Chapter 10

The next morning, Shang Mu woke up and found himself back in bed, wrapped in a warm blanket. The bed next to him was still warm, indicating that the other person had just left.

Shang Mu buried his face in the quilt, intending to stay in for a few more minutes, but he faintly heard the sound of a washing machine on the balcony. He suddenly woke up, jumped out of bed, and bumped into Zhou Wangchuan who pushed open the door and walked in.

"What's wrong?" Zhou Wangchuan was about to go to the balcony to water the flowers with a kettle in his hand. "I haven't called you yet, why are you awake?"

Shang Mu asked hurriedly: "Did you wash my clothes?"

Zhou Wangchuan was surprised and said, "Clothes are dirty, so they need to be washed."

"In my pocket..." Shang Mu didn't bother to explain. He ran to the washing machine and frantically pressed buttons on the panel, trying to stop the drum.

Zhou Wangchuan followed him leisurely and asked, "What are you looking for? I shook it out before washing, and there's nothing stuck in the clothes."

Shang Mu paused, then ran to the bathroom. He immediately spotted the goldfish recorder in the laundry basket. He breathed a sigh of relief and carefully picked it up. He had to face Cliff at the office today, and without this, he'd be hard to deal with.

Coming out of the bathroom, his expression had returned to calm. Zhou Wangchuan, who was watering the flowers, glanced at him and asked, "Did you find it?"

Shang Mu tossed the recorder in his hand: "Well, a small pendant."

Zhou Wangchuan chuckled and said nothing, then went to water the remaining flowers.

Since graduating from high school, Shang Mu has been working part-time as a model for the clothing brand Flowering, earning enough to cover his college tuition and pocket money. After winning first place in a creative competition, the company invited him to work part-time as a designer. Three years after graduation, he has created many hits, establishing himself as a leading young designer in the industry and within a whisker of becoming a design director.

Shang Mu arrived at the company earlier than usual today. He made a cup of coffee in the office and flipped through the latest design weekly and fashion magazines when his assistant knocked on the door.

The film taken at the beach had been developed and the electronic version had been transferred to the computer. Shang Mu looked at the photo on the screen. The sea was deep blue. He knelt in the waist-deep water, lowered his head and kissed the flowers, blood trickling down his fingertips.

The photo after color adjustment is deeper and more beautiful than the original. Shang Mu paused holding the mouse and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

The assistant praised sincerely: "This is a beautiful picture."

Shang Mu flipped through the pages again and asked casually, "Has Mr. Cliff arrived at the company?" The threat from that day wasn't strong enough, and he had already thought of a countermeasure.

But the assistant looked at him in surprise: "You don't know?"

"Know what?" Shang Mu had an ominous premonition in his mind.

Sure enough, the assistant said, "Mr. Cliff has resigned and returned to Country A."

The assistant continued, "I heard that Mr. Cliff couldn't adapt to the local climate after returning to China, so he decided to leave and continue his career abroad."

Shang Mu frowned slightly. This was too unreasonable. In just two days of contact with Cliff, he already knew that he was an extremely proud and conceited person. Returning to China with such a great reputation, how could he be willing to leave quietly without making a name for himself?

Unless, he didn't leave voluntarily.

Shang Mu suddenly looked up and asked, "Do you have his contact information?"

"Yes." The assistant sent a cell phone number.

Shang Mu dialed the number, but a mechanical female voice said the number was unavailable. He quickly searched on his computer, but the email address didn't exist.

A person seemed to disappear suddenly.

The assistant was puzzled: "Strange, even if Mr. Cliff leaves our company, he doesn't need to change his phone or email address..."

Shang Mu's eyes fixed, and a familiar gentle voice echoed in his ears: "If you encounter any difficulties in your work, you can tell me." This sentence appeared twice last night. The second time it appeared, it clearly carried a sense of guidance and temptation.

"Mr. Shang?"

Shang Mu came back to his senses and took a deep breath: "I understand. You can go out first."

As the door slammed shut, Shang Mu opened his palm and looked at the goldfish recorder in his hand. He had already thought of a perfect solution - first use courtesy, then force, warn first, and if that didn't work, then beat him up. After all, no one could beat him in fistfights.

He was ripping his sleeves with excitement and anticipation, ready to tackle the obstacles in his career on his own.

But it's all useless.

He opened his cell phone with an indifferent expression and operated it quickly with his fingers.

*

In the afternoon, Pingxi People’s Hospital.

Zhou Wangchuan was making his rounds, notebook in hand. He deftly pulled out an opened bag of spicy noodles from under a patient's pillow. The young woman in her hospital gown was shocked: "Doctor, how did you know that?!"

"Girl, the smell of your spicy noodles has overwhelmed the smell of the disinfectant." Zhou Wangchuan said helplessly, "What I'm saying is, once you recover and are discharged from the hospital, you can eat whatever you want. Can you just bear with it for a few days?"

The little girl was shy: "Hey, hey hey..."

Zhou Wangchuan threw the spicy strips into the trash can without mercy, and went to check the beds on the right. After asking about the conditions of several patients, his clothes were suddenly pulled. He turned around and saw an old man stuffing two red bills into his pocket.

A question mark appeared in Zhou Wangchuan's head, and he looked at the old man in confusion.

The old man glanced stealthily at the door, motioned him to come closer, and said in a low voice, "Doctor, please be kind enough to bring me two packs of Huazi. Oh, that nurse is so strict, she keeps a close eye on me and won't let me smoke!"

"..." Zhou Wangchuan said sincerely, "Uncle, let's just ask, who do you think told the nurse not to let you smoke?"

The old man looked at him for two seconds, pulled the money back awkwardly, and laughed dryly: "Oh, why do I feel a little dizzy? Let's sleep, let's sleep!" After that, he fell back on the bed and didn't move.

Zhou Wangchuan shook his head and walked to the side. The middle-aged man in the bed next to him was reading a magazine, quiet and focused. Zhou Wangchuan thought to himself that finally there was a healthy way to spend his time. But when he saw the magazine cover clearly, he paused.

The beauty, dressed in a thin white shirt, half-knelt in the waist-deep water, lowering her head to kiss the rose. Her eyes were slightly closed, and her long, curved eyelashes resembled the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

This is the latest issue of Vogue magazine.

Zhou Wangchuan stopped in front of the bed and asked, "How do you feel today?"

The middle-aged man put down the magazine and answered honestly: "The wound hurts a lot, and I can't sleep much at night."

"It's normal. If you really can't sleep at night, ask the nurse to give you an injection to relieve the pain. But try to use it as little as possible to avoid dependence." Zhou Wangchuan said a few more words and recorded them in the notebook.

The uncle nodded quickly: "I understand, thank you doctor!"

"You just had surgery. You should rest more and don't waste your energy reading." Zhou Wangchuan said as he skillfully took away his magazine.

The uncle didn't doubt him and said repeatedly: "Okay, doctor, I'll rest now!"

After checking the remaining rooms, Zhou Wangchuan flipped through the magazines all the way back to his office. He ran his fingertips over the cover and sighed. With only twenty minutes left before the end of the shift, it felt so agonizing.

He took out his cell phone and sent a message: Baby, are you free to have dinner together?

However, the message was not sent successfully. A red exclamation mark appeared in front of the sentence: "XX has enabled friend verification. You are not his (her) friend yet. Please send a friend verification request first. You can chat only after the other party passes the verification."

Zhou Wangchuan vaguely understood something and immediately called the number. The phone rang about a dozen times before automatically hanging up. He didn't call again.

After get off work, Zhou Wangchuan first bought desserts and flowers, and then drove to the downstairs of Shang Mu's company.

He called Shang Mu's assistant, who quickly answered: "Hello, Doctor Zhou."

Zhou Wangchuan said: "Please let him answer the phone, thank you."

This was obviously not the first time this had happened, and the assistant responded skillfully. Zhou Wangchuan waited for a moment before a cold voice came from the other end of the line: "Who?"

"I'm downstairs from you." Zhou Wangchuan said, "Let's have dinner together tonight."

"I'm busy, working overtime." Shang Mu said this and hung up the phone.

Zhou Wangchuan didn't call again, but waited patiently, his fingertips tapping lightly on the steering wheel. Twenty minutes later, Shang Mu came downstairs, opened the car door, and sat down with a blank expression on his face.

"Are you hungry?" Zhou Wangchuan asked gently, "I bought some thick strawberry custard cake. You can have a couple of bites on the way."

As he spoke, he leaned over and took the beautifully packaged small dessert from the back seat of the car and handed it over.

Shang Mu didn't even look at him, and said in a cold and hard voice: "I'm not hungry."

Zhou Wangchuan took out medical alcohol and cotton swabs from the central control storage box: "Then I'll change the Band-Aid for you. The wound on your hand should not have healed yet."

"No change." Shang Mu still didn't look at him.

"Baby." Zhou Wangchuan sighed softly, holding his hand and squeezing it, "Be good and listen."

Shang Mu took a deep breath as if he was suppressing his anger, but he did not resist anymore.

Zhou Wangchuan lowered his head slightly, carefully disinfected the wound with a cotton swab dipped in alcohol, and then put on a new Band-Aid.

There was a moment of silence in the car, neither of them mentioned the incident. In fact, there was no need to mention it, they were too familiar with each other, and understood each other too well.

Feeling the warmth on his hands, Shang Mu looked at the other person's serious expression and couldn't help wondering in his heart whether Zhou Wangchuan's concern and care for him was out of his identity as a lover or as a doctor.

"Okay." Zhou Wangchuan started the car. "What do you want to eat tonight?"

Shang Mu said coldly: "Whatever."

Zhou Wangchuan stopped asking questions and just drove in silence.

Half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a restaurant. Zhou Wangchuan took out a bouquet of red roses from the back seat. But in just a dozen seconds, Shang Mu was already far ahead, not waiting for him at all.

Zhou Wangchuan chased after her and handed her the rose: "This issue of the magazine is very beautiful."

Shang Mu finally stopped and looked at him: "Don't you have anything to say?"

Zhou Wangchuan smiled and said, "Let's eat first."

The restaurant's food serving speed was not slow, but in the silence, this period of time seemed to be stretched infinitely long.

The silence lasted until halfway through the meal. Shang Mu finished the red wine in his glass in one gulp, put the glass heavily on the table, and said coldly: "You did it."

Zhou Wangchuan said, "You've been in a bad mood since the day you went to K City. Last night, I went to investigate and found out something. That photographer wasn't cooperating with your work."

He couldn't say he heard the conversation in the recorder. That conversation talked about Shang Mu's live broadcast, and he wouldn't point it out until Shang Mu took the initiative to tell him about the live broadcast.

Shang Mu suppressed his anger and said, "I said I can handle it myself, twice. If you treat me as an equal lover, you should respect me."

"That photographer is a tough guy. I'm afraid he might hurt you," Zhou Wangchuan said. Last night, after learning about what happened at the beach, he borrowed his father's help and quickly resolved the matter.

He was so frank and calm that Shang Mu took a few quick breaths in anger and said angrily, "You never respect me!"

Having said that, Zhou Wangchuan simply brought up another matter: "What are you going to do about the prison situation?"

Shang Mu raised his lips sarcastically: "Why, Doctor Zhou wants to help me solve this problem again?"

Zhou Wangchuan patiently said, "The law stipulates that prisoners have the right to life. If they are diagnosed with a serious illness and apply for medical parole, their family cannot refuse to process it. I know you hate him, but if you don't want to see him, I can help you do it. You don't have to have any contact with him at all."

"You're doing this for my own good again, huh?" Shang Mu stared at him blankly. "The year I graduated from college, you gave him one million dollars behind my back just to make him promise never to come back to me. Did you ever ask me? What gives you the right to make decisions for me like that? Now you're asking me. Should I praise you?!"

Zhou Wangchuan said, "I just don't want you to worry about him anymore."

Soft music echoed in the restaurant.

"You won't remember all my Champagne problems..."

Shang Mu was momentarily dazed. Under the flickering candlelight, amidst the dishes, red wine, and a bouquet of vibrant red roses, his handsome lover sat across from him, patiently and tenderly expressing his care and consideration.

In this situation, it seems that only sweet words and love talks are appropriate.

But he was angry at the other person's thoughtfulness, and his anger and grievance were so inappropriate.

Champagne problems.

But he has endured it for many years.

"Do you think... doing this will give you a sense of accomplishment?" Shang Mu said softly, "You've been like this from the beginning, silently helping me solve all the problems, but have you ever asked for my opinion? I'm a man, I don't need anyone to protect me from the wind and rain, I can solve problems myself. I don't need your overflowing love. I didn't need you to advance the cost of my first infusion at the school hospital."

He looked up at Zhou Wangchuan. "I already refused, but you still did it. You don't believe I can handle it myself. Is this charity? Is it out of pity? This is a gift from a high and mighty one, Doctor Zhou. You're used to this kind of thing, right?"

Zhou Wangchuan sighed and put down his chopsticks: "Why can't I be jealous?"

He hated his photographic memory, and the annoying voice from the recorder kept echoing in his ears all day.

"What can a mask cover? Your collarbone, your jaw, so beautiful, yet you've left them exposed, only covering the upper half of your face... What can it cover?"

Zhou Wangchuan raised his head and said again: "What if I am jealous?"