Chapter 5 Thank You for the Soup

The steam from the matsutake soup curled up gently.

Lu Er sipped it in small mouthfuls, the savory flavor making him squint with pleasure, looking like a little cat being petted the right way.

Just as he was happily enjoying his meal, the door to the infusion room “bang” opened.

Manager Jiang Qingyan’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink, and behind him trailed assistant Bai Zhi, on the verge of tears.

“My living ancestor, how can you still sit here in peace and quiet?”

Seeing Lu Er clutching a soup bowl, completely unbothered by the world, Jiang Qingyan’s blood pressure shot straight to 180.

“The trending topics have exploded!”

“Top celebrity Lu Er suspected of drug use, hospitalized—explosive news!”

“The whole company is in chaos, and you still have the mood to drink soup?!”

Bai Zhi obediently shoved her phone in front of Lu Er.

Lu Er glanced at it, not even frowning, instead pulling the bowl closer to his chest.

“Calm down, careful not to spill my soup.”

“Calm down my foot! Things are burning hot!”

Jiang Qingyan spun around like a top in anger. “We can only release a statement to clarify first, then find a way to get the reporters to correct it.”

“Wait a moment, wait until I finish the infusion.” Lu Er wasn’t in any hurry to leave.

After all, he had just met Song Jingmo. Even if he had to leave, he had to say goodbye.

Moreover, he hadn’t done anything wrong—sneaking out secretly would be absurd.

Lu Er slowly put down the spoon, eyes drifting toward Bai Zhi, and reached out, “Phone.”

After getting the phone, Lu Er didn’t immediately open Weibo.

Instead, he opened WeChat and searched for Lan An, pondering how to start a conversation.

Lu Er frowned, sighing heavily for a long time, unable to decide on the first words.

Six years had passed, and he hadn’t even dared to send a mass “Happy New Year,” fearing the sight of that merciless red exclamation mark.

Like a thief, Lu Er secretly opened Song Jingmo’s Moments—blank.

His heart sank to the bottom of a pit.

Had Song Jingmo deleted him? Or did he just never post Moments?

Staring at the empty line, Lu Er’s finger hovered over the text box.

Jiang Qingyan stomped and cursed beside him, but Lu Er treated it as background noise.

Finally, the courage given by that bowl of soup won out.

He bit his lip, opened the input box, hesitated, deleted, rewrote, and finally sent five words:

“Thank you for the soup.”

Opening his eyes again, the message had successfully sent.

No red exclamation mark. Lu Er almost cried tears of joy.

Holding his phone, corners of his mouth wildly upturned, eyes bright enough to scare people.

Jiang Qingyan couldn’t bear to watch, wishing he could slap him to death right then and there.

The trending topics were on fire, yet he had time to chat—who knew what kind of troublemaker he was messaging?

Restaurant.

Qu Weiwei glanced at her phone, confirming that the “love meal” had been delivered.

“I sent the meal in your name. You two have always been as close as brothers. Besides, it’s been six years—what can’t be let go of by now?”

Song Jingmo: “……”

That matter was really hard to let go of.

Just then, the phone on the table lit up.

A WeChat notification.

Song Jingmo glanced casually, and seeing the sender, a trace of surprise appeared on his face.

Six years. Over two thousand days and nights. Not once had the other person messaged him.

He had long assumed that Lu Er despised that absurd night, and by extension, despised him too.

Glancing at the message, Song Jingmo’s fingers moved, replying coldly: “I didn’t send it.”

At the hospital, Lu Er hugged the phone, every second stretching like an eternity.

From sheer joy to nervousness, to nearly despair, just when he thought it had fallen into a void, the phone finally “dinged.”

He eagerly opened it: “I didn’t send it.”

A few short words, cold and distant.

Lu Er’s smile froze, the small flame of hope extinguished instantly.

False excitement.

Disappointment surged, but he didn’t give up.

If Song Jingmo didn’t send it, could it have been the person he was on a date with?

Summoning courage, he replied: “Oh, then who sent it?”

Seeing this follow-up, Song Jingmo answered with three words: “Qu Weiwei.”

It took Lu Er a moment to realize—it was Song Jingmo’s cousin, the neighbor next to his old family home.

In other words, Song Jingmo was on a date with Qu Weiwei tonight, not some ambiguous love interest.

An indescribable excitement scattered the earlier disappointment.

This discovery instantly refilled Lu Er’s courage bar. Just as he was about to find more things to talk about, Jiang Qingyan grew impatient.

“How can you still be chatting? What about the trending topics?”

Jiang Qingyan snatched Bai Zhi’s phone, pointing at the screen. “Call your attending doctor now, get a food allergy certificate, then we can release a statement.”

Lu Er’s eyes lit up.

This was a perfect excuse… a ready opportunity!

He immediately opened the chat with Song Jingmo, fingers flying: “I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m trending right now. Could you issue me a food allergy certificate?”

He even added three pitiful little emojis.

After sending, Lu Er felt a bit nervous, but also a spark of hope.

This small favor—Song Jingmo should help, right?

On the other side, Song Jingmo looked at this audacious request, his expression darkening.

A fake certificate?

Was Lu Er treating him like a tool to whitewash his reputation?

Any tiny emotional ripple caused by this accidental contact was instantly replaced by icy anger.

As expected, Lu Er only contacted him because he needed something.

Just like six years ago—use it, then discard it, no mercy.

Song Jingmo’s fingers felt cold as ice, each word carrying a chill: “I do not do anything against professional ethics.”

“I am an orthopedist, it was coincidental last night. Your attending doctor has been changed to Dr. Tang in gastroenterology.”

These words were like a bucket of ice water, chilling Lu Er to the bone.

Staring at the cold text on the screen, the small spark of joy was completely extinguished.

Song Jingmo wasn’t “tsundere with a soft heart,” he was genuinely eager to sever all connections.

Lu Er lowered his eyelashes, letting the bitterness fill his chest.

Jiang Qingyan urged: “Well? Did the doctor agree?”

Lu Er’s voice was low, heavy with disappointment: “He’s an orthopedist—he can’t help. He told me to see my current attending doctor.”

Jiang Qingyan cursed and hurried off to find Dr. Tang.

The infusion room fell silent.

Lu Er stared at the now-cold matsutake soup, his beautiful peach blossom eyes listless, his whole being deflated.

He was now absolutely certain: Song Jingmo hated him, didn’t want any connection with him.

He had been at fault back then, but it had been six years. Their more-than-ten-year relationship—Song Jingmo could just abandon it? That was too heartless.

And it wasn’t intentional. If he hadn’t drunk the spiked wine, none of it would have happened.

If you argued it out, he was the one who suffered.

He was the one who had been wronged.

Afterward, he was sick for over half a month, ran a high fever for a week, and in the end, his mother misunderstood him and threw him out of the house.