Two hours normally passed in the blink of an eye, but for Xia Xinghe on the plane, it felt painfully long. He checked the time every two minutes, silently praying for it to pass faster—faster.
At 5 PM, the plane finally landed.
As soon as he exited the terminal, Xia Xinghe hailed a cab straight to the hospital and finally saw his father, who had already fallen asleep on the hospital bed.
The last time Xia Xinghe had come home was six months ago, right after finishing his last novel. Now, after half a year apart, his father seemed to have aged significantly, and the sight made Xia Xinghe’s heart clench.
The wrinkles on his face could no longer be hidden, and his once-proud black hair was now streaked with white. Worst of all, a section near the crown of his head had been shaved clean and was wrapped in thick layers of gauze—stark and shocking.
His father was asleep, but not peacefully. His brows were tightly furrowed.
Xia Xinghe froze for a moment, then quickly pulled his mother aside into the hallway. “Mom, what happened to Dad? Where did he hit his head?”
“He fell on the stairs and hit his head,” Qiu Guiyue sighed, carefully explaining what had happened. “Last night, your dad came home in a fury—said some student wasn’t listening. I tried to get him to calm down, but he wouldn’t. He just ate a few bites and wanted to go back to the classroom. But not even ten seconds after he left, I heard a loud thump. He’d fallen on the stairs and hit his head on the railing.”
Xia Xinghe quickly asked, “How is he now? What did the doctor say?”
“The wound on his head isn’t serious—didn’t hurt anything vital,” Qiu Guiyue said with a weary sigh. “But the doctor suspects possible cerebral hemorrhage. He just had a CT scan this morning, but we haven’t gotten the results yet.”
Now that her only son had returned, the tension Qiu Guiyue had been holding in finally found a release. She grabbed Xia Xinghe and started rambling emotionally: “Honestly, your dad is just too stubborn. He’s almost fifty and still refuses to give up on those students—insisted on being a homeroom teacher. Fine, let him do it, but he refuses to admit he’s getting old. Always butting heads with students, working from morning till night, constantly angry.”
“His high blood pressure hasn’t been well controlled. He’s always complaining of dizziness. I told him to get checked out, but he kept saying he was too busy.”
“Sigh, I kept saying if he kept this up, something bad would happen sooner or later. And look—less than two days later, here we are.”
“He’s only fifty, not even retired yet. Hasn’t had a single day of peace. If something really happened to him—”
“Mom, he’s going to be okay,” Xia Xinghe quickly interrupted, not wanting her to spiral into worst-case scenarios.
He had never seen his mother so talkative and worried before. He knew she was scared, so he softened his tone to comfort her. “Don’t think the worst, Mom. The results haven’t come out yet. Dad’s always been good to his students—good people get good returns. He’ll be fine.”
“…I hope so,” Qiu Guiyue sighed heavily, as if she were about to collapse. “This happened so suddenly, I really don’t know what to do.”
The wait for the results felt eternal, but thankfully, it didn’t last too long.
At 6 PM, the results came back. A doctor came into the ward and asked, “Who’s the family of Xia Anguo?”
“Here!” Xia Xinghe responded a step faster than Qiu Guiyue. “Doctor, I’m Xia Anguo’s son.”
“Alright,” the doctor glanced at him and said, “Come with me,” then led him back to the office.
As soon as he entered the office, Xia Xinghe anxiously asked, “Dr. Fan, how is my dad doing now?”
The doctor pulled up the scans on the computer and said, “It’s a bit better than we expected, but there’s still some intracranial bleeding. Also, we discovered a few other issues—here, let me show you.”
As he spoke, the doctor pointed at the scan with a pen. “Look here, this is the bleeding point…”
There were some medical terms Xia Xinghe didn’t understand, but the doctor tried to explain in simpler language. Xia Xinghe quickly grasped the general idea.
His father had hit his head when he fell, which caused some intracranial bleeding. It wasn’t severe and didn’t require surgery—just rest, and it would absorb on its own. However, during the imaging exam, the doctor also found that his father had a mild cerebral infarction, and the fall was a warning sign of that.
A cerebral infarction is commonly known as a stroke, and if not treated in time, it could leave serious aftereffects or even lead to death. Xia Xinghe understood the gravity of the situation and quickly asked, “What should we do? Does he need surgery?”
The doctor replied, “Fortunately, it was caught early, and the blockage isn’t serious. For now, we’ll focus on stopping the bleeding. After it’s under control, we’ll begin medication to dissolve the clot. It should be fine.”
Xia Xinghe let out a breath of relief. “…Thank you, doctor.”
“But you’ll need to be more careful going forward,” the doctor added. “Your father is getting older, and the risk of various illnesses will increase. Make sure to bring him in yearly for vascular treatment, keep his diet regulated, and help him maintain a healthy daily routine…”
The doctor listed many precautions. Xia Xinghe nodded and remembered them all, then went back and relayed them to Qiu Guiyue.
At first, Qiu Guiyue was still worried. Xia Xinghe called the attending doctor over to explain things again, which finally reassured her. Still, she refused to leave Xia Anguo’s side, gripping his hand tightly.
A few hours passed. By the time it was fully dark outside, Xia Anguo finally woke up.
His fingers moved slightly, his eyes opened in a daze, and he let out a faint, confused sound.
Qiu Guiyue noticed immediately and hurriedly called Xia Xinghe over, “Son, come quick, your dad’s awake!”
“Dad,” Xia Xinghe rushed over. “How are you feeling?”
After all, he had hit his head, so Xia Anguo was still groggy. He stared blankly at the two people before him, his lips trembling but unable to speak. Qiu Guiyue’s eyes turned red as she called, “honey.” That seemed to wake Xia Anguo a bit more. He reached out and touched her arm, calling her, “Ah Yue…”
His trembling hand and slightly hoarse voice made Qiu Guiyue tear up. “You’re finally awake. You scared me half to death.”
Xia Anguo smiled to comfort her, tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m fine. See? I’m okay.”
Qiu Guiyue gave him a glare, both angry and helpless. “Fine? You’re as stubborn as a mule, always trying to act tough. I told you not to lose your temper with your students, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m telling you, once this class graduates, you are not allowed to be a homeroom teacher anymore, got it? And also—”
She started scolding again. Knowing he was in the wrong, Xia Anguo just laughed and tried to change the subject. Glancing to the side, he finally noticed Xia Xinghe, who had been standing nearby the whole time.
“Oh, isn’t this Xinghe?” He eagerly said, “My son’s back? Come here, let your dad have a look.”
“Tut, you’re still so skinny. You need to eat more.”
“And what’s this? You dyed your hair blonde? Quite fashionable, huh?”
A few months had passed, and although Xia Xinghe had cut his hair a few times, he’d kept the original style. Only the tip of his small ponytail was still golden—a unique and cute look. Of course, that was Xia Xinghe’s own aesthetic. Qiu Guiyue didn’t quite agree.
She had noticed the hairstyle as soon as he returned, but she’d been too worried about Xia Anguo to mention it until now. With Xia Anguo bringing it up, she quickly added, “Right, I haven’t even said anything to you yet. What’s with this hairstyle? A little ponytail is one thing, but you dyed your hair too? You better not be mixing with bad influences…”
Qiu Guiyue meant well, but once she started nagging, she wouldn’t stop. Xia Xinghe gave her a pleading look, then turned toward the hospital bed, silently begging Xia Anguo for help.
Xia Anguo winked at him, gave a “good luck” expression, then closed his eyes and pretended to be too tired—blissfully heading back to sleep.
Xia Xinghe: “…”
That “lecture session” lasted until 11 p.m. Xia Anguo was still in recovery and didn’t have much energy, so he quickly fell back asleep. Xia Xinghe and Qiu Guiyue took turns staying with him overnight—Xia Xinghe for the first half, Qiu Guiyue for the second.
Late at night, everything around quieted down. Xia Xinghe told Qiu Guiyue to rest first, then sat alone on the companion bed, finally getting a moment to breathe.
This afternoon had truly been chaotic. His father was just admitted, and there were many procedures to handle. He and Qiu Guiyue were running around paying fees, signing forms, and constantly monitoring vital signs, not to mention pushing Xia Anguo around for tests.
They hadn’t even had time to sit down or drink water all afternoon. Now that he finally had a break, Xia Xinghe pulled out his phone, only to find that it had died at some point.
He dug out his charger, found an outlet, and plugged it in. It took a while for the phone to power back on.
When the screen lit up, the first thing that popped up was a message from his carrier. Xia Xinghe swiped it away and then saw three missed calls—all from Bai Qingzhou.
One in the afternoon, one in the evening, and one just half an hour ago.
Xia Xinghe paused, then several WeChat messages popped up as well.
[Bai: Did you arrive?]
[Bai: ?]
…
[Bai: If you see this, reply.]
The evening had been so hectic that Xia Xinghe hadn’t had a moment to look at his phone. Seeing Bai Qingzhou’s screen full of messages, his heart softened instantly. He knew Bai Qingzhou was worried and quickly sent a reply.
[Little Bamboo: I’m home now. I arrived at 5 p.m.]
[Little Bamboo: I was busy all afternoon and didn’t notice my phone had died. Sorry about that.]
[Little Bamboo: My dad’s doing much better now. Thank you so much for today.]
…..
The days that followed were still hectic.
All of Xia Xinghe’s relatives lived in the same city. Upon hearing that Xia Anguo was ill, they came to visit one after another. While taking care of his father, Xia Xinghe also had to receive guests, often too busy the entire day to even touch his phone.
He thought to himself that luckily, he was a freelancer. If he had a job like Bai Qingzhou’s where he had to be on-call at all times, he wouldn’t dare be so carefree about leaving his phone unattended.
But while he considered work matters, he didn’t think about someone else quietly waiting for his message.
…..
It had been a week since Xia Xinghe left.
Bai Qingzhou was feeling a little irritated.
The day Xia Xinghe left, he had sent him several messages, but got no response. It wasn’t until late at night that Xia Xinghe finally replied with just two very brief sentences, like even one more word would have been too much.
Bai Qingzhou couldn’t bring himself to keep messaging. He stayed silent over the next few days. Unexpectedly, Xia Xinghe seemed to vanish completely, not even replying to later messages—even when Bai Qingzhou hinted that he was a doctor and could help if there were any issues. Still, Xia Xinghe’s responses remained cold and distant.
He really was like a kite with a cut string—gone without hesitation.
After work, Bai Qingzhou returned home and fed Bamboo by himself. The bowl was overflowing with dog food, but Bamboo grunted discontentedly. Bai Qingzhou shot it a cold glance, and only then did the dog reluctantly begin to eat.
As it ate, it kept whining pitifully: “Awooo…”
Of course Bai Qingzhou knew what it was thinking—Xia Xinghe hadn’t come to keep it company in a week, and it wasn’t used to it.
He wasn’t used to it either.
Xia Xinghe had left in such a hurry, leaving so many questions unanswered.
Why had he brought up breaking up in the first place?
Was there some misunderstanding between them when they were dating?
And… did he still love him?
After Xia Xinghe left, Bai Qingzhou had thought countless times about asking him directly. He’d typed out messages only to delete them, his finger hovering above the send button, but he could never bring himself to press it. The pain of being dumped without explanation still lingered like a wall in his heart. The moment Xia Xinghe showed the slightest distance, Bai Qingzhou lost all pride and couldn’t bring himself to reach out again.
Suddenly, Bai Qingzhou remembered what Yan Cai had said: “Don’t make him cry again.”
He could perform high-risk surgeries for countless patients, but he couldn’t understand the meaning behind that one simple sentence. He could study cardiac surgery down to the last detail and still fail to understand Xia Xinghe’s heart.
Right—
Yan Cai.
Bai Qingzhou abruptly stood up, walked to the balcony, and sent Xia Xinghe a message:
[Bai: Send me Yan Cai’s phone number.]
After a while, Xia Xinghe replied:
[Little Bamboo: Huh? What do you want his number for?]
[Bai: I need something.]
[Little Bamboo: Oh, okay… I’ll look for it.]
[Little Bamboo: 187xxxxxxxx]
[Bai: OK]
Bai Qingzhou lowered his eyes slightly and then dialed Yan Cai’s number.