Chapter 36

Is It So Hard to Accept Me and Pay Attention to Me?

Hu Xiu felt slightly self-conscious under Pei Zhen’s gaze. “Dr. Pei, if you’re tired, go home and rest. Grabbing a quick bite in a convenience store is already bad enough; don’t ruin your health by overworking.” 

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t like people fussing too much over my health. I’m doing fine. I just want others to recognize whether I’m excellent, one-of-a-kind, and undeniably charming.” 

This was a topic Hu Xiu was well-versed in, thanks to Qin Xiaoyi and his countless self-praising moments. She gathered her hair and tossed it back. “What a coincidence. I’m also not a fan of nagging people about their health. After all, I’m not interested in playing mother. It’s just that Li Ai is still in the ICU, so I’m feeling a little anxious. Plus, Dr. Pei, you’re a national treasure in our department—a rare and highly esteemed figure. From a caretaker’s perspective, I feel you should get some sleep.”  

After speaking, Hu Xiu silently congratulated herself. Watching Snowpiercer ten times wasn’t a waste—everyday debates had sharpened her eloquence and improved her logical thinking. 

Pei Zhen laughed out loud. “Who taught you to talk like this? Ask any of those kids in my department who call me ‘boss’ if they dare speak to me this way.” 

“Someone has to push back against you once in a while. But don’t get any ideas; this is just friendly advice from a colleague. It’s good to have a few people around who’ll speak honestly. You spend all your time in surgery, consultations, and research—patients admire you, students fear you, and colleagues are wary of you. There aren’t many opportunities for candid conversations.” 

Pei Zhen didn’t respond and simply sat on the bench pretending to sleep. When Hu Xiu was about to head back to check on Li Ai, Pei Zhen suddenly spoke up. “So, what’s the caretaker planning to feed me tomorrow morning?” 

Oh no. She’d been so caught up in the banter that she overstepped. Hu Xiu was still stunned when the convenience store’s doorbell rang, and Diao Zhiyu walked in. His nose was red from the cold, and his expression slipped when he saw them sitting so close. His voice was low. “Well, what a coincidence. Out on a date?” 

What did they say about coincidences being a curse? This was one of those times. Pei Zhen stood up, and this time, unlike at REGARD, where it was an away game for him, he was on home turf at the hospital. He wasn’t about to back down. “Well then, caretaker, I’ll trouble you to bring me some breakfast tomorrow. Even though I have the day off, I’ll come to work just for your food.” 

Diao Zhiyu stood right in front of her, his expression unreadable. Hu Xiu couldn’t tell if this was the Qin Xiaoyi on stage or just Diao Zhiyu in real life. His brooding look, whether on-screen or off, always carried the same quiet intensity. 

She reflected briefly—yes, the earlier banter had been a bit suggestive. But if both Diao Zhiyu and Pei Zhen liked her, why not give them a fair chance to compete? They weren’t in a relationship yet, so why should she lock herself into a moral corner? 

After buying some yogurt and instant noodles, Diao Zhiyu sat at the table, waiting silently for the noodles to cook. Before eating, he swallowed a stomach pill. The cashier girl was watching Diao Zhiyu from afar, her gaze full of admiration. Catching her look, Diao Zhiyu leaned back, crossing his legs. “Anything you’d like to say to me?” 

Hu Xiu, of course, wasn’t about to say something cliché like “take care of your health.” That routine had already been used once. Sitting beside him, she avoided the topic entirely and asked, “Do you play escape rooms?” 

“We get subsidies for escape rooms and murder mystery games—one outing a month is required. Why, are you interested?” 

“I’ve never been. Just curious.” 

“Do you prefer Western horror or Japanese-style? Immersive movie-like experiences or puzzle-heavy ones? Do you want NPCs, and what difficulty level are you thinking of?” Diao Zhiyu started explaining but stopped midway when he saw her expression. He laughed. “With your courage, are you really planning to play? Don’t end up clinging to me the whole time.” 

“NPCs should have good customer service skills.” 

“I’m a player, not your service staff.” Diao Zhiyu quickly finished his noodles. “I’m off work and finally have some downtime. If you want someone to accompany you, why not call that panda bear you were chatting with earlier?” 

Hu Xiu frowned. “Were you eavesdropping at the door?” 

“Do I need to eavesdrop? Your voice just now was so high-pitched and sweet it could’ve killed someone.” 

“Jealous, huh?” 

“Jealous of what? I’ve got plenty of ‘warlord wives.’” Diao Zhiyu wiped his mouth and stood up, ruffling Hu Xiu’s hair as he passed. “Let’s go see Li Ai.” 

“I need to grab some yogurt…” Hu Xiu ducked out from under his hand, realizing she hadn’t washed her hair since the night before. 

At the checkout counter, the cashier whispered, “Sis, you’re amazing. Two handsome guys at once—how do you do it?” 

Hu Xiu was full of confidence. “Keep it low-key. It’s all about charm.” 

Li Ai was still in the ICU. The two of them stood outside the door, staring at the glowing monitor in the darkness. They couldn’t see or understand anything else. Checking the time, Diao Zhiyu said, “I’ll take you home.” 

In the car, Diao Zhiyu sat in the passenger seat with the window open, letting the wind blow in. Strangely, he didn’t seem cold. Hu Xiu held the yogurt she’d just bought, planning to divide it up fairly once they reached her apartment so she could spend a little more time with him. 

But as they approached her building, she spotted someone waiting outside. Her father. 

She instinctively stopped walking and turned to Diao Zhiyu. “I’m sorry. You should go.”

Diao Zhiyu glanced ahead. “A friend?”

“My dad. He’s… a bit eccentric. So please, could you head back first? If anything comes up, I’ll text you.”

Hearing the word “dad,” he squinted slightly, his gaze landing on the figure in the distance—a man carrying a shoulder bag. Their eyes met briefly. “It would be a little rude to leave like this,” he said. “I should at least say hello.” Straightening his posture and clearing his throat, he walked forward with composure. Watching his calm figure, Hu Xiu could already predict most of the storm that was about to unfold.

“Hello, sir. I’m Diao Zhiyu, a friend of Hu Xiu’s.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No, just a regular friend. I live nearby and came to walk her home.”

Her father shifted the strap of his bag from his shoulder to his hand, taking a deliberate breath. “I’m visiting from out of town, here to give a lecture to some students and to check on Dingding. Looks like I came at the right time. You seem quite young.”

“Not that young. I just graduated from the acting program at Shanghai Theatre Academy.”

“An actor?”

“Yes.”

Diao Zhiyu’s tone was filled with confidence, clearly expecting some acknowledgment or approval. But her father only gave a slight sneer through his nose. “Got it. You should head back now. I’ll have a chat with Dingding for a bit before leaving.” He pulled out a pack of Zhongnanhai cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled a plume of smoke. His gaze had already wandered over to Hu Xiu. Her father often smoked as a way to… send people away.

As Diao Zhiyu turned back to her, he whispered, “Call me if anything happens.”

His tone carried the weight of someone who had foreseen everything.

Looking at her father standing there smoking, Hu Xiu was suddenly reminded of the nights when, at seventeen, she read Chekhov’s Selected Plays. She also recalled attending a performance of The Seagull at a small theater during her university days. In 2010, she had traveled to Beijing for the 150th anniversary of Chekhov’s birth. One line had drawn laughter from the entire audience: “Why is everyone a lunatic? Why is everyone in love?”

Her father’s silence surely carried echoes of this sentiment. He was undoubtedly caught in the swirling smoke of his own disbelief, unable to fathom why his daughter was so infatuated with relationships, just like her “reckless” mother. Before she could speak, her father smiled bitterly and said, “Good thing I came by today. If I hadn’t, that guy would probably be upstairs with you right now, wouldn’t he? You’re exactly like your mother.”

“I…”

“Let’s go upstairs. I want to take a look.”

What would happen next didn’t even need imagining. As soon as her father entered the apartment, he turned on the lights and went straight for her wardrobe. There were no men’s clothes. The bookshelf contained medical and translation textbooks, which were spared his wrath. But then his eyes fell on the posters of Qin Xiaoyi and the fake marriage certificate taped to her wall. He had found his outlet.

The posters, which she had carefully attached with adhesive tape to avoid damaging the composition of Qin Xiaoyi’s image, were torn down in seconds and thrown into the trash. The fake marriage certificate? Ripped into shreds. “What kind of nonsense is this? Is this with that kid I just met? How can you be as cheap as your mother?”

The first tear of the certificate sent her tears streaming down. “Dad.”

“What? Doing well at the hospital, are you? No ambition at all? By the time you’re past twenty-eight, they’ll reassign you to administration, and no one will want you. No residency, no property, and staying alone in Shanghai—have you thought about your situation? That little boy you were with will play around and then leave. Do you think you’re winning here? You never fail to disappoint me!”

“Dad, is it really that hard for you to accept an imperfect version of me and let me live the life I want?”

“By the time reality teaches you a lesson, it’ll be too late. You saw what happened to your mother, didn’t you? After I kicked her out, that man dumped her. She ended up living far away in the north, doing odd jobs to make ends meet, with no retirement fund to speak of. Women who don’t value themselves live miserable lives—always have, always will. That’s reality. Do you think I’m being harsh? I’m just trying to steer you back on the right path!”

He hadn’t even taken off his shoes after entering, his leather soles stomping forcefully across the wooden floor. He kicked at a chair draped with clothes, muttering, “Such a mess,” as the fabric slid off onto the floor.

“Please leave.”

“What?”

“If you can’t show me any respect… please just leave. I’m not as useless as you think I am. If you’d pay even a little attention, you’d know that the hospital’s major conferences are live-streamed. If you opened a stream, you’d see me sitting behind the director, interpreting for him. Anyone who cares about me can see it. As my father, you should have noticed before anyone else. But maybe I just expected too much from you. You’ve never really looked at me—your mind is always full of yourself. If you’re so intent on belittling me, you might as well stop visiting.”

The apartment fell silent. Hu Xiu sat on the floor, staring at the messy footprints and scattered clothes. She didn’t even know where to start cleaning. Her gaze couldn’t bring itself to shift toward the trash can with its torn-up scraps of paper.

At seventeen, when she had participated in a piano competition, she had spent her childhood years with 88 keys. That provincial competition in Jiangsu was meant to be her final explanation to her father. When the results were announced, the girl who took first place didn’t cry tears of joy or show any surprise; she merely flipped her chin-length black bob and left the stage, taking with her the only available spot at the Central Conservatory of Music. It was her father who cried. His unfulfilled dream of attending a top-tier music academy hadn’t come true through her, either. Shortly after, he moved out, unable to bear the stifling atmosphere of the house without the “refinement” he so valued.

She spent the first month of her senior year studying in an empty classroom lit by fluorescent lights, accompanied only by tiny bugs drawn to the glow. Her mother’s boyfriend had already moved in, toothbrush and all. After the college entrance exams, her father returned to help her fill out her applications. She sat in her room, barefoot, eating vermicelli soup, her sweat-drenched back cooled when she saw him. Her mother’s boyfriend passed through the room behind her father, exiting silently. The final outcome? Every one of her college applications listed majors in English and business—practical, utilitarian choices. It was her way of giving her father a semblance of comfort after her mother’s betrayal.

She had once dreamed of applying to a program in theater and dramatic literature. But when her classmates received their acceptance letters for the art exams, she hadn’t even heard about them. The exams had taken place in the spring, and no one at home had paid any attention.

Wiping the tears from her face, Hu Xiu washed her hands and turned on her desk lamp. She took out some tape and began painstakingly piecing the fake marriage certificate back together. Her father had ripped it with such force that the pieces were shredded into tiny fragments, some twisted and distorted beyond recognition. Behind her, her phone continued to buzz incessantly—likely Diao Zhiyu checking in on her. She wiped her tears with her sleeve and focused on the certificate as though it were a jigsaw puzzle, restoring her own belief in her feelings.

As dawn broke, Hu Xiu stared at the wedding certificate, now full of cracks. Though it had missing corners and gaps, she had pieced it back together completely. The text on it read:

“This document certifies that it has judicial and recognized validity, affirming the existence of the marriage between the two named parties. The individuals have voluntarily entered into matrimony, vowing to love, respect, and support one another, to nurture and unite their family, and to strive together for its happiness. This certificate is issued by the Rongcheng Wedding Certification Office: Feng Youjin and Xu Zhenping.”

Having carefully finished reassembling it, Hu Xiu leaned against the edge of her bed. When she finally glanced at her phone, she noticed twenty missed calls from Diao Zhiyu. She thought to herself, Unexplainable things can just be left as though I muted my phone and went to sleep.

Li Ai officially moved from the intensive care unit to the sterile unit, and three days later was transferred to a regular ward. Hu Xiu, who had worked overtime for three consecutive days, received a text from Li Ai and rushed to the hospital at 7 a.m., heading straight to the fifth floor.

Li Ai’s leg was tightly wrapped in plaster and bandages. According to Pei Zhen, the third day was the peak of the swelling, but Li Ai smiled and said, “The hardest two days are behind me. Earlier, when I couldn’t get out of bed, all I heard were nurses discussing catheter bags—how embarrassing.”

“Patients don’t need to worry about that. It’s just temporary.” Standing beside the bed, Pei Zhen and the surgeon reassured Li Ai. However, Pei Zhen’s eyes shifted to Hu Xiu as he added, “Stick to your rehabilitation. Who knows? Maybe you won’t even need crutches in the future.”

“If you ever visit my restaurant, I’ll treat you to a meal. You’ve helped me so much,” Li Ai said.

“It’s nothing. A friend of Hu Xiu’s is a friend of mine.” Pei Zhen caught a glimpse of Hu Xiu texting Diao Zhiyu in response to his message, reassuring him. Then, he joked, “The sibling-like bond you two have is enviable. I wish I could be part of your group.”

The surgeon, who was Pei Zhen’s senior from medical school, glanced at Hu Xiu with a meaningful look after hearing this. “Xiao Hu, Dr. Pei is practically a treasure of the hospital. Whether it’s academic competitions, internal assessments, or plastic and reconstructive surgery training, he’s the one in charge. He’s brilliant and good-looking—don’t let him slip away. For Li Ai’s case, he’s spent three days away from his department, personally attending to everything in the ICU. If someone goes out of their way this much, it usually means they care deeply about you.”

Standing side by side, both Hu Xiu and Pei Zhen remained silent, neither acknowledging the comment.

Li Ai glanced around and asked Hu Xiu, “Has Zhao Xiaorou not visited?”

“She’s busy today filming long-form videos for Weibo—three in a single day, plus editing. She’s formed a team, so it’s hectic.” Zhao Xiaorou’s real reason for not coming, of course, was that she couldn’t swallow her pride. “Don’t dwell on what she said the other day. She’s always had a sharp tongue.”

“I know,” Li Ai replied, unfazed.

Li Ai’s parents, it seemed, had driven back to their hometown. Now that Li Ai was out of danger, she was left alone in her hospital room. Perhaps that was why she and Li Ai felt so spiritually close: both had to face lonely, dark paths by themselves, Hu Xiu thought. The thermos beside Li Ai’s bed was full, indicating someone had been by that morning. Testing the waters, Hu Xiu asked, “Did someone come earlier to fill your thermos?”

“Xu Meng,” Li Ai answered without a hint of hesitation.

Hu Xiu couldn’t help but think that it was a blessing Zhao Xiaorou hadn’t shown up. Otherwise, she might have smashed the plaster on Li Ai’s leg out of sheer anger.

Outside the ward, Hu Xiu stopped Pei Zhen, speaking with deliberate seriousness, “Dr. Pei, before you leave for your fellowship abroad, I’d like to ask for your guidance. How should I prepare to formally transition into medical translation for the plastic and reconstructive surgery department?”

“The knowledge base is quite extensive. Since you don’t have a medical background, you’ll naturally be at a disadvantage compared to someone trained in the field. However, I can lend you my notes. You’re welcome to come by the hospital in your spare time for supplementary lessons. Why the sudden interest?”

“I want to secure a formal position, and I don’t want to work in administration anymore. I want to seriously focus on translation.”

“You’ll probably have to help out with some tasks in the department, too. If you’re serious about it, I can mentor you. Are you sure you don’t need any favors from me?”

“I want to do it on my own.”

“Alright, then. But on another note, you did promise to treat me to Shengjianbao dumplings, and I haven’t seen any yet.” Pei Zhen leaned against the windowsill, speaking softly. “If that joke the other night about the zookeeper went too far, I apologize.”

The floors in her apartment still hadn’t been mopped, the dirty clothes in the hamper weren’t enough for a full load of laundry, and she was still wearing a shirt from her school days. These were things that couldn’t easily be explained to anyone. Hu Xiu simply smiled and said, “I’ll go buy some right away.”