DSMIS CH24

Chapter 24: Officer Jiang Blows His Cover

In clinical medicine, every high-caliber surgical recording held immense educational value. Back when Shen Xing was still at Yuetan Hospital, his department routinely gathered to watch operative recordings from top peers across the country to learn from one another. Shen Xing had simply assumed the video sent by his department chief was this week’s assigned departmental study material.

At noon, Shen Xing joined Jiang Lin for lunch as usual. As he sat down, he propped up his phone and opened the folder. Inside were three separate video files, indicating that this limb-salvage debridement had required three staged procedures. He tapped the first one in sequence. The camera angle was excellent, offering a pristine, unobstructed view of the surgical field.

Hearing the visceral squelching and clinking from across the table, Jiang Lin asked:

“What are you watching?”

Stuffing a piece of braised pork into his mouth, Shen Xing replied:

“Oh, a surgical study video sent over from my hospital. Performed by a giant in orthopedics.”

Jiang Lin stiffened imperceptibly upon hearing this, but said nothing.

What served as prime lunchtime entertainment in Shen Xing’s eyes looked like an unrecognizable, bloody disaster zone to anyone else. Sensing several neighboring officers craning their necks to peer curiously at his screen, Shen Xing realized that playing this during lunch was indeed somewhat inappropriate. He promptly paused the video. Jiang Lin looked up:

“Why’d you stop?”

Shen Xing lowered his voice:

“It’s a bit too graphic. Don’t want to ruin everyone’s appetite.”

Jiang Lin chuckled:

“Do all you doctors possess the superpower of watching surgeries over meals?”

“Of course. Back at the hospital, we’re constantly running until our heels hit the backs of our heads. Mealtime is the only spare window we get to squeeze these in.”

“I’m heading over to talk with Aunt Shulan after work tonight,” Jiang Lin remarked.

Knowing he was referring to Liu Xiaohu’s experimental protocol, Shen Xing offered:

“Mm. If she’s interested, I can set up a video call with my senior so he can walk her through the details and risks. But there’s another hurdle: the treatment can only be carried out at Capital Hospital. Given her current physical condition, traveling to Beijing with him might be difficult. Ultimately, the choice is hers.”

“Understood.”

The afternoon clinic was packed with patients, leaving Shen Xing no time to resume the video. That evening, he ate at the cafeteria with Jiang Lin before walking back to the hospital together:

“I won’t head upstairs. Go ahead and talk to Aunt Cao; I’ll wait for you in my office.”

Every time he conducted rounds, he sensed that Cao Shulan grew visibly tense in his presence; many elderly folks harbored an instinctive fear of doctors. Jiang Lin nodded and headed upstairs.

Returning to his office, Shen Xing tore open a bag of fries, cracked open a can of cola, and resumed the video from noon. That leg truly was a mangled mess—a total disaster area.

Yet the longer he watched, the tighter his brows knitted. The trauma on this patient’s lower extremity differed markedly from the vehicular collisions or high-altitude falls he typically treated. Countless foreign fragments were being retrieved from deep within the muscle tissue, resembling jagged steel shrapnel. How on earth had those gotten lodged in there?

He counted carefully: thirty-three metallic fragments were extracted from the left leg alone. Remembering that the procedure took place at the Armed Police General Hospital, Shen Xing realized this was almost certainly a blast injury. He had never encountered such a case in his civilian practice.

Explosions were rare, and even when individuals in high-risk professions suffered them, they weren’t typically routed to civilian municipal hospitals. His attention sharpened, and his hand hovering over the fries paused entirely.

The first surgery lasted over five hours. Shen Xing sped up playback slightly. To be frank, the procedure had been grueling. The limb had technically met the clinical indications for amputation; what the surgeons were doing was fighting by the skin of their teeth to force limb salvage. It vividly reminded him of the case that had caused him so much trouble the previous month.

Still, the fact that his department chief had forwarded the file meant the intervention had ultimately succeeded—the patient’s leg had been saved. He analyzed every microvascular maneuver, comparing it against his own surgical choices, so engrossed that he didn’t even notice Jiang Lin returning.

It wasn’t until a hand dipped into his bag of fries that Shen Xing finally looked up:

“Ah, Hero, you’re back.”

Chewing on a fry, Jiang Lin said:

“Watching so intently?”

With his head brimming with operative anatomy, Shen Xing couldn’t help marveling:

“A master is a master. The patient was exceptionally lucky, too. Did you finish your chat?”

Skill was vital in limb salvage, but patient luck undeniably played a role. Under the exact same hands, with the exact same technique, some patients restored vascular perfusion while others failed. Sometimes, it truly was a roll of the dice.

“Aunt Shulan needs a couple of days to think it through. But judging by her tone, she’s leaning toward taking the gamble.”

Shen Xing wasn’t surprised. Liu Xiaohu had been comatose for seven months, and the odds of spontaneous awakening dwindled by the day. By this point, most families reached a stage where they felt anything was better than doing nothing:

“Mm, it’s a major decision. It’s best to give her time to think it over. Let’s head home.”

Jiang Lin pointed at his phone:

“Aren’t you going to finish the video? I can wait.”

Shen Xing laughed:

“The whole thing is five hours long. Even on fast-forward, it’ll take three hours. It’s far cozier to watch tucked under the duvet at home.”

On the walk back, they passed a snack shop. Shen Xing tugged on Jiang Lin’s sleeve:

“I need to stock up on rations.”

Jiang Lin accompanied him inside, having long noticed that Shen Xing had a massive sweet tooth. Beneath Shen Xing’s office desk was a snack crate; completely bare a few days ago, it was now nearly overflowing.

Furthermore, his palate was remarkably childlike. Right now, he was sweeping bags of potato chips, spicy strips, chocolates, and jellies into his shopping basket. Shen Xing didn’t just hoard for himself, either; he eagerly pitched his favorites:

“Hero, do you like jelly?”

“The last time I ate jelly was probably in elementary school.”

Shen Xing turned to stare at him in sheer disbelief. Jiang Lin rubbed his nose, feeling judged like an alien, and sheepishly tacked on:

“I like it. Xizhilang brand.”

Shen Xing burst out laughing:

“Hero, you’re kind of adorable. Hold on, I’ll find you your Xizhilang.”

The shop sold loose snacks by weight. Shen Xing promptly scooped up two massive bags of Xizhilang fruit jelly.

Once his basket was nearly full, he wandered over to the beverage cooler. Jiang Lin watched him poke his head in, scanning the shelves like the ginger cat he had kept as a boy. Glancing toward a hidden corner of the fridge, Jiang Lin slid the glass door open, retrieved a bottle of iced coffee float, and held it out in front of Shen Xing. Shen Xing’s eyes sparked instantly:

“Hey! I totally missed that just now.”

With Shen Xing buying so much food, Jiang Lin took the heavier bag. They walked back laden with goods, each holding an iced coffee float like two students walking home from school. At their doors, Shen Xing gave a cheerful wave before slipping inside.

Back in his apartment, Jiang Lin set the bag full of fruit jelly on the dining table and braced himself against the wood as he sank onto a chair. The neuropathic pain in his leg flared up again with a vengeance. Breaking into a cold sweat, he instinctively reached into his pocket for his painkillers, only for his fingers to freeze upon touching the plastic container.

Leaning back into the chair, he closed his eyes and bore the agony. Only when the sharp, stabbing spasms subsided into a dull, thumping ache did he let out a ragged breath. Looking at the snack bag on the table, he quietly took out a cup of fruit jelly. Cool and sweet, it actually tasted quite nice.

Old Man Xu’s furious scolding from yesterday echoed in his ears. Should he go find Shen Xing for an examination? But the memory of how wretched and undignified he had been during his early rehabilitation and physical therapy welled up, and he hesitated.

Inside his apartment, Shen Xing took a quick shower, unfolded his newly delivered bed tray across the mattress, and arrayed his spicy strips, chips, and cola. He popped open a can of dietary food for Qianjin by the bedside, reopened the video file, and sat cross-legged, munching on spicy strips while completely engrossed in the footage.

Halfway through, an incoming call from his department chief, Lin Ke, interrupted him. Putting down his cola, he picked up. Strictly speaking, Lin Ke was an alumnus several classes ahead of him from the same medical school; their doctoral mentors had been direct peers, so they were virtually from the same lineage and maintained a warm personal relationship.

Lin Ke filled him in on the aftermath of the medical dispute from last month. The patient’s family had previously demanded an exorbitant payout, threatening to sue both the hospital and Shen Xing. The hospital retained legal counsel and took the matter to pre-trial mediation, at which point the family abruptly dropped the lawsuit.

Shen Xing let out a derisive snort. Lin Ke continued:

“Every step of your clinical management was meticulously documented, and every mandatory disclosure had written parental signatures. The hospital also pulled security footage, including clips of colleagues practically begging them on bended knees to abandon limb salvage. Pursuing the suit would have only cost them legal fees. They won’t make a fuss anymore. How are things on your end? Settling in?”

“It’s decent. The patient demographic here skews older. At most, there are minor dialect barriers, but people don’t go around filing frivolous lawsuits.”

Lin Ke chuckled:

“By the way, did you watch the recording I sent you today?”

“Watching it right now. On the second procedure. Is this the case for this week’s departmental review?”

“No. That video was personally entrusted to me by Vice President Xu of the Armed Police General Hospital.”

Shen Xing blinked:

“Huh? I barely know him.”

Why was Xu Cheng popping up everywhere?

“At the medical conference the day before yesterday, he specifically approached me to ask who from our department had been dispatched to Yunnan. I didn’t hide it. Afterward, he sent over that surgical recording for you. I watched it myself—brilliantly executed.

“That said, the limb salvage was pushed to the absolute extreme. The patient was bound to suffer severe sequelae. Xu mentioned the patient is currently in Yunnan and hinted that he wanted the kid to come see you for follow-up care. Keep an eye out; I expect he’ll reach out to you directly soon.”

Physicians referring difficult cases to trusted colleagues was common practice, but it was usually handled with a casual verbal heads-up. For a giant of orthopedics like Xu Cheng to obtain his WeChat via Xu Huai and then route surgical footage through his department chief was unusually formal. Shen Xing couldn’t help feeling curious about what kind of patient warranted such exceptional solicitude.

Hanging up, Shen Xing resumed watching while snacking on spicy strips. Across the three staged operations, the leg’s viability undeniably improved with each intervention. Still, judging by clinical experience, this leg would never be free of debilitating complications. Watching at 1.2x speed, he plowed through all three procedures, staying up until nearly 4:00 AM.

At 6:30 AM sharp, Qianjin propped his heavy paws against the edge of the mattress and scrambled up, flattening his plump bulk across Shen Xing’s chest like a massive pancake, nearly knocking the previous night’s dinner out of him:

“Ugh…”

Crushed by exhaustion, Shen Xing buried his face under the blanket, determined to go back to sleep. But the dog was desperate for his morning walk. After wrestling three hundred rounds with the fluffy beast on the bed, Shen Xing blindly fumbled for his phone, tapped his most frequent contact, and dialed. It was answered on the third ring:

“Dr. Shen?”

Shen Xing’s groggy, sleep-thickened voice mumbled through the speaker:

“Hero… have you stepped out yet? Can you walk my dog for me…?”

Jiang Lin had already risen and was pulling on his jacket to take Heibao out. Hearing how utterly drained Shen Xing sounded, he knew the man couldn’t drag himself out of bed:

“Sure. I was just about to head out anyway.”

Less than a minute later, a knock came at the door. Shen Xing answered like an ambulatory ghost, his hair standing on end in a spectacular bird’s nest. Jiang Lin took in his bloodshot eyes and the jaw-cracking yawns that squeezed involuntary tears down his cheeks:

“Didn’t sleep well?”

“Watched surgical recordings until four.”

Jiang Lin took Qianjin’s leash from his limp hand:

“Go back to sleep. I’ll bring breakfast when I get back.”

Shen Xing gave a drunken nod, shut the door, fell into bed, and passed out cold.

When he woke again, it was 7:15 AM. Three solid hours of deep sleep had restored most of his battery. Bolting upright, he suddenly remembered what had transpired an hour ago: did he seriously ask Jiang Lin to walk his dog at the crack of dawn?!

Snatching his phone, he saw an unread message sent fifteen minutes prior:

“I’m back with breakfast. Come over whenever you’re awake.”

Shen Xing scrambled out of bed, freshened up and changed at combat speed, burst out of his apartment, and knocked next door. Jiang Lin answered with a warm smile:

“Awake?”

“I’m so sorry about earlier…”

“Come in and eat.”

Stepping inside, Shen Xing immediately checked on his dog. Qianjin had gone out with Heibao—had the cowardly puffball been terrified out of his wits? Just as he prepared to offer comfort, he witnessed an astonishing scene.

His little coward was actively prancing around Heibao, wagging his tail furiously and letting out affectionate, chatty yips. In contrast, Heibao sat calmly on his haunches as usual, ears pricked alertly. Far from being annoyed by the bouncing fluffball, Heibao occasionally extended a paw to nudge the Sammy back, as if humoring him.

Shen Xing stared in a daze at Jiang Lin:

“Did I walk in through the wrong dimension? Qianjin isn’t terrified of Heibao anymore?”

Jiang Lin couldn’t resist recounting the morning’s adventure.

He usually drove out to exercise Heibao, but because Qianjin had been petrified of the larger dog, Jiang Lin had walked them on dual leashes instead: Heibao striding stoically on the left, Qianjin trailing nervously on the right.

Along the path, they crossed paths with an aggressive corgi. The little corgi barked ferociously at Qianjin and lunged to nip at his rear. The cowardly Sammy panicked, howling and fleeing while the corgi gave chase.

Right then, Heibao surged forward, interposing his powerful frame in front of Qianjin with a low, menacing growl that instantly sent the provocative corgi scrambling in terror.

Shen Xing listened with his mouth hanging open. Jiang Lin chuckled:

“Ever since we got back, he hasn’t been afraid of Heibao at all.”

Shen Xing struggled to hold in his laughter before finally cracking:

“Why does this sound exactly like one of those cheesy ‘domineering CEO rescues the damsel in distress’ soap operas my mom watches?”

After breakfast, both had to leave for work. Shen Xing tried to take Qianjin home, but the stubborn dog dug his paws in, refusing to budge. Shen Xing sighed:

“What’s your problem now, young master?”

Though a coward, Qianjin was a solid sixty-five jin of pure canine bulk; when he refused to move, Shen Xing genuinely couldn’t drag him.

Jiang Lin suggested:

“Does he want to stay here and play with Heibao? Let him stay. Heibao knows his boundaries.”

Shen Xing hesitated, but released the leash and poked the Sammy’s forehead:

“No tearing up the furniture.”

Qianjin flicked his soft pink ears and instantly scampered back to Heibao.

A cold front had arrived with biting gales; the forecast predicted snow. The morning clinic was exceptionally slow, clearing out completely by 10:00 AM—a relaxed pace unthinkable back at Yuetan Hospital.

Rolling his stiff neck, Shen Xing watched the trees thrashing wildly in the wind outside. He brewed a cup of Dahongpao tea, the warm aroma reviving his senses. Just as he sat back down, his phone buzzed with a friend request.

Remembering what Xu Huai and Lin Ke had said, he checked WeChat. Sure enough, the verification message read: Xu Cheng. The titan had actually added him! Shen Xing accepted immediately and sent a courteous greeting.

The reply came swiftly. After exchanging pleasantries, Xu Cheng—likely unused to typing on a phone—asked if Shen Xing was free for a call.

Shen Xing dialed him back. After brief greetings, Shen Xing deduced the purpose of the call and proactively mentioned having studied the surgical recordings:

“Director Shen has already watched the videos?”

“Yes, I stayed up late last night studying them…” Shen Xing offered well-deserved praise for the technical prowess displayed.

“Dr. Shen, the reason I’m reaching out today is precisely about that patient. As you saw, his left leg was saved against impossible odds. After extensive rehabilitation, he regained the ability to walk normally.

“However, due to his operational duties, he rarely attended subsequent physical therapy and clinical follow-ups, resulting in severe neuropathic pain… He is currently stationed in Fulan County. I’ve instructed him to consult you, and I hope you can keep a close eye on him…”

Shen Xing understood immediately: this was a thoroughly non-compliant patient. Knowing how much agony and surgical artistry had gone into salvaging that leg, hearing that the patient treated it so recklessly made Shen Xing’s blood pressure spike.

If this patient came through his door for a routine consultation, he would naturally treat him with utmost care. But Xu Cheng asking him to “keep a close eye” implied acting as a babysitter for an unruly, stubborn case. Frankly, Shen Xing detested taking on such patients; they existed purely to torture physicians. Yet out of respect for Xu Cheng, he couldn’t refuse:

“Vice President Xu, I understand the situation. Please forward his medical records; I’ll keep an eye out. Of course, this also depends on his willingness to cooperate.”

Xu Cheng agreed readily, and the files arrived shortly after the call ended.

Shen Xing opened the records on his desktop. Sipping his black tea, he scrolled down. But the instant his eyes hit the patient’s name on the cover sheet, his pupils dilated in shock. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, he leaned closer to the monitor.

The name typed into the patient box was unequivocally: Jiang Lin.

Jiang Lin? His first instinct was that it had to be a namesake. He checked the age box: 30.

Shen Xing sat frozen. Had Old Man Xu gone senile and attached the wrong file?

Yet within the borders of Fulan County, could there really be a second thirty-year-old named Jiang Lin?

Over at the county bureau, Jiang Lin had swallowed another dose of painkillers upon arriving at his desk. He had walked too much while handling the dogs this morning; the agony had surged beyond what a heat patch could soothe. Just as the medication began to take the edge off and he reached for a cold-case dossier, his phone rang. Seeing Old Man Xu’s number, he sighed and picked up:

“Don’t even ask. You skipped the hospital again, didn’t you?”

“Uncle Xu, it’s a working day.”

“As if you go on weekends! Let me tell you, this time you don’t get a choice. I swallowed my pride and reached out to that visiting specialist from Yuetan Hospital. I’ve already spoken with him. You are going, whether you like it or not!”

Hearing this, Jiang Lin snapped upright in his swivel chair:

“You contacted the visiting doctor?!”

“I did! Let me tell you, doctors despise stubborn, non-compliant patients like you. Director Shen is doing me a personal favor by agreeing to oversee your case. You better behave, understand?”

The moment “Director Shen” left the old man’s mouth, Jiang Lin’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. His last shred of wishful thinking shattered into dust. The old man really had gone straight to Shen Xing.

“What… exactly did you tell him?”

“Nothing much. Just asked him to look after you, and sent him your surgery videos and medical files.”

Jiang Lin stood paralyzed… And you call that ‘nothing much’?!

In the orthopedic consultation room, Shen Xing stared blankly at the cover of the medical chart for an eternity. He found it impossible to reconcile the capable, seemingly invincible man who had dug his car out of a snowbank and changed his tire on the national highway with the near-cripple detailed across these pages.

Pieces of memory he had previously dismissed began to piece together. Jiang Lin never walked quickly; whenever Shen Xing picked up the pace, Jiang Lin always made casual excuses to slow them down. He had twice mentioned his leg aching. And that bottle of Gabapentin in his apartment—it hadn’t been for any damn migraine at all. He should have realized it long ago!

Jiang Lin belonged to the same unit as Liu Xiaohu. Whatever operational crisis had occurred, it had been exceptionally perilous. If Liu Xiaohu had been reduced to a vegetative state from severe brain trauma, how could Jiang Lin have emerged unscathed?

Combine that with Jiang Lin’s unusually senior rank for his age, and the profound deference he commanded across the county bureau… Those honors had been purchased with his very life.

Shen Xing took a deep, steadying breath and scrolled down into the clinical history. The timeline aligned precisely: Jiang Lin’s admission to the Armed Police General Hospital coincided with Liu Xiaohu’s injury—seven months ago.

When he reached the admission diagnosis, the shrapnel from last night’s footage finally received a horrific explanation: Blast and high-fall injury resulting in a comminuted fracture of the left lower extremity complicated by extensive degloving trauma. Even for an orthopedic surgeon accustomed to catastrophic trauma, reading the operative notes made his scalp tingle. He scrolled further: Jiang Lin had suffered not only severe limb destruction, but also ulnar nerve laceration secondary to an elbow fracture, along with internal hemorrhaging and blunt organ contusions.

During his first month of hospitalization, he had endured three staged limb-salvage debridements, one elbow reconstruction, and a brachial plexus nerve anastomosis. Imagining every brutal clinical term inflicted upon Jiang Lin’s body made Shen Xing’s chest ache with raw horror.

The records sent by Xu Cheng were exhaustive, covering not only the two months at the Armed Police General Hospital, but also his subsequent rehabilitation. For three months following discharge, Jiang Lin had undergone intensive, closed rehabilitation at their specialized therapy center. Shen Xing read every single page with meticulous care; no one understood better than an orthopedic surgeon how excruciatingly difficult it was to stand again after surviving three procedures of that magnitude.

The records tracked his secondary complications and therapeutic milestones. In the fifth month, he was formally discharged, though his clinical indicators barely cleared the minimum threshold. Shen Xing cross-referenced the dates: Jiang Lin’s discharge almost exactly coincided with the date Liu Xiaohu had been transferred back to Fulan County.

Subsequent records ceased to originate from the Armed Police General Hospital, shifting instead to Baoshan Municipal Hospital. Initially, follow-ups occurred weekly, then bi-weekly. Calculating the timeline of the most recent checkup, it had taken place the very day before Shen Xing met him on the highway. So that trip had been for a hospital follow-up?

Reviewing the Baoshan consultation notes, he saw that the checkups had been superficial at best, primarily serving to refill prescriptions: long-term neurotrophic medications, and above all, massive quantities of painkillers. Shen Xing’s brow furrowed deep. The volume of analgesics prescribed was alarming.

Having reviewed the entire history, Shen Xing finally understood why Xu Cheng had gone to such convoluted lengths to involve him. Since leaving the military facility, Jiang Lin had been utterly passive regarding treatment, despite clearly suffering from severe neuropathic pain.

Because his checkups in Baoshan were incomplete, secondary complications could not be ruled out. Shen Xing had personally witnessed his discomfort multiple times, yet Jiang Lin had concealed it with calculated precision—even concocting an absurd lie about migraines. Migraines, my foot!

A distinguished orthopedic specialist lived right next door to him, yet Jiang Lin hadn’t uttered a single honest syllable. Concealment was bad enough, but he had actively lied! Looking at Jiang Lin’s face in his mind’s eye, Shen Xing was torn between fierce worry and burning anger. If pressed on which emotion dominated, it was unmistakably fury. He couldn’t pinpoint why he was this angry, but his chest felt hopelessly suffocated.

Ever since receiving Xu Cheng’s call, Jiang Lin had been on pins and needles, a restless dread gnawing at him straight through to the lunch hour. Over the past two hours, he had checked his phone repeatedly. Messages came in, but none were from Shen Xing. Part of him hoped Shen Xing had been too swamped in the clinic to check his messages—perhaps he should confess in person over lunch?

Shen Xing had lost all track of time reading the files. Only when Luosang stood up to put on his coat for lunch did Shen Xing realize the morning shift had ended. With a ball of fury wedged in his throat, he shut down the browser window, pulled on his coat without a word, and walked out. Luosang stared after his rigid back, sensing a palpable murderous aura radiating from the usually mild-mannered Dr. Shen.

Outside, snow had begun to fall, whipped through the air by unrelenting gales. The moment Shen Xing stepped out, a flurry of ice struck his face. Tightly wrapping his down coat around himself, he marched across the street. Entering the county bureau courtyard, he immediately spotted Jiang Lin pushing through the doors. Their eyes met across the snow. Today, Jiang Lin had thrown on his service overcoat, but the thin wool offered little defense against the howling wind. With the medical chart searing his mind, Shen Xing strode forward while pointing sharply at the building, commanding him to get back inside.

Jiang Lin gave a small nod and waited behind the glass doors. Catching the dark storm on Shen Xing’s face, he held the heavy wind-curtain open as the doctor stepped inside:

“It’s freezing today. The specials happen to be lamb offal soup and lamb skewers.”

He remembered Shen Xing eagerly eyeing Friday on the menu earlier this week; both items had been at the top of his wishlist.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, seeing Jiang Lin only made Shen Xing angrier. Treating such catastrophic injuries like a joke! Bundled tightly in his coat, Shen Xing merely let out a frosty grunt through his nose.

The cafeteria was packed, with the longest line snaking before the lamb offal soup station. Jiang Lin moved to queue as usual, but Shen Xing grabbed his arm:

“You get the rice. I’ll wait in line.”

Without waiting for an answer, he steered Jiang Lin toward the short line for steamed rice and took his place at the very tail of the soup queue.

A few minutes later, Shen Xing carried two steaming bowls of soup over and sat down opposite Jiang Lin. Seeing that Shen Xing hadn’t even picked up the skewers, Jiang Lin knew something was terribly wrong. Mealtime was usually Shen Xing’s happiest moment of the day; whenever he ate his favorites, his eyes sparkled like stars. Right now, he looked as though he harbored a personal vendetta against the bowl in front of him.

“Did you have a lot of patients this morning?”

Shen Xing took a sip of the scalding broth, the warmth spreading through his chest down to his extremities. Setting his spoon down, he looked up, resolved not to let Jiang Lin play dumb any longer. If complications were brewing, they needed to be addressed immediately.

“Not many. The vice president of the Armed Police General Hospital forwarded me a medical file this morning. I just finished reading it.”

He didn’t name names, keeping his gaze level and unblinking.

Having served in narcotics for years, Jiang Lin’s psychological resilience had been forged in iron; even staring down ruthless cartel gunmen, his pulse barely flickered. Yet now, pinned beneath Dr. Shen’s clear, piercing eyes, he felt a long-forgotten wave of sheer panic crash over him.

He was done for. It was too late.

Sweat beaded faintly on the palms gripping his chopsticks:

“I…”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Shen Xing dipped his head back down, resuming eating his soup, leaving behind a single, frosty declaration:

“I’m on clinic duty tomorrow morning.”

For the rest of the meal, Shen Xing uttered not another word. Jiang Lin walked him to the doorway as always. Just before stepping out into the snow, Shen Xing halted and cast a sharp look down at Jiang Lin’s legs:

“Are you wearing long johns?”

Jiang Lin blinked, then nodded frantically:

“Yes.”

“Fine. Don’t step outside. I’m heading back.”

Back in his consultation room, Shen Xing couldn’t even fathom what had made him lose his temper so thoroughly. Unable to figure it out, he shoved it aside:

“Luosang, call the next patient.”

Around 4:00 PM, an emergency case of a displaced hip fracture arrived. Just before scrubbing in, Shen Xing hesitated, then sent Jiang Lin a text:

“I have a surgery. Won’t be coming over for dinner.”

Recalling how Jiang Lin had delivered meals to him during past operations, he tacked on another line:

“It’s a long procedure. Head home after visiting Aunt Cao. Don’t wait for me.”

Only after pressing send did he feel that the tone of his message was oddly domestic.

“Dr. Shen, the family has signed the consent forms.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he pushed the strange feeling aside:

“Understood. Prepare the patient.”

The procedure proved complex, lasting over five hours. By the time Shen Xing emerged from the operating suite, it was past 9:00 PM. Having slept only three hours the night before, he was battered by bone-deep fatigue and hunger. Collapsing onto a wooden bench in the corridor, he was just popping open a vial of oral glucose when a figure appeared around the corner.

His brows instantly furrowed. Jiang Lin approached, speaking gently:

“I ended up chatting a bit longer with Aunt Shulan. Was just about to head home.”

“Oh.”

Dr. Shen is definitely still furious, Jiang Lin noted with absolute certainty.

Shen Xing drained the glucose and turned toward his office. Jiang Lin followed quietly a few paces behind. Stepping inside, Shen Xing saw an insulated food carrier sitting on his desk. There was no need to ask who had brought it. He stopped before it as Jiang Lin slipped into the room:

“There’s lamb offal soup inside. The flatbreads are in the warming compartment; they should still be hot.”

Shen Xing offered a quiet thanks, sat down, and looked at the tall man hovering awkwardly beside him:

“Sit down.”

Only then did Jiang Lin take the seat opposite the desk. After a pause, he murmured:

“I registered an appointment for your clinic tomorrow morning. Please don’t be angry anymore.”

“I’m not angry.”

The denial slipped out instinctively. But meeting Jiang Lin’s calm, patient eyes, Shen Xing felt his irritation was somewhat irrational. If Jiang Lin chose not to take care of his own body, it technically wasn’t Shen Xing’s place to meddle. Yet they were friends; caring about a friend’s health was completely natural.

“I only found out today that the surgery recording I watched last night was yours.”

Remembering that Shen Xing had watched the footage over lunch yesterday, Jiang Lin felt thoroughly uncomfortable. Shen Xing dipped a piece of flatbread into the rich soup:

“You should know your own condition better than anyone. Honestly, from a surgeon’s perspective, saving that limb was an extraordinary feat. And from yours, you know better than anyone the sheer agony of enduring three staged reconstructions. Now that your leg was saved against all odds, you need to take proper care of it.”

Jiang Lin leaned against the chair back:

“I do take care of it.”

Shen Xing didn’t dignify that with a response. Just as he went back to his bread, he noticed Jiang Lin lowering his head slightly. The man looked worn out, his voice dropping low and quiet:

“I take my meds on time. I wear long johns. I use heat patches.”

For some reason, hearing that made Shen Xing’s heart clench painfully. A graduate of the National Police University who served on the frontline of narcotics operations must have possessed phenomenal physical prowess. The horrific injuries Jiang Lin had sustained would have left an ordinary person struggling to take a single step. It was only because he had been treated at the Armed Police General Hospital, with world-class rehabilitation, coupled with his own iron willpower, that he had managed to stand again. Yet even so, a full recovery was an impossibility.

Surviving catastrophic trauma left scars far beyond the flesh; the psychological toll was equally devastating. For an elite officer who had once been in peak physical condition, coming to terms with such a permanent loss was cruel. Shen Xing suddenly felt that his earlier temper had been overly harsh. Looking at the weary man before him, his words caught in his throat. After a long silence, he managed:

“Mm. Just do as the doctor tells you.”

Jiang Lin lifted his head, letting out a soft: “Okay.”

By the time Shen Xing finished eating, a comforting warmth had suffused his body, though fullness only magnified his drowsiness. Changing out of his coat, he walked out with Jiang Lin.

Because of the bitter cold that morning, Jiang Lin had driven his SUV. Shen Xing had hitched a ride with him then, and hitched a ride back now. Arriving on their landing, Shen Xing was about to unlock his door when he remembered Qianjin was still next door.

Noticing the exhaustion weighing heavily on Shen Xing’s eyes, Jiang Lin opened his door and handed Qianjin over:

“No need to watch videos tonight. Get to sleep early.”

Shen Xing gave a sleepy nod, tears pooling from another massive yawn, and took the leash:

“Tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t need to get up early. Just come by the hospital sometime in the morning.”

Jiang Lin nodded.

As Shen Xing turned his key, a low voice murmured behind him:

“Good night.”

“…Good night.”

Shen Xing had assumed he would pass out the moment his head hit the pillow, but lying in the quiet dark, insomnia crept in. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally drifting into fitful sleep.

Snow fell relentlessly through the night. When Shen Xing woke, the world outside was cloaked in pristine white. He took Qianjin out for his morning walk. The Samoyed adored the snow, gleefully rolling across the drifts. Yet holding the leash, Shen Xing was entirely distracted. His immediate thought was that this weather would make Jiang Lin’s leg unbearable. Had he thought of it earlier, he would have picked up Heibao to walk the two dogs together. He stopped for a bowl of rice noodles downstairs before returning Qianjin to the apartment, changed into his work clothes, and headed to the hospital.

Under the blanket of heavy snow, foot traffic at the clinic was even sparser than usual; the vehicles parked in the courtyard had halved. Luosang called the registration numbers in sequence. Just as Shen Xing finished consulting an elderly gentleman with osteoarthritis, Luosang’s voice called out the next name:

“Jiang Lin.”

Today, Jiang Lin hadn’t worn his tactical windbreaker. Instead, he wore a long, tailored black down coat, holding his newly printed registration slip:

“Good morning, Dr. Shen.”