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By the time the police arrived, it was already half an hour later. Zhou Xingyan was called over for questioning, and since Xiang Ge had made the emergency call, she was also summoned.
After most of the situation was clarified, the officer’s gaze fell on the bandage wrapped around the woman’s arm.
Xiang Ge casually smiled, pulling down her shirt sleeve to cover it.
It wasn’t a big deal, but she was too lazy to deal with the trouble. If they pursued it further and Gong Mo came, her profession would be exposed.
Zhou Xingyan stood beside her, lowering his gaze slightly, but said nothing.
After answering a few questions, Xiang Ge was free to go. It was already close to ten o’clock. She sat in the office littered with glass shards, propping her chin up as she looked outside. Just then, a man walked in, glancing at her briefly.
Xiang Ge tilted her head to look at the person standing before her: “Do you often encounter patients’ families like this?”
“Occasionally,” Zhou Xingyan lowered his head to look at her, slightly frowning, somewhat troubled.
It was already quite late, and he couldn’t let her go home alone.
But he also couldn’t leave now.
Zhou Xingyan thought for a moment, pulling out his phone to send a WeChat message.
Twenty minutes later, Liang Shengxi appeared, panting heavily, at the orthopedic ward office door. He watched Zhou Xingyan sweeping up the scattered glass shards, looking astonished: “What happened?”
Zhou Xingyan raised his head with the broom, nodding toward Xiang Ge: “Take her home for me.”
Liang Shengxi didn’t understand immediately, pausing for a moment: “What? I take her home for you?”
Zhou Xingyan glanced at him: “Or should I take you instead?”
Liang Shengxi looked at the woman sitting cross-legged, watching the scene like a spectator, and subtly reminded him: “Or maybe we could switch shifts today?”
Doctor Zhou: “No need.”
“…”
You really are incredibly dedicated.
Liang Shengxi wore an expression of exasperation, holding his breath for half a minute before finally exhaling completely.
Xiang Ge stood nearby, watching the scene unfold, almost laughing out loud.
Doctor Liang couldn’t understand how these two people were so calm while he was the only one worrying about giving them more opportunities to be alone.
As the two walked out, the corridor still filled with police officers, Xiang Ge’s gaze shifted to where a young nurse was crouching, picking up scattered items from the floor.
Her lashes lowered: “Working in a hospital is really tough.”
Liang Shengxi, walking beside her, heard this and chuckled: “Tough? It’s not even human work. Dangerous, thankless, exhausting—after surgery, your arms and legs feel limp. People lose hair in clumps, their dark circles wider than double eyelids. When dealing with aggressive patient families, the attending doctor can really suffer.”
Xiang Ge raised an eyebrow: “Yet you became a doctor.”
Liang Shengxi paused, then suddenly said, “In university, Ah Yan and I were roommates.”
Xiang Ge’s lashes lifted.
“He was different back then.” The two descended to the first floor by elevator, and Liang Shengxi tilted his head thoughtfully: “A bit like… that melancholic and gloomy captive in a Gothic castle.”
Xiang Ge nearly choked on her saliva: “Melancholic what?”
Liang Shengxi waved it off: “Just very possessive, you get the idea.”
Xiang Ge recalled Zhou Xingyan during high school. While his sharpness and pride were more pronounced then compared to now, he didn’t seem to have that melancholic or gloomy aura.
“So he didn’t seem like a doctor at all?”
Liang Shengxi nodded, “Especially when holding a scalpel, he looked like a butcher.”
“…”
Xiang Ge: ?
“We all thought he might become a forensic pathologist, which suited his demeanor back then. So I asked him, ‘Why did you choose to study medicine?’”
Liang Shengxi licked his lower lip, smiling: “He said, ‘Because I hope there will be less suffering in the world.’”
Xiang Ge halted her steps, stunned.
After being taken home by Zhou Xingyan and occupying his bed for a night during winter break, she hadn’t seen him again for the rest of the holiday.
She saw him again a week before the start of the spring semester in her freshman year.
Senior year started early, and they were already in class. That evening, after finishing self-study, he went to the library and returned home late. The street was silent except for the sound of the wind.
Under the same streetlamp, the same small, familiar figure awaited.
Zhou Xingyan paused, walking over to her.
Xiang Ge raised her head, her black eyes hollow and unfocused. Startling blood dripped from behind her ear, tracing down her pale neck into her collar.
This was her second visit to Zhou Xingyan’s home.
This time was different. The wound behind her ear was deep, long, and jagged, as if cut by a sharp object, with edges slightly turned outward, blood flowing profusely.
Zhou Xingyan changed gauze and cotton repeatedly, trying to stop the bleeding, but after a long while, it still wouldn’t stop.
His fingers stiffened, knuckles white: “Let’s go to the hospital.”
The girl dazedly turned her head to look at him, instinctively shaking her head.
Zhou Xingyan’s lips tightened, his voice strained: “You need stitches. Without going to the hospital, the bleeding won’t stop.”
She still shook her head, refusing no matter what he said.
The young man was both angry and anxious, his voice hoarse and tinged with obvious frustration, softly calling her name: “Xiang Ge!”
Xiang Ge glanced at him, raising her hand to touch the wound behind her ear, but Zhou Xingyan grabbed her wrist to stop her.
“Your hands are dirty, don’t touch it.”
He seemed extremely irritated, his voice and gaze fierce, yet tinged with a sense of helplessness.
Xiang Ge realized this person’s temper wasn’t particularly good either.
She obediently put her hand down, remaining silent for a moment before slowly speaking: “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“What?”
“The hospital requires real names and will call the parents. I can’t go.”
Zhou Xingyan understood.
He pursed his lips, remaining silent for a while, carefully wiping the blood near the wound and making a simple emergency dressing with gauze and bandages. Then he retrieved his coat and handed it to her.
Xiang Ge hesitated, her reaction slow, not taking it.
Zhou Xingyan directly stepped forward, standing in front of her, slightly bending down to drape the coat over her.
The young man’s frame was somewhat slender, his narrow shoulders and the coat enveloping her entirely, giving her the illusion of being embraced.
He lowered his eyes, looking at her densely low lashes: “I’ll take you to a hospital that doesn’t require real names.”
Zhou Xingyan helped her downstairs, waiting a while before hailing a taxi, naming a location.
Xiang Ge sat beside him in the backseat. After a while, she began to feel drowsy, leaning against the taxi seat, her head drooping, tugging at the injured skin behind her ear, causing excruciating pain.
Xiang Ge furrowed her brows, tightly closing her eyes.
Dazedly, a pair of warm, strong hands gently supported her head, a soft, familiar voice sounding low in her ear, calling her name, telling her not to sleep, talking to her.
When the taxi stopped at a private hospital, Xiang Ge was already somewhat disoriented, her body half-limp, supported by Zhou Xingyan as they got out.
She leaned against him, her entire body hot, running a fever.
Zhou Xingyan had called ahead, and someone was already waiting at the entrance. Seeing the two people getting out of the car, they quickly ran over to carry her inside.
When she woke up again, she was lying on a hospital bed. Outside, night had fallen, the room unlit, with faint starlight and fragmented moonlight filtering through the window.
Xiang Ge blinked, unable to move, then turned her head slightly, feeling numbness on one side of her brain.
Zhou Xingyan, sitting beside her, turned to look at her upon hearing the movement.
The young man was still wearing his school uniform, stained with blood—her blood.
He usually had a slight cleanliness obsession, but now he seemed unconcerned, leaning closer, raising his hand to check her forehead: “The fever has subsided.”
Xiang Ge struggled to sit up but was pressed back down by his hands on her shoulders.
“The wound has just been stitched. Don’t move around.”
Xiang Ge stilled, tilting her head to glance at the clock on the wall. Her lashes fluttered lightly as she slowly spoke: “Today…”
“What?”
Her voice was hoarse, low: “It’s already 2 AM. My birthday is today.”
Zhou Xingyan finally realized.
Earlier in the taxi, to keep her awake and distracted, he had tried various topics, asking about her birthday and zodiac sign, racking his brain for remnants of meaningless questions discussed by girls in his class.
Zhou Xingyan smiled, leaning closer: “Hmm, so do you have any birthday wishes?”
Xiang Ge lay there, thinking seriously for a moment before calmly opening her mouth: “I hope everyone in the world can suffer a little less.”
The young man froze, staring straight into her eyes.
Her dark, long lashes glistened brightly under the dim moonlight, tranquil and serene, completely different from the defiant girl he remembered under the sunlight.
Zhou Xingyan shifted his gaze, brushing against her hair stuck together by dried blood, pausing briefly before suddenly calling her name: “Xiang Ge.”
She lifted her lashes in response.
“Don’t fight anymore.”
Xiang Ge was startled.
He recalled several weeks ago, a few hours ago—the startling sight of the girl covered in injuries, her ear wound raw and bloody, the bleeding uncontrollable.
Zhou Xingyan pressed his lips tightly, his expression serious: “If you fight again, I won’t take care of you.”
But Xiang Ge suddenly smiled.
Did he think she refused to go to the hospital or home because she feared her family would worry or scold her?
Xiang Ge suddenly felt a deep, indescribable, peculiar emotion.
She didn’t want to tell him the reason, didn’t want him to know why, didn’t want sympathy or pity, didn’t want to be despised.
Xiang Ge lowered her lashes, curving her lips slightly: “Alright, I won’t fight anymore.”
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