Chapter 18 – Not wanting that child to be sad

Translator: Abo Dammen

The moment his shoulder was touched, Chi Zhao instinctively wanted to flee. But the hand was gentle yet firm, wrapping around him tightly like an inescapable net. He simply couldn’t break free.

“Don’t… touch…”

“Don’t be afraid,” a deep voice sounded by his ear. “Don’t be afraid. No one will hurt you.”

No one could hurt him…?

That gentle yet resolute voice told him, “You’ve grown up. You were protecting someone else, weren’t you?”

Yes, he had grown up. Those days were in the past. No one could hurt him anymore.

Chi Zhao gasped for breath heavily. The embrace was powerful, inescapable, yet it no longer made him feel suffocated. It was like a small boat in a storm finally managing with all its might to reach the shore. It was his safe harbor. Sweat beaded on Chi Zhao’s face, and his breathing gradually steadied.

“Sorry…” The chaos before his eyes was no longer chaos. Chi Zhao opened his eyes to see everyone looking at him with concern. He moved his lips and whispered, “I’m okay now.”

His voice was a bit hoarse. At some point, his body had slipped off the stool. Fu Nan’an supported him, helping him sit back down. Those gentle yet strong hands still rested on his shoulders, giving him solid strength. “It’s alright. Rest a bit more.”

Chen Kaiji, standing nearby, asked him with a worried expression, “What happened, Chi-ge? Your face is so pale.”

Chi Zhao lowered his gaze, shook his head, and didn’t answer.

He didn’t know how to answer. Confiding those past pains to others was very difficult for him.

He had received too many peculiar looks. He wanted others to see him as strong and positive. He didn’t want people’s pity. But having lost control of his emotions so abruptly, he really didn’t know how to face his colleagues and friends whom he still had to work with. He couldn’t face it.

“It’s alright,” said Fu Nan’an. “You’ve already been very brave.”

A faint scent of sandalwood lingered around him. Fu Nan’an said with a slight smile, “Our Doctor Chi was very heroic just now. He wasn’t afraid even when being hit, still thinking of protecting Yuanliang, right?”

His voice was very gentle, yet also immensely powerful. The two were very close. He stood right behind Chi Zhao, so close that Chi Zhao could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, beat after beat. Chi Zhao listened quietly, then suddenly remembered something. “Yuanliang… is Yuanliang okay?”

Yuanliang had been scared out of his wits, trembling nonstop since earlier, crying until his voice was hoarse. He was squatting on the ground, and wouldn’t let anyone help him up. But perhaps it was the first time someone had stood in front of him when he was being beaten, upon hearing Chi Zhao’s voice, he actually called out in his already tear-ravaged voice, “Ge…”

Fu Nan’an smiled and told Chi Zhao very seriously, “You protected him.”

Yes, he had grown up. He was no longer afraid of those beatings.

Not only unafraid, he could now use his own body to protect other children.

Chi Zhao smiled a relieved smile. The wounds on his body burned with a stinging pain, but it didn’t seem so hard to bear anymore. Recovery from physical injuries takes one to two weeks, the human body is truly resilient. Even the deepest scars will fade and blur.

After such a commotion, no one dared to linger. They lost interest in the fire, fetched a basin of water to douse it, and waited ready to leave at any moment. After a while, the other teams arrived belatedly. Yuanliang’s emotions had also stabilized somewhat, he was less resistant. Everyone got into the return vehicle with Yuanliang.

Having regained his composure, Chi Zhao returned to his usual cheerful demeanor. Chen Kaiji came to ask him how he felt again. Chi Zhao said with a laugh, “It’s fine. What could possibly happen to your Chi-ge? I’m tough.”

The vehicle drove smoothly. The wounds still stung fiercely, the beaten areas already showing large bruises. Chi Zhao fished out the bottle of healing oil from the side pocket of his backpack to apply it to himself. He never dreamed this oil would be used on himself and said self-mockingly, “I guess I was really prepared, huh.”

“Chi-ge, you…” Chen Kaiji was clearly still worried about him, hesitating to speak. Chi Zhao smiled, knowing what he wanted to ask, and simply brought it up himself. “What, want to ask me what happened just now? What happened before?”

“I…” Chen Kaiji paused, cautiously observing Chi Zhao’s expression, afraid of upsetting him. “Chi-ge, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to. I was just asking casually.”

Chi Zhao laughed quite casually. “It’s normal to be curious. Did I scare you all just now?”

The cool medicine felt chilly on the skin, soon turning warm. Chi Zhao’s palm, coated with the medicine, rubbed the injured areas as he slowly explained, “It’s

just… I encountered similar things when I was little. Just now, seeing Yuanliang’s father about to hit him, I remembered it again.”

This used to be Chi Zhao’s most unwillingly mentioned past. He feared others’ sympathy, feared being treated differently, feared people would look down on him because of it, treating him like a fragile oddity to be protected. But when Fu Nan’an told him that he had protected Yuanliang, he felt that actually acknowledging his past suffering wasn’t so bad.

He did have a painful past, experiences of being beaten bloody. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t grow and become strong. Couldn’t he now protect others?

“When I was little, my parents often beat me too, worse than Yuanliang’s dad,” Chi Zhao said this story out loud with a smile for the first time, even making it sound quite interesting, vividly. “But of course I couldn’t just let them beat me. I could climb walls back then. I’d climb onto the wall and make faces at them. Who’s afraid of who?”

Keeping things bottled up is the hardest. Once truly spoken aloud, it really feels like nothing. As Chi Zhao spoke, he rubbed the healing oil on himself, occasionally hissing in pain, but the smile on his face never changed.

Chen Kaiji chatted along with him, and soon the two drifted the topic far and wide. Fu Nan’an sat in a seat a few rows ahead, resting with his eyes closed. Hearing the intermittent laughter from behind, he also faintly curved the corners of his lips.

The little friend was so endearing when he laughed—enthusiastic, full of vitality, like the fuzzy tip of a tail tickling your heart, making it feel itchy, warm, and comfortable.

The first night back from the countryside, Chi Zhao had a dream.

After such a hectic week, his whole body ached. Lying in his dorm bed, he fell into a deep, sweet sleep within minutes.

Everything in the dream was illusory, only the pain between his skin and flesh reminding him he had returned to those gloomy years.

A leather belt striking the body could break the skin. A shoe sole kicking the face let him taste the earthy grit. Then, a pair of gentle hands pulled him into an embrace, and everything before his eyes brightened.

The scene changed abruptly. He fell into a clear pool, but without the sensation of falling. The gentle spring water caressed every inch of his skin, and those large hands caressed him too.

Shoulders, spine, lower abdomen… The hands traveled downward, fingertips tickling his skin. A faint electric current skimmed over his skin, both itchy and numb. His nostrils were filled with the familiar scent of sandalwood. Chi Zhao felt himself being pressed down by those hands onto a solid, powerful body beneath him—gentle, yet unyielding.

He caressed the base of his thighs, then slowly inched inward…..

Suddenly, Chi Zhao woke up. His skin was sweaty, the damp heat between his legs reminding him of what had just happened.

It was still dark outside. His roommates were still asleep. Chi Zhao got up stealthily and went to the bathroom. The window wasn’t shut tight, and a cold wind swept over his legs, chilling him from head to toe.

…This was too shameful.

He was over twenty, not inexperienced with such dreams. But this was the first time he woke up clearly knowing who he had dreamed about.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to. That kind ambiguous feeling was something only Professor Fu had ever given him.

And yet he still revered him as a professor! To do such things in a dream was so disrespectful, showing no sense of seniority or juniority.

Chi Zhao’s face burned as if on fire. After washing his underwear, he hung it on the balcony, guiltily placing it in the most remote corner as if stealing something. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to. Even after changing into clean underwear and lying back down, his mind involuntarily lingered on that tender and enchanting dream. Closing his eyes, those gentle large hands tenderly encircled him again. His heart beat too fast.

Feelings of liking someone can’t be hidden. Desire for a person can’t be hidden either. Chi Zhao had always felt his feelings for Professor Fu were closer to worship, to admiration. But at this moment, he had to admit he wasn’t satisfied with just that. He was fantasizing about more. He liked him, he… wanted him.

After returning from the countryside, the Psychology Department returned to its usual rhythm. A lot of work had piled up during that time. Amid the busyness, Chi Zhao’s favorite thing to do was to gaze at Fu Nan’an’s back, yet he still felt it wasn’t enough, the time was too short.

Chi Zhao’s rotation in the Psychology Department was only one month. In the blink of an eye, three weeks had passed. After the final week ended, he would rotate to other departments, and opportunities to see Professor Fu would become scarce.

Of course, no matter how much Chi Zhao yearned in his heart, chances to sneak glances during actual work were few. A doctor’s work is too busy, no department is easy.

Patients in the Psychology Department cared more about privacy, so interns had fewer chances to go to the outpatient clinic. Most of the time, they helped out in the wards. Fu Nan’an had many patients under his care. Chi Zhao helped manage about seven or eight of them, Yuanliang being one of them.

Having come to the Fifth Hospital, Yuanliang wasn’t as prickly as during their first meeting, but he wasn’t particularly gentle either. After all, with so many years of torment, opening his heart wasn’t easy. But Chi Zhao wasn’t anxious. He knew Yuanliang would get better. Under Fu Nan’an’s treatment, the changes in Yuanliang were visible. Three days later, when Auntie Zhao came to see him, he even softly said “Thank you” to her—something that had never happened before.

Dawang Village was quite far from the provincial capital, so it wasn’t easy for Auntie Zhao to make the trip. Hearing Yuanliang’s thanks, she cried. That quiet, somewhat timid “thank you” was a good beginning, a symbol of hope.

During the afternoon ward round, Auntie Zhao held onto Fu Nan’an’s hand, unwilling to let go. “Thank you, Doctor Fu. I heard from Doctor Xiao Chi that Yuanliang being able to come to the Fifth Hospital is all thanks to your help. You are such a good person.”

Fu Nan’an smiled gently, accustomed to such praise. “It’s no trouble. This is what we should do.”

Auntie Zhao shook her head. Some things weren’t said, but she wasn’t ignorant. “No, that… loan or whatever you applied for for Yuanliang must have taken a lot of effort, right? That much money… it definitely can’t be easy!”

Auntie Zhao said anxiously, “If you want anything, just say it. I’m just a farmer, I have no special skills, but whatever I can do, I definitely will! You are my great benefactor!”

Country folk are indeed simple and sincere. Once they acknowledge you, they are devotedly good to you. Auntie Zhao kept pulling Fu Nan’an, expressing her gratitude incessantly, almost crying, desperately wanting to portray him as a Buddha descending to earth or a Bodhisattva reincarnated. Fu Nan’an was silent for a moment, then smiled. “Regarding this matter, the person you should thank isn’t me.”

It truly wasn’t easy. Helping Yuanliang was a strenuous task that might not even be appreciated. When they first met, Yuanliang punctured the medical vehicle’s tire so the whole department had a bad impression of him. His father causing trouble was another issue. Although he was arrested, who knew if he might cause trouble again? Then there was the money. Would Yuanliang repay it in the future? Could he afford to? Too many things were intertwined, too many uncertainties. But Fu Nan’an still helped.

To apply for those things for Yuanliang, Fu Nan’an had to privately write up a lot of additional paperwork and owed favors within the department. Doing this involved taking risks. Besides the potential trouble from Yuanliang’s father, if Yuanliang couldn’t repay the treatment costs in the future, the final financial burden would fall on the department, and on Fu Nan’an himself.

Auntie Zhao didn’t understand his meaning. “Then who should I thank?”

Fu Nan’an didn’t speak. Tilting his head, he heard faint sounds coming from the corridor. It was time for ward rounds. Several interns were coming towards the ward together, among them Chi Zhao’s voice clearly audible.

Having worked in the hospital for so many years, he was no longer the inexperienced young doctor he once was. Fu Nan’an had also had his passionate times, swearing to cure all the world’s suffering. But there were too many patients, too many situations where one was powerless. He hadn’t lacked that kind of good-heartedness like Chi Zhao’s before. Old Liu’s son’s case back then was handled by him.

Having done more and experienced more, he had encountered many who disappeared right after receiving help. Once, he even lost almost all his savings because of it. He had helped and had also been hurt. After weathering countless experiences, he sought only a clear conscience, rarely having moments where he still wanted to help someone despite such great risks.

If one had to ask him why, it was probably because—

The footsteps in the corridor grew closer. A bright, clear laugh echoed, yet also seemed to twist and curl around his heartstrings. Fu Nan’an was silent for a moment, then spoke, “Thank Chi Zhao.”

Because that optimistic, radiant child had pleaded with him so desperately.

He didn’t want him to be sad.