Lin Qimian arrived at the hospital quickly. The summer night air was thick with heat waves outside, but inside the hospital building, the air conditioning was cranked up high. Only a few on-duty clinic rooms were lit, giving the place an eerie, deserted feel.
Lin Qimian strode through the lobby. The night-shift nurse spotted her and greeted her in surprise. “Doctor Lin.”
Lin Qimian nodded. The nurse opened her mouth to say more, but Lin Qimian didn’t break stride, leaving only a fleeting glimpse of her back.
The nurse pulled out her phone and sent a voice message to the Little Group. “I just saw Doctor Lin. Didn’t she pull a double shift today? Why’s she back at the hospital this late?”
The group chat lit up immediately. Peng Xiaoshuai asked: 【Why’s she heading to the hospital now? Did she forget something?】
The nurse replied, “No idea. She looked pretty urgent. If she forgot something, she should be out quick. I’ll keep an eye out.”
The hospital was dead quiet at this hour, and everyone was bored out of their minds.
Sure enough, someone started live-updating Lin Qimian’s movements.
【She’s in the Changing Room.】
【Out in her white coat now.】
【Heading to the Clinic Room.】
【Huh, this is weird. Maybe some big shot’s getting a midnight checkup…】
Lin Qimian finished her preparations, but her VIP patient was running late.
The surgical mask was starting to feel stuffy. She logged into her account and pulled up the patient info. Xu Yueliang’s address was in another district— it would take some time to get here.
WeChat showed nothing but that one voice message. Lin Qimian stared at the cute pink bunny profile pic for a moment, curiosity finally winning out. She tapped into Xu Yueliang’s Moments.
A smattering of photos and captions, maybe two posts a month, all food-related.
Hotpot today, barbecue tomorrow. She’d queued forever for some viral dessert. Holiday dumplings she’d made herself—kinda lumpy…
It all matched perfectly with the Xu Yueliang in Lin Qimian’s memory. Her hobbies were simple, steadfast, and enduring: eating.
And she never gained weight. All the meat went exactly where it should—a real talent.
No time limits on the posts, so Lin Qimian scrolled through them one by one, zooming in on every photo until her own stomach started rumbling.
Xu Yueliang had been to a lot of spots Lin Qimian knew well. By her math, Xu Yueliang had lived in S City for seven years, Lin Qimian for two and a half, and they’d never once crossed paths…
Not that it mattered. Even if they had, Xu Yueliang wouldn’t have recognized her.
Lin Qimian exited Moments and tossed her phone onto the desk.
She waited a bit longer. Footsteps finally echoed down the empty hallway—high-heeled sandals clicking on the stone floor. The pace was brisk, but the sound was soft, almost gentle.
Even her footsteps had a soft, innocent vibe, utterly harmless.
Lin Qimian straightened up, adjusting her glasses and mask to fully embody the role of an unfamiliar, professional doctor.
A small head poked around the doorframe. Xu Yueliang really was like some kind of animal, always scouting with her head first.
Lin Qimian pretended to be busy, scribbling two circles on her notepad before glancing up.
Xu Yueliang met her eyes and stepped fully into view, waving her phone emphatically.
Lin Qimian set down her pen. “Come in.”
Xu Yueliang hurried over with quick little steps. Her cheek was way more swollen than when she’d left that afternoon, her lips pressed tight.
She was being good now, not saying a word. She pulled out her phone, opened the text-to-speech app, and a line of bold white-on-black text scrolled across: 【Hi Doctor Lin, I’m Xu Yueliang, the one who called you earlier…】
The message was longish, scrolling slowly. Lin Qimian looked away. “I remember you.”
Xu Yueliang’s lips quivered, her face crumpling like she was about to burst into tears.
Lin Qimian stood and pointed to the treatment table. “Over there. Lie down.”
Xu Yueliang hopped on obediently, hesitating over whether to open her mouth.
The shadowless lamp shone down. Lin Qimian noticed then that Xu Yueliang had not only changed clothes—she’d wiped off all her makeup too.
Now her face was clean and fresh, just like that afternoon.
The time she’d kept Lin Qimian waiting must’ve gone into that.
She’d been so panicked on the call, yet still cared about this. Clearly, Xu Yueliang didn’t want anyone guessing her job—or noticing it.
Lin Qimian’s finger brushed her cheek lightly. “Open up.”
Xu Yueliang parted her lips just a fraction, wincing in pain, her face scrunching up.
Lin Qimian steadied her jaw and head. “Hold still. Open wider, or I can’t see.”
Xu Yueliang cooperated fully, the pain squeezing a few tears from the corners of her eyes. Yet unlike at noon, when her tears had flowed like a fountain, this time they merely glistened.
Lin Qimian examined the wound, and the weight lifted from her heart.
“The wound itself is fine; the blood clot just came loose.” Lin Qimian swapped out her forceps. “Hang in there a moment longer while I clean it up.”
Xu Yueliang was perfectly obedient, clutching her clothes tightly in her fists while holding utterly still.
Lin Qimian clamped out the dark red clot and dropped it into the tray. “There. All done.”
“All done???” Xu Yueliang uttered the tiniest squeak of disbelief.
“Yes, the bleeding’s stopped.” Lin Qimian peeled off her gloves and teased her with a grin. “If you’d come any later, the wound might’ve healed up on its own.”
“Ah… ha… ha… ha…” Xu Yueliang tried to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it, producing only a series of halting, breathy hums.
Lin Qimian washed her hands and explained, “It’s normal for surgical wounds to ooze a little afterward. Trust your body’s healing power, but come to the hospital right away if it’s heavy bleeding. Oh, and…”
She paused, turning to Xu Yueliang with a question she already knew the answer to. “How’d this happen? Blood clots usually form properly the first time.”
Xu Yueliang: “……”
Lin Qimian: “Did you manage to talk less, like I told you?”
Xu Yueliang: “…………”
Lin Qimian: “I don’t usually point this out to other patients, but you…”
Xu Yueliang jumped in. “Doctor, I get it. I talk too much…”
“Mm.” Lin Qimian’s lips curved upward as she flicked the water droplets from her hands.
Xu Yueliang bowed her head, looking every bit the chastened schoolgirl who knew she’d been naughty.
Lin Qimian returned to her desk and waited a beat before asking, “Anything else?”
Xu Yueliang stayed perched on the treatment table. “Doctor Lin, can I hang out here a little longer? I’m scared it might start up again…”
Her voice trailed off into nothing.
“Oh…” Lin Qimian drew out the syllable. “Of course.”
She shook her head with a sigh. “Alas, patients just don’t trust me enough.”
Xu Yueliang: “!!!”
Xu Yueliang tumbled off the table and hurried to stand before Lin Qimian. “Doctor Lin, that’s not—”
Lin Qimian didn’t look up. “Then follow my advice: talk less, rest more. Take your meds on schedule and eat properly.”
After a pause, she added, “And get to bed early.”
Xu Yueliang fell silent, afraid to nod and tug at the wound. Instead, she blinked furiously to signal that she’d gotten the message.
Lin Qimian’s pen kept scratching away, waiting for her to go.
But Xu Yueliang lingered, rooted quietly at her side, her gaze fixed unmistakably on Lin Qimian’s face.
Lin Qimian couldn’t help remembering what Xu Yueliang had gushed during her livestream that day—how the beautiful doctor sister had pretty eyes, a pretty silhouette, pretty fingers even when wielding a scalpel…
Lin Qimian fidgeted with the pen holder, then set her pen down.
Xu Yueliang seized the moment, thrusting her phone forward. Its screen blazed with big letters: 【Doctor Lin, how much? How do I pay?】
Oh. That was it.
Lin Qimian: “………”
Lin Qimian: “No charge. No need to pay.”
Xu Yueliang: “!!!”
Lin Qimian: “No materials used, no prescriptions written, and it barely took any time, so nothing to pay.”
Gratitude flooded Xu Yueliang’s face. She bowed nearly ninety degrees, then straightened up and hammered away at her phone. The screen popped back into Lin Qimian’s view.
【Thank you, Doctor Lin. You’re truly a great person.】
Lin Qimian: “……”
Lin Qimian: “Off you go, now.”
Xu Yueliang finally turned and left the consultation room. Lin Qimian exhaled a long breath of relief.
She grabbed her phone and switched back to her main WeChat account. Messages flooded the screen.
Zhenzhen: 【Teacher Lin, you went to the hospital?】
【The group chat’s clueless too. They’re all wondering what went down in that livestream of yours.】
【Screenshot images Screenshot images Screenshot images Screenshot images】
【Wait, did the girl streamer end up at the hospital too?】
【Peng Xiaoshuai’s losing it—says he’s coming right over.】
Lin Qimian shot to her feet, pocketed her phone, and strode out.
Xu Yueliang had moved fast; the hallway was already empty.
Lin Qimian hurried outside and spotted her in the middle of the courtyard. Peng Xiaoshuai stood just a few paces away near the entrance, helmet in hand beside his motorcycle.
As Peng Xiaoshuai started toward Xu Yueliang, Lin Qimian’s brow furrowed. For the first time, she called out the streamer’s full name right to her face.
“Xu Yueliang.”
The three syllables hung heavy, like the stifling heat of the night, lodged in her chest.
Xu Yueliang turned around, the streetlight overhead making her eyes sparkle with faint surprise. “Eh?”
She immediately clamped her mouth shut.
Lin Qimian hurried over to her side. “I’m heading out too. Let’s go together.”
Xu Yueliang’s eyes went wide, a flood of questions plain to see in them—though none of them seemed all that important.
“Don’t talk. Just follow me.” Lin Qimian cut off any pointless queries, leading her around the corner.
Xu Yueliang obeyed without a peep, sticking close by her side while keeping half a body’s distance between them.
Lin Qimian never once glanced back at Peng Xiaoshuai. She guided Xu Yueliang all the way to the hospital’s side door and came to a stop at the edge of the road.
“It’s easier to catch a cab from here,” Lin Qimian said.
She spoke without looking at Xu Yueliang, her gaze fixed on the direction from which cars approached.
It wasn’t terribly late; normally, you could flag one down just by standing here. Lin Qimian figured she’d hail a taxi and then bow out.
But tonight, for some reason, not a single cab in sight.
And so the two of them stood there, the silence stretching into awkwardness.
Lin Qimian stubbornly refused to turn her head, but Xu Yueliang’s finger poked gently at her arm. “Doctor Lin, are you going home too?”
Her voice was soft, like a whisper of silk on the wind.
Lin Qimian finally turned, shooting her a warning glance. Xu Yueliang just smiled, her tone dripping with flattery. “I’ve used up my speaking quota for the day—all of it, right now.”
Lin Qimian: “…”
Xu Yueliang blinked rapidly. “Doctor Lin, don’t you take off your white coat or your mask when you head home?”
