As soon as Xie Quan finished speaking, the professor walked into the classroom. The previously noisy classroom gradually quieted down. The professor tested the microphone volume and began the lecture.
The atmosphere in the medical school was very different from that of the law school. When Lu Nanyang had professional classes, the classroom was often lively with discussions on cases and legal provisions. The professor had to respond to all sorts of outrageous questions from students. But in the medical school, the atmosphere was much more solemn. Once class started, the large lecture hall was dead silent. Even occasional coughs were rare—only the sounds of scribbling notes and flipping pages could be heard.
Lu Nanyang had no choice but to give up trying to talk to the two behind him. He turned back around obediently and stared blankly at the blackboard.
But just a few seconds later, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
He pulled it out to check—it was a message from “Drowning”
Drowning: Can you cut it out already?
Drowning: Didn’t I already say not to appear in front of me again?!
Lu Nanyang looked at the screen and smiled. He hadn’t expected that he’d pushed Xie Quan so far that he was even using exclamation points—what a sense of achievement.
Xiang Nanyang: Well, that might be a bit hard. How about you transfer schools instead? We do go to the same school, after all. It’s only natural that we run into each other sometimes.
Xiang Nanyang: Besides, you might’ve said that, but I never agreed to it, did I? [Innocent.jpg]
Drowning: …
Drowning: What more do you want?
Drowning: I helped you with the case, I went to court. If you want something, just say it. Don’t hover around and act all cryptic.
Xiang Nanyang: In your world, does someone showing concern for you always mean they have an ulterior motive?
Lu Nanyang waited ten minutes, but this time, Xie Quan didn’t even send him a “……” reply. He just vanished.
Lu Nanyang had no choice but to put away his phone, prop his head on his hand, and pretend to listen to the lecture—might as well learn something extra.
He didn’t know where Xie Quan had stayed last night. He’d only heard that the post-disaster cleanup and accountability of that building went on until the second half of the night.
It was rare for something unexpected to happen during peaceful days. The community group chat had been talking about the incident until 1 or 2 a.m. Someone mentioned their own home had caught fire a few years ago, and it took three people several days to deal with the aftermath. But this young man lived alone, worked the whole night, and not once did any parents or relatives come help. It was heartbreaking to see.
Lu Nanyang had just come by hoping to run into him—he hadn’t expected that, even in this state, Xie Quan still showed up for class as usual.
He took advantage of the moment when the professor turned around on the podium to glance back at Xie Quan. The guy still looked calm and composed, head lowered, quietly taking notes in his book.
Shu Ziyi clearly wasn’t here for the lecture. She was fiddling with her pen while leaning toward Xie Quan, whispering something.
The girl really had no observational skills. With just a glance, Lu Nanyang could see Xie Quan’s hand shaking uncontrollably as he held his pen. His complexion was several shades paler than before.
Lu Nanyang even suspected that if Xie Quan were made to stand up right now, he’d immediately black out and collapse.
“Now, this is a part that many students tend to mix up,” the professor was saying on the podium. “The neurotransmitters released by sympathetic vasoconstrictor fibers are different from those released by the preganglionic fibers of the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. Nine out of ten of the papers I graded had this mistake. But special praise goes to Xie Quan—he’s never confused this part.”
Then the professor called out, “Xie Quan, come up and explain to everyone the differences between the sympathetic system nerve fibers.”
“Okay.” Xie Quan reflexively raised his head and responded.
He was the most well-known top student in the medical class. Being called on in class, even asked to come up and explain, was a common occurrence.
Especially in large public lectures like this—Xie Quan’s clear explanations saved the professor effort, and his good looks helped keep the students’ attention. It was a win-win for everyone.
But just as Xie Quan was about to stand up, someone suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“Let go,” Xie Quan said in a low voice, warning him.
Lu Nanyang instead tightened his grip, his fingers firmly holding Xie Quan’s hand. The warmth from his dry palm pressed against the back of Xie Quan’s hand.
At that moment, Lu Nanyang could feel Xie Quan’s fingers trembling uncontrollably.
“You’re not in any condition to do this,” Lu Nanyang said quietly.
Xie Quan didn’t respond. He forcefully shook off Lu Nanyang’s hand and stood up from his seat.
Just that one motion made his vision go black for a while before slowly clearing again.
But he must have hidden it well enough—Shu Ziyi didn’t notice anything wrong. She even clapped happily along with the others, cheering, “Go, Dr. Xie!”
Xie Quan gave her a smile, or more precisely, just slightly moved the corners of his lips, then headed toward the podium.
His legs felt so weak they barely listened to him. His throat constantly had a metallic, bloody taste he couldn’t suppress. Every part of his body ached, and worst of all, even though it was summer, he felt cold—like the sealed classroom was funneling wind at him from all directions.
He didn’t need to look back to feel Lu Nanyang’s gaze stuck to him like glue. It made him feel sick.
At this moment, what kind of expression was Lu Nanyang using to look at him?
Pity? Sympathy? Mockery? Or schadenfreude?
Under that gaze, a surge of competitiveness rose in Xie Quan. He couldn’t lose—he wouldn’t lose. At the very least, he wouldn’t let Lu Nanyang see him lose.
The professor smiled and stepped aside for Xie Quan, walking off to the side to sip from a thermos. Xie Quan stepped up to the podium and opened his textbook with a smile. “Alright, I’ll just take a few moments. This topic actually isn’t too complicated…”
However, halfway through his explanation, Xie Quan’s throat suddenly began to itch uncontrollably. It felt like ants crawling from his throat down to his lungs, and his chest was filled with a fine, stabbing pain.
He cleared his throat. “The human nervous system can be divided into the somatic nervous system and the autonomic nervous system based on their target distributions. The autonomic nervous system is also known as the vegetative nervous system…”
His voice was still too hoarse. This wouldn’t do.
That was the last clear thought in Xie Quan’s mind before he suddenly lost control and collapsed forward. The world went black, and he fainted in front of the podium.
……
When he woke up, the first thing Xie Quan noticed was the familiar smell of hypochlorous acid and alcohol.
He was very familiar with this scent—whether at the infirmary or at home, it was always filled with that pungent, distant smell. That scent made him feel safe, as if it could make him just a bit cleaner.
He tried to open his eyes, but he was far too exhausted. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, so he just lay there in a half-conscious state, listening to the voices nearby.
“We’ve checked his lungs and heart—no major issues. His body’s just completely overdrawn. Not only does he have hypoglycemia, but his liver and kidney functions are also a bit off.”
“What about his stomach?” someone asked. “I noticed he’s been vomiting or dry heaving a lot.”
“There’s a mild gastric ulcer, but probably not as serious as you described.” There was the sound of pages flipping. “Does he have any other medical history, or is he on any medication?”
There was a pause. “I’m not too sure about his medical history, but he has been taking something called…”
That part was too muffled to hear clearly.
He drifted in and out of consciousness, missing some of the conversation before catching it again.
“…Then that’s probably it. Diazepam has a lot of side effects, including nausea and dizziness. If he’s really been taking it in large doses over a long period like you said, well…”
By that point, Xie Quan’s consciousness faded again. He didn’t know how much time passed. When he came to, the light pressing against his eyelids had disappeared.
He opened his eyes. The hospital room was completely dark, the ceiling hidden in shadows. The curtains hadn’t been drawn, and the gray sky outside was clearly visible. The rain had stopped, but water droplets still clung to the window frame, slowly gathering together.
“You’re awake? How do you feel?”
The sudden voice startled Xie Quan. He turned his head sharply and found Lu Nanyang leaning against the side of his bed. He was wrapped in a jacket, yawning as he straightened up. Who knew how long he’d been there?
“What the hell are you doing, sneaking around?” Xie Quan glared at him. “You didn’t even turn on the light—trying to scare someone to death?”
Lu Nanyang stood up and reached over to switch on the light with a click, then stretched lazily. “You were sleeping so soundly—I didn’t want to wake you.”
Having had Lu Nanyang stuck to him like a piece of gum all day, Xie Quan wished he’d just vanish already. “Not necessary! Just—”
He didn’t finish shouting “get out” before a wave of dizziness hit him again. He reached for the bed frame to steady himself, but his wrist gave out, grasping at air.
In that flash of a moment, Xie Quan even thought: If this bed were a little higher, maybe I could’ve just smashed my head and died. That’d be better.
But the bed wasn’t high, and he didn’t hit the floor. As if he’d predicted it, Lu Nanyang was right there, catching him at just the right spot.
Xie Quan’s head smacked into Lu Nanyang’s chest—hard. The impact really hurt, which showed how little strength he had left. He was falling solely under the force of gravity.
His breathing was rapid, sweat dripping from his forehead, and his head trembled uncontrollably against Lu Nanyang’s chest.
“Are you cold?” Lu Nanyang immediately pulled the blanket over him like wrapping a dumpling. But Xie Quan shoved him hard. Caught off guard, Lu stumbled backward with the blanket.
“You—” Lu Nanyang started, but stopped when he saw Xie Quan frantically patting himself down. But he was now in a hospital gown with no pockets.
“My medicine?” Xie Quan raised his voice, glaring at Lu Nanyang. “Where’s my medicine?”
He’d only taken it once that morning before heading out. Then he fainted during class and hadn’t had any since.
Lu Nanyang frowned. “The doctor said your condition is because of prolonged use of psychiatric meds—”
“I am the doctor!” Xie Quan cut him off furiously, yanking open the drawer of the bedside table and rummaging through it.
Nothing. Every drawer was empty.
“Xie Quan! Calm down!” Lu Nanyang grabbed his arm, using force to pin him down. “Do you have a death wish?”
“I’ll die if you don’t give me my meds!” Xie Quan shouted.
Lu Nanyang’s brow furrowed. With a sudden move, he pinned Xie Quan onto the hospital bed.
In the midst of the struggle, someone accidentally hit the light switch. With a quiet click, the room plunged into darkness again. The sounds of Xie Quan’s labored breathing, the tremble of his skin, and the heat from their tightly clasped hands—all of it became even more tangible.
“Give it to me. Now,” Xie Quan let out a whimper like a dying animal.
“No meds,” Lu Nanyang said. “But I still owe you something else. Want that instead?”
