Chapter 36 Part 2

"I miss my son," He Qi said, looking at him through the screen.

"I miss Mom," the thirty-year-old son replied without hesitation. "The world can't exist without mothers."

"I told you back then to study art, or at least liberal arts, but you insisted on engineering," He Qi said, still feeling a bit regretful. "All this overtime and business travel, you might as well have been a P.E. student."

He Lezhi laughed out loud. He didn't actually hate his job; you could say he had grown to love what he did.

Except for the frequent business trips, which were indeed a bit of a pain.

Being away on business for a long time made him miss home, miss He Qi.

He Lezhi sat curled up on the hillside, the wind making his windbreaker flap loudly. As far as the eye could see were endless mountain ranges. Before him was their construction site, where everyone had already finished work and gone back to rest. Looking around, he was all alone, looking like a protruding rock on the mountain from a distance, or like a sheep grazing with its head down. He Lezhi looked down at the sparse turf beside him and fiddled with it with his hand.

He also missed his friend a little.

He missed Fangchi.

Han Fangchi hadn't left after his shift, nor had he changed his clothes. Before him were several miserable-looking resident doctors, all students of his professor.

The old man had thrown a huge tantrum today, and his anger had even extended to Doctor Han. Doctor Han had been working peacefully when someone told him the vice director was looking for him. He went over, only to be dragged into a lecture thanks to these juniors.

At this moment, Han Fangchi sat on a chair with his arms crossed, expressionlessly watching them mix alginate.

"Senior, I don't get it," said one who was usually more talkative and relatively brave enough to speak up. With a pained expression, he said, "What era is this? Is this really a necessary skill anymore? Aren't machines meant to replace manual labor?"

"I don't get it either," Han Fangchi replied calmly. "I don't get how you've been a resident for half a year and still haven't mastered this."

The others looked sympathetically at the boy who had just spoken, not daring to make a sound.

That afternoon, two residents were in the operating room with the professor. When it was time to take an impression, the old man said he wanted a thicker mix. The resident went to re-proportion it, but the old man, too impatient to wait, said, "Hurry up, mix it by hand."

Neither of the residents knew how and were about to call someone else to do it. In the end, the old man stood up and mixed it himself, his face so dark that no one dared to speak.

Neither of these two were from Han Fangchi's department, nor were they usually supervised by him, but when they were being scolded, Han Fangchi was scolded along with them. The professor said he hadn't supervised them well, hadn't shouldered his responsibility.

He himself had been personally trained by the professor. Back then, the old man wasn't yet the vice director. He had personally trained his dear student, Han Fangchi. During his residency, he had already performed several maxillofacial surgeries and had hands-on experience with tooth extractions and implants. Now, the old man no longer had the energy to personally train students. The residents were scattered among various departments, rotating after a certain period. Those who had rotated through Han Fangchi's department were all well-behaved; coincidentally, these two hadn't rotated through yet. Not knowing how to mix alginate after more than half a year of residency had nearly given the old man a heart attack.

Because of the afternoon's incident, the few who had not yet rotated through Han Fangchi's department were kept after work to practice mixing the powder under his watch.

"What's the point of it?" the same student asked.

"The point is you must know how. No reason needed," Han Fangchi said. "If a patient comes and the machine is broken, you're just not going to take an impression?"

"It won't come to that..." the student said weakly. "A hospital can't have just one machine, right?"

"First," Han Fangchi said coldly, "you have to be able to stay in the hospital."

It was also just their bad luck. Han Fangchi and his professor were already in low spirits today, and they had just happened to run into them.

In the morning, they had diagnosed a twenty-six-year-old girl. She had booked an appointment with Han Fangchi a few days ago, saying she had an impacted wisdom tooth in her upper jaw that had been repeatedly inflamed for years, and now there was a cyst, causing a slight bulge visible on the outside of her face. Han Fangchi had prescribed an MRI for her at the time, but she was reluctant, thinking he was overreacting. Why get an MRI for a dental issue? This morning, she came back with other test results: maxillary squamous cell carcinoma, and the results showed it had already spread to the area around her eye.

In this situation, the facial bone had to be removed, and they still needed to check if it had metastasized beyond the face. At this point, if removing the facial bone could excise all the cancerous tissue, that would already be the best possible outcome.

The girl, in disbelief, refused to accept Han Fangchi's words and insisted on seeing an older doctor. Han Fangchi took her to his professor for a consultation. The professor silently looked over the report twice with his head down and said the exact same things as Han Fangchi.

Even though the facial bone could be reconstructed, for a young girl, it felt as if her world had collapsed.

At this moment, the doctor no longer seemed like a benevolent figure who saved lives, but a cruel executioner who could pronounce a death sentence with a single word.

For a doctor, even the most difficult extractions, teeth closest to nerves, or the most troublesome patients were better than delivering a diagnosis like this. At moments like these, he always felt that there was not enough he could do.

In this state of mind, seeing several residents whining about not knowing how to mix alginate only made one feel hopeless.

It was almost nine o'clock when Han Fangchi left the hospital. In the eyes of the residents, Director Han was now a ruthless, black-faced figure who gets angry when scolded. Definitely not a nice person.

He first went to He Lezhi's house. He had gone there to open the windows before work this morning, and now, after they had been airing out all day, he went back to close them.

After closing the windows, he went home. As soon as he opened the door, he came face to face with He Lezhi, who had changed his shoes and looked like he was about to leave.

Han Fangchi stared at him blankly.

"Fangchi!" He Lezhi's expression immediately brightened, and he called out his name with a smile.

"Lezhi?" Han Fangchi came to his senses. "When did you get back?"

"Not long ago," He Lezhi said, stepping aside to let him in. "I saw you weren't home and was just about to leave."

Han Fangchi silently came in and changed his shoes.

"I brought you a lot of beef jerky. It's delicious. It's what kept me alive over there," He Lezhi said, standing by the door. "I put it in the kitchen."

He showed no intention of coming in further, and Han Fangchi didn't ask him to. He took off his coat and said, "Didn't you say you'd tell me when you booked your ticket?"

He Lezhi smiled and said, "I booked it late last night on a whim. I was going to tell you today, but then I thought I'd just come over and give you a surprise. Who knew you wouldn't be home."

Han Fangchi sat on the sofa and said, "Yeah."

"Then I'll head back," He Lezhi said. "Dinner together tomorrow night?"

"I might have to work overtime," Han Fangchi said. He had to supervise the residents strictly for a while, regardless of whether they were his responsibility, just to prevent his professor from blowing up again.

"Okay, then I'll go to my mom's. Let me know in advance when you don't have to work overtime, and we can have dinner together," He Lezhi said in a cheerful tone.

Han Fangchi didn't answer that. Instead, he said, "You were just going to leave since I wasn't home?"

He Lezhi blinked. "Huh?"

"You're not going to ask when I'll be back?" Han Fangchi said without looking at him, still sitting there. "Just pretend you were never here?"

His tone was very calm, not fierce, but it sounded a little dejected.

He Lezhi stood at the door for a few seconds, then there was a soft rustling sound as if he was changing into slippers, and he walked over lightly.

"I did ask," he said, standing in front of Han Fangchi, his tone gentle. "Why don't you check your phone?"

Han Fangchi took his phone out of his pocket. Indeed, there were two messages, one from ten minutes ago and another from five minutes ago—

Lezhi: Fangchi, are you working overtime?

Lezhi: I'm back. I came to your place, and now I'm leaving.

He Lezhi crouched down in front of Han Fangchi and asked softly, "Fangchi, what's wrong?"

"I was driving, I didn't see my phone," Han Fangchi said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He Lezhi rested his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling down to touch Han Fangchi's calf. He gently smoothed the fabric of Han Fangchi's pant leg. "What's wrong?"

Han Fangchi lifted his eyes to meet his.

He Lezhi had exceptionally gentle eyes. Whenever he looked at someone like that, it made them feel as if anything and everything about them was accepted.

The emotions Han Fangchi had been feeling during this time intensified twofold upon seeing He Lezhi's eyes.

"I feel like you're leaving." Words like these seemed difficult for him to say, but in front of He Lezhi, it felt as if anything could be tolerated, be forgiven.

"I don't know if I'm mistaken," Han Fangchi frowned slightly as he looked at him and said, "but it's making me really upset."