Chapter 31 – Then, just go on liking him

Translator: Abo Dammen

Helping to revise the project application was not a comfortable task, yet Chi Zhao threw himself into it with exceptional diligence. Limited by the equipment, the speech-to-text conversion contained many errors. Chi Zhao had to check it line by line and then format the text, often sitting for several hours at a stretch.

“Are you tired?” Fu Nan’an asked him more than once. “If you’re tired, take a break. A little while won’t make a difference.”

“Professor, I’m not tired, really,” Chi Zhao would occasionally stand up, walk around, and gaze into the distance, but when he returned to the computer, he was always smiling. “Let me push a bit harder and try to finish this sooner.”

Often, it’s like this. When you genuinely want to do something, you don’t feel the fatigue. However bitter or tiring, it all feels fulfilling and worthwhile.

The project review date was approaching. Chi Zhao worked overtime, wanting to finish the application for Fu Nan’an quickly. For several days in a row, he worked until almost lights-out before hurriedly running back to his dorm, getting scolded by the dorm supervisor multiple times. Yet, he still found it all willingly acceptable.

“What are you doing all this for?” Zhong Yangqiu asked him, perplexed one day as Chi Zhao dashed back to the dorm just in time. “Did Professor Fu pay you?”

The question was too easy to answer. Chi Zhao quickly grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste to wash up, tossing back a sentence as he stepped out the door. “He didn’t pay me. I’m doing it precisely because I like to. He doesn’t need to give me anything.”

Liking someone is a strange and wonderful emotion. It can make one timid and hesitant, yet also fearless and bold. Because of this liking, no amount of bitterness or fatigue mattered. Every moment spent by Fu Nan’an’s side, even in complete silence, felt like happiness to Chi Zhao.

Of course, Professor Fu was absolutely worthy of Chi Zhao’s affection. Having said he wouldn’t keep him at a distance, he certainly didn’t. He would not turn a blind eye to Chi Zhao’s warm, sincere heart. He always remembered Chi Zhao’s kindness.

Chi Zhao was still a resident, and juggling the hospital on one side and the lab on the other was no easy task. These past few days, Chi Zhao happened to be rotating in the relatively busy surgery department, pulling several overnight shifts in a row. That afternoon, a senior colleague had asked if Chi Zhao hadn’t been sleeping well, noting he had dark circles under his eyes. It was just an offhand comment during a break, but Fu Nan’an remembered it.

That evening, when Chi Zhao came to work on the documents, Fu Nan’an asked him, “Haven’t been sleeping well lately?”

Afraid Fu Nan’an might worry, Chi Zhao quickly said, “No, no, it’s just these last few night shifts. It’ll be fine once they’re over.”

That’s what he said. Chi Zhao never complained to Fu Nan’an. But Fu Nan’an wasn’t unaware. Chi Zhao’s tone was upbeat, striving to sound enthusiastic and energetic. The corner of Fu Nan’an’s mouth lifted slightly. “You’ve worked hard,” he said.

The light in the lab was cold and white, casting a sterile, serious glow. But Professor Fu’s smile was so gentle that everything before Chi Zhao’s eyes seemed to warm up. Chi Zhao’s heartbeat sped up a little. “No, it’s really not hard work at all.”

Fu Nan’an didn’t argue with him about it, simply nodded and said, “I know,” then sat down beside Chi Zhao to keep him company.

Somehow, a tacit understanding had developed. When Chi Zhao was revising the draft, Fu Nan’an would always sit beside him. Occasionally, Chi Zhao would ask Fu Nan’an about technical terms he didn’t understand, but most of the time, they each did their own work.

The lab was quiet at night, and so hearts grew calm too. Chi Zhao loved this feeling of working together yet not disturbing each other. When Professor Fu was nearby, he always felt exceptionally content and at ease.

He felt too much at ease, content and comfortable. Perhaps because he really had been too tired lately, Chi Zhao propped his head up to look at the computer screen, only to feel his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Finally, his head tilted to the side, and he fell asleep with his head on the desk.

“…Chi Zhao?”

The sound of keyboard typing had not resumed. Fu Nan’an, frowning slightly, called his name. Chi Zhao was too sleepy, mumbling a drowsy, “What’s wrong?” his voice thick with weariness and sleep. The furrow in Fu Nan’an’s brow smoothed away, and his voice softened, quieter and gentler than usual. “It’s nothing. Sleep.”

He felt for the switch and turned off the light. With a soft “click,” the lab was plunged into darkness.

In the darkness, the neon lights from outside the window filtered in. In the faint glow of the computer screen, Chi Zhao slept peacefully. Fu Nan’an sat back down beside him, quietly sensing his breathing. After a moment, as if remembering something, he took off his own jacket and, groping carefully, laid it over Chi Zhao’s shoulders.

“Sleep,” he murmured. As he moved, Fu Nan’an bumped into something. He made no sound, afraid of waking Chi Zhao. His hand hovered in the air for a moment before finally patting Chi Zhao’s back gently. His eyes were cloudy, yet they seemed to hold a light within them. “You’ve worked hard this whole time.”

When Chi Zhao opened his eyes again, two hours had passed. He had slept so soundly. Only after waking did he realize the entire lab building was dark, and his

computer screen had long since gone black. He had no idea when he had fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry, Professor!”

Chi Zhao hurried to turn the light on. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep and was immensely embarrassed, tugging at his own earlobe. Fu Nan’an gave a faint smile, cutting off his apology. “You must be exhausted from this period. How about taking a break tomorrow?”

His gentle tone held no reproach. Chi Zhao relaxed slightly and shook his head, saying it wasn’t necessary. Then he suddenly realized he was still holding Fu Nan’an’s jacket.

His face flushed a bit red. “Professor, your jacket…”

There was no doubt that Fu Nan’an had covered him with it. Chi Zhao’s fingers fiddled with the thick jacket, momentarily at a loss for words.

It had rained a couple of days ago, and it had been quite cold since. The temperature in the lab was even lower, so it was a cool, shady place. After taking off his jacket, Fu Nan’an had only been left with a thin sweater and a shirt, yet he had sat there waiting for him for two hours, without a trace of annoyance or impatience.

“I’d forgotten about it,” Fu Nan’an said with a gentle smile, interrupting Chi Zhao’s chaotic thoughts. “I was afraid you’d be cold, so I put it on you. It’s easy to catch a cold when you’re asleep.”

Since it was mentioned, Fu Nan’an naturally reached out his hand. “Here, give it to me.”

Fu Nan’an’s hand was outstretched. Chi Zhao subconsciously handed over the clothing. When their fingertips brushed, Fu Nan’an’s fingers felt slightly cool. Chi Zhao’s heart warmed, and he said, “Thank you, Professor.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Fu Nan’an shook out the jacket and put it on in one smooth motion. “Thanks make it sound distant. Otherwise, how many thanks would I owe you?”

Feelings cannot be measured by value. True intimacy doesn’t require ‘thank yous.’ These actions come naturally, because one is thinking of the other.

Chi Zhao understood. His heart felt even warmer. He could feel that Fu Nan’an’s attitude towards him was different from before.

For the next few days, Chi Zhao was on night shifts. Worried he might be too tired to manage, Fu Nan’an would come to keep him company for a while during his own spare time.

Being from Psychology, Fu Nan’an wasn’t very familiar with clinical work and couldn’t help much. He wouldn’t stay with Chi Zhao the whole time, just talked with him for a bit before leaving. But even these brief conversations warmed Chi Zhao’s heart. This was Professor Fu actively seeking him out now, no longer just him pouring all the enthusiasm into their interactions.

The relationship between the two seemed to be quietly growing closer, steadily moving forward.

A few more days passed, and the project application was submitted. Fu Nan’an took Chi Zhao out for a meal to thank him for his help during this period. It was the first time the two had eaten alone together. Chi Zhao agreed verbally while his heart leapt with joy. He felt like he was floating on air.

The restaurant was chosen by Chi Zhao, a fusion restaurant near the hospital with a good ambiance. It had a great atmosphere and the food was excellent; Chi Zhao had pored over many reviews before finally deciding on it.

Having finally managed to have a meal alone with Fu Nan’an, Chi Zhao had prepared everything meticulously. After Chi Zhao fluently listed a series of the restaurant’s signature dishes and gave detailed descriptions of their flavors, the waitress beside them covered her mouth and laughed. “Sir, you come here often, right? You seem very familiar with our menu.”

“No, no, it’s my first time,” Chi Zhao said, a bit embarrassed by her comment. “I just looked up some recommendations in advance.”

“Then you’re truly amazing,” the waitress exclaimed, immediately praising him. “Our menu is quite extensive. You must have done a lot of research to find all these.”

Hearing this, Fu Nan’an glanced up in Chi Zhao’s direction. Chi Zhao mumbled an acknowledgment, his face slightly flushed.

Chi Zhao had originally not wanted to appear overly excited. It’s just a meal alone together, nothing to get so proud about, he thought, deliberately pretending to be very calm, keeping his voice steady the whole way. He hadn’t expected his little secret efforts to be exposed by the waitress in just a few sentences.

—He even saw Fu Nan’an hiding a smile!

Chi Zhao ordered the dishes at top speed and shooed the waitress away. Fu Nan’an still had a smile on his face as he said, “You went to a lot of trouble.”

“No trouble, no trouble at all,” Chi Zhao quickly shook his head. He blinked as he looked at Fu Nan’an, his cheeks still rosy, and said with a touch of bashfulness, “As long as you like it.”

The restaurant Chi Zhao chose indeed had excellent food. After the dishes were served, the two chatted idly, mostly with Chi Zhao talking and Fu Nan’an listening. This was their usual mode of interaction, and both found it comfortable.

Sitting face to face, Chi Zhao could finally stare at Fu Nan’an openly. Occasionally, as Chi Zhao spoke, Fu Nan’an would interject a sentence or two. Professor Fu’s perspectives were neither extreme nor resentful. His tone was gentle and serene, always managing to strike a chord in Chi Zhao’s heart.

The restaurant environment was noisy, but Chi Zhao’s heart was calm. People passed by to their left from time to time, but Chi Zhao’s attention was entirely on Fu Nan’an. He liked him so much that he felt he was about to drown in those light gray eyes.

They finished the meal face-to-face like this. When they left the restaurant, Chi Zhao’s head was still in a daze. The heating inside had been very strong, and Chi Zhao’s face remained flushed long after they stepped out. A gentle evening breeze blew as they walked side by side, slowly, when they suddenly spotted a familiar figure.

The figure drew closer, and Chi Zhao finally recognized him—it was Jiang Yingxue’s uncle, the deputy director of the Fifth Hospital.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence?” The deputy director greeted them very enthusiastically. “You two eating here too?”

Fu Nan’an nodded and said yes. “We just submitted the project application, so we came out to celebrate a bit.”

They were all acquaintances, so the three stood and exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. The deputy director seemed to have something he wanted to say to Fu Nan’an, hesitating several times before finally asking, “By the way, Nan’an, there’s something… I wanted to ask you.”

Fu Nan’an said, “Go ahead.”

The deputy director coughed twice, his expression slightly awkward. “I heard from Xiao Xue that you told her she can’t work with you anymore? What happened?”

There was no avoiding this conversation. Fu Nan’an had known he would be asked when he had Jiang Yingxue withdraw. Jiang Yingxue had been pampered since childhood and hadn’t experienced much hardship; she had cried when Fu Nan’an refused her that day.

“I haven’t had the chance to discuss this with you yet,” Fu Nan’an began to explain, his tone relatively calm. “Yingxue has her own things to focus on. It’s almost time for her postgraduate entrance exam re-examinations, and staying with me would just hold her up, so I suggested she take a step back for now.”

The incident that day had spread through the hospital’s social chats so the deputy director had naturally heard some things. Fu Nan’an intentionally avoided mentioning the details to save Jiang Yingxue some face, but the deputy director clearly wasn’t willing to let it drop. “She has a straightforward personality, wears her heart on her sleeve, and doesn’t really think before she speaks. Has she been causing you trouble?”

This was practically an explicit hint. Fu Nan’an still smiled, understanding the subtext. His fingertips brushed against his white cane as he said slowly, “She’s young, it’s normal, perfectly normal. We all understand. She’ll be fine once she’s a bit older.”

Hearing Fu Nan’an say this, the deputy director visibly breathed a sigh of relief. Fu Nan’an was indeed outstanding, but from a parent’s perspective, few were willing to marry their child to a blind man over ten years her senior. “That’s what I think too. This child really can’t see things clearly. So young, and she insists on being with a blind—”

Halfway through his sentence, the deputy director realized it was inappropriate. No matter what, they were colleagues of many years so saying this was rather inconsiderate. The deputy director gave an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t mean it like that, Nan’an… It’s just…”

“It’s fine,” Fu Nan’an smiled gently, actively helping him out of the awkward situation. “We’re indeed not suitable. Yingxue is too young. I don’t have those kinds of feelings for her.”

The deputy director relaxed and, following Fu Nan’an’s lead, asked him, “What type do you like? Should I introduce you to someone?”

Fu Nan’an shook his head with a smile and said, “No need.”

Perhaps still feeling awkward, the deputy director exchanged a few more pleasantries before leaving. While the two of them were talking earlier, Chi Zhao hadn’t uttered a word. Now that only he and Fu Nan’an remained, Chi Zhao couldn’t hold back any longer. “Professor, why were you so patient with him just now?”

Chi Zhao wasn’t as broad-minded as Fu Nan’an. He couldn’t stand such attitudes. “Wasn’t that just discrimination? So what if you’re blind? Aren’t you impressive enough?”

“It’s really nothing,” Fu Nan’an smiled, his hand holding the white cane, slowly probing forward. “His thinking isn’t wrong. It’s human nature. The social environment is like this. Very few blind people manage to succeed independently.”

“But they can’t just ignore the facts and doubt you,” Chi Zhao immediately retorted. He knew many blind people couldn’t live independently for various reasons, which made him think even more highly of Fu Nan’an. “I’ve never felt there was anything bad about being with you… You’re so capable. If they can’t see that, it’s their poor judgment.”

Chi Zhao spoke with absolute conviction, his voice even choking up a little with anger. Fu Nan’an laughed, deliberately teasing him, “So, you have good judgment?”

“Of course, I do!” Chi Zhao nodded without thinking, then paused as the words reached his lips, finally remembering what they were discussing. This statement was almost no different from a confession. He gave an awkward cough but still said, “Anyway… I just think you’re wonderful.”

The corner of Fu Nan’an’s mouth lifted slightly. “Where am I wonderful?”

Chi Zhao thought for a moment and replied, “Everywhere.”

Not being able to see was indeed a regrettable thing, but Chi Zhao wouldn’t give up because of it. Liking someone meant liking them along with their flaws. Chi Zhao liked Professor Fu’s gentleness and erudition, and he also liked those light gray eyes.

The feeling of being looked down upon was never pleasant. Even if Fu Nan’an didn’t say it, Chi Zhao knew. The conversation cooled a bit at this point. Chi Zhao paused, then added earnestly, “Anyway, I just like you. Even if others don’t, I still do.”

Chi Zhao knew exactly how to tug at heartstrings. This wasn’t an act; every word was filled with sincerity.

If someone wasn’t moved by this, they truly had a heart of stone. Fu Nan’an shook his head with a soft laugh. The evening breeze brushed past his fingertips, bringing a slight chill. Fu Nan’an said very quietly, “Then keep liking me.”

Then just keep liking me.

Don’t go back on your word.