DSMIS CH22

Chapter 22: Captain Jiang

Seeing Shen Xing, Yu Guiping took the initiative to introduce him to the people beside him:

“Bureau Chief Yang, this is Director Shen Xing, who came from Yuetan Hospital to support our hospital. He is also Cao Shulan’s attending physician.”

With that, he turned to Shen Xing to make introductions:

“This is Bureau Chief Yang from the county bureau, and this is Captain Jiang.”

The man addressed as Chief Yang appeared to be close to fifty years old. He stepped forward cordially to shake hands. Shen Xing slipped the pen into his breast pocket and met him halfway. After shaking hands with Chief Yang, a distinct, slender-jointed hand extended from the side, accompanied by an all-too-familiar voice:

“Director Shen.”

Shen Xing looked up, his gaze locking with Jiang Lin’s. Shaking hands in such a formal setting stirred an odd, unfamiliar sensation in his chest. Just yesterday, this very man had eaten his canned yellow peaches. He arched an eyebrow ever so slightly:

“Captain Jiang.”

Now that he knew who Liu Xiaohu was, Shen Xing didn’t need to ask to know what this grand display was about—they were definitely here to pay their respects and offer condolences to Cao Shulan.

Shen Xing wasn’t particularly fond of bureaucratic occasions, but as the attending physician, briefing them on the patient’s condition was unavoidable. He had no choice but to follow them inside. Perhaps it was his personal filter, but among the assembly of officers in the room—including the county bureau chief—none possessed the distinct aura Jiang Lin carried in uniform. It was difficult to articulate precisely what kind of air it was; there was an undeniable, quiet sense of command. Furthermore, Shen Xing could faintly sense that despite being notably young compared to the rest of the group, Jiang Lin commanded considerable respect among them.

When leadership came on a condolence visit, they couldn’t just ask polite questions; they had to solve real problems. Shen Xing intentionally emphasized the challenges Cao Shulan would face after discharge, explaining the critical nature and complexity of her post-discharge care in meticulous detail. Just as Jiang Lin had predicted that day, the matter of transferring Cao Shulan to the nursing home next door upon discharge was settled on the spot. Shen Xing finally felt a weight lift from his chest.

After seeing the delegation off, Shen Xing returned to his office. Even after sitting down, he felt as though Jiang Lin’s uniformed figure was still floating before his eyes. He took a sip of water, closed his eyes for a second, and then heard his phone chime with a new message. Tapping it open, he found a text from Jiang Lin:

“Come over for lunch? I’ll wait for you at the cafeteria entrance.”

“OK.”

[Bear holding up three fingers.jpg]

When Shen Xing arrived at the county police bureau around noon, Jiang Lin was indeed standing on the steps waiting for him, lazily twirling a meal card between his fingers. He hadn’t put on his service tunic; instead, he wore a crisp police-blue shirt neatly tucked into his dark trousers. His waist was lean and tapered, his shoulders broad, and his legs long. There was no denying it—Jiang Lin looked exceptionally sharp in uniform. Shen Xing couldn’t help lingering on him for a couple of seconds longer, feeling a tiny twinge of envy in his heart. They both wore uniforms for a living, but look at them, and look at doctors—all they had were plain white coats.

Appreciation aside, the first words out of his mouth were:

“It’s this cold outside and you’re not even wearing a jacket?”

“I only stepped out once I saw you enter the courtyard.”

Come to think of it, this was Shen Xing’s first time coming over for lunch. The cafeteria was far more crowded at midday than in the evening, and the variety of dishes was significantly broader. The moment Shen Xing stepped through the doors, the savory aroma of grilled squid hit him. Sure enough, turning his head, he spotted the daily specials written on the small blackboard: sizzling teppanyaki squid and hot-and-sour glass noodles. His eyes instantly lit up. Seeing his expression, Jiang Lin let out a low chuckle:

“Craving squid?”

Shen Xing nodded, leaning close to his ear:

“No wonder Director Yu pushed so hard for me to freeload over here, raving about how great your food is. Is there a limit on the squid?”

Jiang Lin also leaned in close, murmuring by his ear:

“No overall limit, but it’s restricted per trip—two skewers per person each time. You have to wait in line. How many skewers do you need?”

Shen Xing was a seasoned veteran of the night markets whose favorite foods were all classified as ‘junk food’ by his mother. He glanced at an officer passing by holding a couple of small skewers. A skewer that size? Ten would be his bare minimum baseline. He rubbed his nose sheepishly.

“I’m too embarrassed to say, Hero.”

Jiang Lin got the message immediately; it was clearly not a small number.

“I’ll go queue up. Go fetch a tray for me.”

Just as Jiang Lin turned to leave, Shen Xing caught his sleeve:

“Grab me a bowl of hot-and-sour noodles too, please! Two spoonfuls of vinegar, one spoonful of chili oil.”

Shen Xing got their meals first. Carrying two loaded trays, along with chopsticks and spoons, he found an empty table and sat down. Not in the habit of eating ahead of his company, he stared at the trays while waiting for Jiang Lin. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Looking down, he saw a message from Jiang Lin:

“Go ahead and start eating.”

Shen Xing looked up across the cafeteria and saw Jiang Lin slipping his phone away while turning his head to speak to a young officer standing near him in line.

Two minutes later, Jiang Lin arrived bearing his greatest hopes: a piping hot bowl of hot-and-sour glass noodles and six whole skewers of grilled squid.

“How did you get so many?”

Jiang Lin sat down and picked up his chopsticks:

“Had two young rookies who just finished eating queue up for me.”

As Shen Xing dug in, he took the chance to study Jiang Lin’s complexion:

“Mm, you look a lot better today. Still feeling uncomfortable anywhere?”

“All healed. Cured by your canned yellow peaches last night.”

“Oh, right. Before I came over, I noticed a care aide in Aunt Cao’s room. Did you arrange that?”

“No, the nursing facility arranged it. Aunt Shulan’s brother isn’t a trained caregiver after all. Having just transferred out of the ICU, it’s better not to take any chances.”

When they finished eating, Jiang Lin noticed that Shen Xing had devoured every last bite of the grilled squid, so he got up and queued for two more skewers. Shen Xing hurriedly took them:

“Enough, enough, that’s plenty.”

“I’m heading to the hospital tonight to check on Aunt Shulan. Want me to pack dinner and bring it straight to you?”

“That works too.”

Shen Xing had a minor surgical procedure scheduled that afternoon. By the time he returned to his office, a meal was already waiting for him inside an insulated container. Famished, he inhaled the food within ten minutes before heading upstairs. The door to Cao Shulan’s room was left half ajar. Poking his head in, he found the room completely empty. He checked with the duty nurse:

“Bed 13’s family member wheeled her out a moment ago. They headed toward the rear building.”

Understanding immediately, Shen Xing slipped out through the inpatient building’s back exit and made his way toward the rear wing.

The palliative and long-term care department was essentially akin to a hospice. The patients here had virtually no clinical hope of recovery. Their stay existed purely to afford them some dignity and comfort during the final chapter of their lives. Even as a physician, Shen Xing was never particularly eager to visit this place. Walking alone to the far end of the quiet corridor, he stopped outside Liu Xiaohu’s room.

Inside, Cao Shulan sat in a wheelchair. Just like every other time she came to visit her son, she had fetched a basin of warm water and was gently wiping his face and hands, chatting away to him in an unbroken, tender murmur:

“Xiaohu, don’t worry about Mom. I heard the doctor treating me came from a big city. He’s very skilled. He told me I can be discharged in another week. The leaders from the Public Security Bureau came to see me today, too. They said once I’m out of the hospital, I’ll be staying at some nursing home right next door. That’s good—it’s close to you, so Mom can come see you often.

Xiaohu, whenever you’ve had enough sleep… wake up, alright?”

As she spoke, Cao Shulan’s voice began to tremble with a muffled sob. Shen Xing leaned against the corridor wall, listening in silence for a long time. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to step inside.

Returning to his office, he checked the chat window where he had sent the medical records to Xu Huai. There were no new messages. He locked his phone screen. About half an hour later, Jiang Lin arrived, finding Shen Xing sitting at his desk staring blankly into space:

“Dr. Shen.”

Shen Xing turned his head:

“Hero.”

“Finished eating? Did the food suit your taste?”

“Yeah, it was delicious. Cleaned out every bite. How is Aunt Cao doing?”

“Fine. She just went to see Xiaohu, and I walked her back to her room. The caregiver is helping her freshen up now.”

Shen Xing changed out of his coat to walk home with Jiang Lin. Neither drove, choosing instead to stroll back at a relaxed, unhurried pace. Unable to hold it in, Shen Xing asked:

“Does Aunt Cao visit Xiaohu often? It can’t be convenient coming all the way from the village, can it?”

“About three or four times a week. On weekends, I drive over to pick her up. On weekdays, she rides an electric tricycle from home. It takes a full hour each way.”

Shen Xing parted his lips, but swallowed the words before he could mention that he had asked someone in Capital Hospital’s neurosurgery department to review Liu Xiaohu’s records. Nothing was certain yet, and there was no need to give Jiang Lin false hope prematurely.

Xu Huai’s reply finally arrived on Wednesday afternoon. That morning, victims of a severe multi-vehicle collision had been rushed in—two vehicles packed with extended families. Shen Xing spent nine consecutive hours on his feet in the emergency theater performing debridement and trauma surgery across four back-to-back operations. By the time he stepped out of the OR, it was already past seven in the evening. He had missed both lunch and dinner. Aside from a few sips of intravenous glucose solution inside the theater, his last proper meal had been a bowl of rice noodles early that morning. Absorbed in the procedures, he hadn’t noticed his exhaustion, but the moment he emerged, his legs felt like jelly.

Just as he was about to drift back to his office to scrounge up anything edible, a rich aroma of steamed pork buns wafted past his nose. Following the scent, he looked up and saw Jiang Lin standing by the corridor corner, waving a paper bag at him. Shen Xing’s eyes lit up instantly:

“Hero, save me!”

Jiang Lin chuckled and pressed the piping-hot paper bag into his hands.

“Whoa, it’s still this hot?”

“Yeah. The food I packed for you went cold, so I ran to the front gate and bought these fresh out of the steamer. I was just about to head in and put them in the insulated container. Your timing couldn’t be better.”

Taking a ravenous bite, the rich, savory meat juices burst over his palate. Shen Xing felt instantly revived, devouring an entire bun in three bites. Jiang Lin pulled a bottle of water out of nowhere and handed it to him:

“Eat slowly. They’re all yours.”

With a bun settling in his stomach, the faint, dizzy floating sensation finally began to recede:

“The cafeteria had spiced pressed duck for lunch today. Such a shame I missed it.”

Every Monday, the police cafeteria published its weekly menu, and Shen Xing studied it religiously. Today, the dish he had anticipated most was that spiced pressed duck, said to be a signature recipe of the head chef. Jiang Lin found his fixation amusing:

“They served it tonight as well. I packed some for you. It might not taste quite as fresh as it did at lunch, so you’ll have to make do.”

“Where is it?”

“Left it in your office.”

“Let’s go!”

Back in his office, Shen Xing collapsed into his chair and reached out to open the food container. As he did, he glanced at his phone. A tiny red notification dot sat on the avatar of Xu Huai from Capital Hospital Neurosurgery. Realizing that today was the third day, he immediately dropped the container lid and tapped open the chat.