Chapter 36 Part 1

Qiao Ning didn’t know how he made it home. By the time he came back to himself, the vehicle was already parked in front of his gate.

Next door, the copper lock on the Ji Family’s front gate was gone, the door half open—and parked outside stood a familiar off-road SUV. The very one Qiao Ning had crossed on the road that afternoon.

The moment the tricycle stopped, Second Aunt Yang hopped down, pushed open the Ji family gate, and ran in shouting, “Little Ji! Little Ji! Dr. Ji—is Dr. Ji here? Come quick and take a look…”

A clear, slightly deep male voice drifted over from the courtyard, drawing nearer. “Auntie Yang, I don’t hold a medical practicing license. I can’t just go around treating people.”

“Aiyo, licenses and certificates! It’s your little brother’s bee stinger—what license do you need for that? Hurry up, his hand’s swollen into a great big lump and it’s hurting him…”

The male voice cut off. In its place came hurried footsteps.

A tall figure appeared at the gate in moments. Seeing no one at the entrance, he paused, glanced around—and his gaze landed on Qiao Ning’s little tricycle.

Through the glass, he saw Qiao Ning staring blankly back at him.

A deafening roar seemed to go off in Qiao Ning’s ears. A tangle of emotions slammed back and forth against his chest, squeezing his heart—and for one instant, he genuinely couldn’t breathe.

How could it be him? Why did it have to be him?!

The tall figure drew closer, the face growing clearer by the step: long brows, cool eyes, a straight, high nose bridge—and this time nothing covered the lower half of that face, the thin lips pressed together just as cold as the rest of his features.

They’d met only once, but it hadn’t been long ago, and the memory had burned itself deep into Qiao Ning. This was, unmistakably, the kind doctor from the accident—the one he’d crossed paths with right before his sudden death in his past life!

An immense absurdity welled up in Qiao Ning’s chest. Of all the people in the world, the man he’d searched for everywhere had been in the same city all along.

The two of them had already crossed paths once—and then simply missed each other.

Fate had played a joke on him, delivering the person he could never stop thinking of to his doorstep at the very end of his life.

Despite himself, Qiao Ning began to imagine: what if he hadn’t died suddenly in his past life? He would have looked into the kind doctor, sent him a silk honor banner, seen the name Ji Baiqing…

And then what? Qiao Ning jolted out of the fantasy.

He watched the man walk up to his window, fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Feelings between people are never equal. Would Ji Baiqing feel any joy at this reunion too?

What if he was the only one, left behind in the old days…

Panic drowned Qiao Ning. His childhood had been warped beyond reason, and so he had poured an immense, desperate hope and trust into the one older brother he could lean on. Through those friendless, helpless adolescent years, Ji Baiqing had been his lifeline—the savior he waited for.

But Ji Baiqing never came.

Qiao Ning had stumbled through growing up on his own. To this day he couldn’t tell whether he had let it go, or whether all those feelings had simply hardened into an obsession, buried deep.

He’d once believed it was the former. But the moment he laid eyes on Ji Baiqing for real, Qiao Ning knew: it was the latter.

He cared. He cared to death.

He cared what Ji Baiqing thought of him, cared why he’d never once come back, cared whether the man still held even a fraction of the same deep feeling for him.

The emotions crashed through his body too violently to contain—Qiao Ning’s jaw clenched, his hands shook, a thin film of red welled up in his eyes, and he stared at the man before him without blinking.

Ji Baiqing stopped at the window. Through the glass, he could see the beautiful young man clearly, eyes rimmed red, gazing at him in silence.

This was his little brother—the person he had sworn to protect and care for all his life. He’d been so small when they separated. Ji Baiqing had dreamed, countless times, of tiny Qiao Ning chasing after the car, chasing all the way to the village entrance, crying “Brother!”

More than a decade had passed. The little milk-dumpling had grown into a strikingly handsome young man who seemed so very mature now—but all Ji Baiqing could see in him was the shadow of little Qiao Ning.

He’s crying.

Not a single word had been spoken, yet Ji Baiqing could feel an enormous, spreading wave of grievance and pain rolling off Qiao Ning, as if he were about to be submerged by something.

Ji Baiqing rapped a knuckle on the window. Qiao Ning didn’t move, so Ji Baiqing pulled the door open from outside.

Still Qiao Ning didn’t move. Ji Baiqing looked at him steadily for a moment, then lowered his head to examine the injured hand, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Come down. Let’s get the stinger out first.”

The touch seared the skin of his wrist and set Qiao Ning’s heart racing. He flung his arm, shaking Ji Baiqing’s hand off.

The man before him stiffened for an instant, dropped his gaze, and pressed his lips together. The coldness had drained from his eyes entirely; when he looked up again, his gaze was soft.

“Hey, what are you two standing around for?” Second Aunt Yang came back out of the Ji family gate, fretting on Qiao Ning’s behalf. “Little Qiao, if you don’t get that stinger out soon, that bump’s just going to keep growing!”

Qiao Ning instantly, reflexively, packed every emotion away. He pulled out the keys, climbed down, shut the door behind him, and trudged toward his own house, saying to Second Aunt Yang as he went, “Auntie Yang, thank you for making the trip. I’m fine now, really—you head back and check on Little Tangyuan.”

Qiao Ning could walk and move, and he looked genuinely all right. Besides, the man’s brother had come home, hadn’t he?

“Then I’m off! Call me if anything comes up.” Passing Ji Baiqing, Second Aunt Yang added a few more instructions. “Little Ji, you’re the doctor, you know these things. Look after Little Qiao for me. The only reason he came back to the village is that his health is poor—something with his heart. We don’t understand any of it, so you really must keep an eye out…”

Ji Baiqing’s head snapped up, a flash of fear crossing his eyes. He took two steps after Qiao Ning almost before he knew it, then stopped himself—and turned to his car instead, retrieving a first-aid kit.

Just as Qiao Ning opened his own gate, Ji Baiqing came up behind him carrying the kit, following him silently inside.

Two people, and neither of them said a word. Qiao Ning unlocked the door of the main room and stepped over the threshold—and then the man behind him caught his arm.

Ji Baiqing’s grip was restrained, loose around Qiao Ning’s arm, careful not to touch the bare skin of his wrist.

“May I take care of the bee stinger first?”

Qiao Ning said nothing. He sat down on a chair in the main room. Ji Baiqing set the first-aid kit on the eight-immortals table, opened it, and half-knelt in front of him.

He examined Qiao Ning carefully first, quietly asking whether anything else hurt; only after a negative answer did he take out a clean scraper.

“It’ll sting a little. Bear with it.”

Face cold, Qiao Ning said nothing and let him work.

Ji Baiqing scraped the stinger with the blade, murmuring soft coaxings all the while. “Almost done. It’ll stop hurting soon. See, the stinger’s nearly out—just a little longer…”

“Dr. Ji.” Qiao Ning spoke abruptly. Ji Baiqing clipped the scraped-out stinger aside and looked up, a question in his eyes.

“Dr. Ji, are you a pediatrician?” Qiao Ning’s voice carried an edge of irritation. “Do you coddle all your patients like this?”

The corners of Ji Baiqing’s eyes curved—a very faint smile.

He was handsome, undeniably, but everything about his features and bearing was sharp and solitary, forbidding approach.

And yet when that face smiled, it was like mountain mist scattering, clouds parting to reveal the moon.

“I don’t coddle my other patients.” Ji Baiqing rose, fished saline out of the kit, and cleaned the wound.

That irritated Qiao Ning all the more—at Ji Baiqing, and at himself.

His temper had always been good. He managed his emotions well; most people who knew him would call him even-keeled, someone who never made unreasonable scenes.

Qiao Ning knew the truth: he’d never had the luxury of indulging his feelings. But years of it had hardened into habit—a smiling face for everyone.

And yet in front of Ji Baiqing, his control kept slipping, again and again.

The wound cleaned, Ji Baiqing suddenly turned and walked out. Qiao Ning’s eyes followed on instinct, watching the figure disappear through the doorway.

He… he left?

Just like that?

Grievance and fury spread through him in a flood, laced with what might have been regret. Qiao Ning’s eyes went hot; he dropped his gaze to his swollen, reddened hand. It throbbed and ached now, hot and itchy at once.

Footsteps returned. Qiao Ning’s head jerked up. “What do you want now,” he muttered sullenly.

Ji Baiqing pressed a towel wrapped around ice gently against the back of Qiao Ning’s hand, his voice soft. “Does that feel any better?”

Qiao Ning looked at him without answering. Ji Baiqing wasn’t offended, only continued mildly, “I didn’t have the right medicine on hand, so ice first. I’ll go buy some proper salve in a bit.”

“No need.” Qiao Ning dropped his eyes, refusing to look at him. “It’s… fine as it is.”

It really did feel much better—icy and cool. There was still pain, but the swelling and the itch had dulled.

Ji Baiqing smiled again. In truth he hardly ever smiled. Ji Mingzhu had once grabbed his hair and demanded, why don’t you ever smile, what have you got to be unhappy about.

What did he have to be happy about?

Well. There was this.

His gaze settled on Qiao Ning, focused to the point of fixation.

This—this was his greatest joy. His Naonao, sitting right in front of him: frowning, sulking, even sneaking glares at him—every bit of it so vivid it made Ji Baiqing want to smile before he could stop himself.

Qiao Ning could feel Ji Baiqing watching him. Human perception is sharp, and his body had been cleansed by Spirit Spring Water besides.

He got annoyed all over again. What are you looking at? What’s there to look at?

He had a chest full of questions for Ji Baiqing and no idea where to begin.

How to ask? Ask why Ji Baiqing never came back? Ask how Grandpa Ji had really died? Ask whether, in all these years, he’d ever once thought of looking for him?

What if Ji Baiqing had never cared at all?

Then wouldn’t he be nothing but a joke?

Qiao Ning couldn’t get the words out—and hated himself for retreating at a moment like this.

Since when had he been this bogged down in hesitation? Life or death was, at bottom, a single sentence away. And people who didn’t care about him—he wouldn’t waste his care on them either.

Qiao Ning opened his mouth. “You…”

Ji Baiqing lifted his eyes, waiting.

Qiao Ning met those gentle eyes, felt a sharp twist at the tip of his heart—and turned his face away in defeat.

“Go home. I’ll ice it myself.”

“I’ll change the ice for you.”

“Don’t bother.” Qiao Ning’s tone went hard. “I’m making dinner.”

It was barely past four—nowhere near dinnertime.

Ji Baiqing watched him quietly for a moment, and though his voice stayed gentle, his words allowed no argument. “Your hand is injured. Let me cook. What do you want tonight?”

Qiao Ning wanted him gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything truly cruel.

He wanted to ask, and couldn’t.

Twisted up in knots, choking on it all, his words came out barbed. “You can make anything I want? What about Buddha Jumps Over the Wall?”

Ji Baiqing’s manner stayed perfectly placid. “Not at the moment.”

The ingredients weren’t complete, and until his hand healed, he’d need to watch his diet anyway.

Qiao Ning decided he was making excuses, and didn’t call it out. It was, after all, Qiao Ning who’d been picking the fight.