Chapter 61
Early in the morning, Zhong Shiwu went to the branch hospital.
“How is she?” she asked, looking at the sleeping girl in the bed.
“Ming Xiaojie was screaming all night. The nurses couldn’t calm her down. We had to sedate her. She finally fell asleep just before dawn,” the nurse reported, watching Zhong Shiwu’s expression carefully.
“Keep a close eye on her. Notify me immediately if anything happens,” Zhong Shiwu said, her hand in her pocket, then added, feeling a pang of guilt, “She’s a Ming, after all. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“Of course, Doctor Zhong.”
“Her somatic symptoms are quite pronounced. Give her some mild painkillers,” Zhong Shiwu said, picking up the chart. “Keep a detailed record of her medication, the dosage, the timing, and any unusual behavior.”
The nurse nodded, though it wasn’t the first time she had heard these instructions.
Zhong Shiwu seemed unusually concerned about this patient, perhaps because of her connection to the Ming family.
The nurse didn’t pry, following Zhong Shiwu’s instructions, then reviewed the security footage from the previous night.
Zhong Shiwu was alone in the room, watching Ming Yao sleep, her brow furrowed.
The footage showed Ming Yao in a state of frenzy, her usual cheerfulness and quietness replaced by a violent, almost animalistic rage, her body thrashing against the restraints, her hands and feet flailing, her screams echoing in the sterile room.
Zhong Shiwu touched Ming Yao’s face gently. “If the medication doesn’t work, we’ll have to consider other options,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
She didn’t have the time or energy for this, not anymore.
That evening, after dinner, Zhong Shiwu received an unexpected invitation from Lu Yin.
She readily accepted, putting on her coat and heading out, her surprise turning to understanding as she saw Lin Qianqian waiting with Lu Yin.
So, it was Lin Qianqian’s idea, not Lu Yin’s.
They were at a casual cafe, one of Lin Qianqian’s usual haunts.
“My treat! I’ll order for everyone!” Lin Qianqian said cheerfully, heading towards the counter.
Lu Yin and Zhong Shiwu sat facing each other in silence.
“It must be nice to have such a lively companion,” Zhong Shiwu said, watching Lin Qianqian, a subtle smile playing on her lips. “A bit of chaos can be quite entertaining, don’t you think?”
Lu Yin looked at her, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.
“Most of my teenage patients are struggling with parental pressure or unrequited love,” Zhong Shiwu said, her gaze fixed on the table. “Perhaps it’s because I’ve been a doctor for so long, but I always feel a pang of sympathy for them. They seem so lost, so unsure of themselves, their lives defined by others.”
“Do you think I should save her?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Lin Qianqian. “She’s so young, her life full of possibilities.”
She remembered Lu Yin years ago, similarly withdrawn, her emotions suppressed, her world a self-imposed isolation.
She had helped Lu Yin then, out of loyalty to Lu Sui.
But now, her motivations were different.
Lu Yin remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Zhong Shiwu wasn’t expecting a response, her words more of a soliloquy than a conversation.
She knew Lu Yin was like this, her focus always on her own needs, her own desires.
Lin Qianqian returned with their drinks, and Lu Yin stood up to help her.
“I heard you like coffee, Dr. Zhong, so I ordered the house special. The owner said it’s very popular,” Lin Qianqian said, placing the coffee in front of Zhong Shiwu.
Zhong Shiwu thanked her, studying Lin Qianqian’s expression. She could tell Lin Qianqian had something to ask, otherwise Lu Yin wouldn’t have agreed to this meeting.
They both knew about Ming Yao’s situation, but Lin Qianqian didn’t.
If this was Lin Qianqian’s doing, then Lu Yin might compromise again, her carefully constructed defenses crumbling under Lin Qianqian’s influence.
Every patient she had ever treated had found something, someone, to cling to, their hope, their reason for living.
And they would do anything to protect that hope, that fragile connection to life.
“It’s almost the Spring Festival. You must be busy with work,” Zhong Shiwu said, starting the conversation.
“Not really. We don’t do overtime at my company,” Lin Qianqian said, smiling. “My boss is very good to us.”
She was still a bit intimidated by Zhong Shiwu, despite her skepticism about mind-reading. Sitting in front of a psychiatrist always made her feel exposed, her thoughts transparent.
“No wonder I can never get Lu Yin to meet on weekends. You two are enjoying your little world, aren’t you?”
“Lately…” Lin Qianqian glanced at Lu Yin. “My sister’s sleep schedule has been a mess. She usually spends her weekends resting, trying to catch up on sleep.”
Lu Yin didn’t react to the obvious lie, taking a sip of her warm milk.
She wasn’t a fan of cafes, so she had ordered the same drink as Lin Qianqian.
“And you?” Zhong Shiwu asked, sensing Lin Qianqian’s hesitation, prompting her to ask the question she had been avoiding.
“I’ve been trying to get Ming Yao to come out,” Lin Qianqian said, her voice trailing off, then she asked tentatively, “Have you heard from her recently?”
She knew Ming Yao had moved out, had cut ties with Zhong Shiwu, but she didn’t know what had happened after that.
Zhong Shiwu decided not to beat around the bush. “She’s sick. Didn’t you know? You’re her friend.”
Lu Yin glanced at Zhong Shiwu, her expression disapproving. Her words had been too blunt.
Zhong Shiwu, sensing Lu Yin’s displeasure, softened her tone. “Her condition isn’t good. She needs to be hospitalized.”
“Can I visit her? Which hospital is she at? I can’t reach her. Her phone is off,” Lin Qianqian asked, her voice filled with a sudden anxiety.
“The Ming family is keeping a close watch on her. No visitors allowed,” Zhong Shiwu said.
“Dr. Zhong, please, you have to help her!” Lin Qianqian pleaded, remembering the news report, the image of Ming Yao’s breakdown, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant self. “When I saw her last, she said she needed you, that she loved you…You’re the only one who can help her.”
Lin Qianqian knew Ming Yao wasn’t close to Ming Yi.
Ming Yao had said Zhong Shiwu was the only person she trusted.
Lin Qianqian didn’t question it, her loyalty to her friend unwavering.
“If I could just see her…” she said, her voice trembling, her eyes filling with tears. “She used to be so cheerful, so kind. I told you before, she’s a good person!”
Zhong Shiwu looked at Lu Yin, who remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Perhaps her assumption was correct. This meeting, this three-way conversation, was orchestrated by Lu Yin.
Lu Yin would do anything to isolate Lin Qianqian, to keep her away from outside influences, but she would also yield to Lin Qianqian’s wishes, even if it meant compromising her own plans, her own desires.
She had barely spoken since they arrived, her true intentions hidden beneath a mask of indifference.
But Zhong Shiwu knew she was making a concession, a sacrifice, for Lin Qianqian.
Lin Qianqian’s tears overflowed, Zhong Shiwu’s silence a confirmation of her fears.
“I know you’re a very experienced doctor, Dr. Zhong. Please, help her,” she pleaded, reaching out a hand, then stopping herself. “I don’t want to lose my friend.”
Lu Yin’s grip tightened on her glass, her knuckles white.
“I’ll do what I can,” Zhong Shiwu said, raising her coffee cup. “Consider this a promise.”
“Should I drink it all in one gulp?” Lin Qianqian asked, holding her cup with both hands, her voice childlike, her question a desperate attempt to regain some control, some semblance of normalcy.
“Of course,” Zhong Shiwu said, smiling.
“Don’t be silly,” Lu Yin said, taking the cup from Lin Qianqian’s hand before she could drink it.
She finally reached out, wiping away Lin Qianqian’s tears, her touch gentle, almost hesitant.
“It’s getting late,” she said.
“Leaving already?” Zhong Shiwu asked, her gaze fixed on Lu Yin.
Lu Yin was always like this, eager to escape, unwilling to linger, her discomfort palpable.
“Why don’t you stay a little longer? Sister, haven’t you seen Dr. Zhong in a while?” Lin Qianqian asked, her voice solicitous.
“Yes, your sister is a busy woman. Impossible to get ahold of,” Zhong Shiwu said, glancing at the calendar. “It’s almost the Spring Festival. Are you celebrating with Yu Miao this year?”
“We’ll see,” Lu Yin said.
“That means no,” Zhong Shiwu said, easily deciphering Lu Yin’s evasiveness.
“I haven’t finished organizing the student applications for the next term. I have to go back to work,” Lu Yin said, her intention to leave clear.
“Didn’t you finish that a few days ago?” Lin Qianqian asked, confused.
Lu Yin ignored her, standing up and pulling Lin Qianqian along.
Lin Qianqian turned around and waved at Zhong Shiwu. “Bye, Dr. Zhong!”
Zhong Shiwu waved back, smiling, then, alone in the cafe, her thoughts returned to Ming Yao.
She felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, a strange, unfamiliar emotion.
She wasn’t sure what to do with it, whether to suppress it or acknowledge it. It was the first time she had hesitated.
Back at her apartment, she signed for a few packages, noticing a bag of chocolate liqueur candies.
She had just thrown away the rest a few days ago. She had forgotten about these.
She had been buying them regularly for Ming Yao, a habit she hadn’t broken yet.
There was no point in returning them. It was just candy. She opened the bag and poured the candies onto the table.
She took one, tasted it, and then spat it out, her face contorted in disgust.
They tasted awful.
She made some tea, trying to cleanse her palate, then sat on the sofa and turned on the TV, her mind still on Ming Yao, the taste of the candy a lingering reminder.
She couldn’t focus on the show, the sweetness of the chocolate, the bitterness of the liqueur, a strange, unsettling combination.
Was it the candy, or her own guilt?
She closed her eyes, the image of Ming Yao clinging to her legs, her tearful pleas echoing in her mind.
She tried to dismiss it as professional concern, a doctor’s empathy for her patient.
But she couldn’t.
She was always able to separate her work life from her personal life, her off-duty hours a sanctuary from the emotional burdens of her profession.
But Ming Yao was different, an exception she had recognized long ago, a connection she couldn’t deny.
The TV was replaying the news report, and she opened her eyes, hearing Ming Yao’s voice.
The reporters, after she had left, had focused on Ming Yao, their cameras capturing her distress, her breakdown.
Ming Yao’s face, pale and contorted, her screams silenced by the news broadcast, but her anguish clearly visible.
Zhong Shiwu could read her lips.
She was looking in Zhong Shiwu’s direction, her words a desperate plea.
“Mom, save me…”
“Please…”
“Help me…”
The memory of that day, Ming Yao’s frantic cries, her hands banging against the ambulance window, made Zhong Shiwu feel a surge of inexplicable anger.
She reached for the remote, wanting to turn off the TV, but it slipped from her hand, falling to the floor.
She stood up, picked it up, and pressed the power button, Ming Yao’s face, her tear-streaked eyes, meeting Zhong Shiwu’s gaze through the camera lens.
The intensity of her gaze, her unspoken accusation, was almost unbearable.
She remembered looking away that day, unable to meet Ming Yao’s eyes.
Ming Yi had said she would take care of Ming Yao.
And Lu Yin, because of Lin Qianqian, had allowed it.
Zhong Shiwu’s own emotional instability, her guilt, her growing unease, made her feel a pang of self-loathing. She took a deep breath, then swept the candies off the table, her movements clumsy, her body trembling slightly.
She sank onto the sofa, her hands clenched into fists.
The New Year was just a few days away.
She would be forty years old soon, and she was letting a twenty-something-year-old girl control her emotions, her actions.
Was this her punishment for being too ruthless?
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