“Doctor Wei, this is Lin Yezhen’s eldest grandson… He’s here to see her…”
Neither of the two paid any attention to the elderly woman’s ramblings.
Qi Min kept his gaze straight ahead and said casually, “Just wandering around with nothing better to do.”
Doctor Wei Wenhua didn’t lecture him about how “this isn’t a place for kids,” and instead continued to stare at him with an impassive expression.
Qi Min clenched his sweaty palms but maintained a calm façade.
After scrutinizing him for a few seconds, Wei Wenhua shifted his gaze past Qi Min to the elderly woman, Zhao Nai, who was still trying to strike up a conversation with this “grandson.”
In a low voice, Wei Wenhua explained, “Grandma Zhao’s tumor has metastasized to her brain, which has affected her speech and cognition. Please don’t take it to heart.”
Qi Min blinked and watched as Wei Wenhua’s face softened into a gentle smile. Turning to Grandma Zhao, he said, “Grandma Zhao, you’re mistaken. This isn’t Lin Yezhen’s grandson. He’s a patient from a nearby ward, Qi Min.”
Grandma Zhao quickly realized her mistake.
“Oh—oh, I must be confused… So he’s not Lin Yezhen’s grandson… But where is her big grandson?”
And there it was. The topic circled back again.
Wei Wenhua began patiently humoring Grandma Zhao, giving Qi Min an opening to slip away.
Halfway down the corridor, Qi Min glanced back to see Grandma Zhao tugging at Wei Wenhua’s sleeve. “Doctor Wei… That medicine you gave me before, can I have some more? It works so well… It makes my head stop hurting…”
Wei Wenhua bent down slightly to speak with her, but Qi Min was too far to hear. He decided not to linger and left.
As Qi Min walked away, Wei Wenhua glanced briefly at his retreating back and gently pulled his sleeve free.
“Grandma Zhao, you can’t take painkillers recklessly. If the pain is severe, I can examine you again…”
With midterms approaching, Qi Min didn’t want to miss too much school. After staying in the hospital for another week and noticing his condition improving, he decided to check out.
As he typed on a desktop computer, Wei Wenhua gave a series of instructions: “In two weeks, come back for an X-ray to see if you can start using a single crutch. Then, in two months, we’ll check the healing progress to decide whether the screws can be removed.”
“If the healing is good, the screws can come out then. If not, it’ll take six months to a year. You’ll also need weekly follow-ups to monitor the fracture’s recovery. Avoid intense physical activity to prevent screw displacement.”
After rattling off these precautions, he scribbled something on Qi Min’s medical record with his left hand.
Qi Min nodded, committing everything to memory while noting with mild surprise that Doctor Wei was left-handed.
Finally, Qi Min hesitated and asked, “Doctor Wei, do I have to come in for follow-ups every week? Could I extend it to two or three weeks?”
Wei Wenhua’s light-colored eyes behind his glasses regarded him warmly. “Ideally, you’d stay in the hospital for another week. But if you’re leaving early, it’s best to have frequent check-ups initially. Once we confirm good progress, we can consider spacing them out. Is something troubling you?”
Qi Min scratched his head. “It’s not a huge problem… It’s just that I live in the city center, and traveling back and forth here is a bit inconvenient. Can I transfer my follow-ups to a hospital in the city center?”
“Oh, I see… That’s possible. Let me check…”
Wei Wenhua rolled his mouse and flipped through Qi Min’s records. After a moment, he asked, “You live at Building 5, Huayuan Community, Wutong Avenue?”
Qi Min froze for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’m a day student. My school and home are on the same street, so I don’t live on campus.”
“What a coincidence…” Wei Wenhua smiled faintly. “My private clinic is right next to the Huayuan Community.”
“How about this? For your routine check-ups, you can come to my clinic. It has all the necessary equipment, and I’m usually there on weekends. When it’s time to remove the screws, you can come back to this hospital. This way, you’ll save time and avoid switching doctors, which might delay treatment.”
“Uh… There’s a clinic near the Huayuan Community? I don’t remember seeing it.”
“You probably didn’t notice. It’s tucked into a side alley. It’s called the Ping’an Clinic.”
Wei Wenhua turned to look at him, his smile radiant.
For the first time, Qi Min noticed Dr. Wei had sharp canine teeth. The pointed teeth glinted coldly in the sunlight, a stark contrast to his usual gentle demeanor.
In the classroom, Qi Min sat before a weekly exam paper.
Despite missing nearly 20 days of school, the questions posed no challenge to him, and he quickly finished.
With time to spare, he absentmindedly doodled on scrap paper. Gradually, a pair of eyes emerged on the page—narrow and slightly menacing. Without the obstruction of glasses, the gaze seemed icy, like a snake flicking its tongue.
“Whoa, is this some new skill you unlocked after your accident? Why didn’t I know you could draw like this before?”
Qi Min snapped out of his trance as the scrap paper was snatched away. He realized class had ended.
Sun Xiaoxiao, who was collecting exam papers from front to back, paused when she reached Qi Min’s desk. She flipped to a specific question and frowned in confusion.
Ignoring the teasing winks from Hao Peng, who was sitting nearby, Qi Min retrieved the scrap paper and examined his drawing.
As he stared at those familiar yet foreign eyes, Qi Min fell into deep thought.
“Involuntary doodles often reflect the subconscious mind,” a faceless man said in a brightly lit room.
Qi Min glanced past him and saw a bookshelf filled with toys.
The image flashed through Qi Min’s mind before quickly fading and disappearing entirely. Only one thought remained, deeply imprinted in his head:
Does my subconscious think Wei Wenhua isn’t a good person?
He folded the scrap paper and tossed it into the trash can, his expression contemplative.
Hao Peng, noticing Qi Min unusually zoning out, couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.
Well, maybe not unusually—ever since Qi Min came back from the hospital, or rather, ever since the car accident, he’d been acting a bit… strange.
At first, Hao Peng thought maybe Qi Min had hit his head too hard during the accident. But in class, Qi Min answered questions as smoothly as ever, showing no signs of cognitive damage or headaches typically associated with brain injuries.
Besides, if his brain were really injured, the hospital would’ve caught it, right? There’s no way they’d let him be discharged so soon!
…If anything, it was like he’d become a completely different person.
Speaking of which, the spot where the accident happened—at the base of Wuming Mountain—was pitch dark at night, with no streetlights. It really did have a bit of a creepy vibe.
Could it be… possession?
Hao Peng immediately shook his head. Nonsense! And I’m supposed to be a science student? What a waste of all these years of materialist education!
Qi Min’s face twitched slightly as he overheard Hao Peng muttering “secretly” to himself in a not-so-quiet voice nearby.
Having been back at school for a week now, Qi Min had also noticed that his classmates’ perception of him didn’t quite match how he viewed himself.
To them, including his close friend Hao Peng, Qi Min was a sunny, outgoing boy, good at sports and popular with everyone. Between classes, boys and girls alike would come over to chat with him or ask him questions. Hao Peng always seemed to naturally drape an arm over his shoulders, the movement so practiced it was clearly a habit.
But in reality, Qi Min disliked close physical contact with others. He saw himself as someone cautious and emotionally distant—hardly the type to excel at socializing.
Someone like that might have one or two close friends, but they wouldn’t be well-liked in a group setting.
This stark contrast made Qi Min feel out of place, much like the feeling he’d had when he first woke up in the hospital after the car accident.
And now, with Wei Wenhua, he felt that same unsettling dissonance.
It was Friday, and school had just ended.
With Saturday off and no need to return until Sunday afternoon, Qi Min’s high school schedule allowed him a brief respite. His class, Grade 12, Class 7, was on the third floor of the teaching building.
Since the building didn’t have an elevator, Hao Peng, the ever-reliable friend, had been carrying Qi Min up and down the stairs every day.
At first, Qi Min was resistant to the idea, but now he had gotten used to it and accepted it without fuss, lying comfortably on Hao Peng’s back.
As sweat dripped from Hao Peng’s forehead with each step down the stairs, Qi Min broke the silence.
“I think my attending doctor is a little… off.”
“Off? How so?” Hao Peng asked, panting as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs. He slowed his pace, walking alongside Qi Min toward the school gate.
“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Qi Min said. “Other patients and staff keep praising him as a good doctor, but I just feel like there’s something… odd about him.”
“If I had to describe it, it’s like he’s… too attentive.”
Hao Peng raised an eyebrow. “A doctor being enthusiastic is a bad thing? Most people would kill to have a doctor like that. My aunt was in the hospital once, and she couldn’t even find a doctor to ask about her condition most of the time!”
He glanced at Qi Min, who still wore a stoic expression tinged with concern.
“I think you’re just overthinking things,” Hao Peng said, trying to reassure him. “You’ve been acting paranoid lately—must be all the stress.”
“And even if the doctor really was strange, you’re discharged now. What could he possibly do to you? Just let it go.”
“By the way, what are we having for dinner? I’m craving that braised pork knuckle from You’s place… or maybe Hu Da’s stir-fried pork intestines.”
Watching Hao Peng shift his attention entirely to food, Qi Min swallowed the rest of his words. He didn’t tell Hao Peng that he would continue seeing Wei Wenhua for follow-ups at his private clinic—and that his next appointment was tonight.
To “replenish” Qi Min’s strength, Hao Peng dragged him to a restaurant and ordered spicy pork trotters and pork bone soup.
Qi Min: …
After the meal, Hao Peng helped Qi Min hail a motorized tricycle to take him to the clinic.
Wei Wenhua’s medical skills were undeniably excellent.
As a surgeon at a major hospital and an experienced attending physician, his clinical expertise was evident. Under his care, Qi Min had avoided any complications, and within about two weeks, the pain from his injuries had nearly disappeared.
“Not bad,” Wei Wenhua remarked as he examined Qi Min. “No signs of pain or inflammation suggest the screws haven’t shifted. Keep it up.”
“Avoid any intense physical activity beyond walking, and don’t put pressure on your leg while sleeping. Ideally, use a suspension band to keep it stable.”
After finishing the examination, Wei Wenhua applied some ointment to Qi Min’s injured leg, re-wrapped it with fresh bandages, added a compression pad, and secured it with a splint.
The entire process was precise and efficient, his movements clean and practiced. Paired with his refined, handsome appearance, it was almost mesmerizing to watch.
“And avoid spicy or irritating foods,” Wei Wenhua added, his gaze lingering briefly on Qi Min’s lips. “They can delay healing and cause scarring.”
Qi Min, whose lips were still swollen from eating the spicy pork trotters earlier: …
The Author has something to say:
Shang Jingshui: A sunny boy with little tiger teeth.
Qi Ming: Are you… the Grim Reaper?
Shang Jingshui: …
(Note: Regulations allowing practicing doctors to open private clinics were loosened in 2017. Prior to that, it was generally not permitted. For the sake of the plot, this background has been adjusted.)
Next chapter, the world begins to fall apart. It’s going to get a little scary.
