It scared people again.

"Take the ukulele with you, and remember to bring it every time you come," Lu Zhiyan said, staring intently at Song Zicheng.

Song Zicheng grunted in agreement, picked up his ukulele, and left the study without lingering for a second.

With a loud "bang," the door was slammed shut.

Song Zicheng had been gone for a long time, but Lu Zhiyan was still sitting on the sofa, gently rubbing his lips with his thumb, looking dazed, as if he was savoring that lingering kiss.

The study was still dark, with no lights on. Only the faint sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional whisper of "Song Zicheng" could be heard. His voice was deep and trembling, incredibly seductive, like the allure of spring, making one blush and their heart race.

"Brother, are you all better yet?"

"It'll be here soon."

"Brother, take your time packing. It's still early, no need to rush," Song Zian said, peeking out from the doorway at Song Zicheng who was packing.

"Okay."

Song Zicheng was carrying a backpack, stuffing some bread and water into it. Before leaving, he carefully checked the documents for going to the hospital and Song Zian's previous medical records.

Today is Sunday, and according to the time, it's time for Song Zi'an to go to the hospital for a check-up. Early in the morning, Song Zicheng got up early, intending to wake his younger brother, but unexpectedly, Song Zi'an got up even earlier than him.

"Are you nervous?" On the bus, Song Zicheng asked Song Zian, who had turned his face to the window.

Song Zian turned her head and leaned on Song Zicheng's shoulder, blinking her eyes and whispering, "I'm not nervous or scared. I know my brother will be by my side. As long as my brother is here, I'm not nervous at all."

"Zi'an is so brave. You're right. Your brother will always be with you," Song Zicheng said gently, stroking Song Zi'an's head.

Although his tone was calm and composed, out of Song Zi'an's sight, Song Zicheng was staring intently at the constantly changing time on the bus, lost in thought.

Every time he went to the hospital for a check-up, he would ask this question on the way. Song Zi'an would always answer that he wasn't nervous or scared, but more often than not, this question seemed to be directed at himself.

The night before each of his follow-up hospital visits, Song Zicheng would toss and turn nervously, unable to fall asleep. Last night was no exception; his handsome face looked exhausted, with obvious dark circles under his eyes.

The weather forecast said today would be sunny, but it's only a little past seven o'clock, the sun has just risen in the east, and the morning temperature is still quite low. There are still glistening dewdrops hanging on the bushes along the road outside.

It wasn't far from home to the hospital, only about a 20-minute walk, but Song Zicheng still took his younger brother on the bus, which was warm and heated.

After three stops, the two brothers got off the bus one after the other. Both of them were wearing masks and scarves. Song Zicheng reached out his right hand and took his younger brother's hand as they walked toward the hospital.

Although it was early morning, the hospital was already packed with people. They were pushing and shoving, heels touching heels and shoulders bumping into each other. The noise was deafening. Song Zicheng let go of Song Zi'an and picked him up. They went upstairs, got a number, and waited in line. The whole process was smooth and efficient.

They arrived early, and only a few people were sitting on the chairs in front of the department. Song Zicheng held Zi'an in his arms and sat on the last row of chairs. He looked down at Zi'an sitting on his lap and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"We can eat after the check-up is finished. Have you decided what you want to eat?"

Song Zian blinked thoughtfully, then his eyes crinkled into a smile: "Beef noodles."

Song Zicheng smiled and said gently, "Okay, we'll go eat after the check-up."

Since Song Zi'an's condition suddenly worsened and he stayed in the hospital for more than a month, although his condition has stabilized and he has been discharged, Song Zicheng has been living in fear every day. He asks Song Zi'an several times a day how he is doing and if he feels unwell. Song Zi'an is tired of hearing this.

Before, during, and after each examination, Song Zicheng felt as if his heart had been violently squeezed, and he was extremely tense, his heart pounding in his throat.

This moment was no exception. His Adam's apple bobbed, his breathing became rapid, and he was restless. Even Song Zi'an in his arms could feel his abnormality.

"Brother, what's wrong?"

"fine."

"Zicheng, are you feeling unwell? You look terrible." Ling Chu, who had just arrived at work, saw Song Zicheng's pale face as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

Song Zicheng took a deep breath, looked up at Ling Chu and said, "Dr. Ling, I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well last night."

"Good morning, Dr. Ling," Song Zi'an greeted her with a smile.

Ling Chu bent down and sat on the chair next to her, reached out and pinched Song Zi'an's little face, and smiled: "Good morning, Zi'an."

Song Zi'an snuggled even closer into Song Zi's arms, laughing even more heartily.

Ling Chu shifted his gaze from Song Zi'an to Song Zicheng's face. He looked at the listless face and hesitated for a few seconds before saying, "Don't worry, Zi'an looks pretty good. He's just here for a check-up. Relax."

Ling Chu could always see through Song Zicheng's thoughts at a glance. Whether it was Ling Chu's reassuring tone or something else, Song Zicheng did feel much more relaxed after hearing this. He nodded and hummed in agreement.

"Can I have lunch with you guys today?" Ling Chu suddenly asked, changing the subject.

Upon hearing this, Song Zi'an raised his head, which had been lowered, and looked at Ling Chu with bright eyes, saying cheerfully, "Of course!"

“Okay, then it’s settled.” Ling Chu glanced at Song Zicheng, stood up from her chair, and said, “I’m going to work now. See you later.”

Before long, Song Zian's name was called on the big screen. Upon hearing this, Song Zicheng immediately stood up, pulled his younger brother inside, and stayed by his side for every examination.

Over the past three years, he has undergone countless examinations, but no matter which one, Song Zicheng could not adapt. He watched the cold, impersonal instruments moving across Song Zian's body, and the excruciating pain made it almost impossible for him to breathe. The child was only a few years old, not even as tall as his waist, yet he had to suffer all this. How could one not feel heartbroken?

Countless times, in a corner where no one was watching, tears welled up in Song Zicheng's eyes, his eyes red from crying, but he still had to compose himself beforehand so that Song Zian wouldn't notice.

He hates coming to the hospital. Every time he smells the disinfectant, he feels nauseous. The more he comes, the more disgusted he becomes, but he has no choice but to come.

When Song Zian finished all the examinations, Song Zicheng's heart finally settled down a little. He then came to his senses and felt a sharp pain in his fingers. He looked down and saw that he had torn off layer after layer of skin on his hands without realizing it.

He looked at his red, bleeding fingers and just smiled helplessly. The pain in his fingers, though faint, did make him more alert.

He crouched down and touched Song Zi'an's hair, glanced at his phone and asked, "It's past eleven o'clock, Dr. Ling should be getting off work soon. Let's sit and wait for a while. Are you hungry? Let's get something to eat." As he spoke, he opened his backpack and took out the eggs and milk that he had just heated in the hospital microwave.

"Be careful, it's hot."

"Okay, brother."

After finishing his meal, Song Zi'an sat obediently in his chair. He seemed a little sleepy, his eyelids blinking repeatedly as he yawned incessantly.

"Tired?" Song Zicheng asked.

"A little."

"Sleep on your brother's lap for a while." With that, Song Zicheng put his bag aside, patted his pants, and let his younger brother put his head on his lap.

Ling Chu, who had just finished work, happened to see this scene. He walked over quietly and said in a low voice, "Sorry, have you been waiting for a long time? Didn't you see the message I sent you?"

Song Zicheng frowned, opened his phone and saw that Ling Chu had sent him a message half an hour ago: "Zicheng, you guys go eat first, I'll be there for a while."

“I didn’t see the message, it’s not too late to eat now,” he gently patted Song Zi’an’s hand. “Get up, Zi’an.”

Song Zian blinked groggily, then opened his eyes and saw Ling Chu in front of him: "Dr. Ling, are you done with your work?"

Ling Chu hummed in agreement.

Song Zi'an got up from the chair, took Song Zicheng's hand and said, "Brother, let's go eat beef noodles."

This ramen shop, located opposite the hospital, may not be large, but it has a huge customer flow. It has been open for many years because of its authentic taste and affordable prices. Song Zian's favorite dish here is beef ramen.

The three sat by the window, with Song Zicheng and Ling Chu facing each other, and Song Zian sitting next to Song Zicheng.

Before eating, Song Zicheng took out a few wet wipes from his bag and handed them to Song Zian and Ling Chu. They wiped their hands, picked up their chopsticks, and started slurping their noodles.

"Mmm, so delicious." Song Zian raised his eyebrows happily after taking a bite of noodles, then scooped up a spoonful of soup and drank it down with satisfaction.

A sip of hot soup blew away the chill, and he felt warm from head to toe. Having not eaten breakfast, Song Zicheng was starving and began to eat the noodles one bite after another with his chopsticks.

"The test results should be ready around 2 or 3 o'clock. Are you going home after you finish eating?" Ling Chu asked.

“Okay, I’ll go back and get some sleep, and come back this afternoon,” Song Zicheng replied.

As Song Zicheng was eating his noodles with his head down, he felt a gaze fixed on his face. He paused, holding his chopsticks, and looked up to meet Ling Chu's eyes.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, and the steam from the noodles rose into the air, blocking their view and adding a unique flavor to their gaze.

Song Zicheng sensed something was wrong and was the first to look away. Even with his head down, he knew that Ling Chu's gaze was still fixed on him.

"Haven't you been sleeping well lately? Last time you had a fever and were sick, you should have been resting properly. Look at your complexion now, it doesn't look good." After a few seconds of silence, Ling Chu spoke.

Song Zicheng smiled awkwardly and touched his face: "Really? I haven't been sleeping well lately. It's probably because finals are coming up and the pressure of studying is a bit high."

Ling Chu stared at him for a few seconds before saying, "Don't put so much pressure on yourself. We've known each other for so long, there's no need to be so formal. If there's anything you need, just tell me, and I'll do my best to help you, you know that."

Song Zicheng sighed silently, raised his head, and smiled, "I understand, thank you."

Ling Chu smiled at him.

"We've finished eating, so we'll head back now," Song Zicheng patted Song Zian on the shoulder. "Zian, say goodbye to Dr. Ling."

Goodbye, Dr. Ling.

"goodbye."

Ling Chu watched the departing figure, a hint of disappointment slowly rising on his face. He shook his head and smiled, a smile tinged with helplessness and self-reproach.

He stared blankly at the empty bowl on the table, muttering to himself, "I've scared someone again."