When Qi Min looked up, he realized they had arrived at the office.
Wei Wenhua glanced at him briefly without responding and walked into the office on his own.
Maybe he didn’t hear because Qi Min’s voice was too soft.
Still, Qi Min couldn’t help but notice how much Wei Wenhua’s attitude had changed.
He used to be warm and attentive, even helping Qi Min to the bathroom. But now, except for his initial insistence on performing the surgery, Wei Wenhua was distant. Even when Qi Min limped around, clearly in discomfort, the doctor didn’t offer any help.
And those words earlier—although they were blunt truths about the darker side of hospital life—seemed so out of character for someone as kind-hearted and warm as Doctor Wei.
Qi Min mulled over this as he followed Wei Wenhua into the office.
The first thing he did was take in his surroundings.
The doctor’s office was far from the spacious, comfortable space he’d imagined. Instead, it felt cramped.
The small room was stuffed with a dozen desks, most of which were cluttered with A4 papers, files, and water bottles piled haphazardly in front of desktop computers.
A sink was installed by the door, with a half-used bottle of hand soap perched on it, and the aisle was cluttered with empty boxes that once held electronic equipment.
The tidiest area was probably the row of filing cabinets by the window. Through their glass doors, Qi Min could see neatly stacked files.
Oh, and Wei Wenhua’s desk. It stood out with its impeccable organization—files and papers neatly propped up by bookends, completely out of place in the rugged, chaotic atmosphere of the office.
In such a cramped space, it would be difficult to move if every desk was occupied.
Fortunately, the office was empty now, which helped, though the room still felt stifling.
With the air conditioning on and the windows sealed shut on a hot day, the lack of ventilation made breathing a little uncomfortable.
As Qi Min glanced around, nearly feeling claustrophobic, Wei Wenhua broke the silence.
“When I examined you at the clinic earlier, your fracture line had mostly healed. But we’ll still need an X-ray to confirm and use it as a reference for the surgical incision.”
While speaking, Wei Wenhua reached for a set of forms from one of his neatly organized shelves, swiftly marking and signing them.
Qi Min’s gaze lingered on the doctor’s left hand as it moved across the papers. Before he knew it, the admission and examination forms were ready.
After signing his own name and filling in his details, Qi Min couldn’t help but worry if he had enough money in his account to cover the hospitalization and surgery fees.
He shuddered at the thought of surviving the nightmare of his school, only to have to return for his bank card because he couldn’t afford the medical bills—a grimly absurd scenario.
And there was no guarantee he’d be as lucky next time to meet the little girl who had guided him earlier. Without her, he’d probably be done for.
With the forms in hand, Qi Min rushed out to complete his tests, not wanting to waste any time.
As he passed by the doctor sleeping in the hallway, the breeze from his hurried steps blew the blanket off the man’s face.
Qi Min mumbled a quick apology and darted away.
The sleeping doctor didn’t respond.
Even with his face exposed to the overhead lights, he remained motionless.
His face was peaceful, almost serene, and his chest didn’t even rise or fall as if he wasn’t breathing at all.
Wei Wenhua stepped out of the office, watching Qi Min’s retreating figure.
His gaze then shifted to the sleeping doctor on the bench. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
He leaned down, picked up the blanket, and gently draped it back over the man’s face.
By the time Qi Min finished his X-ray, bloodwork, and other tests, it was already 8 p.m.
After paying his admission deposit at the front desk, he checked his medical card balance. Seeing that he had enough left to cover the surgery—as long as there were no unexpected ICU expenses—he let out a huge sigh of relief.
Thanks, Mom, for being so generous with the money!
Feeling much more at ease, Qi Min swaggered back to his hospital room, reports in hand.
The room was empty except for a tall figure standing by the window.
Qi Min froze for a moment when he recognized the familiar silhouette.
“Doctor Wei… you’re still on duty?”
Wei Wenhua turned from the window and said, “Yeah, I had some work to finish and thought I’d check in on you while I was here.”
Taking the reports, he flipped through them one by one.
After finishing, he handed them back to Qi Min and nodded. “Everything looks good. You can have the surgery tomorrow. Get ready… Oh, by the way, do you want local anesthesia or general?”
Qi Min hesitated.
Wei Wenhua added, “For a lower leg fracture like yours, local anesthesia is usually sufficient. Other than some pain when we remove the screws at the end, you shouldn’t feel much. But if you’re nervous, general anesthesia is also an option.”
The thought of being awake while someone operated on his leg made Qi Min uncomfortable.
But he wasn’t entirely at ease with general anesthesia either.
He glanced at Wei Wenhua, who was staring absently out the window.
After some thought, Qi Min opted for general anesthesia.
Wei Wenhua turned to him, smiling faintly.
“If you’re going with general anesthesia, you’ll need to stop eating and drinking from now on,” he said.
“If a patient eats before surgery, the anesthetic can cause the stomach and esophagus to relax, leading to food reflux. This can block the airway and cause choking… It’s a serious risk!”
He repeated the warning several times until Qi Min grew visibly anxious. Then Wei Wenhua chuckled.
“Don’t worry too much. Screw removal for fractures is a minor procedure. As long as the screws aren’t displaced or embedded, there’s usually no issue.”
“If your recovery goes well, you’ll be back to playing basketball or whatever else you enjoy in no time.”
“… Oh, okay,” Qi Min mumbled.
Thinking back to his earlier frantic running, Qi Min felt a pang of guilt as he picked up the now-cold glass of water from the bedside table. He brought it to his lips, ready to take a sip.
But when he glanced up, he noticed Wei Wenhua staring at him.
Mid-drink, Qi Min paused. Instead of drinking, he merely wet his lips with the water before putting the glass back down.
Wei Wenhua: “…”
Qi Min: “…”
The awkward silence was broken when Wei Wenhua spoke again, repeating his earlier instructions. “It’s a minor surgery, and I expect it to be scheduled for tomorrow morning. Remember, no eating or drinking.”
With that, he turned and left the room.
After Wei Wenhua left, Qi Min stood by the bed, staring blankly for a moment. Then he walked over to the spot where Wei Wenhua had been standing earlier and looked out the window.
The hospital room was on the first floor, and outside the window were shrubs and the neighboring hospital building. Everything seemed normal. The sky was even dotted with stars.
While waiting for his test results earlier, Qi Min had specifically gone to the hospital entrance to check. The strange, dense fog that had surrounded the hospital earlier was gone.
The road outside the hospital was bustling with cars, and a few street vendors stood under the bright streetlights by their carts, appearing completely at ease.
Out of caution, Qi Min didn’t step out of the hospital. He just observed briefly from the entrance before returning inside.
So, what exactly had Wei Wenhua been staring at?
… It couldn’t have been the stars, right?
After some thought, Qi Min pulled the curtains closed.
After the day’s series of terrifying events and the exhausting examinations, running around on his injured leg had drained him.
He lay down on the bed and soon drifted off to sleep.
In the middle of the night, Qi Min was awakened by a faint whistling sound near his ear.
… Someone was whistling?
No, that couldn’t be right. He was the only one in the room. Where could the whistling be coming from?
It must be the wind…
Frowning, an inexplicable unease gripped Qi Min. He forced his eyelids open, which felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds.
The room was dim, except for the bright light above his bed. When his vision cleared, he was greeted by shadowy figures looming nearby.
The whistling grew sharper. Someone was definitely whistling.
And they were standing right in front of him.
Dizzy and disoriented, Qi Min’s gaze drifted slowly to the foot of his bed.
There stood a man in a wrinkled white lab coat, holding a pair of bloody forceps. Another figure, wearing a floral headscarf, sat slumped in a chair, head hanging low and completely motionless. Further away, a nurse lay on the ground.
From Qi Min’s angle, he could only see the nurse’s upper body. Her arms stretched toward the doorway, as if she had been crawling for help before stopping forever.
Qi Min swallowed dryly and shakily removed the oxygen mask that had somehow appeared on his face. His vision finally sharpened.
“You’re awake,” a voice said.
Wei Wenhua stood at the foot of the bed, unmasked, staring down at Qi Min with an expression of sick delight. His face was splattered with blood, and his eyes glimmered with a twisted, ecstatic light.
Where… am I?
… Has the surgery already started?
Qi Min’s sluggish mind struggled to piece things together, memories from before he fell asleep slowly returning.
No drinking… general anesthesia… surgery scheduled for tomorrow…
The light from above illuminated only his bed; the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness.
Qi Min stiffened as he tried to move, realizing he was strapped down and immobilized.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something bloody.
He shifted his gaze, and there it was—his own left leg.
“D-Doctor Wei… what are you doing…?”
Suppressing the terror bubbling within him, Qi Min tried his best to stay calm. His voice, however, came out hoarse and strained, as if his throat had been scraped raw.
Wei Wenhua tilted his head, his handsome face twisted with a sinister expression. “Can’t you tell? I’m performing your surgery.”
Qi Min: “… Oh, I see. Thanks…”
What the hell?! Someone save me!!!
Wei Wenhua seemed amused by Qi Min’s panicked expression and attempted to soothe him. “Don’t worry. Although a few of the screws had shifted and embedded themselves in the bone, I’ve removed them for you. I had to remove some bone tissue in the process, but it’s all stitched up now…”
“See? No problem at all!”
He grabbed Qi Min’s mangled leg with his bloodied, gloved hands and yanked it up, holding it directly in front of Qi Min’s face.
Qi Min: “…”
… I think I just broke my leg again.
Weakly, Qi Min murmured, “… Please don’t hold it so close. I get queasy at the sight of blood. Thanks.”
“…”
Silently, Wei Wenhua lowered the leg and crossed his arms, staring disapprovingly at Qi Min. “Didn’t I tell you not to engage in any strenuous activity? Why didn’t you follow my advice? Look at your leg now—it’s ruined!”
Qi Min: “… Sorry. A lunatic was chasing me, and I accidentally ran a little. Really sorry for the trouble, Doctor.”
Oh my God, someone save me!
Wei Wenhua stared at Qi Min for a moment before breaking into a smile. “You’re still such a liar, just like before!”
Qi Min: “… I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”
When you’re powerless, just surrender. Survival comes first, even if it’s humiliating!
Qi Min’s sorrowful expression seemed to soften Wei Wenhua’s mood.
Chuckling, Wei Wenhua said, “Fine. Considering all the fun you’ve brought me, I won’t waste any more time. I’ll send you off now.”
Qi Min: “…”
Wait, aren’t villains supposed to die because they talk too much? Why aren’t you following the script?!
The Author has something to say:
Qi Min: Turns a deaf ear to warnings.
Shang Jingshui (earnestly): “No drinking water.”
Qi Min (nodding vigorously): “Got it, got it!” (picks up the glass and chugs a big gulp)
Shang Jingshui: “…”
