12 – Bite your hand, not the lollipop?
The doctor glanced at Jin Zhi, then at Fu Yao, and finally said, “Alright, have your brother sign here, and we can proceed with the surgery. Your wound isn’t exactly complicated, but it’s not entirely simple either—it’s a bit tricky. If you want to minimize future complications and recover faster, I recommend avoiding anesthesia. Is that okay?”
When Jin Zhi heard the suggestion to avoid anesthesia, his heart sank for a moment, and he froze.
If the wound was stitched without anesthesia, the entire process would undoubtedly be excruciatingly painful.
Had he really bitten her that hard…?
Fu Yao also agreed with the doctor’s recommendation to forgo anesthesia, hoping her wound would heal faster. This stirred an even stranger sense of guilt within Jin Zhi.
But soon, he buried that feeling again… She owed him this. She brought it upon herself. He had already accompanied her to the hospital—why should he feel guilty?
He glanced at Fu Yao again, feeling uneasy.
Fu Yao was looking at him too.
Their eyes met. Fu Yao’s gaze seemed to hold a light, and her smile instantly reignited the guilt he had tried so hard to suppress, causing it to surge and overflow.
Fu Yao said, “Sign it, please.”
Jin Zhi pressed his lips together, his thoughts drifting and returning repeatedly, stirred by her words.
Finally, he stepped forward with his head lowered, picked up the pen on the table, and wrote his own name.
Jin Zhi.
The characters were exceptionally well-written, with a unique and clean stroke style. Every stroke, every flourish, seemed honed through countless hours of practice. Standing out on the line, the two characters were unforgettable at first glance.
These two characters were the first he had ever learned to write, taught to him by someone long ago.
And the person who had taught him to write his name was right beside him.
Back then, she had said that a name held special meaning.
Fu Yao noticed his handwriting and thought it was beautiful, so she complimented him, “You write really well.”
Jin Zhi didn’t respond. Instead, he quickly put down the pen and withdrew his hand, secretly rubbing his palm with his thumb to calm his embarrassment.
Fu Yao watched as the shy pink flush on his face faded and reappeared, finding it particularly amusing.
The doctor went to prepare the materials needed for the surgery.
Jin Zhi stared at the lollipop he had been holding for so long, saying nothing.
The candy inside was wrapped in its outer layer, still warm from the lingering heat of his palm. The wrapper was slightly crumpled from his grip. He glanced at his hand again.
So dirty.
He then looked up at the side of the waiting girl’s face. Under the cold white light, her skin glowed like jade, clean and radiant.
Dirty things were unwanted.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to throw the lollipop away.
Fu Yao stopped him, “Are you leaving?”
Jin Zhi paused.
“I… I’m throwing away trash.”
Fu Yao’s gaze fell on the lollipop. “Do you think it’s dirty because I touched it?”
Jin Zhi shook his head. “No.”
Feigning annoyance, Fu Yao said, “If you think it’s dirty, then unwrap it and give it to me. The stitches without anesthesia might hurt, and biting on something might help.”
Jin Zhi was taken aback, a faint blush spreading across his face.
Fu Yao saw it clearly.
Fu Yao pressed, “What are you waiting for? If you won’t let me bite the lollipop, should I bite your arm instead?”
Jin Zhi’s emotions flared up instantly—that was definitely not an option!
He hurriedly unwrapped the candy, careful not to let his fingers touch it.
But in the end, he still did.
He was both agitated and flustered, taking half a minute to unwrap the candy before offering it to Fu Yao.
Fu Yao accepted the candy with utter naturalness. Seeing she had a firm grip, Jin Zhi quickly withdrew his hand, as if afraid of any contact.
Fu Yao glanced at him but said nothing more. Right before his eyes, she placed the lollipop in her mouth, tucking it into the left side of her cheek, which puffed up into a small, adorable bulge.
Jin Zhi stared blankly, his blood warming involuntarily. Strange thoughts stirred in his mind, stimulating hormone secretion and making him purse his lips as he turned his face away to look elsewhere.
She actually ate it… the candy that had been tainted by his fingers.
Observing the ever-shifting emotional colors emanating from the boy, Fu Yao found it both endearing and amusing.
Having seen so many people, it was still the little wolf cub’s emotions that intrigued her the most.
Just then, the doctor arrived.
“Alright, we’re ready for the procedure.”
“It might hurt a bit. Try to bear with it.”
Fu Yao’s bright eyes turned to the doctor, and she smiled sweetly. “Can I eat candy?”
The doctor noticed the lollipop in her mouth, paused in surprise, then nodded. “That won’t be a problem.”
Fu Yao replied, “Good.”
After adjusting their positions slightly, the doctor advised Fu Yao not to overthink it. If she felt scared, she could look elsewhere instead of focusing on the needle.
Fu Yao was indeed afraid of pain, so she simply turned her head away and looked toward Jin Zhi.
Jin Zhi felt a bit flustered but didn’t avert his gaze.
The two locked eyes, each reflecting their own emotions. Though unspoken, they seemed to faintly understand what the other was thinking.
Especially Fu Yao, who could see the colors around him shift from puzzled blue to guilty green, before finally settling into a resolute white.
Even without him saying a word, she knew he was willing to let her watch, silently encouraging her not to fear the pain.
But when the needle pierced through her still-burning, painful flesh, Fu Yao clenched her teeth around the lollipop. Every cell in her body seemed to intensify its activity, her legs and hands tensed up, and she tightly shut her eyes.
She could feel the doctor pushing the needle through another patch of skin, the thread rubbing against her flesh. The friction sent a tingling, numbing pain directly to her most vulnerable spots. Then came a tug, pulling the two pieces of flesh together, the agony so intense she nearly crushed the lollipop between her teeth.
Yet she made no sound, only her eyelids twitched rapidly.
Watching this scene, Jin Zhi felt as if his breath had been stolen away, the sight almost suffocating.
It looked excruciating.
But he didn’t know what to do.
Until Fu Yao reached out her hand toward him.
His heart skipped a beat, a voice in his mind warning him: Don’t let anyone get close to you!
Instinctively, he wanted to push her hand away.
But he couldn’t do that now—she was in pain.
His mind wrestled in torment.
Finally, gritting his teeth, he withdrew his hand into his sleeve and offered the fabric to Fu Yao.
Understanding his meaning, Fu Yao obediently grasped the sleeve, crumpling it tightly in her palm as she endured the pain that sent chills down her spine.
Suddenly, she remembered her childhood—when her mother, in the midst of a suicide attempt, had grabbed her hand and sliced open her flesh with a small knife. Blood had gushed out endlessly, and she had cried out in pain, screaming for help. But no one answered. If her mother hadn’t cut deep enough, she might have died alongside her in that dark bathroom.
These memories brought cold sweat to her brow, her face growing increasingly pale.
Just then, she heard the boy before her speak in a low, soothing voice:
“Keep going.”
The voice was soft, yet it soothed her anxious, restless heart.