Morning and evening weren’t so bad, but midday was quite awkward.
Although he had hired a caretaker, Qi Min didn’t want to constantly burden the elderly worker with helping him use the bedpan, so he would relieve himself in it, washing the bedpan once every evening.
If it was just a small matter, it would be fine. But for larger… well, even with a lid, there was always a bit of an odor.
Perhaps due to the unique nature of his profession, Wei Wenhua could still chat with him with a smile, even in the midst of dispersing unpleasant smells.
Qi Min couldn’t help but marvel: What a spirit of dedication! Not easy, truly not easy!
He was almost moved to respect.
After every conversation, Wei Wenhua would even prescribe some additional pain medication.
Those drugs would help him sleep through the night without the broken leg causing weird dreams.
But Qi Min was thin-skinned, and repeatedly dying of embarrassment was getting unbearable.
He wanted to ask the other to stop coming, but every time he met Wei Wenhua’s loving gaze, the words of refusal would get stuck in his throat.
In the end, he’d still endure the odor and awkwardly chat with him.
Fortunately, this situation ended a week later when Wei Wenhua informed him he could walk again.
Although he could only move around for half an hour to an hour each day, at least he could go to the bathroom with the caretaker’s help, no longer needing to use the bedpan.
The hospital room’s air became much fresher, and he could now chat more comfortably with his attending physician.
However, in the following days, Wei Wenhua stopped coming.
Qi Min: …
Lying in bed was incredibly dull, and Qi Min’s only source of entertainment was his phone. Using the universal charger Dr. Wei had lent him, he spent his days playing Snake. With the internet connection being so slow, it wasn’t like he had many other options.
Every time he stared at a loading bar on a webpage or the spinning icon for messages, he felt a wave of frustration. And sometimes, after waiting for what felt like an eternity, the page still wouldn’t load. He’d have to refresh and try again. These moments filled him with the irrational urge to smash his brand-new phone.
One night, Qi Min was awoken by the urge to urinate.
Since Doctor Wei had stopped visiting, he hadn’t taken painkillers, which made falling asleep harder and left him restless. This also sped up his nighttime metabolism, making the urge to pee come on faster.
Opening his eyes, he found the room dim, with only a faint light from outside spilling through the window.
Now that he could walk with crutches, he’d asked his caregiver, Mr. Chang, to take the old bedpan away. But the caregiver left every night at 8 p.m.
… Oh no! A miscalculation!
Qi Min lay there for a while, trying to convince himself to fall back asleep, but the discomfort was too much. With no other choice, he rolled over and sat up, only to spot a dark figure standing at the foot of his bed.
“Ah!”
A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind. Qi Min pursed his lips, quietly reaching for the crutch leaning against his bedside table.
“Sorry, did I scare you?”
The dark figure stepped forward, a familiar, handsome face laughing as it was illuminated by the streetlight filtering through the window.
It was Wei Wenhua.
Qi Min: “…”
Qi Min: “… Do you need something?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m on night shift, just stopped by to check on you… You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Qi Min: “… Thank you so much!”
In the pitch-black ward with no one else around, Wei Wenhua began chatting with Qi Min in the darkness: “It’s been quite busy these past few days. How’s your leg?”
“… Fine” Qi Min wanted the other to leave quickly, responding casually while gripping the crutch tightly.
Then the most dreaded thing happened. Wei Wenhua noticed his movement and enthusiastically said: “What’s wrong? Do you want to use the bathroom? Come, come, let me help you!”
“…”
Before he could refuse, Qi Min was dragged up from the bed by Wei Wenhua. The man’s grip was strong, but his movements were delicate, ensuring Qi Min’s left leg wasn’t bumped during the move.
Once Qi Min was balanced against the wall, Doctor Wei handed him the crutch and supported his right arm. Half-dragging, half-guiding him, Doctor Wei helped the reluctant Qi Min toward the bathroom.
The hospital wing was eerily quiet at night, illuminated only by the faint green glow of exit signs. The scene felt surreal, almost unsettling.
The only sounds were their footsteps and the soft tap of Qi Min’s crutch against the floor.
His room was at one end of the hallway, and the restroom was at the opposite end. In the middle stood the nurses’ station, shrouded in darkness. Only a red LED clock hanging above it emitted a faint glow, displaying the date, time, temperature, and humidity.
In the crimson light, Qi Min noticed a small door behind the nurses’ station—likely a break room. The door was ajar, revealing pitch darkness inside. Outside, an empty wheelchair faced him, its presence oddly unnerving in the dim light.
Sweat dampened Qi Min’s grip on his crutch. Struggling to dispel the unease, he broke the silence. “Doctor Wei, what do doctors do during night shifts? Aren’t you busy?”
“Well… writing medical records, rounds, discharge paperwork, and if any emergencies arise, it’s just like daytime—performing surgeries, outpatient consultations. When it’s busy, I might not rest until the next afternoon, basically a seamless continuation of the day shift.”
“Today’s been good, no critical emergency patients at night, and the inpatients are stable, so it’s not hectic.”
“You’re my last patient for rounds. After helping you to the bathroom, I’ll go rest.”
Wei Wenhua spoke leisurely, his voice clear and magnetic, significantly easing Qi Min’s tension.
Strangely, Wei Wenhua was quite friendly with his patients, but Qi Min always felt a special kind of pressure when facing him.
When Wei Wenhua stood by his bedside in the middle of the night, this pressure peaked.
If his legs weren’t injured, Qi Min would probably have jumped up and knocked him down with his crutch, then fled as far as possible.
… However, the reality was simply that the doctor was on night shift and doing rounds.
And as a patient under Wei Wenhua’s care, it was perfectly normal to check on him during rounds.
Thinking this, Qi Min felt somewhat relieved he hadn’t impulsively injured the doctor, which would have been awkward to handle.
Qi Min had been feeling rather nervous lately.
Was it post-traumatic stress from the car accident, leaving him constantly on edge? Or was it the combination of his limited mobility and the absence of family or friends that made him so sensitive?
Either way, Qi Min couldn’t shake the sense of unease that hung over him during his hospital stay.
And then there were the bizarre, unexplained dreams—the pure white space and the stars. What was that place?
Qi Min felt like he’d forgotten something important. And the more time he spent in the hospital without piecing it together, the more anxious he became.
Just then, Wei Wenhua broke the silence. “By the way, you’ve been here for days. Are your parents busy with work? I haven’t seen them visit.”
Qi Min paused, struggling to recall. “Uh… yeah, my parents are pretty busy with work…”
But… what exactly did his parents do for work? Why couldn’t he remember?
While lost in thought, Qi Min felt a warm hand on his head. Looking up, he saw the large hand slowly withdrawing.
Qi Min belatedly realized his silence had been misunderstood.
Then he heard Wei Wenhua slowly say, “My parents divorced when I was very young. My mother raised me alone. She was… very strict with me…”
“After the college entrance exam, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, already at a middle to late stage when discovered… Sometimes at night, I’d wake up hearing her turning over on the other side of the wall, knowing she was in too much pain to sleep.”
Qi Min listened quietly.
“I applied to a medical school near home to take care of her, hoping the knowledge I learned could help her.”
“… My mother had liver cancer. In the late stages, she would suffer unbearable pain almost daily, barely hanging on with pain medication.”
“Nevertheless, by my third year of college, she passed away, reduced to just skin and bones…”
At this point, Wei Wenhua seemed lost in his grief, silent for a long time.
Qi Min felt somewhat at a loss.
After a while, he said, “Doctor Wei… don’t be sad. I’m sure your mother would be proud to see how accomplished you are now. You’re a great doctor.”
Wei Wenhua turned to look at him.
In the green emergency light, the corner of his mouth curved in a smile, his expression incredibly soft.
“Yes, though I couldn’t save my mother, over the years I’ve helped countless patients just like her. She must be pleased.”
His voice lowered at the end, becoming somewhat unclear.
Qi Min looked at him quizzically.
Wei Wenhua avoided his gaze and continued, “Don’t blame your parents, either. They work hard to give you a better life. In this world, everyone has their struggles and responsibilities… But what parents don’t love their children?”
Wei Wenhua almost mumbled the rhetorical question, his gaze dispersed and fixed ahead.
After this heart-to-heart talk, their relationship had grown closer.
On the way back from the bathroom, Wei Wenhua even crouched down and offered to carry Qi Min back to his room.
Embarrassed, Qi Min declined. It was bad enough having him help to the bathroom—he didn’t want to impose any further.
With a slight smile, Wei Wenhua teased him, “Come on, hop on. You remind me of what I imagine my son would be like… If I’d gotten married earlier, my kid would probably be around your age by now.”
“… And carrying you is much faster than your turtle-like movement. Don’t you want to return to the ward and rest?”
Qi Min bashfully scratched his nose and obediently lay on Wei Wenhua’s back, holding his crutch as the doctor carried him back to the ward.
After settling Qi Min in bed, Wei Wenhua advised him to limit walking to no more than an hour per day to avoid affecting leg correction and healing.
He offered to have a nurse bring a bedpan for nighttime convenience.
“Oh, and…” Wei Wenhua said, pulling a blister pack of yellow-and-white capsules from his pocket. “You’ve probably run out of the painkillers I prescribed earlier.”
“Post-surgery pain is normal early on. If you can’t sleep, you can take one of these—it’s ibuprofen. The side effects are minimal, but don’t take too many.”
Pausing for a moment, he added, “At most, two at a time. The effect lasts for a whole day.”
Qi Min nodded earnestly, accepting the medication and thanking him.
Before leaving, Wei Wenhua even tucked the blanket snugly around him.
Lying in the clean, comfortable bed, Qi Min felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. His last thought before sleep claimed him was: Doctor Wei is truly a good person…
The Author has something to say:
Ordinary person (waking up in the middle of the night, finding someone by the bedside): “Ah!!!!”
Qi Min (waking up in the middle of the night, finding someone by the bedside): “…Do you need something?”
Shang Jingshui: “…Can’t mess with this guy.”
