Chapter 95 Now, Go to Sleep, Obediently

Hotel.

Lu Er safely escorted Ye Qingge, who wasn’t feeling well, back to her room. After making sure she rested properly, he returned to his own suite.

After a night of chaos—dodging drinks, getting into fights—he felt a little exhausted.

But more than that was a burning, desperate desire to hear a certain voice.

Flopping onto the soft, luxurious bed, he opened the pinned chat window and typed rapidly:

[Universe’s Handsomest Lu Xiao’er]: Doctor Song, Doctor Song! What are you up to? Night shift must be tough! [Cat Peeking.jpg]

[Universe’s Handsomest Lu Xiao’er]: Can we video call? I miss you! [Pleading][Pleading]

After sending, he hugged his phone and stared at the screen like a little animal waiting to be fed.

In the hospital duty room, Song Jingmo had just lain down to take a short rest when his phone screen lit up.

Seeing those messages, some of the fatigue in his eyes eased.

He sat up, turned on the bedside lamp, letting its warm light chase away the cold emptiness of the duty room, and then accepted the video call request.

Almost instantly.

On the screen appeared Lu Er’s flawless, magnified face, set against the luxurious hotel suite background.

His eyes sparkled, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible nervousness and a touch of eager charm.

“Song Jingmo!” The moment the call connected, Lu Er shouted excitedly, his voice brimming with joy.

“Mhm.” Song Jingmo responded softly, his gaze landing on Lu Er’s face, clearly noticing the barely hidden fatigue around his eyes.

Watching Song Jingmo’s expression carefully, Lu Er felt a little relieved that he didn’t seem angry or upset.

Then, seeking some leniency, he confessed proactively.

“Um… Song Jingmo, I have something to tell you…”

Lu Er rubbed his nose, eyes slightly darting. “Just tonight, I… got into a fight with Cong Jinyue, that idiot.”

“But I swear, it wasn’t about Ye Qingge. Cong Jinyue just had a really sharp tongue and kept insulting you. I couldn’t hold back… so I… slapped him.”

He peeked at Song Jingmo on the screen cautiously, like a little dog who’s done something wrong but thinks it was completely justified.

“I didn’t post anything on Weibo to clarify, ‘cause I didn’t want to drag you into it. Cong Jinyue’s fans get scary when they go berserk—I was afraid they might come after you.”

Song Jingmo listened quietly, expression calm, his eyes fixed on Lu Er’s face the entire time.

He didn’t ask about trending news or question Lu Er’s story, only softly asked, “Does your hand hurt?”

Lu Er froze for a moment, then felt as if fireworks had exploded in his chest—sweet and warm.

His Song Doctor didn’t scold him for fighting; he cared whether his hand hurt.

Lu Er instantly went full drama mode, raising his right hand to the camera and whining coquettishly: “It hurts, it really hurts! Look, it’s all red—you owe me proper compensation.”

Song Jingmo played along, asking, “What kind of compensation do you want?”

Just as Lu Er was about to ask for something huge, his gaze caught Song Jingmo’s pajamas.

“Wait!” Lu Er’s eyes widened instantly, pointing at the screen. “Why are you wearing my Conan pajamas? That’s my favorite!”

Song Jingmo glanced down at what he was wearing, expression natural, tone calm: “I missed you, so I wore your pajamas.”

A simple sentence, no fancy words—but it pierced straight through Lu Er’s heart like an arrow.

His Song Doctor… how could he be this good at it?!

“Ahhhh!” Lu Er banged on the bed in excitement, shouting through the screen. “You missed me so much that you had to wear my stuff, didn’t you!”

Song Jingmo’s ears tinted slightly pink. “Mhm.”

Lu Er was over the moon. The earlier fake whining about his hand hurt disappeared into thin air, replaced by a far more mischievous thought.

Licking his lips, eyes like little hooks fixed on Song Jingmo, he lowered his voice seductively: “Doctor Song~ I want to see… um… what’s under your pajamas… your abs!”

“Take them off for me right now and show me—it counts as compensation!”

Song Jingmo: “…”

Seeing the little pervert shining with anticipation on the screen, Song Jingmo sighed helplessly, rubbing his forehead.

His tone amused and indulgent: “This is a hospital duty room.”

He paused, then added the final blow: “There’s surveillance.”

Lu Er deflated like a popped balloon.

Face full of longing and frustration, he pouted at Song Jingmo: “Then take them off at home and show me—HD, uncensored, the kind minors shouldn’t see.”

Seeing him like that—both wronged and daring—Song Jingmo couldn’t hide the smile in his eyes any longer; it spread gently across his face.

Softly, he replied: “Okay. We’ll do it at home.”

“Now, go to sleep, obediently.”