The night was quiet and peaceful.
The call connected quickly. Yan Cai sounded like he was in a good mood, his tone relaxed: “Hello, who is this?”
“Hello,” Bai Qingzhou said politely, “This is Bai Qingzhou.”
Click. Without hesitation, Yan Cai hung up the phone.
Bai Qingzhou: “…?”
After a moment, he called again. This time, Yan Cai’s tone was completely different: “What do you want? Who calls this late at night with no manners?”
Bai Qingzhou was quiet for a moment. “Do you usually sleep at eight?”
Yan Cai snapped, “I’ll sleep whenever I damn well please. Especially after hearing your voice—it puts me right to sleep.”
His tone was sharp and full of hostility—clearly sincere, heartfelt disdain.
Bai Qingzhou furrowed his brows, his finger hovering over the red “end call” button. In the end, he didn’t hang up.
After a moment, he pressed his fingers to his brow and said through gritted teeth, “…Sorry.”
Perhaps because he hadn’t expected such an attitude from him, Yan Cai coughed awkwardly, his tone softening slightly: “Alright, fine, say what you have to say. Don’t waste my time.”
Bai Qingzhou didn’t beat around the bush and asked directly, “What did you mean by what you said that day?”
Yan Cai replied, “What day, what words?”
Bai Qingzhou said, “At the party—you said, ‘Don’t make him cry again.’”
“…”
Yan Cai’s voice cooled again as he asked, “What’s your point?”
Bai Qingzhou didn’t respond.
Yan Cai scoffed coldly, “Missing him already? What, now that he’s gone home and isn’t around to serve you anymore, you suddenly feel empty?”
Bai Qingzhou ignored the sarcastic tone and simply asked, “When did he cry? Was it because of me?”
His refusal to react made Yan Cai feel slightly off-balance. After a moment of silence, Yan Cai finally said, “Alright. Since you remember that line, you should also remember the one before it.”
Bai Qingzhou asked, “What was it?”
“Let him go.”
Yan Cai said, “You two aren’t right for each other.”
Bai Qingzhou frowned slightly. “Why not?”
“Everything about you two doesn’t match,” Yan Cai said. “And what’s your deal now, anyway? You broke up years ago and now you’re calling me to reminisce? You really think I’d believe you’re still pining for lost love? …Wait a second, you’re not planning to use him for something shady, are you?”
“No—”
Bai Qingzhou furrowed his brows and was about to explain, when he heard Yan Cai sigh and mutter under his breath, “Ugh, I really don’t get what Xia sees in you. He was so hopelessly devoted to you. It’s been years. We’ve all tried to talk sense into him countless times, and now he’s gone and gotten involved with you again.”
Bai Qingzhou asked, “He was devoted to me?”
“If not, then what? You think you were the devoted one?” Yan Cai let out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t you have the faintest clue who was warm and who was cold, who was the one pursuing and who was being pursued? You didn’t even like him—why couldn’t you just let him go?”
Back when they broke up, Xia Xinghe had said something similar—that he couldn’t feel Bai Qingzhou’s love. Bai Qingzhou never understood. Back then, his pride had kept him from asking further. But now, revisiting the past, he finally asked, “How did I not like him?”
That one question instantly ignited all the anger Yan Cai had been bottling up, and it came pouring out like beans spilling from a bag:
“You call that love? Did you ever say you liked him, even once? Did you ever introduce him to your friends? He ran around delivering food to you every day and you didn’t even say thank you—and when he got sick from doing it, you told him, ‘I don’t want to come home after work and see a patient’? Do you even have a conscience?”
The more Yan Cai spoke, the angrier he got, and his voice rose with emotion.
“Only that idiot Xia Xinghe, blind and dumb, could’ve liked you. He even agreed to move in with you, kept cooking for you, coddling you, putting up with your moods, throwing his warm heart at your cold shoulder!”
“I…”
Bai Qingzhou was momentarily speechless. He wanted to say something, but Yan Cai didn’t give him the chance. Another verbal barrage came flying at him.
“You what? You know exactly what you did. And you still ask me why he cried? I’ll tell you—it was because of what happened the day you broke up. Figure it out yourself!”
Yan Cai was getting more and more worked up. With a final slam, he hung up. The busy tone beeped in Bai Qingzhou’s ear as he stood by the window, holding the phone to his ear long after the call had ended.
He had never expected to hear such things from Xia Xinghe’s friend.
He hadn’t said “I love you” because he thought words were meaningless. He didn’t introduce him to his friends because Xia Xinghe was too dazzling—he didn’t want to share him with others. He’d always remembered the food deliveries and had only said “I don’t want to come home to see a patient” as an excuse—because he didn’t want Xinghe getting sick again, and because he was afraid Xinghe would reject the idea of moving in together.
Bai Qingzhou had always thought some things didn’t need to be spoken aloud, that Xia Xinghe would just understand. He hadn’t realized that in Xia Xinghe’s eyes—and his friend’s—he had always come across as cold, unfeeling, and heartless.
But then why had Xia Xinghe cried the day they broke up?
Bai Qingzhou still didn’t understand.
Old memories began to resurface. He stared out at the misty sky, his eyes slowly lowering.
He thought: maybe he had been wrong, but between the two of them, Xia Xinghe had been the one who was truly ruthless.
That day had been a dorm dinner with Xia Xinghe’s friends. Bai Qingzhou remembered it clearly—Xia Xinghe had even asked him before leaving, “Do you want to come?”
Bai Qingzhou hadn’t liked hanging out with them. They were too close—Xia Xinghe would laugh with them, sling his arms around them, drink and sing, and completely forget he was even there. It made Bai Qingzhou feel like he wasn’t special.
But he hadn’t stopped him from going. That was him being restrained. He had just felt a little jealous and said he needed to go to the hospital as an excuse not to join.
That night, Xia Xinghe had stayed out late. Bai Qingzhou had been on ER duty, alone in the quiet night, while Xia Xinghe posted several WeChat Moments, all praising his friends—yet not a single word about him.
So Bai Qingzhou, in a moment of childish spite, posted one of his old application materials to his Moments, pretending he hadn’t heard Xia Xinghe’s call. Then the next morning, Xia Xinghe broke up with him—decisively, cleanly, without a trace of hesitation—and walked out of his life.
Bai Qingzhou thought: He should have been the one crying.
…
Yan Cai had been harsh, but Xia Xinghe wasn’t much better. After that call, Bai Qingzhou was already upset from revisiting the past. Seeing Xia Xinghe still acting distant and unreceptive made him stop messaging altogether. He threw himself into work, working overtime every night.
Another week passed, and before long, it was Lunar New Year’s Eve.
The festive spirit had filled the streets—red lanterns, spring couplets, families gathering together. But Bai Qingzhou was still alone.
His father was on duty, his mother was away on a business trip, and he himself was also scheduled to be at the hospital. In truth, every New Year was like this. His parents had divorced long ago, and he had no memories of the three of them ever celebrating New Year together.
In a way, it was better. No need for busy social calls or elaborate New Year’s dinners.
Spending New Year alone was simpler. The cleaner had helped put up the spring couplets while tidying. Bamboo had stepped on his old food bowl and broken it, so Bai Qingzhou gave him a new red one—his only real holiday preparation. Everyone in the department wanted to go home, so he volunteered for the New Year’s Eve shift. At six in the evening, he fed Bamboo and headed to the hospital.
New Year’s Eve in the ER was especially hectic.
People liked to say “It’s the holidays,” as though the New Year brought forgiveness, fresh starts, and unexpected changes. But not in the hospital. Life and death didn’t care if it was Spring Festival or Mid-Autumn—they came and went as they pleased, mercilessly.
At 6 p.m., Bai Qingzhou started his shift, and a steady stream of patients came flooding in.
One had a heart attack from being too excited to see his son. Another fainted when his grandson talked back in public. One after another, nonstop. By the time Bai Qingzhou finally got a break and could catch his breath, it was already past midnight.
And just like that, the old year was gone.
The new year began—yet it felt like nothing had changed.
The earth kept spinning. The next day’s sun hadn’t yet risen. The ER remained tense and chaotic. His phone overflowed with messages—well wishes from patients and their families.
But not a single one from the person he was waiting for.
Bai Qingzhou sat at his desk, silently scrolling through WeChat again and again. Then, suddenly, he snapped the phone shut and tossed it aside.
Clack.
Doctor Zhang, who was on shift with him, looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“…It’s nothing,” Bai Qingzhou replied flatly, lowering his gaze and continuing to write the medical records with a cold expression.
Great.
He thought, it’s the New Year, and he couldn’t even bother to send me a single message.
Dr. Zhang had just asked casually—he was used to Bai Qingzhou’s cold demeanor—so seeing that he didn’t want to talk, he simply looked down and resumed fiddling with his phone.
For once, the ER had a rare moment of calm. The consultation room was quiet. Dr. Zhang kept tapping away on his phone and then suddenly looked up and asked tentatively, “Dr. Bai, since it’s a bit slow right now, mind if I make a call?”
Bai Qingzhou replied, “Go ahead.”
Dr. Zhang immediately lit up and launched a video call, smiling as he explained, “It’s my girlfriend—she wants to video chat.”
The call connected, and a soft, sweet voice came through the speaker, “Darling…”
Dr. Zhang immediately sat up straighter, grinning from ear to ear, and said in a soft voice, “Baby.”
Lovers in love can never hide their sweetness—especially during New Year, a time for family reunions, when couples apart for various reasons miss each other even more.
At first, Dr. Zhang tried to keep his voice down in the ER, but as time passed, he got bolder, saying “baby” with every sentence.
“I miss you,” he said.
His girlfriend was equally sweet, speaking gently and caringly, asking how he was and even offering to bring him some late-night snacks.
She said, “It’s so cold out, I made some dumplings for you. Want me to bring a few over?”
“No need, baby,” Dr. Zhang quickly declined, but even his refusal was full of affection. “You should sleep early. It’s too late, and I don’t feel comfortable letting you come alone.”
Their call was filled with sugar-sweet words. Dr. Zhang beamed, and it felt like pink bubbles were floating around the room.
Bai Qingzhou continued writing up medical records, and for the first time, he felt maybe being busy in the ER was better than being idle.
The night grew deeper, and still no new patients arrived. Dr. Zhang was still chatting on video with his girlfriend.
Bai Qingzhou, silent, continued writing. Then, the phone he’d left aside suddenly lit up.
He didn’t notice at first. Only after a while did he check it.
When he saw the screen, the icy expression on his face finally began to disappear ever so slightly.
[Little Bamboo: Happy New Year~]
At least he has some conscience.
Bai Qingzhou’s lips curled ever so slightly.
He thought, since Xia Xinghe had taken the initiative, maybe he could begrudgingly show a little response, too.
While Dr. Zhang was still on his video call, Bai Qingzhou also dialed Xia Xinghe’s number.