Chapter 17 He Can’t Revolve Around You

6:30 a.m.

Song Jingmo woke up.

He had slept unusually soundly, and the dark circles from consecutive late nights had faded considerably.

Lu Er was still asleep, one hand unconsciously draped over him. Song Jingmo lay there for more than half an hour before quietly getting up.

He tucked the blanket neatly and checked the dressings on Lu Er’s arm and back before leaving the ward.

By 7:30 a.m., Song Jingmo had changed into his white coat, ready for rounds.

His unusually refreshed appearance drew a few extra glances from the nurses who had finished the handover.

“Wow, Dr. Song, you look good today,”

Yin Siyao said, carrying a cup of coffee, “Those dark circles have faded. Did you sleep well last night?”

Without looking up, Song Jingmo flipped through the medical records in his hand. “There’s still time to chat before handover. Looks like you’ve prepared thoroughly for the end-of-month assessment.”

Yin Siyao’s expression immediately fell. “Can we not talk about that?”

He had been staying up until three in the morning every night, surviving only on coffee.

Stepping closer, he asked, “Are you back on good terms? You’ve been running through the wards quite diligently these past few days.”

Yin Siyao knew Song Jingmo from school and was also somewhat aware of the situation with Lu Er.

Song Jingmo paused briefly as he organized the records. “He’s my patient.”

“Does a patient require you to stay responsible enough to sleep next to them?” Yin Siyao raised an eyebrow.

Song Jingmo finally looked up. “It’s just ordinary sleep.”

Yin Siyao frowned. “You’re both men. If it’s not just sleeping, what else could it be?”

“…”

“Hurry up and do your rounds,” Song Jingmo said, picking up the medical record and leaving the office.

VIP Ward

Lu Er checked his phone for the thirteenth time; it was already 1:20 p.m.

The takeout boxes in front of him had long since gone cold, and his expression grew darker by the minute.

“Maybe Dr. Song had an emergency surgery,” Bai Zhi tried to comfort him. “Do you want to eat first? Cold food isn’t good for your stomach.”

Lu Er slammed his phone onto the nightstand. “What kind of surgery can’t warrant a single message? No calls answered, no WeChat reply.”

Bai Zhi said, “Dr. Song is the attending physician, not your personal doctor. He’s under no obligation to revolve around you every moment.”

Lu Er froze, suddenly realizing his behavior in the past few days had indeed crossed the line.

Song Jingmo was now the best doctor at Kangren Hospital, the hope of all his patients—not just his alone.

He had been young and naive before, able to monopolize Song Jingmo without restraint. But now he was 26.

“You’re right,” Lu Er said, mechanically picking at the now-cold rice. “It’s my fault.”

Bai Zhi looked at him with some sympathy. “That’s not what I meant…”

“This month, I’ll make it up to you.”

Song Jingmo would eventually marry and have children; he couldn’t always be looking after Lu Er.

After Song Jingmo left six years ago, Lu Er had been extremely busy, working at high intensity every day. It took three full years to break his habitual dependence on Song Jingmo.

He never wanted to go through that kind of withdrawal again.

At 2:00 p.m., Leng Keyan entered the room while Lu Er was still studying the script.

Leng Keyan picked up a fruit knife and began peeling an apple. “A patient was brought in at 8:30 this morning. Dr. Song is the lead surgeon. He hasn’t come off the operating table yet… we don’t know the outcome.”

Lu Er’s heart clenched. “It’s already been over five hours.”

“Let’s hope the surgery goes well. Complicated fractures are the most dangerous during operations.”

Lu Er frowned. “Do you know how many medical staff are in the operating room?”

“About a dozen, I guess. Why?”

“Go check and see how much longer the surgery will take.”

Leng Keyan left and returned ten minutes later. “I asked the nurse. About forty more minutes.”

At 3:10 p.m., Song Jingmo finally dragged his exhausted body out of the operating room.

After more than six hours of continuous high-intensity surgery, his scrub suit was soaked with sweat, and his mask had left deep red marks on his face.

He pulled out his phone and saw missed calls and a string of WeChat messages from Lu Er, rubbing his forehead.

The latest message, sent two hours earlier, was already quite impatient:

“Where the hell have you been? Got tied up by someone and couldn’t reply?”

Seeing Lu Er’s signature fiery message, Song Jingmo didn’t get angry. Instead, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

That little troublemaker with a temper like a street punk seemed to be back.

“Dr. Song, come eat!”

The head nurse called from the break room, “Someone’s treating today—luxury set from Yueji Restaurant!”

Song Jingmo entered the break room. His colleagues were gathered around the elaborate dishes, chatting cheerfully.

“Dr. Song, another admirer?” a young resident joked. “Ever since you joined our department, the flowers and milk teas never stopped. Today it’s upgraded to a two-thousand-yuan-per-person meal!”

“I heard you need a month in advance to reserve at Yueji Restaurant!”

Song Jingmo glanced at the lavish spread and frowned slightly. “Who sent this?”

“Anonymous patient family, said they wanted to thank the surgical team,” the head nurse handed over a meal box. “Eat some.”

Song Jingmo took the box, quickly ate a few bites, and got ready to leave.

“Dr. Song, aren’t you eating more?”

“I need to check on a patient.”

Yin Siyao winked. “The VIP ward someone, right?”

Song Jingmo didn’t deny it.

Lu Er’s impatience was notorious. In the past, if Song Jingmo didn’t reply for a few hours, he would block him directly.

As Lu Er said, “Rather than being annoyed waiting, just block me. Out of sight, out of mind.”

When Song Jingmo opened the VIP ward door, Lu Er was leaning against the bed, absorbed in the script, seemingly unaware of his arrival.

“The surgery just finished,” Song Jingmo said. “Sorry for not replying to your messages in time.”

Lu Er finally looked up. “Was the food okay?”

Song Jingmo remembered that most of the dishes were his favorites.

“Did you order this?”

Lu Er didn’t deny it.

Song Jingmo slightly regretted not following the head nurse’s advice to eat more.

Sitting by the bed, he carefully observed Lu Er’s expression. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Yes,” Lu Er avoided his gaze. “Was the surgery difficult?”

Song Jingmo nodded. “The patient had multiple fractures. It was complex, but successful.”

For a moment, the ward fell into a delicate silence.

Song Jingmo keenly sensed the detachment in Lu Er’s tone, a stark contrast to the person who had insisted on taking a bath the night before.

“What’s wrong?” Song Jingmo asked, frowning slightly.

“Nothing,” Lu Er said, his lips curving into a polite, distant smile. “I’m just afraid I might disturb your work.”

Song Jingmo was silent for a moment. “Were you upset because I didn’t have lunch with you today?”

Lu Er, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, immediately refuted, “Of course not! Am I that petty?”

Song Jingmo didn’t reply, quietly watching the person on the bed.

Under that discerning gaze, Lu Er finally surrendered.

Song Jingmo knew him too well.

He could tell at a glance whether Lu Er was going to the bathroom or just passing gas.

“Alright, maybe a little. But I know it’s wrong. I’ll change.”