.”
Watching Zhou She look at him like he was an idiot, Ji Tan tried his best to find a reason. “A kind baby never has the heart to refuse anyone’s request.”
Zhou She was made to laugh by Ji Tan’s lack of a moral compass. Zhou She stopped looking at Ji Tan and turned his head back. After a long silence, Zhou She suddenly asked, “What if I were asked to do something bad by someone else, and I could not refuse?”
In the room filled with the fragrance of medicine, Zhou She closed his eyes gently. A sea of blood surged into his mind, and the stench of iron filled his lungs, making Zhou She frown in discomfort. Ji Tan tugged at Zhou She’s arm. Zhou She opened his eyes; Ji Tan was applying medicine to his right forearm, which was barely injured.
Ji Tan applied the ointment to the scratch marks on Zhou She’s forearm in a flash. His bright, beautiful face was very close; his curved, glass-like eyes were clean and clear. He chuckled, “Then you are also a very kind baby, just like me.”
Zhou She’s eyes trembled; Ji Tan’s childish words were a bit laughable. Yet, inevitably, he felt a sense of peace.