Chapter 80 Not Straight Anymore, Haven’t Been for a Long Time

Lu Er felt like he had been abandoned on a deserted island, anxiously dialing Song Jingmo’s number over and over again.

Finally, late at night, the call went through. From the receiver came Song Jingmo’s very tired voice: “What is it?”

“You finally picked up! Where are you?” Lu Er pressed urgently, a flood of words waiting to pour out.

But Song Jingmo cut him off. “I’m too tired. Whatever it is, we’ll talk tomorrow. I want to sleep.”

The exhaustion in his voice didn’t sound fake. All the words in Lu Er’s chest were forced back, leaving only heartache and reluctance.

Biting his lip, no matter how unwilling he felt, he softened his voice. “Then… get some rest. I won’t bother you.”

The call ended. Lu Er held his phone, feeling empty inside, mixed with an inexplicable unease.

After that, Song Jingmo’s replies went from delayed… to nonexistent.

No matter whether Lu Er shared his daily life, expressed concern, or even questioned him with a hint of temper, it was like throwing stones into the ocean—no response at all.

When he called, it never went through either. A terrifying thought took over his mind.

Had Song Jingmo successfully found someone at the matchmaking event, and was now using this cold indifference to disappear from his world?

The next day, Lu Er rushed straight to the hospital.

But he was told Song Jingmo wasn’t there—he was on leave.

As for where he went or when he’d return, even Leng Keyan shook his head, saying he didn’t know.

This feeling of being unable to grasp anything, of being completely shut out, drove Lu Er nearly mad.

He even went to ask Qu Suiwan, only to get a vague answer that Jingmo had been a bit tired recently.

On the fifth day, Leng Keyan sent a message: [Uncle, Teacher Song is back at work today!]

Lu Er immediately registered for an appointment and sat outside the consultation room, listening to the numbers being called, his heart pounding like a drum.

Finally, it was his turn.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked in.

Song Jingmo was dressed in a clean white coat, looking down at the computer screen. His profile was as perfect as ever, but there were obvious dark circles under his eyes.

His whole body exuded an unhidden exhaustion as he asked routinely, “What’s wrong?”

Seeing him like this, Lu Er’s heart ached. He took off his mask and sunglasses, revealing a stunning yet aggrieved face.

His voice was muffled. “Doctor Song, my heart hurts. Can you treat it?”

Song Jingmo’s fingers paused on the keyboard, and he finally looked up at him.

That gaze was calm like a bottomless pool of cold water—without a ripple, without any of the emotion Lu Er had hoped for.

His tone was indifferent, even carrying a trace of impatience. “If your heart hurts, go to cardiothoracic surgery. I can’t treat that here. Don’t waste other patients’ time.”

After saying that, he directly pressed the call button and said expressionlessly toward the door, “Next.”

The cold dismissal felt like a bucket of ice water poured over his head.

Lu Er froze in place, looking at Song Jingmo’s distant profile. His nose stung, and he nearly burst into tears on the spot.

Biting his lip hard, before the next patient entered, he hastily put his mask and sunglasses back on and fled the room in embarrassment.

Lu Er waited at the end of the corridor outside the doctors’ office, like a thief, waiting for Song Jingmo to get off work.

Finally, Song Jingmo came out with a few other doctors.

Just as Lu Er was about to step forward, he saw a gentle-looking male doctor walk up with a smile, holding an exquisite insulated lunch bag.

“Doctor Song, you haven’t had lunch yet, right? I made some bento myself. It tastes pretty good—want to try?”

The doctor’s tone was warm, clearly ingratiating, as he handed the bag over.

What made Lu Er’s heart stop was that Song Jingmo didn’t refuse.

He even showed a faint, almost polite smile—yet to Lu Er, it was unbearably glaring.

The two of them stood there chatting for a bit, the other doctor smiling brightly.

Standing in the corner, Lu Er felt his blood run cold.

So Song Jingmo wasn’t cold to everyone—he just wasn’t special to him anymore.

At that moment, another female nurse ran over, holding a cup of coffee, blushing as she handed it to Song Jingmo. “Doctor Song, please have some coffee!”

Song Jingmo accepted it just as politely and thanked her.

Lu Er couldn’t bear to watch anymore. He practically ran out of the hospital.

He couldn’t stand seeing Song Jingmo show even the slightest warmth to others. He couldn’t stand feeling like a complete outsider.

Jealousy, grievance, panic, unwillingness…

All those emotions were magnified at night, mixed with alcohol, giving rise to a reckless courage.

Late at night, Lu Er arrived at Song Jingmo’s doorstep.

He pounded hard on the door, shouting with a choking voice, “Song Jingmo! Open the door!”

The door opened.

Song Jingmo, dressed in home clothes, looked annoyed and tired from being disturbed.

Seeing the person outside—eyes red, reeking of alcohol—his brows furrowed.

“Song Jingmo…” Tears streamed down Lu Er’s face as he stepped forward and grabbed his hand, voice choked. “Can we go back to how things were before?”

“You used to talk to me, take care of me… Don’t abandon me. You still like me, right?”

Song Jingmo looked at his humble, pleading state. His eyes fluctuated violently for a moment, but were soon covered again by a layer of cold hardness.

He suddenly raised his hand and pushed him away, his voice icy. “If you don’t like me, then don’t come provoking me. Going back and forth like this—what exactly do you want?”

Lu Er staggered back from the push, crying even harder, shouting in defense, “It’s not that I don’t like you—I do! Song Jingmo, I like you!”

Song Jingmo’s body stiffened noticeably. He stepped closer, his imposing presence enveloping Lu Er.

His voice was low and dangerous. “You like me? Do you even know what kind of ‘like’ I want?”

Lu Er’s heart pounded wildly. Through tear-blurred eyes, he looked at him and sobbed, “The same kind of liking as those doctors and nurses who confessed to you.”

He wanted to be with him—like lovers.

Song Jingmo fell silent. After looking at him for a long time, he asked, “Are you still straight?”

Lu Er hurriedly declared his feelings. “I’m not straight anymore—I haven’t been for a long time! I deleted that post where I said I was straight months ago.”

Song Jingmo looked at his reddened eyes, tear-streaked face, and those eyes filled with sincerity and fear of losing him.

After a long while, the storm in his eyes gradually subsided, replaced by a deeper, heavier exhaustion—one that seemed enough to drown a person.

He raised his hand and wiped away the tears on Lu Er’s face. The motion wasn’t gentle, yet it made Lu Er’s heart tremble.

“Stop crying,” Song Jingmo’s voice was hoarse. He let go of him and stepped back, creating distance again. “Go back first.”