Fuse

"The rent..." Cen Zeng put his things down, only then remembering the issue. "How should we calculate it?"

Cheng Shuo said, "I already told you I'm pursuing you. I've never heard of someone you're pursuing needing to pay rent."

Cen Zeng looked up, not looking like he intended to compromise.

"Well, can you cook?" Cheng Shuo asked. "When you're not busy, can you cook for me?"

"Okay," Cen Zeng replied. "I can buy the groceries."

"Or..." He wasn't very certain. "If you want to spend your birthday at home, I can cook."

He said it with uncertainty, but the person opposite him revealed a very gentle smile. It was very different from what he had imagined. In that instant, he even felt for no reason at all that Cheng Shuo seemed to have been waiting for those words for a very long time.

"Okay," Cheng Shuo said. "Then it's a deal."

He hadn't planned on inviting many people for his birthday this year anyway. Ms. Zhong and Mr. Cheng had said in advance they couldn't make it back. Mainly, he still needed to clear things up with Chen Ziheng.

Such is fate; humans are powerless against it.

"But none of that matters right now anyway," Cheng Shuo said with a smile. "Don't cook today. Let's think about what to eat tonight to celebrate you moving in."

The work Li Aimin gave him required pulling an all-nighter, but it didn't matter; a few hours wouldn't make a difference.

Cen Zeng asked, "Want to get some ice cream?"

Cheng Shuo was stunned for a second, then said, "That Gelato place?"

"Mhm..." Cen Zeng said. "We can go even when we're in a good mood, right?"

"Of course." Cheng Shuo looked up. "And then on the way back, we can grab some claypot rice?"

When they arrived, it was dinnertime, and the shop wasn't crowded.

The autumn wind blew over, coating everything in a very pale light.

Cheng Shuo stood by his side, exuding a vibrant and cheerful aura that put him at ease.

When people smile, it seems to give off a very rarefied kind of happiness. He reached out into it, wanting to grasp it, and was very happy to see it turn into overflowing mist—impossible to hold, but visible.

That was good enough.

Although he'd agreed to cook, he was so busy for the next few days that he could only manage to make breakfast.

Li Aimin's change in demeanor was incredibly smooth; who knows how many students he had tormented to practice it. When he looked at Cen Zeng with the eyes of someone looking at trash again, Cen Zeng was almost relieved.

The endless stream of tasks, the continuous mockery, the harsh comments that could render even Song Shuyi silent—it had reached a point where he could no longer tell what was real and what wasn't.

Oblivious. No need to be aware.

It was just such an absurdly disorienting feeling. His supervisor's expression grew gloomier and harsher by the day, yet when Cheng Shuo looked at him, he always felt a fire burning in his heart.

It was scalding, hot enough to hurt a little, yet it gave him a real sense of being alive.

Cheng Shuo's birthday was in two days. Cen Zeng planned to finish all his recent tasks with deadlines as best he could, submitting them right on time, so that Li Aimin would have to wait until after Cheng Shuo's birthday to give his ridiculous feedback.

He was so busy he barely had time to look up, but his shoulder was tapped.

He Ying ran all the way over, came to his side, and said in a low voice, "Quick, go get Shuyi back. I'll stall for a bit."

After speaking, she took his thick stack of papers and headed straight for the supervisor's office.

Cen Zeng got up and, ignoring the fact that he was an unfamiliar face, rushed into the neighboring lab and pulled away the senior brother who was in a lively discussion with someone. "Li Aimin is looking for you."

The other person's face stiffened. "Now? I haven't done anything to provoke him recently."

"Senior He said so. Hurry up and go."

Song Shuyi's eyes darted around. The PhD student next to him was also a bit stunned.

There was no time to say more. Cen Zeng pulled Song Shuyi all the way to the hallway.

After a short wait, He Ying came out and said to Song Shuyi, "Brace yourself."

So he walked forward. The door wasn't closed, and Cen Zeng could vaguely hear the first sentence, Li Aimin's voice rising and falling with theatrical cadence: "Quite audacious, aren't you?"

He Ying gave him a tug. "Let's go back to the lab first."

After half an hour of dealing with a dense pile of grunt work, someone sat down beside him.

Song Shuyi looked terrible, staring at his phone without a word.

"Want to talk?" Cen Zeng asked, turning his head to his senior brother during a gap while a program was running.

The person opposite him had already buried his head on the desk. Rarely did he not answer at all.

The others let him be silent until dinnertime when they ordered takeout together. They ordered a portion for Song Shuyi, and Xu Zhenqing came over and placed it beside him.

Song Shuyi finally lifted his head and said he happened to be hungry.

The end of his sentence trembled, but no one pointed it out.

He finished the entire bowl of braised pork rice, and while he was at it, he collected Cen Zeng's chopsticks as well and threw them in the trash.

Then, he sat back down and finally spoke.

"I was reported. I can't work on Wang Xia's project anymore," Song Shuyi said. "He said... I have to apply for a graduation extension, and also... forget it."

He practically covered his eyes, squeezing the words out.

"Someone snitched?" Cen Zeng asked.

Song Shuyi didn't say another word.

Cen Zeng patted his shoulder, poured him a glass of water, and said, "Go home early."

He and Xu Zhenqing worked late into the night. As the two of them were turning off the lights, they ran into Zhang Yuhao, who had come back to get something.

The man's expression was calm. He even asked, "What's wrong with Brother Song?"

Xu Zhenqing lowered her eyes, and for once, didn't respond to the question.

Acting as if she hadn't heard, she turned and asked Cen Zeng, "Want to go to the rooftop?"

The senior brother who had been snubbed paused for a moment, his expression faltering slightly, but he didn't say anything.

The two of them smoked in the same spot as last time.

Xu Zhenqing said, "Zhang Yuhao was the one who reported Shuyi's involvement with the neighboring lab's project to Li Aimin."

"Why?"

"He probably always felt he wasn't valued." The senior sister across from him smiled. "Or maybe it's because Shuyi was happy for a change recently, and he found it jarring. After all, the entire lab is in dire straits, so he probably wondered why Shuyi got to go outside and work on something he was interested in."

"Brother Song isn't valued either, and he's been good enough to him," Cen Zeng replied.

"His situation is also very marginal..." he added. "Worse than Zhang Yuhao's."

"Yeah," Xu Zhenqing said. "Actually, Zhang Yuhao probably hates you or me even more. Getting praised by Director Li is no easy feat."

"It's not a good thing, either."

The senior sister flicked her cigarette ash and said, "Of course. But Director Li loves pulling these kinds of tricks—doing despicable things, treating students differently on the surface to stir up conflict and create suspicion."

Maybe he's afraid we'll unite and report him together.

"Anyway, someone always falls for it," she sighed.

Xu Zhenqing narrowed her eyes as if lost in a memory. The brilliant senior sister was silent, and it was unclear what she was reflecting on.

At night, looking out into the distance, the Emergency Department was still lit. The sound of anxious voices carried over, sparse like faint, unuttered sighs.

"Regardless, that's no reason to snitch," Cen Zeng replied.

Xu Zhenqing just smiled faintly and said, "Cen Zeng, to be a doctor, it seems you have to accept that the human heart is far worse than the most terrifying disease you know."

In a place dedicated to healing the sick and rescuing the dying, one has heard prayers more sincere than those before a church, and has also silently covered up the howls of despair.

In that moment of speechlessness, the sound of a WeChat notification came through.

He looked down to see it. Someone was asking him, 'The game's over. Want me to come pick you up?'