In the cardiology department office.

Little Liu’s booming announcement sent every heart dropping back into its rightful place. Li Hongwen took the lab report and turned it over and over — examining it from every angle, up and down, side to side — as if determined to find a flower blooming in that thin sheet of paper.

He couldn’t make sense of the technical terminology, so he pointed at a few of the values and asked Han Zhiqin. Han Zhiqin understood them even less. He fished his glasses from his pocket, put them on, and eventually spotted the word “negative” at the bottom — figuring that must be the viral index. The two old men were deep in contemplative study of the document when Huo Ting appeared at the door, accompanied by a young man neither of them had seen before.

Dr. Wu turned out to be quite young.

They’d both imagined a kindly old man, so finding a young one was a surprise. He was around forty at most, with a pair of thick-lensed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a weighty, serious look. His gaze swept the room once before following Huo Ting’s lead and settling on Lu Huaizheng.

Lu Huaizheng rose quickly to his feet.

Yu Hao stood up beside him.

After a brief round of introductions, Dr. Wu got straight to the point. “No need to worry,” he said to Lu Huaizheng. “I’ve reviewed the photographs from the scene.” He glanced briefly at Lu Huaizheng’s hand, speaking in slightly accented Mandarin. “Based on the wound dimensions at the time, my students and I have already run the calculations. For transmission to have occurred, the other party would have had to have a mouthful of blood at the time — and after biting you open, would have needed to hold your hand in their mouth for seven uninterrupted seconds. Even then, it would only be a probability, not a certainty. And looking at the photographs, the degree of oral deterioration present means that even if your hand had been held in that mouth for half an hour, infection would not necessarily have followed.”

Li Hongwen stood there looking stunned.

“That’s not what you people said at the time. You said there was a definite transmission pathway — you said even with the blocking medication, full prevention couldn’t be guaranteed.”

Dr. Wu smiled calmly. “I was in Hong Kong at a conference at the time — I wasn’t familiar with the specifics of this case. But I understand the diagnosing physicians completely. If I had been there, I would have recommended the blocking medication as well. When there’s even a one-in-a-thousand chance, you don’t gamble with a soldier’s life. There’s another factor too — right now, people are terrified of this disease. My students have seen far more cases than most. A lot of people assume that once a doctor prescribes medication, it means their life is saved. What we’re really doing is doing our best and leaving the rest to fate — but we try to explain every possible scenario upfront, to avoid misunderstandings later. If Commander Lu weren’t a soldier with that exceptional physical and psychological constitution, I wouldn’t have said what I said — because if it were an ordinary person in the same situation, I genuinely couldn’t make any guarantees. This disease is fundamentally a condition of the body’s immune defenses. In any case, now that the initial screening is complete, there’s essentially nothing left to worry about — but I still recommend coming back for another screening in six months.”

Li Hongwen, whose nerves had just barely been soothed, felt them spring back up all over again. He scratched at his ears and head. “So everything you just said was basically a bunch of reassurances that still add up to another screening in six months?”

“No need to panic,” Dr. Wu said pleasantly. “I wasn’t finished. A case like Commander Lu’s is genuinely rare in medical history — almost no comparable cases on record. There have been intentional transmissions where the wound was significantly larger, but in this instance, looking at the incident report from Yunnan, the attacker was shot by one of his teammates the instant he bit down — less than seven seconds total. The degree of oral deterioration was also limited to subepithelial gum tissue — no actual bleeding occurred. Combined with the negative initial screening result, infection can be completely ruled out. My recommendation for a follow-up screening in six months is purely because the antiviral medication has side effects — we need to monitor his physical markers over that period. And do a general screening at the same time. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

“So you still can’t guarantee one hundred percent…” Li Hongwen muttered under his breath.

Dr. Wu rolled his eyes with barely disguised exasperation, understanding the man’s concern for his subordinate, yet clinging to the last of his professional composure. “Chief of Staff, let me put it this way. If you took that report right now and showed it to any doctor in the STI department, not one of them could guarantee what your body will be like in six months either. You could walk out onto the street and get hit by a car. If you go through life afraid of every shadow, what’s the point? Even if someone does get this disease, it’s not the end — there are treatments. You’re worrying far more than the situation warrants. My advice: go about your business. File the marriage application if you’re going to. Go back to work. And — there is one thing I do feel obligated to mention.”

“What?”

“Practice safe sex.” Dr. Wu said it easily, setting a hand on Lu Huaizheng’s shoulder and letting his gaze drift, briefly and meaningfully, in Yu Hao’s direction. “The situation is essentially cleared, as I said — but it’s still important to protect the lady.”

…

The office went suddenly, completely silent. Even the department chief, who had been sitting with practiced calm sipping water, inhaled sharply and sprayed it across his desk — fumbling for tissues and mopping up patient files in a frantic rush. Two invisible crows seemed to pass overhead: *caw, caw* — and the scene was one of quiet devastation.

—

Back in the car, Yu Hao’s face still burned.

Lu Huaizheng hadn’t closed the car door yet. He sat in the driver’s seat in his typically unhurried way, one foot still resting on the ground outside, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily draped over the steering wheel — index finger tapping idly at the edge of it. He had his head tilted toward her, watching her with a half-smile.

Yu Hao didn’t dare look at him. She rubbed her face and looked out the window instead.

The trees were tall, their canopy blocking out the sun. The car happened to be parked in the shade, light blocked on her side, full sun falling entirely on his. He always found spots like that when he parked — every time managing to put shade on her side while leaving himself in whatever warmth came. He never fussed about it.

Yu Hao opened the window to let in some breeze, then looked back to find him still watching her.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to peek at him sideways from behind her hands. He was still watching her.

Finally, Lu Huaizheng saw her fidgeting helplessly, and quietly looked away. “I go back to the unit the day after tomorrow.”

Yu Hao turned her head sharply. “That soon?”

He nodded. “I’ve taken a month of leave. After this, there may be a very long stretch where I can’t take any. If you have an emergency, you can call the unit number — I basically won’t have access to my phone.” He recited the number for his team, and she committed it to memory.

Yu Hao suddenly felt the stretch of time ahead as something immense. She looked at him with quiet longing. “Then can you give me a key to your apartment? If I miss you, I can go there.”

Lu Huaizheng had actually already had a spare key made for her — but she hadn’t asked. He retrieved the original from the center console and handed it over, then took the opportunity to close his fingers around her slender ones and pull her toward him, wrapping one arm around her and tucking her into his side. His broad, warm hand moved slowly over her shoulder and arm, back and forth. He pressed his cheek lightly against hers, one foot still outside the car — the whole posture carrying an easy sort of dominance — and said softly, “Promise me three things.”

“Go ahead.”

“Don’t get involved in anything to do with Hu Jianming. No matter what happens while I’m away — if your aunt comes looking for you, send her to me. If anyone from the Yu family comes looking for you, send them to me too. That includes your parents.”

Yu Hao’s cheek rested against his shoulder. He’d been out in the sun, and the warmth radiating off him pressed against her face — a heat that felt safe, that felt like shelter.

She turned her face into his shoulder and hummed softly in agreement.

Inside her chest, something vast and rippling moved through her. He understood her so well. He knew she’d go soft the moment someone pushed, and that if anyone from the Yu family came to her over the Hu Jianming matter, she’d end up sacrificing herself for the sake of her parents’ feelings.

Lu Huaizheng’s hand moved up to the top of her head, fingers moving gently through her soft hair. He glanced down at her with tenderness.

“Second,” he said, producing a gold-embossed card from the center console. “This is Huo Ting’s contact information. If you can’t reach me, go to him. With him around, no one will dare trouble you. Also — this is a message Jia Mian sent me last night. In essence, he said he thinks he finally understands you, that he realizes some of his past assumptions were wrong, and he wants to apologize. Whether you forgive him is entirely your choice. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Yu Hao’s eyes grew hot with tears.

“Honestly, I never really blamed him. Growing up, there were always people who didn’t like me. I got used to it.”

That phrase — *got used to it* — spoken with such quiet resignation, made Lu Huaizheng’s chest tighten. He pulled her closer and said, coaxingly, “That wasn’t your fault — it was mine.” He kept his tone light, half-joking: “The way I see it, heaven looked down and thought — this girl is going to end up with Lu Huaizheng. Better clear away some of the admirers, because that boy doesn’t know the first thing about sweet-talking anyone, and if she had too many people fawning over her, he’d be hopeless.”

Yu Hao laughed through her tears, burying her face in his chest with a murmured, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Lu Huaizheng smiled and wiped her tears away. “Stop crying, alright?”

Yu Hao sniffled and scrubbed her face against his shirt, then tilted her head up. “What’s the third thing?”

Lu Huaizheng dried her tears, settled her upright, and reached over to start the car. “Ten thousand steps a day minimum, tracked on your phone. I’ll have Zhao Dailin hold you to it. One step short when I get back, and you’ll have me to deal with.”

…

*One moment all warmth and closeness, and the next — just like that.*

Yu Hao was somewhere between amused and indignant. She tried to negotiate. “Three thousand steps, alright?”

Lu Huaizheng checked the rearview mirror. “Three thousand is pointless — you might as well not bother. The recommended daily activity for adults is at least ten thousand steps. Five thousand is the threshold. Once your stamina builds up, we’ll go higher. Have you seen how pale you’ve gotten?”

Yu Hao took a moment to process this.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

He curved his lips. “When I’m insulting someone, I don’t sound this polite.”

Fair enough — when he was actually being harsh, he was considerably less diplomatic.

The car eased onto the main road and moved unhurriedly through the congested lanes. Then Yu Hao suddenly remembered. “Wait — where are we going? I thought we were going for beef tongue?”

“Do you want beef tongue?” He glanced sideways at her.

Yu Hao was leaning against the window watching the scenery outside, her fingernails lightly tapping against the door frame. “I want the kind where someone else pays.”

The wistfulness in her expression sent a direct jolt of warmth straight through him.

He gripped the steering wheel, ran his tongue over his dry lips, and coughed once. “Zhao Dailin — your senior — is treating for dinner. She just called me. If you don’t want to go, we’ll find that beef tongue place.”

“Oh, Senior Zhao?”

Yu Hao sighed. “We should go then, I suppose.”

Lu Huaizheng cut her a sideways glance and ruffled her hair. “You’re really that afraid of her?”

Yu Hao shook her head. “Senior Zhao never pays for dinner. If she’s treating, something’s up.”

—

By the time the two of them arrived, night had fully settled in — thick and dark as spilled ink, pressing down along the horizon. A few sparse stars scattered across the sky.

Zhao Dailin had picked an outdoor street food stall, bustling and lively, clusters of people gathered around tables under strings of lights. It was the most vibrant stretch of North Street — vendors calling out, passersby pausing to look. Behind it all lay a broad expanse of ocean, glinting at a distance like a slab of blue-green jade, sea and sky merging into one clear, luminous plane.

Lu Huaizheng had just pulled the car into a spot. Zhao Dailin was seated at the innermost table, right beside the grill, beneath a tall lamp stand that cast a hazy white light onto the ground, swaying gently in the salt-laced sea breeze — the whole scene shimmering like something out of a dream.

Yu Hao only noticed as she stepped closer — besides Zhao Dailin, there was Sun Kai, and a woman she recognized. She’d met her once in Yunnan: Xu Yanluo.

Lu Huaizheng spotted her too, and gave a brief pause before settling onto a stool beside the table. He set his keys down. “What are you doing here?”

Xu Yanluo was dressed like she’d come to enchant someone — cool and revealing, those thick lashes still layered on like a raven’s feathers, clinging heavy to her eyelids. Every time she blinked, Yu Hao was inexplicably reminded of moths fluttering in the light.

A cigarette smoldered at Xu Yanluo’s elbow. She looked at Lu Huaizheng with a languid, knowing smile. “I came to find Captain Sun, but he told me it wasn’t him who saved me last time — it was you. He said I should go to you. So what’s a girl to do — should I be thanking him or you?”

Sun Kai wore the expression of someone with no stake in the proceedings whatsoever. He clasped his hands together in mock apology toward Lu Huaizheng.

“No choice, brother. Forgive me.”

Lu Huaizheng kicked him under the table without ceremony. “Weren’t you supposed to be at the unit?”

“Took a couple days off. The business with breaking off the engagement to Fang Yan.” Sun Kai poured himself a glass of beer and drained it in one go. “Heard you’re out of the woods — nothing I’m more grateful for than that. I couldn’t sleep for the whole last month worrying.”

Zhao Dailin reached over and snatched the glass from his hand.

“Enough. I didn’t bring you here to drink.”

Sun Kai looked at her. He put down the bottle. “Fine. You two both dragged me here — what on earth do you want?”

Xu Yanluo raised her hand first. “I’ll go first.”

Zhao Dailin cut straight across her. “You keep quiet.”

“Oh, for—” Xu Yanluo muttered.

“First come, first served — you know the rules!”

Sun Kai looked thoroughly bewildered. “Will someone just tell me what is going on?”

“You keep quiet!” both women snapped in unison.

—

In the end, two people got drunk.

Sun Kai and Lu Huaizheng.

Neither of the two men could hold their liquor to save their lives, and Yu Hao practically hauled Lu Huaizheng into the car and drove him home herself.

That left Sun Kai slumped facedown on the table drooling, while Zhao Dailin and Xu Yanluo each claimed an opposing side of the table and stared each other down — each sip of beer punctuated by a glare, each glare met with another sip, until the ground around them was ringed with empty bottles. The sea breeze blew steadily. Sun Kai had begun to shiver in his sleep, curling tighter into his own jacket.

Half an hour later, everyone else had cleared out. Just their table remained, and still the two of them were pouring it steadily down, neither one willing to blink first.

Sun Kai slept on.

Only, somewhere in the haze of that white-lit, briny, bottle-clattering scene, the man in the middle slept on soundly — two women’s jackets now draped over him, their hems lifting gently on the warm sea air, rising and falling…

He smacked his lips with satisfied contentment, apparently dreaming of two enormous hens chasing him down to lay their eggs.

—