The hospital’s revolving glass door turned, and Shi Yuxing was still savoring the memory of last night’s late-night snack. The next moment, he looked up—and froze in place.
An officer in a crisp uniform was leaning against a pillar in the lobby, eyes closed. Dark circles shadowed his eyes—clearly, he hadn’t rested well the night before. But with a face like his, he naturally drew sidelong glances and envious stares from passersby.
What was he doing here?
Shi Yuxing didn’t know whether to walk or stop. After a few seconds of deliberation, he decided to head for the elevator. But just then, the man resting against the pillar opened his eyes and met his nervous gaze head-on. The deep, probing look in those eyes crawled from his ankles all the way to the top of his head—as if the more he breathed, the tighter it would grip.
Since he’d already been spotted, Shi Yuxing stopped hiding. He turned on his heel to face Gu Lingzhou, putting on the basic concern a wife should have for her husband.
“Are you sick? Why are you at the hospital?”
Gu Lingzhou’s eyes were clear, black and white, but the whites were faintly threaded with red. He stared without moving, and even if Shi Yuxing hadn’t done anything terrible, that gaze alone would make his skin crawl and his back run cold—let alone the fact that he was secretly keeping two men at home behind his back.
“If you’re not going to say anything, I’m heading to my office.” Shi Yuxing instinctively wanted to escape. There were too many eyes and ears here—journalists and random passersby might take photos and post them online, stirring up trouble.
Gu Lingzhou reached out and grabbed his wrist, applying a bit of force to pull him into the stairwell. Shi Yuxing stumbled two steps, barely regained his balance, and then ran straight into a solid back.
He was about to curse while holding his nose when Gu Lingzhou pulled down his collar and squinted at the mostly faded red marks on his neck. Even as a beta, Shi Yuxing’s skin was as fair and smooth as an omega’s. The faint reddish impressions stood out against his skin, creating a striking visual contrast. Shi Yuxing’s back was thin, and with each breath, the pulse in his neck was faintly visible—even clearer than it had been on screen the night before.
Being pulled down by Gu Lingzhou without warning made Shi Yuxing’s heart race—not with excitement, but with alarm. He pushed the unreasonable man away and tugged his collar back up. “Did you drag me in here just to look at my neck? If you weren’t my husband, I could sue you for sexual harassment.”
The beautiful beta’s lashes trembled as he stared back in silent standoff.
Gu Lingzhou frowned, his thin lips parting. “Anyone else, no. But I’m your husband—I can look.”
“We’re in a hospital. Show some discretion, alright?” Shi Yuxing covered his neck. Catching the wariness in Shi Yuxing’s eyes, Gu Lingzhou lowered his gaze and fumbled in his pocket. Following his movement, Shi Yuxing’s eyes drifted to his lower body. Mm, not small—that was part of why he’d agreed to marry him in the first place.
Gu Lingzhou pulled out a tube of ointment and looked up. “This is for insect bites. I used it a lot in the military—it’s very effective. Remember to turn on the repellent at night.” With that, his eyes curved, the icy glaciers at their depths melting away. Shi Yuxing felt as though he’d caught a glimpse of the innocence and affection belonging to a younger man.
His hand was enveloped by a larger palm, and the heart that had long lain dormant in this marriage began to beat again.
As gentle as the wind, as sweet as sugar.
Shi Yuxing tightened his grip on the ointment and pulled his hand back, heat rising to his cheeks. Such a small gesture wasn’t enough to earn forgiveness. He hadn’t forgotten how Gu Lingzhou had exchanged glances with Wen Lan at the banquet—even if the 32-year-old Gu Lingzhou had explained, there was still a stone lodged in his heart.
Gu Lingzhou suddenly stepped closer. There was a window at the stairwell landing; the morning sunlight poured in, casting Gu Lingzhou’s striking bone structure and straight nose against the wall. Their silhouettes stood close together, like newlyweds.
Gu Lingzhou reached out, and his hair felt a light weight. “There’s something in your hair.”
“In this lifetime, I will only ever love you. The 24-year-old me loves you. The 18-year-old me loves you.”
Shi Yuxing closed his eyes. Something flashed past.
“The 24-year-old me loves you…”
His tousled hair was brushed aside.
“The 24-year-old me loves you.”
Through the gaps between his fingers, those tea-colored pupils could see the slight upward curve of Gu Lingzhou’s lips. The 24-year-old Gu Lingzhou was fixing his hair, a gentle smile on his lips. Just as Shi Yuxing was still immersed in the tender atmosphere, the ringtone from his pocket interrupted everything.
“Hello?” He answered, meeting Gu Lingzhou’s gaze, his brows furrowing deeper. “Okay, give me a moment—I’ll be right there to handle it.”
Shi Yuxing put away his phone and was about to dash upstairs when Gu Lingzhou caught his wrist. “What’s wrong?”
Shi Yuxing’s expression was complicated. After a few seconds of thought, he grabbed Gu Lingzhou and pulled him along as they ran up the stairs.
…
Gu Lingzhou watched as Shi Yuxing changed into a plain jacket, then put on a cap and mask, wrapping himself up so thoroughly that only his peach-blossom eyes were visible. The whole sequence left him thoroughly confused.
“What are you doing?”
Shi Yuxing adjusted himself in front of the mirror by the sink, tucking all his loose hair into the cap. From head to toe, there was no trace of Dr. Shi left—he looked more like a paparazzo.
“To avoid getting caught. After I say my piece, people will definitely follow up with questions. When the time’s right, you come out and take charge—got it?”
Before Gu Lingzhou could respond, Shi Yuxing pressed the handle and stepped out first. Outside was a crowd of onlookers, and it wasn’t hard for Shi Yuxing to blend in.
“Why isn’t my son’s name on the screen? Hurry up and put my son’s name up there too!” An elderly woman with graying temples clung to a doctor’s sleeve, refusing to let go, cursing and hurling insults in a local dialect.
The nurse in a blue surgical cap and deep purple delivery uniform looked like she was about to cry, her eyes red as she tried to explain: “The screen in the delivery room shows the patient’s information and the newborn’s information. The person having the surgery is the one who’s pregnant—we can’t put unrelated people’s names up there!”
But the old woman wouldn’t listen to reason. Between curses, she demanded the nurse put her son’s name on the screen too, as if that display was being broadcast to a global audience. You’d think it was some kind of honor roll.
“Even the barren planets put my son’s name up! Why won’t this imperial planet do it? I thought this was a good hospital—can’t even satisfy such a simple request! What kind of good hospital is this? What kind of good doctors are these?”
In the midst of the chaotic atmosphere, a low voice suddenly cut through the crowd: “This is utterly ridiculous. A woman is in there giving birth—of course the screen shows the mother’s information. For all anyone knows, you’d think her son was the one in there suffering through labor.”
And naturally, once someone broke the ice, others with the same view chimed in. Since ancient times, public opinion has always been swayed by the masses—or rather, by the first few voices.
“Exactly! This old lady is so unreasonable—and she’s bringing up standards from other planets? Fine, then go live on those planets and don’t come to our imperial planet!”
“Picking on a young nurse—shameless!”
“Apologize to the nurse right now!”
The old woman argued back forcefully: “Pah! What’s it to you? What did I do wrong? This is how you imperial planet people bully an old woman like me? I’ll call the police on all of you!”
“Old woman, what are you even doing on the imperial planet? The best hospital here won’t tolerate your deranged slander.”
“If you look down on the imperial planet, then just go back! We don’t waste our best medical resources on bad old people who act entitled.”
With justice on their side, more and more voices demanded the old woman apologize to both the doctor and the mother in labor.
“You—all of you!” The old woman was no pushover, either. Seeing she had no ground to stand on, she was about to collapse and feign injury for compensation when her son rushed over and caught her. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
The old woman thought she’d found her savior, shot a glare at the crowd, and started complaining: “Son, these people are bullying your old mother—they said they were going to hit me! You have to stand up for me, son!”
The moment those words left her mouth, the crowd stirred. Shi Yuxing turned his head and sure enough, Gu Lingzhou appeared—his tall figure immediately becoming the focal point, not to mention his uniform. The crowd parted to make way for him. Gu Lingzhou’s gaze swept through the crowd, instantly locking onto Shi Yuxing—the one who had steered public opinion. He walked over slowly and stood behind him, like a pillar holding up the sky.
With a distinguished general now among them, the crowd’s confidence soared. Everyone spoke their mind.
“Bullshit! You know exactly what you did, you old hag!”
“The General’s here now—I bet this old woman’s the one who belongs in that delivery room!”
“Brother, don’t listen to your mom’s nonsense. Your name’s about to end up on that delivery room screen, all because of her.”
“Just take your mom back to your barren planet—it’ll be better for you, your wife, and your kid.”
Shi Yuxing didn’t even need to step in anymore; one after another, people said all that needed to be said. The old woman’s son had clearly noticed Gu Lingzhou too—terrified by his imposing presence, he stammered: “Mom, go home. Stop causing trouble.”
The old woman froze for a second, then her voice immediately turned tearful as she slapped the ground and wailed: “Unfilial son! Unfilial son! Ganging up with strangers to bully your own mother! I should never have given birth to you…”
Her shrieks were grating and hoarse, making everyone’s heads ache.
Embarrassed, the son apologized profusely to the doctors and nurses, then hoisted his old mother onto his back and fled the scene.
As the commotion died down and the crowd dispersed, a few people asked Gu Lingzhou for photos. After a moment’s thought, he agreed.
Shi Yuxing turned to Lin Anran, who had called him for help. “You okay?”
Lin Anran took off his glasses, wiped the lenses, and quickly put them back on. “I’m fine. Was that Gu Lingzhou?” His gaze toward Gu Lingzhou was full of contempt. He pulled Shi Yuxing closer and whispered, “What’s he doing here? I only called you for backup—did you report this all the way up to the General?”
Shi Yuxing could tell from his expression that he wasn’t really fine—something was off about him.
“Did you think I had someone fake a Gu Lingzhou? I ran into him downstairs and we came up together.”
With that, he followed Lin Anran’s gaze. Gu Lingzhou was crouching down, taking a photo with a little girl who had an IV drip taped to her hand, then gently returning her to her mother’s arms.
As if sensing his gaze, Gu Lingzhou looked up, a lingering smile still on his lips. When their eyes met, the curve of his mouth widened.
Shi Yuxing’s heart skipped a beat. Damn it—that smile was too sweet.
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