Life is already hard enough for those who study medicine—endure the bitterest of hardships, and even more hardships await. Bai Haoying felt that the cruelest twist of fate in his life was having known Lu Henqin since childhood, only to grow up and become the personal physician to this willful, self-absorbed young master amidst his own hectic schedule.
Yes, he had advised Lu Henqin yesterday to get more sun when possible.
But he didn’t mean for him to stand like a wooden stake in the garden, punishing himself, while still recovering from a serious illness—or even before fully recovering.
Lu Henqin stood in the southeast corner of the garden. Yesterday’s heavy rain had poured down, and instead of taking the gravel path, he had stepped onto the lawn and stood still, his trouser legs soaked in several places.
The garden of this house had always been regularly maintained by a gardener—a seasoned English horticulturist with a very orthodox aesthetic sense.
Whether it was the neatly trimmed boxwood hedges on both sides, the clusters of little handball flowers and lupines along the edge of the lawn, or the saxifrage covering the rockery, everything existed in perfect harmony. The only discordant note was the southeast corner, the direction Lu Henqin was now staring at intently—a whole patch overgrown with weeds, where broken branches and withered leaves looked even more desolate and forlorn after the rain.
Bai Haoying pursed his lips. Instead of appreciating the beautiful scenery, he was fixated on that eyesore!
He had no idea why Lu Henqin insisted on keeping that corner to himself, refusing to let the gardener intervene, causing the old man to sigh deeply with a trembling beard every time.
Within sight, the bottle of organophosphorus pesticide—the culprit—had yet to be dealt with. It sat conspicuously on the flower stand planted with dusty miller and geraniums, making Dr. Bai’s heart rate irregular just looking at it.
“Go back inside, it’s time for your IV drip,” Bai Haoying urged, patting his shoulder. As he spoke, he quickly assessed the patient’s condition and noticed that the other man appeared somewhat fatigued.
Lu Henqin made a request: “Can you make it faster?”
“Why?”
“To sleep.”
“Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“Didn’t sleep at all.”
Bai Haoying frowned. “Insomnia again? I thought it had improved somewhat?”
Lu Henqin replied with an attitude as casual as commenting on the weather: “Not sure. Maybe it’s drug resistance.”
Bai Haoying was instantly set off by this remark. Raising his eyebrows, he emphasized loudly, “I told you to strictly follow the dosage for any medication! Don’t take it lightly! If something goes wrong in the future—”
“I know,” Lu Henqin interrupted nonchalantly as he walked into the house. “That’s why I didn’t take any yesterday.”
Bai Haoying followed behind, watching as Lu Henqin passed by the real-fire fireplace and casually tore off a page from the flip calendar placed on it.
But the date skipped directly to the day after tomorrow.
The page for June 1st in between had been torn off by its owner long ago.
Bai Haoying’s heart stirred. He saw Lu Henqin immediately crumple the torn page into a ball and toss it into the trash bin after tearing it—out of sight, out of mind.
Every year was the same. The page for June 1st was always torn off by its owner as soon as the calendar’s plastic packaging was removed, artificially extracting that day from the 365 days. It was like the Princess and the Pea’s bed—lying on it, one could clearly feel something amiss, but as long as more mattresses were piled on, one could always deceive oneself into closing their eyes and sleeping.
A terrifying thought crossed Bai Haoying’s mind: Could it be that Lu Henqin’s accidental ingestion of pesticide yesterday was because…
"What are you standing there for?" Lu Henqin sat down on the L-shaped sofa in the bedroom's rest area at the foot of the bed. Resting his right hand on the armrest, he gestured for Dr. Bai to administer the IV, while his left hand calmly tapped the sleeping laptop, preparing to work for a while. He appeared perfectly normal.
Bai Haoying hesitated repeatedly, still feeling that saying more would only lead to mistakes. After efficiently setting up the IV drip, he only offered the usual advice: "If you can't sleep in the future, try listening to white noise or meditating for a while."
"Hmm." Lu Henqin let out a sound from his nose, his left hand typing a string of characters nimbly on the keyboard.
Bai Haoying felt uncomfortable with the awkward silence of waiting. Sitting to the side, he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through videos. After just three swipes, a news clip popped up:
【Former Social Democratic Party Executive Committee member Zhong Liqun recently visited Shatong Avenue to pay respects…】
Bai Haoying jolted, his thumb forcefully swiping upward on the screen, hurriedly dismissing the video.
The room fell silent, the sound of keyboard typing had already stopped.
Bai Haoying inwardly groaned a few times, not daring to lift his head, only stealing glances with the corner of his eye at the person sitting on the sofa—
Lu Henqin sat slumped, shoulders hunched, unmoving. He didn't turn his head, as if uninterested in the news just now. At this moment, he was staring fixedly at his bedside table.
Hopefully, he didn't hear… Bai Haoying felt slightly relieved and followed his gaze. Only a few items were placed on the table, nothing unusual in sight.
But Lu Henqin suddenly reacted strongly, standing up abruptly. Forgetting entirely that he was still on an IV drip, he strode straight forward. The IV tube was roughly pulled taut, dragging the IV stand and causing it to sway violently.
The IV bottle clattered noisily as it swung fiercely.
"Hey, hey, what are you doing?"
Bai Haoying's heart raced as he tossed his phone aside and quickly rushed forward in a few steps to grab him.
Lu Henqin's gaze remained fixed on the bedside. He pointed forward, his tone betraying no emotion: "Why is the towel on the bedside table?"
"Huh?" Bai Haoying was utterly confused.
"Throw it away." Lu Henqin withdrew his gaze.
This was truly baffling. Bai Haoying could only comply: "Alright, alright, I'll throw it in the trash later."
"Throw it away now," Lu Henqin insisted stubbornly, his tone growing inexplicably heavier as he spoke, "Take it outside, don't leave it in the house. I don't want to see anything related to her!"
No name was mentioned, but Bai Haoying could only think of one person.
Right, it was only when it came to matters about her that Lu Henqin became particularly "unpredictable."
But… Bai Haoying didn't understand: "Why would this towel have anything to do with her? She's already—"
"Dead?" Lu Henqin glanced at him sideways, a scornful smile slowly spreading across his face. "She's not dead. You have no idea what really happened."
Bai Haoying's expression instantly turned incredibly complex.
A long streak of blood had backed up into the thin tube connected to his hand. Lu Henqin found it boring and even reached out to pinch it with his fingernail, watching indifferently as the dark red blood surged up another large segment.
His thoughts were clear, his logic coherent: "The Social Democratic Party's last favorable wave back then rode on Xia Tingchan's performance. Now, with their term almost up, they're dragging out old matters again, making a big deal out of public opinion—sending flowers, giving speeches… That's all it is."
After speaking, he felt it was pointless. Fortunately, the diligent Dr. Bai pressed him back onto the sofa. Lu Henqin seemed completely unaffected by this minor interruption, calmly refocusing on his work.
He remained emotionally stable and normal throughout the entire IV drip session.
Before Bai Haoying left, Lu Henqin also changed into a suit, saying he needed to return to the company.
The driver came to pick him up. In truth, Lu Henqin didn’t need to put much effort into work. After his family moved abroad, the overseas holding companies were restructured and repackaged. Over the past few years, his condition had been off, so he only held a nominal position with shares, enough to ensure financial security for several lifetimes.
Sitting in the back seat, he gazed absently out the window. As they passed a flower shop, he suddenly felt as if pricked by a needle. After just one glance, he withdrew his gaze and forcibly shifted his attention to the group messages on his phone.
Originally, he intended to check work-related matters, but for some reason, the contact named "Cicada" in his list suddenly appeared at the top, just like that inexplicable towel that had appeared on his bedside.
Lu Henqin tried to swipe past it but accidentally tapped into the chat. What greeted him was an overwhelming wall of text, a long, green block filling the entire screen.
?
Did he send this?
When did he send it?
Scrolling up and down a few times, this lengthy message felt like a smelly, endless foot-binding cloth. Lu Henqin’s expression darkened. After finally scrolling to the top, he found another long block of text above it.
…What?
The timestamp was early this morning, when he couldn’t sleep.
It was utterly baffling. He had actually sent such a lengthy message to an account that had long since blocked him. The sprawling green text and the bright red exclamation mark in the middle seemed to mock him with unrestrained laughter. Lu Henqin tapped his screen quickly, deleting every trace of last night’s outburst.
After deleting them, the account sank back to the bottom of the list.
He didn’t clear the chat history. Scrolling up, the only remaining records were countless, fragmented messages sent over countless nights: "I hate you," each preceded by an exclamation mark indicating rejection.
Getting out of the car in the garage, he took the executive elevator directly to the 27th floor. At this hour, hardly anyone used this elevator. Lu Henqin pressed the floor button and waited quietly for the doors to close.
Suddenly, from the distance in the garage, came the sound of hurried, light footsteps, and even the faint panting of someone rushing grew closer in the blink of an eye.
Just as the steel doors were about to shut, a hand shot into the gap, forcefully holding them open.
She used some strength to stop the doors. The bones from her fingers to the back of her hand were clearly defined, her nails plain and neatly trimmed, with a light coffee-colored mole at the base of her ring finger.
Lu Henqin’s breath hitched slightly. From the back of his head down his neck, his body stiffened like parched, hardened earth. He slowly tightened and pressed his shoulders back, but his brow gradually lifted, his gaze fixed intently on that slender, plain hand.
The elevator doors opened. Xia Tingchan struggled to calm her rapid breathing. She was still wearing the same clothes from last night, and the same shoes. Perhaps with nowhere else to go, her clothes, dried after being soaked, were still slightly wrinkled, looking less than presentable.
Meeting his gaze, she yanked off the mask covering her face.
Unnecessary, he thought. He would recognize her even if she turned to ashes.
Xia Tingchan held the elevator door open but didn't step inside. Her dark, cool eyes lingered on him for six or seven seconds before deliberately darting a glance toward the corner of the elevator ceiling.
Surveillance camera.
Lu Henqin understood her hint—he had always been the best at deciphering her thoughts.
But he merely reached out coldly and pressed the close button again.
Xia Tingchan reacted swiftly, stepping sideways with her left foot to forcefully block the elevator door. Without uttering any unnecessary words, she furrowed her brows slightly and looked at him, softly calling out, "Lu Henqin…"
Lu Henqin remained unmoved.
Outside the garage, a short horn sounded, its echo reverberating distinctly through the empty underground space. Xia Tingchan quickly turned her face to glance into the distance, her expression growing even more troubled.
She turned back, once again fixing him with that same distressed look, her fine eyebrows drooping. When the horn sounded a second time, she gritted her teeth and, without another thought, ducked her head and rushed into the elevator.
Almost simultaneously, Lu Henqin took a step forward to the right. Tall and broad-shouldered, his frame completely enveloped hers as he stood in front of her.
He shielded her from the camera, positioning himself between her and the lens, his right hand twisting upward to cover the surveillance camera entirely.
Xia Tingchan cautiously used him as a shield, hiding in front of him. Before entering the elevator, she deliberately pulled off her hair tie, letting her long hair fall loose to cover her face, and put her mask back on.
She stood close to him, yet maintained a careful distance—so close yet worlds apart. Even the ends of her hair, hanging in the air as she lowered her head, didn’t touch the lapel of his shirt.
Lu Henqin lowered his neck, his left hand tucked into his pocket as if to avoid suspicion, his gaze fixed motionlessly on the narrow boundary between them.
The elevator slowly ascended.
"So?" he asked coldly. "What does this mean now?"
Xia Tingchan kept her head down and quickly whispered an explanation, "Uncle Zhong is in a critical period of seeking support. He went to Shatong Avenue to lay flowers a couple of days ago, but that night he received an anonymous threatening letter…"
"Threatening what?"
Xia Tingchan glanced up at him and answered honestly, "The letter threatened that they know I’m not dead."
Hmph.
Lu Henqin nodded indifferently, his tone devoid of emotion as he continued, "So you can’t even stay in the country anymore."
"Yes, I’ve been abroad these past few years."
No wonder she looked a bit thinner. Lu Henqin let his gaze fall on her face again, thinking flippantly, Good. He was satisfied only when she was miserable.
"And then?"
Xia Tingchan hesitated for a moment before laying it out plainly, "My identification documents might not be safe now, and I can’t leave the country again during this sensitive time. Lately… I’ve also felt like someone’s been following me. I have nowhere else to go, Lu—"
The rest of his name faded on her lips, likely because the mockery in his eyes was too palpable.
Lu Henqin adjusted his stance, his hand covering the surveillance camera shifting slightly upward to twist the angle completely into a blind spot. He lowered his head even further, his shoulders curling inward. From a distance, it looked as though he was leaning against the ceiling, whispering intimately to the person in his arms.
The tip of his nose was just a hair’s breadth away from the small whorl in her dark hair, so close that the faint scent of her shampoo lingered at his nostrils.
He softened his voice, "When you need me, I’m Zhong Wuyan; when you don’t, I’m Xia Yingchun. I used to imagine you in a sorry state, but I never thought you’d actually come knocking on my door. You’re really too kind."
Xia Tingchan showed not a trace of embarrassment. She had always been this way, single-minded and caring only about whether she could achieve her desired outcome. When others maliciously twisted and repeated the "facts," she would openly acknowledge them. She nodded and said, "I really have nowhere to go…"
The 27th floor arrived, and the elevator doors opened with a "ding."
Lu Henqin straightened up, once again putting distance between them. He looked her over carefully, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold, mocking smile.
His left eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze lowering. Xia Tingchan was all too familiar with this expression of his—a blend of disdainful amusement and thick malice.
He would reject her; that much was obvious.
Xia Tingchan pressed the button for the second basement level again, saying nothing more as she prepared to give up immediately.
Just as the red light lit up and the elevator doors were about to close, Lu Henqin lightly blocked them with the back of his hand. Unexpectedly, he changed his tone and relented:
"You can come to my place if you want, but I changed the passcode when I left this morning."
She looked up in surprise.
Lu Henqin pressed his palm against her forehead, slowly pushing her head down until she was once again positioned to avoid the surveillance camera. Then he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers in front of her.
He walked out without looking back, saying, "The passcode is my father's death anniversary. Miss Xia, with your busy and important life, you might have forgotten. If you still remember, feel free."
Xia Tingchan fell silent.
Even as the elevator doors closed again, Lu Henqin heard no further movement.
Xia Tingchan did not follow him out.
Perhaps she had backed down, or perhaps she truly couldn't remember Lu Wencheng's death anniversary.
But none of that mattered to him.