The hour crept close to midnight, the night at its deepest. A dim bedside lamp glowed in the hospital room. The IV bag was still a third full, the clear liquid dripping rhythmically through the tube. The patient on the bed wore a serene expression, bathed in a soft, warm light. Suddenly, as if woken by the glow, the person’s lashes fluttered—signs of waking.
Shi Yuxing struggled to open his eyes, only to be blinded by the light and immediately shut them again. His hand instinctively went up to shield his face, but he found one end tethered to an IV drip, and the other held by someone else.
Gu Lingzhou was awake almost instantly. He’d been dozing at the bedside, not fully asleep.
Perhaps his mind was still foggy from sleep—he squinted at the man who hastily stood up, the faint light carving stark contrasts across his face.
“Why are you here? And why am I here?” As soon as he spoke, Shi Yuxing remembered. “Oh—I passed out.” He slowly sat up, and Gu Lingzhou was quick to support him. Shi Yuxing’s head was still spinning. “Didn’t I tell you to stay at the chick…” He caught himself, twisting the word “home” into something else mid-syllable.
His heart rate spiked. No—this wasn’t Xiao Zhou. This was Gu Lingzhou himself!
“I’ll get the doctor.” Gu Lingzhou seemed not to have heard what he’d just said.
Shi Yuxing finally regained some clarity. But before long, a whole entourage of people crowded into the room in a flurry. Lin Anran, upon hearing he was awake, followed the group and lingered until after the check-up when the crowd dispersed before speaking: “Yu—” He noticed Gu Lingzhou’s gaze and quickly corrected himself: “Dr. Shi, you scared me to death.”
Anyone would have screamed seeing him collapse right after finishing surgery. Lucky for him, the nearest doctors were the ones who’d just come out of the operating room—Shi Yuxing received immediate aid, and the time from collapse to being moved to a bed was less than two minutes.
Lin Anran’s eyes shifted to Gu Lingzhou behind Shi Yuxing, and he gave an awkward nod of greeting.
That husband of his must have been worried sick—Shi Yuxing hadn’t seen the sight of General Gu sprinting over, but it was no exaggeration to say that if anything had happened, the whole hospital might have been leveled.
“Well, I won’t disturb you two.” Lin Anran turned to leave, but Shi Yuxing called him back: “Wait—how’s Chu Xiaoyun? Any post-op reactions?”
Lin Anran straightened up immediately, turning back: “Don’t worry. The anesthesia should still be in effect. She’s already been moved out of the ICU—no life-threatening danger. The surgery was a success.”
Shi Yuxing exhaled in relief, looking down at the IV needle in his hand.
The calming shot had just taken effect when the next second, a “wild yak” burst through the ward door: “Dr. Lin, you’re here too! Dr. Shi—the patient just woke up, and there’s a lot of bleeding from the wound—wondering if the sutures might have come undone.”
Perfect. He was lying here, and now something had gone wrong over there.
Without hesitation, Shi Yuxing threw off the covers and grabbed the IV pole, ready to get out of bed.
A long arm blocked his way. “You’re still unwell.”
“Move. I need to check.” He shot Gu Lingzhou a glare—this was his duty as a doctor.
The burly male nurse at the door interjected: “No, no, no—I was just here to inform you. Other doctors are already on it. Sorry—I didn’t realize you were still on the drip.”
But Shi Yuxing insisted on going. Gu Lingzhou couldn’t talk him out of it, so he frowned at Lin Anran instead. The meaning was unmistakable. Lin Anran, however, didn’t dare take that hint—who could defy the Empire’s Supreme Commander? He swallowed nervously. “You rest—I’ll go check.”
“I performed the surgery. I have to go.” Shi Yuxing yanked the IV needle out of his hand without a flinch, a bead of blood welling up at the puncture site. Ignoring Gu Lingzhou’s attempts to stop him, he asked the nurse for a bandage and, with lightning efficiency, dragged Lin Anran toward Chu Xiaoyun’s ward.
Chu Xiaoyun’s anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off. She lay there, eyes open and dazed, looking blankly at the doctors surrounding her. The cast around her neck had been removed, and the gauze was being undone. Then, her gaze fell on Shi Yuxing at the doorway. The fog in her eyes cleared, and she stopped looking around—fixing her eyes on him as he slowly approached.
Shi Yuxing examined the sutures at her gland. When the gauze was removed, he saw the stitches were intact, and he finally let out a breath of relief.
Chu Xiaoyun, lying on her stomach, stared at Shi Yuxing with glowing eyes. The dopey look hadn’t left her face, and her lips were too weak to speak clearly—her words came out slurred, as if she’d just taken a sip of water: “You’re so handsome, big brudder.”
No one caught it at first, until Chu Xiaoyun tugged at the hem of his coat and repeated herself.
“Don’t move.” Shi Yuxing’s bandaged hand rested on her head. “Stay still. Let’s get her re-bandaged—careful with the wound.”
The girl was obedient. A light blush spread across her face as she said something that made everyone laugh: “Handsome big brudder, you want a wife? I can introjuice you to my mom’s daughter.”
Her parents, sitting nearby and visibly uneasy, couldn’t hold it together—especially her father, who chuckled twice and pulled out his phone to start filming. Even among the medical staff, there were a few holding back smiles. Lin Anran wanted to laugh too, but Shi Yuxing’s husband was standing barely a step away—he wasn’t about to die for the empire.
Shi Yuxing’s lips curved as he leaned down. Behind him, Gu Lingzhou’s face was as dark as a cast-iron pot. Chu Xiaoyun naturally saw that terrifying expression and shuddered.
“Don’t move,” Shi Yuxing said gently, still holding her head steady. “It’ll be done soon.”
“There’s a pot behind you,” the girl said, her nerves likely still numbed—she didn’t recognize Gu Lingzhou. She turned back to Shi Yuxing’s handsome face and continued her little flirtation: “You want a wife or not?”
Lin Anran cut in: “Little sister, this brother here already has a partner—and he’s probably not planning on a divorce.”
Judging by Gu Lingzhou’s expression, divorce was absolutely out of the question. Sure enough, after Lin Anran said that, Gu Lingzhou placed his hand on Shi Yuxing’s shoulder. Though his face was expressionless, everyone in the room—except perhaps Chu Xiaoyun—could tell Gu Lingzhou was staking his claim.
Feeling the weight on his shoulder and the warmth from Gu Lingzhou’s palm, Shi Yuxing cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Huh? I can be your husband too,” Chu Xiaoyun said with wide, innocent eyes. Shi Yuxing gently patted the girl’s short hair—shaved for the surgery. “Sorry, little one, but this big brother already has a husband.” Actually, he already had three husbands.
Chu Xiaoyun’s expression turned crestfallen. After her neck was re-secured, Shi Yuxing went over postoperative instructions with her parents—no water contact, no inflammatory foods, daily medication schedule—meticulous to the last detail.
As they were about to leave, Gu Lingzhou’s behavior grew odd; he kept leaning closer to Shi Yuxing.
Chu Xiaoyun’s eyes were still glued to him. She raised a hand and waved weakly. “Big brudder, even if you have a husband—”
Her mother clamped a hand over her mouth, shooting Shi Yuxing an apologetic, embarrassed smile. Especially after recognizing Gu Lingzhou and realizing Shi Yuxing’s identity, she deeply regretted not having silenced her daughter sooner.
“Oh, by the way,” Shi Yuxing paused, turning back to look at the family of three inside the room—but only for a few seconds, before glancing at the person beside him. “Do any of you know someone named Chu Ke?”
Gu Lingzhou’s brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes.
Chu Xiaoyun’s father wiped the sweat from his forehead. He’d been about to sit down but shot back up. “Never heard of them.”
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Shi Yuxing nodded, then said to Gu Lingzhou: “Let’s go.”
“But if we’re talking the Chu surname—our whole district is full of Chus. If you need, I can ask around for you.”
Shi Yuxing turned back once more. “Thank you.”
The door closed. Gu Lingzhou spoke, his tone cautious: “Who’s Chu Ke?”
The two walked side by side, their steps unconsciously slowing.
“I don’t know. I’d like to know too.” Shi Yuxing looked up at him. Gu Lingzhou’s features were sharply defined—under the hospital’s overhead lights, his brow cast a small shadow. “You’ve never heard the name either?”
Found it in your house—if even Gu Lingzhou hasn’t heard of him, then this person is interesting. He’d asked Chu Xiaoyun’s father mainly to bait Gu Lingzhou, to see if he knew anything. But it seemed Gu Lingzhou was just as clueless.
“No. If you want to look into this person, I can help.” Gu Lingzhou meant what he said—he could investigate.
Such a lucky break? Though Shi Yuxing wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to find this person in the first place—maybe because of that glandular disease that vanished before it could be cured, or maybe because that torn document had been tucked behind Gu Lingzhou’s photo, instinctively making him feel something was off.
A thought stirred in Shi Yuxing’s mind. Since it was found in the Gu household, hidden that deep, if something did turn up, it might actually be good for Gu Lingzhou. “Then I’ll trouble you with that.”
Gu Lingzhou’s hand slid from his shoulder down to his wrist—the one that had been needle-punctured, now covered with a bandage. “Don’t be so reckless next time.”
Shi Yuxing teased: “What—feeling sorry for me? Didn’t realize our General Gu could be so sentimental.”
The palm pressed against the back of his hand was burning hot. Gu Lingzhou lowered his voice: “I feel sorry for my own wife. Nothing wrong with that.”
The beta’s pleased expression froze on his face, then dissolved into disbelief. His eyes darted sideways toward Gu Lingzhou, the warmth on his hand still present. He’d wanted to tease—”Were you jealous back in the ward?”—but the words stuck in his throat, unable to come out.
This guy… suddenly saying “there’s nothing wrong with feeling sorry for your wife”—the logic made sense, but coming from him? Was this really the same General Gu who’d run off on their wedding day? Had he been possessed by the two at home? No, that wasn’t it—then why was his heart racing so fast?
Neither realized when they’d stopped in front of Shi Yuxing’s office door. After a long pause, Shi Yuxing spoke: “I’ll probably have to stay here tonight. You can go handle your things.” He pressed his lips together, his palms sweating. Unbeknownst to him, Gu Lingzhou’s ears had already turned bright red.
With that, he let go of Gu Lingzhou’s hand, pushed open the door, and turned on the light. The office lit up instantly—and on the desk sat a cup of peach oolong fruit tea.
“I brought it.” The giver quickly fessed up. Gu Lingzhou added: “I thought you’d like it, so I bought it.”
The air was thick with an unspoken tension. Shi Yuxing was starting to wonder if his husband was actually falling for him—since when had he become so thoughtful, saying all these sweet words that made him second-guess everything?
“Big puppy—no, a wolf!—Big puppy—”
The phone left on the desk rang at the worst possible moment. Xiao Zhou’s timing couldn’t have been worse. Shi Yuxing blinked rapidly, pressing the volume button as low as it would go, his back stiff. His movements were jerky; Gu Lingzhou looked down at the phone in his hand.
“Who’s calling? With that ringtone?”
Leave a Reply