Chapter 28

This shoot was a resounding success. The two, both tall and beautiful, wore slightly different matching outfits, flirting in a dark corner.

A vibrant red rose bathed in morning dew, a lingering yet silent gaze, an ambiguous yet unsentimental atmosphere—everything was perfectly executed. The promotional images and magazine immediately captured the attention of many.

The new winter products are selling like hotcakes. In just half a month, the sales of the main models have increased by nearly 30% compared with previous seasons.

When this season's magazines and clothing became popular at the same time, many brands extended olive branches to Shang Mu, inviting him to be a part-time model, but Shang Mu rejected them one by one.

After Christmas, the design director from the overseas headquarters came to China for an inspection. After several visits and meetings, one evening, as the first snow fell, the slightly tipsy design director stood before a large, brightly lit light box, gazing at the beauty pressed against the wall, her tongue licking the vibrant red petals, unable to move.

So the next day at work, Shang Mu, who was revising the design draft in the office, was invited to the top floor, which was the temporary office of the design director of the headquarters.

The blond and blue-eyed design director narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze swept across Shang Mu's slender neck, and said in broken Chinese, "Please sit down."

Shang Mu sat down on the sofa, secretly speculating on the other party's intentions. The company had held several seminars in the past few days, and this foreign director had already discussed work with everyone. Having him come alone at this time was unlikely to be about work.

The director's assistant poured tea and stood aside.

"Mr. Shang, you're a genius." The director spoke fluent Chinese, but his tone was strangely stiff, making the listener uncomfortable. "Last night, I admired your promotional images in the snow for a long time."

Shang Mu said: "Thank you for your appreciation."

He spoke softly, his voice clear, but perhaps out of nervousness, he sat up straight, his hands clasped lightly on his knees, and his voice was strained.

The director smiled indulgently. The reservedness of young people always made people happy. He pushed the teacup towards Shang Mu and said, "Don't be nervous. I just want to understand your work. Please have some water."

Shang Mu picked up the teacup, took a sip of tea to moisten his lips, but did not swallow it.

"I've looked over your resume. You're an excellent model. You've been working as a part-time model for our group since college, and you have a perfect figure." The director felt his mouth dry as he looked at the slender, straight waist. He got straight to the point. "Your talent is being buried in a small branch office. There's a modeling position available at headquarters, and I can secure it for you. I'm on a flight tomorrow morning, and I can always book you an extra ticket if you're willing."

Shang Mu lowered his eyes and sneered in his heart, but a trace of embarrassment appeared on his face: "Sorry, Mr. Director, I have decided to withdraw from this field.

The director was a little surprised: "Mr. Shang wants to move behind the scenes and no longer take on any filming responsibilities?"

"Yes." Shang Mu nodded slightly.

He had been thinking about this for a long time. Firstly, two photographers in a row had disagreed with him, and secondly... he was tired of encountering people like this.

The director smiled knowingly and continued, "Since you want to move behind the scenes, your first goal should be the branch's Design Director position, right? You were only a small step away from that. If you can win first place in the design competition in two weeks, you will truly be the Design Director position of the branch. As one of the specially invited judges of the competition organizer, I hold one vote."

Having said that, he looked at Shang Mu meaningfully.

"As for me, I think I like to support those who are less talented than me. Especially when you are such an outstanding talent."

After talking about the sweetness, the next step is the request.

Shang Mu leaned forward slightly and asked sincerely, "Why are you helping me like this, Mr. Director?"

"I've already said that I admire you very much." Foreigners are always very direct. "I often fly around the world on business trips and get very lonely. If I had a beauty like you by my side, I would be very happy."

"At the same time, I'm a very good photographer and I admire your body. I hope to take a set of photos of you."

At this point, those emerald green eyes swept over Shang Mu unscrupulously, their gaze burrowing into his collar like a sticky, venomous snake. The foreigner narrowed his eyes and uttered his first English word: "...Undressed."

Shang Mu's face showed a hint of just the right amount of panic, and after a while he said hesitantly: "But, I have a boyfriend."

The director smiled indulgently again. He had traveled extensively around the world, but this was the first time he had encountered such an innocent young person. Beauty was endearing, especially an innocent one. He was willing to be patient.

So, he said gently, "It's okay. You just travel a lot for work. How can he blame you?"

Shang Mu lowered his head, looking very hesitant.

The director waited patiently. He always had plenty of patience for such a beauty.

After a while, Shang Mu raised his head as if he had made up his mind, glanced at the assistant next to him, and said, "Mr. Director, may I have a word with you for a moment?"

His face was flushed, as if he was shy, like a faint pink stain on the white gauze, which was extremely endearing.

The director waved his hand, and the assistant left the room.

"Your tea is cold." Shang Mu stood up and filled his cup with boiling hot tea in a panic.

The director looked at the young man with satisfaction as he tried to please him clumsily. The smile on his face became more tolerant and more determined.

"Let's go inside." The director stood up and walked towards the small room inside. "We can discuss some details."

Shang Mu followed him with the cup of boiling hot tea, entered the room and locked the door.

The director's smile grew brighter, then froze on his face.

Shang Mu withdrew his hand that had been pouring water, put the empty teacup back on the table, and stared at him expressionlessly, without a trace of panic on his face.

"HOLY SHITTTT!" The director was stunned for a moment, then shouted angrily, covering his red face in pain and brushing away the tea leaves that were blocking his eyes.

Shang Mu kicked him to the ground, stepped on his shoulders, and pulled his tie tightly around his neck. The director was strangled to the point of being speechless, staring with red eyes and opening his mouth in vain.

Shang Mu sneered and slapped the director twice, causing his face to visibly swell. He continued beating him. The director pulled out his phone, but Shang Mu stomped on it, shattering the screen.

Gradually, fear and pleading appeared in those green eyes. Shang Mu was tired of fighting and sat down on a chair nearby.

"We Chinese have a saying," he said breathlessly, "boys should protect themselves when they go out. That's why I started practicing Kung Fu in junior high school. Oh, the kind you foreigners are interested in—Chinese Kung Fu."

The director was unable to speak because of the tension in his tie. His face turned red and he mumbled something in his throat.

Shang Mu looked at him sarcastically: "What do you want to say, Director? Oh, are you going to fire me? Then let me teach you another Chinese saying - those who are barefoot are not afraid of those who wear shoes."

"I'd like to know, if this matter were to be exposed, would it be more painful for me or for you?"

He took out a small goldfish from his pocket, pressed his fingertips, and the recording came out.

The director's face changed, and he glared at him angrily. He finally managed to stand up, but Shang Mu kicked him back.

"I'll teach you one last Chinese sentence." Shang Mu rested well and stood up leisurely. He said, "Don't judge a person by his appearance."

"You want to sleep with me?" He glanced at the foreigner's lower body with disgust and kicked hard at that place. The severe pain made the director scream heartbreakingly, but Shang Mu pressed the tip of his shoe against his jaw, making him unable to make a sound.

Shang Mu raised the corner of his lips and said coldly word by word: "I am 1.

He gave one last kick and left without looking back.

It wasn't until he returned to the office and drank a cup of iced coffee that he slowly calmed down. Just as he was getting off work in the morning, he called Zhou Wangchuan.

"Hello?"

As soon as the call was connected, Shang Mu didn't want to talk anymore. He leaned back in his chair, playing with the ballpoint pen on the table. He felt that he shouldn't bring his work-related emotions to his lover. Besides, he knew Zhou Wangchuan was very busy recently and often worked overtime.

The two briefly talked about a few interesting things at work, agreed to have dinner together, and then hung up the phone.

Zhou Wangchuan has indeed been in a state of panic recently.

About a week ago, a patient in a critically ill state was brought to the emergency room. After treatment, his vital signs stabilized, but he remained unconscious, relying on a drip of nutrient solution and oxygen to keep him alive.

If this continues, the patient will quickly become weak and will only live for half a year at most, and will have to spend the whole time in bed.

If he undergoes surgery, he may have a chance of survival, extending his life by at least five years, allowing him to leave the hospital bed and live like a normal person.

But the family was unwilling to undergo surgery because the success rate of the surgery was only 40%.

This 40% rate was Zhou Wangchuan's estimate. After all, this type of surgery had never been performed before. He consulted many veteran physicians in the field, but no one could offer a definitive answer. Finally, among the voluminous papers and the difficult and complex cases he had collected over the years, Zhou Wangchuan glimpsed a path forward.

A path no one has ever walked before.

He is 40% sure that he can complete the operation.

The family is still hesitant.

After finishing my meal, I returned to the clinic and heard a nurse's anxious call from the intercom: "Doctor Zhou, the patient in the intensive care unit 3 is in an abnormal condition!"

"I'll be right there."

The terminally ill patient was in the intensive care unit 3. Zhou Wangchuan rushed to the ward, where the patient's electrocardiogram was emitting unstable, sharp bursts.

The nurse had already prepared the injection, and Zhou Wangchuan injected it skillfully, and the electrocardiogram gradually returned to a regular pattern.

Such alarms have occurred frequently in recent days. If we delay any further, the situation will only get worse and worse, and there will be a time when it is too late to save the situation.

Zhou Wangchuan left the ward but was stopped by his family members waiting outside.

"Doctor Zhou, please wait a moment."

The family member was a middle-aged man. A look of determination appeared on his face. He said, "I have decided to sign the consent form and let Dad have the surgery. Please arrange it as soon as possible."

Zhou Wangchuan had explained the pros and cons to him a few days ago, but the middle-aged man firmly refused the operation, believing that it was better to live with his life hanging on to it than to lose everything if the operation failed.

Hearing him say this, Zhou Wangchuan stopped in surprise and asked, "Have you decided?"

The middle-aged man glanced in the direction of the hospital bed and sighed, "Dad has been a strong man all his life. Ten years ago, when he broke his leg, he refused to let anyone help him. Now he has to wait on others for his shit and piss. He must be fed up with it. If he fights, he still has a chance to live a few more years with dignity."

Zhou Wangchuan said, "Don't rush into a decision. Think it over carefully. If you still decide to sign the consent form before five o'clock this afternoon, let me know and I will arrange the surgery as soon as possible."

The middle-aged man said, "Okay, thank you, Dr. Zhou."

Zhou Wangchuan was afraid that he was just acting rashly, so he gave him a long time to calm down. But in his heart, Zhou Wangchuan hoped that he would agree to the surgery.

So when he received the confirmation notice at five o'clock in the afternoon, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief, immediately filled out the documents, and asked the physician assistant to hand them over to the department director for signature and approval.

In the past, when Zhou Wangchuan was acting as department director, as long as the patient signed the consent form, he would arrange the surgery as quickly as possible, and there had never been any obstacles. So when the document was rejected and sent back, he was completely stunned.

Xu Yong's refusal to sign and approve the operation means that the operation cannot be carried out.

Zhou Wangchuan came to the next clinic and saw Xu Yong wearing reading glasses and checking medical records.

Zhou Wangchuan took a deep breath and said, "Director Xu, I need to know the reason why you refused to sign."

Without even looking up, Xu Yong said, "I've already written down the reasons in the document."

It did say, "The success rate of the operation is low and unprecedented. Our hospital does not have the medical conditions to complete the operation and recommends that the patient receive conservative treatment."

Zhou Wangchuan said solemnly, "Conservative treatment has limited effectiveness. The longer you delay, the worse the situation will get. Only surgery can offer a glimmer of hope."

Xu Yong pushed his reading glasses up his nose and finally looked up at him. "Deputy Director Zhou, what's a glimmer of hope? A 40% estimated success rate?"

He added, "Many veteran doctors with decades of experience in the field have no experience performing this type of surgery. This is a leap of faith, and I will not approve it."

Zhou Wangchuan said: "But the family has agreed."

Xu Yong said: "The family did not understand the complexity and open nature of the operation. They just saw the patient suffering and made a wrong decision on impulse."

Twenty minutes later, Zhou Wangchuan left Xu Yong's office. He had completely failed in this debate.

He took off his white coat and left the depressing hospital building.

He called Shang Mu on the way, and when he heard the familiar voice, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"What are you going to say?" Shang Mu asked from the opposite side, "Every time you take a deep breath, I know you are about to start a long speech."

Zhou Wangchuan, who was driving, smiled and swallowed what he wanted to say. He didn't want to bring his work mood to his lover.

So he said, "Nothing. I'll be downstairs at your company soon. I'll buy you some flowers and take you out to dinner."

The dinner was romantic and tender, with endless sweet words spoken under the flickering candlelight.

An hour and a half later, the two returned home. Zhou Wangchuan took a shower first, and after he finished, Shang Mu took another.

In his study, Zhou Wangchuan searched for relevant medical papers, hoping to gain a more complete theory and improve the estimated success rate of the operation. He didn't give up; he wouldn't give up easily.

Halfway through his search, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered it with some surprise.

"I didn't take the bath towel." Shang Mu said, and there was a faint sound of water on the other end.

"good."

Zhou Wangchuan came to the bathroom with a bath towel. Shang Mu was standing barefoot under the shower, adjusting the water temperature, without taking off his clothes.

"Hang it here." Zhou Wangchuan hung the bath towel on the hook and turned up the heater to a higher setting. He warned, "Don't take too long, or you'll catch a cold."

Not long after I returned to the study, the phone rang again.

"I didn't take the underwear."

Zhou Wangchuan picked out a pair of underwear for him and went to the bathroom. When he looked up, he paused.

The bathroom was filled with mist. Shang Mu's hair was half wet. He was unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his collarbone and waist. His clothes were half wet and stuck to his skin.

"Put it there." Shang Mu pointed at the shelf and curled his lips playfully, "What are you looking at? Go out quickly and let the cool air in. I'm cold."

Zhou Wangchuan closed the bathroom door behind him and walked towards him, ignoring the showerhead wetting his bathrobe.

Shang Mu buttoned up his shirt one by one, blinked, and moved his moist lips: "What? Do you want to watch me take a shower?"

Zhou Wangchuan smiled silently, holding his shoulders and pushing him to the corner, unbuttoning his clothes one by one. Shang Mu leaned against the wall leisurely, not forgetting to provoke: "How can you take off someone's clothes without saying anything, you stinky hooligan."

"Didn't you teach me this pose?" Zhou Wangchuan raised his eyebrows in confusion. "That time, when we were filming in the studio, baby, you haven't forgotten it, have you?"

The bathtub was full of water, with a layer of bright rose petals floating on it.

Because the movement was too violent, most of the water in the bathtub spilled out, and the whole bathroom was wet.

As the night moon shone by the window, the two clung to each other in the warm water.

Zhou Wangchuan removed a rose petal from his collarbone. Thinking of the phone call at noon, he asked, "Did you..."

But Shang Mu spoke at the same time as him: "You don't have..."

The two looked at each other and stopped at the same time.

Zhou Wangchuan said, "You speak first."

"Is there nothing you want to tell me?"

Zhou Wangchuan was stunned for a moment, then smiled. "I also want to ask, do you have anything to tell me? Is it about work?"

They both noticed the slight emotional aversion in each other and gently sent out signals of concern.