13 – Actually, She Has Her Own Illness Too
The lollipop in her mouth slowly dissolved its sweetness, filling her entire mouth with a comforting fragrance. As it slid down her throat, it seemed to soothe every cell in her body, easing the pain somewhat.
Finally, the wound was stitched up—five stitches in total.
After applying the medication, the doctor handed the ointment to Fu Yao.
“You’re quite tough. Many adults scream in pain even without anesthesia during suturing. Let me remind you to be careful not to exert too much force with your right hand, or the stitches might tear, which would be even more troublesome. Apply this ointment once in the morning, at noon, and in the evening. Avoid spicy foods. Come back to see me every three days to check on your progress. If all goes well, the stitches can be removed in about a month. Understood?”
Fu Yao nodded obediently. Although the wound still throbbed with residual pain, it was much better than during the suturing. Her smile no longer seemed forced. “Thank you, doctor.”
After praising her a few more times, the doctor said, “Alright, if there are no other issues, go to the front desk to pay.”
Praise and smiles aside, the money had to be earned.
Fu Yao nodded and hummed in agreement. As she stood up, she suddenly felt something swiftly slip from her palm.
Looking down, she realized it was Jin Zhi’s sleeve.
His hand withdrew from the sleeve, his expression now much calmer, and the tension around him had dissipated.
“I’ll… pay.”
Since he was the one who bit her, he would take responsibility. No one owed anyone anything.
Fu Yao glanced at his face, and he immediately ran off.
Fu Yao: “…”
Leaving a patient like her sitting there was hardly gentlemanly.
Still, it was oddly endearing, very much in line with the nature of a wolf cub.
The doctor glanced at her. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I told you how much it costs?”
Fu Yao’s smile remained, as if etched onto her face. “My insurance has already covered it. The original price is three hundred, but could you prescribe me another bottle of fluoxetine?”
The doctor was taken aback, looking at the bright and beautiful girl before him. He pursed his lips. “You can’t just prescribe this medication casually, you know?”
Fu Yao hummed, eerily calm. “I know. I’ve been taking it for almost ten years.”
The doctor broke into a cold sweat. “Do you have proof?”
Fu Yao nodded, pulling out her phone from her pocket and showing the doctor her medical diagnosis.
After reading the line that said “Diagnosis: Bipolar Disorder,” the doctor sighed. He glanced again at the girl who seemed more normal and cheerful than anyone else, finding it hard to believe she suffered from such an illness.
“I’ll prescribe you a bottle. You know the dosage, right?”
Fu Yao nodded. “One tablet a day is enough. I’ll consider increasing it only when I’m emotionally agitated.”
The doctor sighed again. “Alright, as long as you know. The medication costs three hundred per bottle.”
Fu Yao hummed in acknowledgment.
“Thank you for your trouble.”
The doctor wrote out a prescription and handed it to her. “Go to the front desk to pay and pick up your medication.”
Fu Yao took the prescription and left.
When she reached the hospital front desk, she spotted Jin Zhi from a distance, standing at the payment counter, glaring intently at the doctor behind the glass wall. In his hand, he clutched a stack of five- and ten-yuan bills.
Behind him, a crowd of people stood, growing increasingly impatient.
“Hey, kid, are you going to pay or not? If not, move aside! Don’t keep everyone waiting!”
“Kid… if you’re not paying, let others who are waiting go ahead.”
…
The doctor was also unnerved by the child’s glare, never having imagined seeing such an expression on a person’s face.
It was indescribably strange.
And he didn’t speak either.
She said, “Young man, you only have two hundred and ninety yuan here. You’re still ten yuan short—this isn’t enough.”
At that moment, someone behind Jin Zhi tugged at his clothes.
“Can you stop blocking the way? If you don’t have money, don’t come to the hospital. What’s wrong with you?”
Jin Zhi stiffened all over, immediately turning around as if ready to act.
Fu Yao’s nerves tightened, and she quickly ran over to stand in front of him, smiling as she tried to soothe the situation. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”
Then she turned around, her smile sweet and adorable.
She was already beautiful, and with such a smile, anyone who saw it would feel as if a gentle breeze had brushed past them, their emotions instantly calming down.
“I’m truly sorry. My friend isn’t very used to interacting with people. I had something to attend to earlier and asked him to wait in line, so I’ve kept everyone waiting.”
The girl’s voice was like a flowing stream—clear, sweet, and soothing, with a cadence so perfect it could have been used as a model in a lecture hall for thousands. Every detail was flawless.
The crowd’s mood immediately became less heavy and irritable.
Fu Yao could see their agitated red auras rapidly receding, fading significantly, and she felt relieved.
The man who had tugged at Jin Zhi finally pursed his lips. “Forget it, I can’t be bothered to argue with you. But your friend might have something wrong with him. You should take him to get checked out sometime.”
He pointed to his own temple, implying that Jin Zhi had something wrong with his mind.
Jin Zhi didn’t argue. He knew he was different from others, destined to wallow in the mud, rotting and decaying in a daze.
He had always known this, but having it so blatantly exposed in front of Fu Yao filled him with a sense of helplessness, turning his face pale. Lowering his head, he looked at his hand—the money he had gathered to pay for the wound he had bitten into himself was still ten yuan short.
He clenched the scattered bills tightly, gritting his teeth.
It felt as if the entire world was rejecting someone like him, who couldn’t accomplish anything.
Someone who couldn’t even communicate normally!
The injured girl standing tall before him seemed like the embodiment of perfection, radiating light that made someone like him appear even more despicable.
Being abandoned by her wouldn’t be surprising at all.
He quickly shoved the money in his hand into Fu Yao’s grasp.
“I’ll pay you back the rest!”
His voice hoarse, he finished speaking and dashed out of the hospital without looking back.
His thin, receding figure looked heartbreaking.
Fu Yao stared in astonishment at the scattered money in her hand. Though anxious, she still had to pay quickly.
Her emotions were agitated and anxious, and for once, she let her anger show to others.
“Although I’m very sorry, tolerance is equally important. Some words require responsibility when spoken. Even if he really does have something wrong with him, there’s no need to point it out to his face!”
The man who had spoken out of line took a step back, falling silent.
Fu Yao paid the medical fee by scanning the QR code with WeChat, collected the medicine, and hurriedly ran out to follow him.
But after all, she was just a girl—how could she keep up with Jin Zhi, a young boy?
She sighed.
The wind beneath the cold front was especially biting, stinging her face.
She had no choice but to slow her pace, walking alone back to the classroom amidst the wildly swirling leaves.
She remembered that the little wolf cub from eleven years ago wasn’t like this. Even though he didn’t interact with others back then either, he was still full of wildness and aggression, doing everything he could to avoid letting himself be wronged.
Now, the wildness within him had been tamed, never to be roused again.
Having been abandoned, he dared not trust anyone anymore.
With his wildness gone, he lost the ability to protect himself.
Though still aggressive, how could a stray dog compare to a wild wolf?
It seemed that even after the orphanage director was imprisoned these past eleven years, his life hadn’t improved much.
Fu Yao clenched her fingers into her palm, tugging at the faint pain from the freshly stitched wound.
Looking at the fluoxetine in her hand, she let out an impatient “tsk.”
Bipolar disorder was the most troublesome—though in a depressive phase, emotional outbursts still occurred from time to time.
But upon calming down, what that person said wasn’t wrong.
Jin Zhi was ill.
But what did it matter?
She was ill too.
They were the same kind of people, always had been.