DSMIS CH64

Chapter 64: Director Shen Gets Swatted

Shen Xing’s small one-bedroom apartment instantly burst into lively bustle. The moment Heibao stepped through the door, he let out a low woof. The big white furball, who had been lying listlessly inside, scrambled to his feet and charged forward, tackling Heibao head-on. Heibao didn’t dodge in the slightest, letting Qianjin wag his dandelion-like tail, rub all over him, and roll around in a flurry of spoiled affection.

Jiang Lin gently ruffled Shen Xing’s hair. Even though Director Shen had tried his hardest to conceal it downstairs, Jiang Lin had still caught the faint redness rimming his eyes. His heart felt as if it had been pricked repeatedly by needles:

“What do you want to eat? Roasted lamb chops?”

Shen Xing shook his head. He had already spotted the bag of spiced braised beef Jiang Lin was carrying:

“Don’t want to go out. I want deluxe instant noodles at home.”

Jiang Lin smiled:

“Deal. This time, I’ll cook you Jiang’s Deluxe Beef Noodles.”

Jiang Lin headed into the kitchen, and Shen Xing trailed right behind him. Counting back, the two hadn’t seen each other for nearly a month and a half. As Jiang Lin leaned over the sink to wash vegetables, Shen Xing draped himself across his back. He didn’t say a word, simply looping his arms around Jiang Lin’s waist and resting against him. By tacit agreement, neither of them brought up the foul mess on the internet.

Feeling the comforting warmth pressed against his back, Jiang Lin wished he had an extra pair of arms to hold the man behind him:

“Hungry? Next door to your favorite braised meat shop, a new specialty duck place opened up. The line was around the block and it looked wildly popular, so I picked up a few duck delicacies for you. Want some to tide you over?”

The person on his back remained silent, but Jiang Lin felt the head resting on his shoulder shake gently.

Facts proved that Captain Jiang had absorbed Director Shen’s culinary wisdom down to the letter. His Jiang-style braised beef noodles were not in the least inferior to Shen’s Deluxe Edition: loaded with luncheon meat, fish balls, shrimp paste, freshly sliced spiced beef, and a generous handful of tender baby greens.

Each holding a massive bowl, the two walked back into the living room. Heibao was lying on the carpet, while the Samoyed was sprawled over him like a thick white plush blanket, occasionally nuzzling Heibao’s neck or nudging his cheek with a wet nose. Heibao indulgently let the dog fidget atop him, only offering an occasional soft chuff in response.

Passing his chubby dog, Shen Xing didn’t even have a spare hand to pet him:

“Now that your Bao-ge is here, your energy is magically restored, huh?”

Jiang Lin chuckled at the comment:

“Don’t just pick on Qianjin. Heibao missed him too.”

“Only you would give that silly dog so much face.”

By unspoken consensus, neither headed for the dining table. Just like the first time they ate noodles together, they set their bowls on the low coffee table and sat cross-legged on the distinctive Tibetan rug Shen Xing had bought.

After setting down the bowls, Jiang Lin retrieved Director Shen’s beloved “Fat Nerd Happiness Water” (Coca-Cola) from the fridge, arranged the braised duck delicacies, sliced beef, and beef tendon neatly across platters, and brought them over. The compact coffee table was instantly crowded to capacity. Once Shen Xing’s spread was arranged, Jiang Lin opened a can of premium wet food for Heibao and Qianjin each, casually rubbing the Samoyed’s velvety ears:

“Eat up. Today is a grand reunion; your daddy won’t scold you.”

Hearing that, Shen Xing couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes drifting along Captain Jiang’s sleek, sculpted waistline. Indeed, an extra can of food was well-warranted today. In an instant, the modest apartment was filled with the cozy, grounding warmth of everyday life.

It would be a lie to say Shen Xing hadn’t been affected over the past few days. Ever since Jiang Lin returned to Tianjin, Shen Xing rarely visited the county police bureau cafeteria. Being on his own, he simply made do with whatever was convenient—sometimes skipping meals entirely if surgeries ran long. In comparison, tonight’s dinner was the most deeply satisfying and comforting meal he had eaten in ages. He devoured the entire massive bowl of noodles, then stayed cross-legged on the rug gnawing happily on spicy duck necks and duck tongues.

The sweet-and-spicy duck tongues were undeniably addictive, though eating several in a row left him a bit thirsty:

“Pop open another Coke for me.”

Knowing one can wouldn’t be enough, Jiang Lin cracked a fresh can open with one hand and set it before him.

Once Director Shen was thoroughly fed and satisfied, Jiang Lin rose to clear the table, only for his sleeve to be tugged. Bending down, he met the gaze looking up at him and paused in his tracks. He sat back down beside Shen Xing, and the next second, he was pushed back against the sofa cushions as a passionate kiss descended upon him. Having both just eaten beef noodles, neither stood on ceremony.

Jiang Lin wrapped his arms tightly around Shen Xing’s waist, holding him as if trying to press him into his very marrow. He rarely spent time browsing social media and hadn’t learned of the controversy immediately. It was only when Xiaohu called him yesterday to ask about Director Shen’s situation that Jiang Lin frantically went online to uncover the whole story, catching the earliest available flight first thing this morning.

Shen Xing missed Jiang Lin fiercely. He wanted to hold him, wanted to kiss him, and couldn’t bear to wait another second. He practically dragged Captain Jiang by his shirt collar straight into the bathroom.

Jiang Lin yielded obligingly the entire way. It was nearly an hour later when he finally carried a thoroughly jelly-legged, limp-armed Director Shen out of the bathroom and tucked him into bed.

Curled up against his side, Shen Xing draped an arm around Jiang Lin’s smooth waist, his voice raspy:

“How did you find out? You don’t even browse short-video apps, do you?”

Jiang Lin ran his fingers through Shen Xing’s freshly dried hair:

“Xiaohu called yesterday to ask how you were holding up. That was the only reason I found out. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t exactly happy news.”

Smack!

Jiang Lin swatted his rear:

“Reporting only the good news and swallowing the bad won’t fly. Did your phone number leak?”

Perhaps an occupational byproduct of interrogating suspects for years, Jiang Lin’s voice, when lowered slightly, carried an innate, commanding authority. It instantly reminded Shen Xing of the sharp, imposing Captain Jiang he had seen in the interrogation room. Fortunately, without having to look directly into those piercing eyes right now, Shen Xing buried his face into Jiang Lin’s neck and lied flat out:

“No.”

Smack!

Another swat landed on his backside.

“I asked your colleague when I arrived at the hospital. He said people were blowing up your phone with harassing calls even while you were on duty.”

Having his rear swatted twice, Director Shen gave Captain Jiang’s waist a retaliatory pinch:

“You already knew, so why bother asking me?!”

“Your phone has an automatic call recording feature, right? Forward those incoming numbers to me later.”

Shen Xing looked up:

“What for? Are you going to curse them out on my behalf?”

Jiang Lin rubbed his cheek:

“Maliciously calling someone to insult, curse, or defame them is punishable by up to five days of administrative detention or a fine of up to five hundred yuan; for serious circumstances, detention ranges from five to ten days.”

Shen Xing was momentarily stunned, his eyes suddenly lighting up:

“Is Captain Jiang going to arrest people?”

Jiang Lin chuckled softly:

“It wouldn’t be my turn to make the arrests. Harassing phone calls like this don’t meet the threshold for a criminal offense under the Criminal Law, but they are an ironclad violation of the Public Security Administration Punishments Law. The cyber police handle that.”

He paused, his tone turning serious:

“This family online—they’re the relatives of the patient from right before you came to Fulan County, the one who refused amputation and passed away, right?”

Shen Xing nodded. A chilling edge settled into Jiang Lin’s eyes:

“I watched their video. Shifting definitions, twisting facts, instigating cyber violence. Before flying out, I asked a colleague to run a preliminary check on the original posting account. The traffic metrics are completely abnormal. A massive volume of replies in the comment section bear the distinct hallmarks of coordinated bot farms.”

Shen Xing’s eyes widened:

“You mean this isn’t just a grieving family venting, but an organized team deliberately targeting me?”

Jiang Lin nodded:

“Mm. In all likelihood, they want to extort a payout from the hospital. There have been precedents where hospitals paid out hundreds of thousands in ‘humanitarian compensation’ just to quell public unrest. Didn’t you mention that as soon as the patient died, agitators showed up at the hospital almost immediately? And then photos of you and that married female resident were leaked online. Nowadays, there are specialized gray-market syndicates that help families stir up public outrage in exchange for a percentage of the settlement. That falls squarely under extortion—which means it is my jurisdiction. Director Shen just needs to file the formal report.”

Shen Xing wrapped his arms tightly around him. He hadn’t expected that in a single day, Jiang Lin had investigated so thoroughly and flown thousands of kilometers just to be by his side.

Later that night, Shen Xing picked up his phone again, only to discover that the vicious tide in the comment sections had begun to shift. Scores of netizens were now loudly demanding that the family produce the actual medical records. Scrolling down, he found crowds of onlookers waiting for clarity, alongside many who had been just as baffled as he was.

Looking closer, he noticed that beyond mentions tagging his home hospital’s official account, users were directing traffic to another specific personal handle.

He first tapped into Yuetan Hospital’s account. The hospital had released an official clarification statement.

Because patient privacy laws prohibited disclosing personal identifying details, the statement concisely outlined the patient’s condition upon arrival, the surgical team’s explicit clinical recommendation for urgent amputation, and documented that the severe risks of limb salvage had been thoroughly explained. It noted that the family had signed the informed consent risk disclosure form, and that the patient’s subsequent death was caused by extensive systemic infection compromising vital organs—a documented risk complication, not medical malpractice.

Opening the comment section, opinions were polarized:

“Another risk disclosure form. Hospitals always pull this trick. The moment you enter, they make you sign a mountain of forms that families barely understand. Then when something goes wrong, they use the paperwork to dodge responsibility.”

On the other side, users began firing back at the original accuser:

“Calling a massive degloving injury a ‘simple fracture’? What a joke! Severe degloving injuries require amputation to save the patient’s life! The patient and family obviously refused amputation, gambled on limb salvage, and lost when the fatal complications hit. Now they turn around and claim a doctor killed him over a simple fracture?! Disgusting.”

“As a healthcare worker, I can practically picture the doctor begging on bended knee trying to convince them to amputate. The family gambled, lost, and now scapegoats the surgeon. Perfect—doctors are just the ultimate punching bags, aren’t they?”

With the public dividing into opposing camps, more voices pushed for transparency:

“Just post the medical records and end the debate! With this many people in the comments, someone will know how to read them. Whether a doctor butchered a simple fracture or whether an amputation was desperately needed—post the records and let everyone see for themselves!”

After browsing the hospital’s comments, Shen Xing searched for the personal account that had been tagged repeatedly. Opening the profile, he was stunned to recognize the creator.

It was Zhuoga’s older brother—the Tibetan young man from the New Year’s Eve severed limb replantation, the very same one who had gifted him the massive sack of yak pizzles. If he remembered correctly, his name was Wangga.

In the video, Wangga wore traditional Tibetan robes and a silver earring, his bronzed complexion radiating rugged authenticity. He tagged the family directly:

“I don’t understand how so many people, having never met Director Shen, can believe a random video online and claim that a doctor who traveled 3,000 kilometers to support a remote county hospital for a year is just chasing fame and padding his resume! All I know is that without Director Shen, my ten-year-old brother would have lost his arm forever!

“For those of you living in big cities, reaching a top hospital takes a fifteen-minute drive. You have brilliant specialists in every department. You have no idea how impossibly scarce accessible healthcare and skilled surgeons are for those of us living in rural mountain villages!

“Our home is in a village nearly four hours’ drive from the county seat. On New Year’s Eve, my little brother’s arm was severed in an accident. Only Baoshan Hospital had the capability to reattach it. But replantation has a strict golden window of six to eight hours. It took us over two hours just to reach the township clinic for basic bandaging; there was no way on earth we could reach Baoshan in time!

“Our only hope was Fulan County Hospital. And it was solely because Director Shen was stationed there—because he possessed the surgical skill to perform a complex limb replantation—that my brother still has two healthy arms today! Without doctors traveling across the country to support us, my brother would be an amputee right now!

“And now, you people, without bothering to check the truth, want to wipe away everything a dedicated doctor has done for a remote region based on baseless slander?!

“I am not lying. My brother’s official medical records and surgical reports are pinned in the comments. I trust you can all judge for yourselves…”

Watching the video to the end, Shen Xing felt as if his heart had been set over warm coals like a roasted sweet potato—thoroughly warmed through, yet tinged with a prickle of shame and guilt. His original reason for volunteering hadn’t been nearly so noble; he hadn’t embarked on this mission driven by a selfless crusade to bring elite medical resources to impoverished regions. He had simply needed a distant refuge to escape a toxic workplace scandal. Hearing Wangga’s passionate defense made him feel both deeply moved and slightly undeserving.

Jiang Lin pulled him close, kissing his lips:

“Director Shen is magnificent.”

Shen Xing turned and buried his face into the crook of Jiang Lin’s neck, a prickle of tears stinging his eyes:

“I’m not as noble as he says. I came here just to run away from trouble.”

Jiang Lin stroked his hair, his voice gentle and steady:

“Regardless of what brought you here, the care and devotion you gave to your patients, the high-altitude clinic tours you endured, and the lives you saved that this county hospital couldn’t have saved on its own—those are undeniable facts that no one can ever erase. A gentleman is judged by his deeds, not his private thoughts. Since you have done so much genuine good, why torture yourself over your initial mindset?”

Shen Xing set his phone down, paying no further mind to the internet noise. That night, the two slept wrapped securely in each other’s arms.

The next morning, when Shen Xing woke up, he found Qianjin sprawled like a massive pancake across Heibao’s flank. He walked over and tugged the silly dog’s scruff:

“Do you have zero awareness of your own weight? Don’t go crushing your Bao-ge to death.”

Jiang Lin emerged from the bedroom, chuckling at the grumbling white furball:

“Looks like Qianjin slept exceptionally well last night.”

Jiang Lin could only stay for a single day; he had to catch an afternoon flight from Baoshan back to Tianjin and needed to hit the road before noon. Taking advantage of the morning hours, they took the dogs out for a walk. The only difference this time was that while Jiang Lin still rode the little pink electric moped, Director Shen flatly refused to jog. Instead, he perched on the passenger seat with his arms wrapped tightly around Jiang Lin’s waist, tapped his pink helmet, and delivered that familiar command:

“Giddyup!”

After their ride, they stopped by the shop downstairs for two hearty bowls of rice noodles.

“I need to hit the road. Don’t drive to Baoshan to see me off this time.”

Shen Xing stood by Jiang Lin’s rented SUV, firmly holding Qianjin’s leash, and nodded. Their time together had been far too brief. Glancing around to ensure the street was empty, he yanked Jiang Lin close, planted a fierce kiss on his lips, and let go.

Seeing Shen Xing’s ears flame bright red in an instant, Jiang Lin couldn’t resist reaching out to rub them:

“Director Shen, don’t ever try committing a crime in your life—these ears will rat you out on the spot.”

“Not everyone has skin as thick as Captain Jiang’s.”

“I’ll come visit you again next week.”

“No need. I’m completely fine now. Flying back and forth and driving hundreds of kilometers across mountain roads just to sleep one night—we can’t even manage more than two rounds anyway.”

The blatant disdain in his voice left Jiang Lin both amused and exasperated. Leaning in close to Director Shen’s burning ear, Jiang Lin murmured:

“Who was begging for mercy and crying ‘no more’ last night? Now you’re complaining the rounds are too few? If that’s what you want, we still have time to head back upstairs for a round right now.”

The temperature in Shen Xing’s ears surged past the boiling point. He shoved hard against the chest of the man whose proximity was making his breath hitch:

“H-Hurry up and get lost! Talking as if you can finish this kind of thing in five minutes!”

For the second time that morning, Jiang Lin felt a strong urge to seal Director Shen’s mouth shut. How this man managed to dance across every single one of his landmines was beyond comprehension. If he weren’t worried Shen Xing’s body couldn’t take it, he would haul him back up to the apartment right this second to teach him a lesson for running his mouth.

__

Author’s Note:

Director Shen dances across every single one of Captain Jiang’s landmines with absolute precision.