Chapter 76 Liking Is Enough to Offset Fatigue

Song Jingmo’s office, much like the man himself, carried a minimalist, almost cold aesthetic.

White walls. A light wood desk. Bookshelves neatly lined with thick medical textbooks and journals.

In the corner stood a small coat rack, holding two clean white lab coats and a simple change of clothes.

Lu Er sat on the sofa against the wall, playing a mobile game. As he played, his eyelids began to droop, and his fingers slowed.

Eventually, the phone slipped from his hand. He curled up on the soft leather sofa and fell into a deep, unguarded sleep.

At five in the afternoon, Song Jingmo finished his outpatient consultations.

When he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was Lu Er lying sideways on the sofa, his cheek pressed against the armrest, squishing his lips into a slight pout.

His long, thick eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath his eyes. His breathing was even and steady—completely defenseless in sleep.

The evening sunlight filtered through the blinds, scattering warm patches of light across him.

Song Jingmo softened his footsteps and sat down behind his desk.

After handling a few emails, his gaze kept drifting unconsciously toward the quiet figure on the sofa.

Only after more than ten minutes did he stand up and walk over, gently nudging Lu Er’s shoulder. “Wake up. It’s getting dark.”

Lu Er opened his eyes groggily. Seeing Song Jingmo’s face so close, he froze for a few seconds before coming back to his senses.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “You’re off work?”

“Mm.” Song Jingmo glanced at the faint red marks on his cheek from sleeping, his tone unchanged. “Where do you want to eat?”

Lu Er instantly perked up. “I booked a hot pot place! Haven’t had it in ages—I really want hot pot!”

Song Jingmo had no objections and nodded.

The two drove there together.

It was rush hour, and the mall was packed.

Lu Er wrapped himself up tightly, keeping his head down as he quickly followed beside Song Jingmo.

But the popularity of a top idol still exceeded expectations.

Just as they were about to reach the hot pot restaurant, a sharp-eyed young girl called out uncertainly, “Lu Er?”

That single call was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly stirring waves.

“It really is Lu Er!”
“Ahhh! Lu baby!”
“Hubby! Look over here!”

The crowd erupted instantly. Countless eyes focused on them, flashes bursting one after another, surrounding the two of them.

Fans rushed forward excitedly, calling his name from all directions, handing over notebooks and pens for autographs.

Lu Er was long used to situations like this. While trying to maintain a smile, he skillfully raised his hand to block the cameras and shield Song Jingmo.

“Everyone, don’t push—be careful…”

Song Jingmo was extremely uncomfortable being surrounded at close range by strangers and countless cameras.

Instinctively, he turned his head to avoid them, a cold, unapproachable aura radiating from him.

Amid the chaos, someone shoved hard from behind.

Lu Er stumbled, letting out a startled cry as he fell backward.

The next second, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

He crashed into a warm, broad chest, his nose instantly filled with the crisp cedar scent of Song Jingmo.

Song Jingmo held him firmly at his side, blocking most of the pressure from the crowd.

“Don’t push! Someone fell!”
“Ah—!”

The situation completely spiraled out of control. Cries of pain and alarm rang out, and the scene descended into chaos.

“Everyone stop pushing! Be careful!” Lu Er shouted anxiously.

Fortunately, the mall security responded quickly, separating the crowd and bringing things under control, sending the injured to the hospital immediately.

Under security escort, Lu Er and Song Jingmo practically fled the mall.

Back in the car, Lu Er removed his crooked mask and hat, his face filled with guilt and lingering fear.

“I’m sorry…” he said, sneaking a glance at Song Jingmo’s expression. “I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“Should we go somewhere else? I know a Michelin five-star place—fewer people, quieter environment, it shouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, Song Jingmo had already started the car. His voice gave nothing away.
“Let’s leave first.”

The car merged into traffic. Silence filled the cabin.

After a long hesitation, Lu Er finally couldn’t hold back. “Does eating out with me feel tiring? Like… troublesome?”

Song Jingmo looked ahead, seeming to think, not answering immediately.

Just when Lu Er thought he wouldn’t reply and his heart began to sink, the calm, clear answer came:

“Yes.”

Lu Er’s heart tightened sharply—it hurt.

Song Jingmo stated the facts plainly: “If you were just an ordinary friend, I wouldn’t choose to appear with you in a public place like this.”

“I don’t want to be photographed, nor do I want my private life exposed and turned into gossip.”

His words were like a cold blade, precisely cutting open the reality Lu Er had been deliberately avoiding.

He was a top idol. Wherever he went, he would be the center of attention—never able to live as freely as an ordinary person.

Lu Er lowered his head, absently picking at his seatbelt, his nose stinging.

At a red light, Song Jingmo stopped the car and looked deeply at the dejected figure in the passenger seat.

In the dim light of the car, his sharp profile was outlined in shadow.

“But the hormones and dopamine that come with liking someone can offset the fatigue.”

As if confirming something, he added clearly:

“So, I’m willing to have a meal with you.”

Lu Er suddenly looked up, crashing into those deep, unfathomable eyes.

There was nothing there but calm sincerity.

A surge of sweetness washed away his earlier sadness. His heartbeat went out of rhythm, his cheeks heating up.

But following that sweetness came an even deeper sense of fear and burden.

Song Jingmo’s steady advance—his almost all-in kind of love—was like a warm but inescapable net, wrapping tightly around him.

Thinking of Qu Suiwan’s warning, of his parents, of his fear of being abandoned, Lu Er felt like a despicable thief.

Enjoying Song Jingmo’s burning love, yet shrinking back, unable to make any promise.

Compared to lovers, friendship felt more stable, longer-lasting—safer.

No one would oppose him being just friends with Song Jingmo.

The reckless courage he’d once mustered after being provoked hadn’t led to a good outcome. It was hard to find the courage to try again.

He had to admit it—he was a coward, a turtle retreating into its shell, too afraid to take even the smallest step after being abandoned once.

He was truly afraid.

Lu Er’s silence and the obvious struggle in his eyes were clearly seen by Song Jingmo.

The light in Song Jingmo’s eyes gradually dimmed, replaced by a deep helplessness and disappointment.

He turned his gaze back to the road. The traffic light turned green, and he started the car again.

His voice carried no obvious emotion, but it was colder than before: “I’ll take you home.”

The car fell into suffocating silence once more, like a low, lingering background note marking the distance that had opened up between them again.

Lu Er stared at Song Jingmo’s cold, rigid profile, then lowered his head silently, left with nothing but a spreading ache in his chest.