Chapter 44

“Did she go to the break room?” Zhenzhen asked.

Lin Qimian followed her gaze. Two nurses from another department were coming out of the break room, huddled together as they peered toward the hallway entrance.

“It’s time to check the patient’s bleeding. Call me if there’s any problem,” Lin Qimian instructed Zhenzhen before striding forward.

When she reached the nurses, they were still chattering away.

“What happened? Did we scare her? Was I that frightening just now?”

“We got a bit excited, sure, but she’s such a big streamer. No way she’d freak out over that.”

“And we’re all girls anyway. We weren’t gonna do anything—just wanted an autograph.”

“Wasn’t it the fans who scared her to tears before? Xiaoshuai was super obsessive back then…”

“Why bring up Peng Xiaoshuai?” Lin Qimian interjected.

The two nurses turned and saw her. They both recoiled in fright. “Doctor Lin…”

“Yeah.” Lin Qimian acknowledged them, a faint smile tugging at her lips that softened her usual cool demeanor. “Who did you run into just now?”

The nurses didn’t dare hide anything. “It was a patient who came to our hospital before—a famous streamer. We’re big fans and just wanted her autograph.”

Lin Qimian: “Oh, Xu Yueliang, right?”

The nurses: “Yes, that’s her! Doctor Lin, you pulled her tooth, and you still remember?”

Lin Qimian: “Of course. She’s so beautiful.”

The nurses nodded eagerly. With Lin Qimian bringing up her looks, the tension eased. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous—like a little celebrity. But her nerves are shot…”

Lin Qimian clasped her hands behind her back, pinching her fingertips. Her expression remained mild. “Hmm? What did you talk about? Did she cry?”

The nurses: “Yeah, she did. Burst into tears out of nowhere. We didn’t even say much—just that we all liked her…”

Lin Qimian prompted them a few more times, and the nurses spilled the whole story, one sentence after another.

The smile gradually faded from Lin Qimian’s face. When they mentioned the group chat, her brows furrowed.

Noticing the shift in her expression, the shorter nurse tugged at the taller one’s sleeve. They both snapped their mouths shut.

They stood rigidly before Lin Qimian, heads bowed, not daring to make a sound.

Silence fell over the area. Lin Qimian let it stretch on long enough that the two nurses were on the verge of tears themselves before she finally spoke. “It’s fine to pop into the break room for a cup of tea and a rest when work gets tiring…”

Her voice turned flat and stern. “But you can’t disturb the patients.

“Patients come to the hospital to get treatment, not to shop or hold fan meets. They don’t want interruptions at a time like this.

“As medical staff, we have to show our professionalism. In the hospital, we fulfill our duties. The only things we concern ourselves with are our patients’ health.

“This kind of thing can’t happen again.” Lin Qimian eyed them steadily. “Don’t disturb people when you see them, and don’t share or discuss any patient privacy info in social apps either.”

The nurses nodded vigorously, not daring to utter a word.

Lin Qimian paused. “All right, get back to work.”

The nurses bowed quickly and turned to leave.

But just as they took a step, Lin Qimian called them back.

“Wait.” She said, “Do you know why Peng Xiaoshuai isn’t at our hospital anymore?”

The nurses shook their heads. Lin Qimian waited until they looked up at her in panic, meeting her gaze, before answering. “It’s because of exactly the things I just emphasized.”

The nurses looked like they were about to cry for real now.

The taller one’s voice cracked with a sob. “Doctor Lin, it was our first time. We’re sorry—we won’t do it again…”

“I’m just reminding you,” Lin Qimian said coolly. “It’s not even my department anyway.”

The nurses stood there stunned as Lin Qimian headed off to the Dean’s Office.

Fifteen minutes later, the Hospital Administration Office issued a notice: Ten Key Points on Strengthening Daily Behavior Norms for Medical Staff.

Zhenzhen messaged Lin Qimian with an update on the patient’s condition. Then she asked: [Teacher Lin, did you see the notice from the Hospital Administration Office? The Gossip Little Group is doomed.]

Lin Qimian didn’t reply. Her phone was still open to her chat with Jiaojiao, waiting for a message from that side.

There was no typing indicator from Jiaojiao. No message either.

After Xu Yueliang had bolted, she’d gone completely silent. Vanished.

Lin Qimian waited another ten minutes or so, until it was time for her shift to end.

She dialed her number directly, hoping to gauge her mood from the sound of her voice.

The phone rang for a long time, right up until it was about to go to voicemail, before it finally connected.

Lin Qimian hadn’t even had a chance to speak when choked sobs came through the line as Xu Yueliang began to apologize.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Lin. I… I had something come up suddenly, so… I didn’t wait for you…” Xu Yueliang drew in a shaky breath, her voice thick with sniffles. “I’m really sorry. I can’t take you out to dinner today…”

She sounded so heartbroken, so fragile and tentative. Lin Qimian couldn’t bring herself to scold her.

“It’s fine,” she said gently. “If not today, then tomorrow.”

Xu Yueliang hurried to respond. “Tomorrow won’t work either…”

Lin Qimian paused. “What about the day after?”

Xu Yueliang was on the verge of tears. “That won’t work either.”

Lin Qimian smiled softly into the phone. “Then whenever you’re free. Just let me know, and we’ll make plans.”

Silence fell on the other end. Not even the faint hum of background noise.

Lin Qimian had watched so many of her live streams, had studied her face so intently during their meeting—taking in every flicker of joy, anger, sorrow, and delight. Even now, separated by the phone and untold miles, she could picture it: Xu Yueliang clutching her phone, sinking down into a squat.

She was fighting back tears, but she couldn’t hold them in.

She wouldn’t blame Lin Qimian. No, the resentment was all turned inward.

The quiet gripped Lin Qimian’s heart like a vise, a deep ache unraveling within her thread by thread.

Yet she didn’t dare shatter the silence. It was as if Xu Yueliang were right there in front of her, and she lacked the courage to pull her into an embrace.

She had never taken anyone this seriously before.

Never cared so deeply about another person’s feelings.

She had never realized that love was like countless threads, each bound to that one person, all tugging directly at her heart.

After a long moment, a faint rustle came from the other end.

The soft scrape of fabric, perhaps, as Xu Yueliang wiped away her tears.

“If…” Lin Qimian murmured the word so lightly, as if a mere breath might send a butterfly fluttering away.

“If something’s bothering you, you can always tell me.”

It was the only thing she felt qualified to offer Xu Yueliang right now.

“Mm!” Xu Yueliang responded with a forceful nod that Lin could almost feel. Then, in a flustered rush, “Sorry, Doctor Lin—I have to go…”

“Hang up whenever you’re ready,” Lin Qimian said, her voice warm and tender.

Two or three seconds later, the call ended.

Lin Qimian stared at her phone for a moment, lost in thought, before heading back to the clinic room.

That evening, the weather turned foul. Lin Qimian couldn’t capture a clear shot of the moon, but she posted to Moments anyway.

The moon hid behind thick clouds, peeking through with just a sliver of pale light, as if veiled in heavy gauze.

Xu Yueliang didn’t go live. She didn’t reply.

The post—visible only to her—lingered through the night without that little red notification dot.

The next day, Lin Qimian swapped shifts with a colleague.

She drove to the address Xu Yueliang had given her before and settled into a seat inside the coffee shop.

The place was beautifully decorated, and the latte art was exquisite.

Once her food arrived, Lin Qimian snapped a photo. The location data was rich—if Xu Yueliang asked what she’d had for lunch, she could send it over.

But Xu Yueliang didn’t ask.

Their chat remained deathly still, not a single word.

Lin Qimian finished her coffee and slipped on her earphones.

At two in the afternoon, Little Moon’s live streaming room opened right on schedule. Xu Yueliang was dressed as a clown today, her outfit dotted with colorful pom-poms, her face slathered in heavy makeup.

Dark circles under her eyes, a bright red nose, an exaggerated grin painted from ear to ear.

Viewers in the chat complained that the look was too much—her face was unrecognizable, and the baggy costume hid her figure. Xu Yueliang just smiled. That usual radiant grin clashed oddly with the makeup, coming off as faintly unsettling.

“Just trying something different for once. Hope you all enjoy the change~~”

Her voice was the same as ever—soft, sweet, effortlessly accommodating. She never argued, never clashed.

Some viewers kept griping, but she ignored them.

She launched into her daily routine: chatting with fans, giveaways, dancing, shoutouts.

In the drowsy afternoon hours, she played upbeat tunes. As she bobbed her head to the music, that painted smile stretched impossibly wide.

Lin Qimian suddenly wanted to wipe it all away, to see her real face.

Those eyes, always so dewy and bright. That mouth, forever curved in an upward tilt.

She wanted to scrub it clean and look.

The stream dragged on until most city dwellers had clocked out of work.

Until nightfall. Until the coffee shop closed its doors.

Lin Qimian returned to her car, staying put until the broadcast finally ended. For the first time, she pulled out her phone and snapped a photo of the moon over the city.

High above, distant and dim—outshone by the glow of streetlights.

Lin Qimian finally received a message from Jiaojiao. It read: 【Doctor Lin, sorry, but I have an important event to attend during National Day. Can’t make it to Xibai Mountain.】

Xu Yueliang had also sent a file packed with recommendations for authentic local eats along the entire route.

【You and Senior Sister Xiaoyi have a great time~】

【Safe travels.】

Lin Qimian stared at those messages, reading them again and again.

Twenty minutes later, she pocketed her phone without a reply and pulled out of the driveway.

Huang Xiaoyi had prepared plenty for this road trip.

Mostly stuff to keep her entertained on her own.

She’d packed several outfits and brought a camera with a tripod, perfect for snapping selfies while Lin Qimian and Xu Yueliang got all cozy.

She didn’t mind playing third wheel. What she feared was not even getting the chance.

These past few days had been a revelation for Lin Qimian—one day escape rooms and dinners, the next a road trip to stargaze. Huang Xiaoyi loved every bit of it.

She thrived on seeing others happy, on watching dreams come true.

Humming a little tune, she counted down to the holiday.

During her lunch break, she called Lin Qimian to hash out accommodations.

Three rooms? Two? Or one big suite to toss them all in together?

The call connected, and before Huang Xiaoyi could get a full sentence out, Lin Qimian cut in: “Not going.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “…Huh?”

Lin Qimian: “I’ll book you a tour. Pick the time and place—domestic or abroad, whatever.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “No way, there’s such a good deal???!!!”

Lin Qimian: “Mm-hmm.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Do I look like the type to chase dollar signs? Nah. For good gossip, I’d even pass up cash…”

Lin Qimian: “…”

Huang Xiaoyi pulled a long face. “So what’s the deal? Who bailed? You or Moon?”

Lin Qimian stayed silent.

Huang Xiaoyi: “Ah, Moon.”

Lin Qimian: “…”

Huang Xiaoyi slipped out of the office to a quiet, empty spot. “Come on, spill. If you don’t, I’ll just ask Moon myself. She ditched me too, after all.”

Lin Qimian: “When did you add her contact?”

“Hahahaha…” Huang Xiaoyi cracked up. “Why do you care? We’ve been hanging out—adding each other is no biggie…”

Lin Qimian: “What name does she use on WeChat?”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Jiaojiao. You know, bright moon shining. Super poetic.”

Lin Qimian: “Oh.”

Lin Qimian: “She added both of us using her alt account.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “That’s what this is about? Women in love sure get worked up over nothing…”

Lin Qimian cut her off. “Am I some kind of moron?”

Huang Xiaoyi had pierced through Lin Qimian’s calm at last, fanning her anger to life.

It wasn’t anything too private—Lin Qimian had already aired plenty of her laundry in front of her.

She paused a beat, then summed up that day’s drama in a few quick sentences.

“She probably feels guilty for keeping it from us. Then she got pissed when she realized I’d known about her job all along.” Lin Qimian let out a breath. “Anyway, she hasn’t said a word to me in days.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “…”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Did you try talking to her?”

Lin Qimian: “Of course. I post on Moments every day.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Show me.”

Lin Qimian: “It’s the other account. Didn’t add you.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “…………”

Lin Qimian: “Don’t take it hard. Even if I had, you couldn’t see them. Visible to her only.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “…………..”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Cash out that tour you’re booking me instead. Then I’ll tell you how to fix this.”

Lin Qimian tapped her screen a few times. Huang Xiaoyi’s phone pinged with an incoming transfer.

She yelped into the receiver: “Holy shit shit shit… Am I seriously worth this much in a single day…”

Lin Qimian: “So, what do I do?”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Heh heh heh, and here’s a day I get to outsmart you…”

Lin Qimian: “…”

Huang Xiaoyi cleared her throat. “Ahem. Not sure if you remember, but I told you ages ago: you’re too standoffish. ‘Standoffish’ is polite—bluntly put, you’re a master at playing hard to read.

“Acting like some untouchable fairy up in the clouds, stone-faced all day—who can guess what’s going on in that head?

“Trust me, normal folks wouldn’t dare sidle up to you. I’ve been the shameless one sticking around all these years.

“Even I feel the sting to my pride sometimes. Though I know deep down you love me.”

Lin Qimian: “Get to the point.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “Point is, Xu Yueliang has no clue. She doesn’t know you’re head over heels for her, or that beneath that icy facade beats a heart of fire.”

Huang Xiaoyi: “We really can’t let her know about this for now, but at the very least, we have to let her know that you’re just a mortal.

“Those who can laugh can also cry; there are times of glory and times of loneliness. On the surface, you look tough as steel and invincible, but deep down, you’re extremely fragile and desperately need love.”

Lin Qimian: “…”

Her fists clenched.

Huang Xiaoyi: “Whether it’s friendship or love, you have to let the other person feel that you need each other mutually.

“When others think they can only receive from you without being able to give you anything in return, that’s when they feel inferior and get hurt.

“People are such strange creatures—they pursue absolute equality in the strangest ways.

“So now that you need me, I’m really happy.”

Huang Xiaoyi paused, then said, “Let Moon know that you need her.”