Although the hospital was only three bus stops away from school, Lu Ping felt like every second dragged on forever. He forced himself to stare out the window, pretending not to hear the whispers, but his flushed ears had already given him away.
When the bus finally reached his stop, Lu Ping practically jumped off in a panic.
Jiaojiang People’s Hospital was a renowned Grade III-A facility in the area, where securing a bed was notoriously difficult. Last year, when Lu Dad had his lumbar disc surgery, they had waited over a month before a spot opened up in the inpatient ward.
Lu Ping remembered it well. It had originally been a six-bed room, but with so many patients awaiting surgery, two extra beds were crammed in. Besides the patients, there were family members, caregivers, and more—the tiny room was so packed there was barely room to stand. When Lu Ping took night shifts, he could hardly sleep, constantly woken by the patients’ groans.
At the time, Lu Ping had rented a spring folding bed. Every day after school, he came to relieve Mom.
After lumbar surgery, patients had to lie prone for recovery and couldn’t get out of bed for the first three days. They had to handle everything—waste included—right there, needing constant care around the clock. Only after that could they strap on braces and, with help from family or caregivers, practice walking.
Those days were grueling for Lu Ping. During the day, he juggled heavy schoolwork and bullying from classmates; at night, he rushed to the hospital to spell Mom. Even when she went home, she couldn’t rest—she had to prep ingredients for the morning stall, grabbing just a few hours of sleep before rising at three a.m. His little sister hadn’t started elementary school yet, and with no time to care for her, Mom sent An An to stay with rural relatives for a while. In just a month, the once cheerful, bouncy girl returned skinny and filthy like a little monkey, clinging to Mom and sobbing that she’d be good and never be sent away again.
But looking back now, Lu Ping didn’t find those hardships too burdensome. Dad’s surgery had gone successfully, Mom saved enough for their shop, he advanced to sophomore year smoothly, and An An wore her red scarf in first grade… See? Life got better bit by bit.
Returning to this familiar place didn’t depress Lu Ping; instead, his mood brightened, just like the flowers in his arms.
He entered the inpatient building with the bouquet and pressed the button for the top floor. But… the elevator didn’t budge.
Sharing the elevator was a nurse who saw him in his school uniform holding flowers—not suspicious at all—and kindly explained that the top floor was private wards requiring a card to access. He needed to call ahead for someone from the room to come down and escort him.
Lu Ping could only sheepishly call Shen Yuze.
Luckily, he didn’t wait long before a strange woman appeared before him.
“Excuse me, are you Lu Ping?” The woman wore a professional suit, her hair neatly pinned in a bun, faint lines creasing her brow. She looked even sterner than their dean.
Seeing such a formidable figure, Lu Ping flinched instinctively. “Yes, that’s me. And you are?”
“I’m the Young Master’s housekeeper,” the woman replied.
Lu Ping: “…”
So the young master had not just a personal driver, but a personal housekeeper too…
Lu Ping often thought that knowing Shen Yuze and becoming his desk mate was the most unbelievable thing in the world. At school, their worlds overlapped closely, differences faded, they strove for monthly exams together, shared a glutinous cake. But outside that bubble, the gulf between them yawned wider than a chasm. Ordinary Lu Ping was like Alice tumbling into Wonderland, while Shen Yuze reigned as the Queen of Hearts.
While Lu Ping endured the eight-bed ward with Dad, helpless against life’s blows, Shen Yuze occupied a private room over a minor allergic rash, complete with a housekeeper at his beck and call.
In that light, Lu Ping figured—his jealousy could surely be forgiven by the heavens?
…
The top-floor inpatient suites were larger than the eight-bed room Lu Dad had stayed in. Not just spacious, they featured outer parlors for guests and inner bedrooms for rest, plus private bathrooms and kitchens!
Lu Ping finally grasped what it meant for poverty to limit one’s imagination.
The hallway was quiet, save for his footsteps and those of the housekeeper.
At Shen Yuze’s door, two bodyguards (Lu Ping: Haha, I’m mature now—I won’t freak out over bodyguards anymore!) checked his student ID before letting him in.
The door between the outer parlor and inner room stood half-open. Through the gap, Lu Ping saw Shen Yuze half-reclining in bed, an IV line in his arm, only faint red spots lingering on the skin beneath his patient gown.
At that moment, Shen Yuze was on a video call.
A tablet propped before him—Lu Ping couldn’t see the screen from his angle, but the voice belonged to a woman.
“Yuze, listen to Mom and get a full checkup. Mom worries so much with you away.”
Lu Ping realized it was Shen Yuze’s mom on the video.
“Nothing to worry about,” Shen Yuze replied coolly. From his tone alone, no one would guess he was talking to family. “Just a minor allergy. The shot fixed it.”
The woman’s voice spiked. “Minor allergy?! Yuze, the chef never lets you near shrimp—how did you eat some this time? The housekeeper said it happened at school? Who gave you shrimp? Was someone trying to harm you?!”
“No one harmed me.” Shen Yuze cut off her hysteria. “I wasn’t careful and ate a classmate’s lunch.”
“Classmate?” The woman’s tone dripped contempt. “I told you, people from that backwater don’t deserve to be your classmates. The richest girl in your class? Her family just sells shoelaces! You’re a son of the Shen Family—what can those people offer you?”
Silence fell over the room after her words.
After a long pause, Shen Yuze spoke slowly. “…You investigated my classmates?”
“…”
“I’ll ask again,” Shen Yuze said, eyes locking on his blood-bound mother across the screen, enunciating each word. “You investigated all my classmates?”
Wu Hong faltered. Her son lay in the hospital bed, yet she couldn’t meet his gaze, panic etching her face. “N-no, I only had someone check the wealthiest few. Those paupers aren’t worth my time…” She raised her voice, overcompensating. “Yuze, how can you talk to me like that? I’m your mother—I’m just concerned!”
“Concerned? Heh, I’m overwhelmed. Where are you calling from? The hair salon or the spa? Meddling in my life isn’t concern, and secretly investigating my classmates sure isn’t!”
His voice turned icy, his face frosted over like sculpted ice and snow. But off-camera, his body trembled faintly; the hand with the IV clenched the bedsheet unconsciously, blood backing into the tube unnoticed.
In that instant, ever-calm Shen Yuze erupted in fury, like fire blazing beneath glacial ice. “—I’ll say it one last time: don’t interfere in my life!”
“Yu…”
Before Wu Hong could finish his name, Shen Yuze ended the video call.
He closed his eyes, leaned back, and took two deep breaths. His chest heaved violently, like undercurrents surging under an iceberg or a demon straining against its prison.
But gradually, bit by bit, Shen Yuze calmed… When he opened his eyes again, he was back to his usual self.
He turned toward the door—where Lu Ping stood awkwardly in the half-open entrance, bouquet in arms, forcing a stiff but polite smile.
Damn.
Lu Ping thought, Of all the timing, why’d I arrive right when Shen Yuze was arguing with his mom? That was definitely her—why do they act like enemies? And she’s so weird; he just transfers schools, and she investigates the whole class!
Just imagining unseen eyes scrutinizing, judging, maybe mocking him from on high gave Lu Ping goosebumps all over.
Even as an outsider, Lu Ping recoiled from such a controlling mother. Putting himself in Shen Yuze’s shoes made the guy seem especially pitiable.
Lu Ping: “…Did I, uh, interrupt you?”
Shen Yuze stared at Lu Ping as if seeing him for the first time, scrutinizing him thoroughly from head to toe. He took his time, intensely focused. Strangely, Lu Ping didn’t feel offended—instead, he felt like a work of art under Shen Yuze’s appreciative gaze.
“No,” Shen Yuze murmured. “Your timing is perfect.”
His voice rasped, utterly unlike his usual self.
Lu Ping’s heart softened instantly. He recalled his little black cat Zhaocai—normally all swagger and bravado, but once, caught in a rat trap, it limped to him with an expression… just like Shen Yuze’s now.
Lu Ping sighed inwardly. He approached the bed with the flowers, forcing cheer into his voice. “Look what I brought you!”
The orange-red blooms burst vibrant and fervent, like cradling a fistful of sun in his arms.
Carefully, Lu Ping placed the sunny bouquet in Shen Yuze’s lap. The plain striped patient gown contrasted sharply with the vivid flowers.
Unable to resist, Lu Ping snuck a photo with his phone.
In the shot, amid the opulent yet frigid private suite, the elegant youth bowed his head, gently inhaling the orange blossoms. The chill in his eyes had melted away, leaving only the faintest smile at his lips.
The candid was a bit blurry, but Lu Ping loved it.
Staring at the photo’s Shen Yuze stirred complex emotions in him.
This was the second time he’d glimpsed Shen Yuze’s family life. Beneath that flawless facade, Lu Ping spotted cracks—hints of vulnerability.
That fragility made him realize Shen Yuze’s world might not be as perfect as imagined.
He felt… a step closer to his idol.
…
Since Lu Ping had to catch the bus home that evening, he only stayed half an hour before hurrying off.
Shen Yuze was fine overall; the rash looked scary but faded after the antihistamine. Still, due to his status, the housekeeper insisted on observation overnight, so he agreed.
That night, alone in the lavish, empty room devoid of warmth, Shen Yuze couldn’t sleep. He pulled out the tablet and, with practiced ease, opened the browser to log into the Partner Website.
When Lu Ping had snapped that photo earlier, he’d thought himself stealthy—but Shen Yuze had noticed.
Shen Yuze knew Lu Ping always posted his pics right away on @fake-diaond. No doubt today was the same.
The thought of that little mouse clumsily impersonating him online eased the gloom from his argument with his mother.
What would Lu Ping say? He would definitely claim that he had fallen ill unexpectedly, and then his fans would comfort him profusely in the comments while wishing him a speedy recovery.
The webpage quickly loaded and refreshed, bringing @fake-diaond’s latest post into view before Shen Yuze’s eyes.
But unexpectedly, Lu Ping… had not posted that photo he had taken.
Lu Ping had only written a single sentence.
Just one sentence.
@fake-diaond: It turns out that envy and sympathy—these two emotions—can coexist after all. 【Flower】
