Chapter 20

Zhou Wangchuan was silent for a moment, then said, "There's a hot water bottle by the bed. Charge it and hold it. It'll make you feel more comfortable."

Shang Mu clicked his tongue: "Trouble."

"It's not a problem," Zhou Wangchuan insisted. "It's in the top drawer of the bedside table. Plug it in and it'll charge in five minutes."

Perhaps feeling his words weren't forceful enough, and the other party wouldn't listen, Zhou Wangchuan's lips moved slightly, about to say something else, but he held himself back. After a moment, he closed his eyes, lowered his voice as if giving up, and said softly, "Be good."

They had already separated, and he shouldn't have said that word, but the word "baby" that had just slipped out of his mouth had weakened his defenses and given him the illusion that they were still a couple.

On the other end of the line, Shang Mu uttered another "tsk." Then came the sound of rummaging, followed by the sound of a plug being inserted into the socket.

"Alright." Shang Mu changed his position and lay down on the bed. He pulled the pillow next to him and put it under his stomach. He asked casually, "How's your seminar going?"

Zhou Wangchuan knew that he was not interested in these things, so he just said, "It's okay."

Shang Mu stopped talking.

Zhou Wangchuan then said, "There are still about ten days left."

Shang Mu still didn't say anything, but just pulled out the plug with one hand and held the charged hot water bottle in his arms.

Zhou Wangchuan heard his movements and asked, "Is it hot?"

Shang Mu hummed coldly.

Zhou Wangchuan didn't know why he suddenly became cold, so he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Are there any details?" Shang Mu felt uncomfortable in his stomach, so he simply lifted up his clothes and put the hot water bottle directly on his skin. The scorching feeling made his frowning brows relax slightly.

The meaning of his words was unclear, but Zhou Wangchuan suddenly understood what he meant.

Many years ago, when Zhou Wangchuan first attended a seminar as a representative of outstanding doctors, he was so excited and fresh that he even took pictures of the food in the cafeteria to show Shang Mu. Every night when he called, he would talk for half an hour.

After the seminar, they returned to City A and lingered in their newly purchased heated massage bathtub. The bathroom was filled with steam, the aroma of red wine was sweet and mellow, and they exchanged passionate kisses one after another. Zhou Wangchuan whispered to Shang Mu about the interesting cases from the seminar, such as the barefoot doctor who left the scalpel in the patient's stomach, and the young man who mistakenly cut off his penis for a penis. Shang Mu smiled and returned his kiss, asking, "Would you do that?"

Zhou Wangchuan nibbled his collarbone, then kissed his beautiful neck and shoulders, pressing his lips against his ear bone. He whispered, "Of course not. I will be the best doctor."

His tone at that time was confident, bright and firm.

Shang Mu hissed softly, and his ears turned even redder from the smoke.

A golden full moon hung in the sky. That night, the two of them lingered in the bathtub until late at night, drinking an entire bottle of red wine. The drunkenness made both of them weak, and they entangled more tightly.

But starting the next year, their arguments became more frequent, time and again. Shang Mu became cold, impatient, and even walked away. Gradually, Zhou Wangchuan stopped telling him stories that he considered amusing.

When Zhou Wangchuan heard Shang Mu's question, he was silent for a while before slowly starting to speak.

He didn't speak fluently, and even sounded a bit dry. Firstly, he had been absent-minded these days, distracted during the seminar, and hadn't really listened. Secondly... it had been too long since he had discussed these details of life with Shang Mu.

Shang Mu listened very carefully, humming from time to time.

After a few minutes, Zhou Wangchuan stopped.

Shang Mu supported his chin and said, "Master Zhou, you are distracted in class and not listening carefully." There was a playful smile in his tone.

Zhou Wangchuan: “…”

He had no choice but to say, "I'll tell you when I come back." He had already decided to attend the seminar seriously in the future.

Shang Mu said, "Didn't you say you would be the best doctor? Then I should really listen carefully."

Zhou Wangchuan was stunned. These words were so different from what he had said that night. They felt like a footnote, a revision, a correction to the foreword.

Just as he was about to speak, the breathing on the other end of the phone became disordered again, mixed with slight gasps, as if someone was enduring pain.

He then said, "Go take medicine."

Shang Mu said nothing. The only sound on the line was the faint sound of electricity.

The call was so tender that Zhou Wangchuan forgot they were breaking up. His reason was overwhelmed by his emotions. He coaxed her as usual, "Baby, be obedient and take your medicine."

He paused, then added: "I'm not with you now and can't take care of you. I don't want you to feel bad."

There was a rustling sound from the other end of the phone, and the footsteps faded away. After a few minutes, they came closer again, and a muffled voice came: "Eat it."

"Good girl," Zhou Wangchuan said, "I'll come back and bring you a gift." He shouldn't have said that; they were no longer lovers. But the atmosphere was too gentle.

Shang Mu said, "Oh," and then said, "How do you know you should take this medicine? You don't know the other symptoms."

Of course Zhou Wangchuan wouldn't tell him the truth. He just said casually, "Your voice is hoarse, and I can tell you've been vomiting. You're also in a lot of pain, and that medicine is for vomiting and pain relief, so it's just right for you."

Shang Mu didn't know whether he believed it or not.

At the seminar the next day, Zhou Wangchuan was exchanging experiences with doctors in the same group and specifically asked them if they knew any interesting anecdotes. Suddenly, the screen of his mobile phone lit up and a picture was sent to him.

The moment the picture was clicked, Zhou Wangchuan, who had been talking incessantly, suddenly fell silent and stood there in a daze.

The doctor in the same group asked doubtfully, "Doctor Zhou? Doctor Zhou?"

Zhou Wangchuan struggled to look away from his phone: "Sorry, I'm going to go out and answer the call."

He hurried away holding his phone.

The photo shows a beautiful, cool, pale waist and abdomen. The photographer has chosen the angle well and clearly understands the beauty of their own body. The camera is neither too far nor too close, perfectly capturing the smooth lines of the waist and abdomen. A thin layer of muscle adorns the abdomen, adding strength and beauty. The mermaid line and waistline are beautiful and natural.

Next to him, a slender white finger stretched out and pointed to the left side of the abdomen, where there was a red swelling with broken skin.

Along with the picture came a text message.

Shang Mu: It’s burned.

Zhou Wangchuan saved the picture and replied: "Did you get burned by a hot water bottle? I don't seem to have any ointment at home. I'll order a box and have it delivered to my home."

Shang Mu was not very sensitive to burns and liked to stick the hot water bottle directly on his stomach, often not even noticing he had been burned. For the past six years, Zhou Wangchuan had always applied medicine to him.

He was always burned when Zhou Wangchuan was away on business trips.

Shang Mu replied: I don’t want to apply it myself, it’s troublesome.

Zhou Wangchuan still placed an order for the ointment.

That night, Zhou Wangchuan lay awake for a long time. The photo Shang Mu had sent replayed in his mind over and over again. It seemed like the photo had been sent just to act coquettish and cry out in pain, just to say, "I don't want to apply the medicine myself."

He couldn't read Shang Mu's mind.

The next few days passed quickly, and with only two days left for the seminar, the two corresponded almost every day. They never mentioned when they would return, but their every message was "wait for me."

After booking the plane ticket, I waited for the seminar to end. However, the organizers invited several medical experts at the last minute and added a few more seminars, so the original return date was postponed for three days.

Zhou Wangchuan told Shang Mu the news on the phone. Shang Mu suddenly stopped talking and the atmosphere dropped to freezing point.

The call was decisively hung up.

Before he could call back to ask for clarification, Shang Mu called again and said coldly, "Then don't come back!"

The call was hung up again.

Zhou Wangchuan sat on a bench in the square, looking at the two call records. The meticulous logic was just one link away from being connected, and something was about to come to light.

What exactly is it.

He rubbed his forehead in pain, and when he looked up, he saw the owner of the flower shop across the street wrapping a bouquet of roses with a blue ribbon and handing the bouquet to the boy.

The boy paid and handed the bouquet to the beautiful girl beside him with a smile. The girl lowered her head shyly and hugged the bouquet of roses in her arms.

The two figures walked away.

Zhou Wangchuan thought that florists all over the world loved wrapping rose bouquets with blue ribbons. This was the case both in China and abroad.

The owner of the flower shop next to his house was already familiar with him and knew that he loved buying rose bouquets for his loved ones. He would wrap the blue ribbon twice to tie the flowers together.

Blue ribbon.

Zhou Wangchuan closed his eyes, his memory flashing back, frozen in time on that afternoon—Shang Mu had taken two new pills, was vomiting blood, and had called him for help. He rushed into the hotel room, picked up the unconscious man from the floor, and strode away. As he did so, his peripheral vision swept across the table.

Blue Ribbon...

There was a blue ribbon there for tying a bouquet of roses.

Until then, the bouquet of roses lay on the dining table, withering in loneliness.

In a flash, more details flooded into his mind.

Shang Mu refused to let him go to the hotel room to pack his clothes, even though the car was already parked downstairs.

Shang Mu sent pictures of his burns just to get concern and greetings.

Shang Mu acted coquettishly towards him.

Shang Mu was angry that he could not return home on time and hung up his phone twice in a row.

After breaking up, Shang Mu did not go to the hotel but stayed at home.

Shang Mu asked him aggrievedly and awkwardly if he didn't want him anymore.

Zhou Wangchuan gripped the armrest of the bench tightly, veins popping out on the back of his hand and his knuckles turning white.

It’s almost there, it’s almost there, just one step left.

He closed his eyes and frowned, searching rapidly for clues in the corners of his memory.

No, no...

The memory stays on a certain picture.

That night, in the early hours of the morning, the two of them had a quarrel over something related to the practice, and Shang Mu called Fu Nian right in front of him. Later, he used Shang Mu's phone to delete the call logs, but when his finger touched the horizontal line at the bottom of the screen, the screen returned to the desktop.

Shang Mu suddenly snatched back the phone, his movements were so hasty and so quick, as if he was afraid that he would discover something.

Zhou Wangchuan suddenly opened his eyes.

He quickly opened his phone and saw a software downloaded a month and a half ago on the desktop.

A golden crescent moon encircles a small red cross. It's the old, long-obsolete school hospital app.

He understood the strange feeling of familiarity. He had never downloaded it before, but it always felt like déjà vu.

The moment Shang Mu's phone screen returned to the desktop, he saw the same icon.

Zhou Wangchuan stared at the icon.

In an instant, he understood everything.

He had assembled the last piece of the puzzle, the key link in the chain of logic. He had parted the clouds and seen the moon. The water had receded, and the stone had emerged.

So that's how it is.

The little snail tentacles tentatively extended and rubbed his palm—

He awkwardly sent out a signal of reconciliation.