Zai Ni Mei Shao Dian Hua Deng – Chapter 98
“Cardiac function… good. Blood pressure, heart rate, all normal.”
“All right.” The doctor closed the medical chart and looked up at the patient before him. “Sign here, and you’re free to be discharged.”
This patient had been unconscious for a long stretch before. When he’d first woken a few days ago, he’d seemed unable to fully come back to himself, often sitting alone in his hospital room in a daze, unwilling to see even family or caretakers. It was only yesterday that he’d finally grown more alert, and the first thing he’d asked was, “When can I be discharged?”
He had a congenital heart condition to begin with. He’d been hospitalized after a car accident during a typhoon, which had dislodged his pacemaker; combined with not taking his diuretic medication in time, this had led to fluid retention. After treatment, the swelling had gone down, and his condition was now largely stable.
Once he’d signed the discharge form, the doctor added, “Get plenty of rest once you’re home. Even though you have a pacemaker and can still drive, given your history of bypass surgery and underlying condition, don’t get on the road if conditions aren’t good.”
“Understood.”
“We’re not short on beds these two days—if you’re not feeling well, you’re welcome to stay under observation a while longer. My office is on the seventh floor outpatient building, Cardiothoracic Surgery, first room on the left. Come find me anytime if you have questions.”
“Got it. Thank you, doctor.”
Once Dr. Liu left, Cheng Chang sat alone on the hospital bed for a while, then picked up the clean clothes at the bedside and went to the bathroom to change out of his hospital gown.
He’d woken three days ago.
In that instant of opening his eyes, the blazing dusk and roaring inferno had still filled his vision.
He’d never wished harm on anyone in his life, yet even with the shift between worlds, he couldn’t shake off the burning memory of the fire at the Imperial City Guard right away.
The hatred in his heart was hard to quell. He didn’t want to see anyone, and aside from necessary care and check-ups, he insisted on staying alone in his room.
It was only when his palm brushed against something cool that his mind began to settle.
It was the bronze hairpin Yun Xi had given him.
Last time it had been the talisman; this time, the bronze hairpin. Cheng Chang didn’t know what this meant, exactly. He only remembered that in the end, amid a boundless mist, he’d seen golden butterflies—fluttering gently, just as they had the last time, when he’d fallen from the cliff.
Cheng Chang tried to settle his thoughts. With no clear path ahead, he supposed things would simply go on as before.
Duan Mingcheng had gone back to Shanghai earlier for some matter, but had dropped off his laptop before leaving. Cheng Chang opened it with remarkable composure, checked his company email, and replied to the important ones. He then sat in silence for most of the day. He thought he could roughly guess why he’d returned to the twenty-first century—two lives running on parallel tracks, with near-death moments serving as the crossing point between worlds. But he still wanted to understand exactly what was going on, so he decided to get discharged as soon as possible.
Liao Zhuo had been keeping him company outside his room these past few days. This morning she seemed to have something come up and had stepped out. After changing out of his hospital clothes, Cheng Chang saw her message on WeChat: I’ll be gone a moment, back as soon as I can.
Cheng Chang thought it over, then replied: I have something urgent to take care of, so I’m getting discharged first. Go on home once you’re done with your business. Hope everything goes well. He tucked his phone into his pocket and headed to the nurses’ station to settle his bill.
The head nurse who attended to him printed out his billing statement and said, “All charges have been deducted from the bank card you left on file. The same statement has been sent to your email and phone. If you have any questions, call the number at the bottom. Remember to take your medication on schedule after you’re discharged.”
Cheng Chang nodded his thanks, then asked, “The day I was first admitted, there was an old monk who came to see me. Do you have any way to contact him?”
“That odd, superstitious fellow? He left ages ago, didn’t leave any contact information.”
“What about Officer Xu, who brought me in?”
“We have his information. He left his name and work unit address—I put it in the office. Wait here, I’ll go get it for you.”
With that, the head nurse gave a couple of instructions to two junior nurses nearby and hurried off to the office.
It was just past noon, and the inpatient ward was full of visitors. As Cheng Chang waited at the nurses’ station, dressed in a light gray sweater and dark casual pants, his collar slightly open to reveal a hint of collarbone, his gaze clear as water yet carrying a certain sharp, weathered edge—as though he’d been through something no one could guess at.
He simply stood there in silence, the whole of him gentle yet sharp-edged, devastatingly handsome, so much so that everyone passing by couldn’t help but turn to look.
One of the junior nurses worked up the courage to approach him and asked, “Hey there, handsome—could I add your WeChat?”
Cheng Chang glanced at her, said nothing, and looked away.
Just then the head nurse returned. She handed Cheng Chang the police officer’s work address, assuming he wanted to go thank him, and added, “While you were unconscious, Dr. Zhang from Shanghai—your attending physician at Zhongshan Hospital—happened to be in Hangzhou on business and came specially to see you. You might want to give her a call too.”
Cheng Chang said, “All right.”
The typhoon had passed, and the weather had warmed up a little, though the afternoon wind was strong. Cheng Chang walked to the parking lot, sat in his car, and sent Dr. Zhang a thank-you text. He’d just pulled up to the hospital’s front gate when he spotted Liao Zhuo running over from across the street.
She’d seen his WeChat message and had rushed back specially. She knocked on the car window and gestured, asking where he was headed.
She’d come looking for him up the mountain during the typhoon, after all—she’d saved his life.
Cheng Chang rolled down the window and answered honestly, “I’m heading to the police station.”
Liao Zhuo said, “Then I’ll come with you.”
Cheng Chang thought for a moment. “I might have something else to take care of after that.”
“I know, I won’t hold you up. I actually have my own business at the police station too.” She seemed to find it a bit hard to say, pausing for a long moment before adding, “It’s about my uncle.”
Cheng Chang nodded. “All right, get in.”
Liao Zhuo was going to consult the police about her uncle’s loan-shark debt. It wasn’t quite the end of the workday yet, and traffic in Hangzhou wasn’t too bad, so they soon arrived at the Chengxi Police Station. After hearing Liao Zhuo’s situation, the officer on duty said, “This is a civil dispute. The other party hasn’t committed any crime, and you don’t have evidence of one either, so it doesn’t constitute a criminal case—we can’t open a file here. Generally we’d advise you to negotiate a settlement; if that fails, hire a lawyer, or take it to arbitration. It depends on the situation. Oh right, there’s a regulation that says something about loans exceeding… what percentage was it again…”
“Twenty-four percent,” Cheng Chang said. “Any portion of a loan’s annual interest rate exceeding twenty-four percent isn’t protected by law and doesn’t need to be repaid.” (Note)
This was a provision issued by the Supreme Court to prevent excessively high interest on private loans; working in risk control, he knew a bit about it.
“Right, twenty-four percent.” The officer nodded. “If your uncle really can’t pay it all back, have him pay off the portion that’s legally owed first. We’ve had a similar case here before—hold on, let me go dig it up for you.”
“Sure, thank you, officer,” Liao Zhuo said.
Seeing this would take a while, Cheng Chang stepped ahead back to the reception hall, asked a young officer where he might find Officer Xu, who’d rescued him from the mountain that day, found Xu’s office, thanked him, and while he was at it, asked for the old monk’s phone number.
Officer Xu flipped through his notebook, found the monk’s number, and handed it to Cheng Chang, adding, “That monk seems a bit eccentric, but if you ask me, he’s not a bad sort. The day you had your accident, he actually came down the mountain looking for you—your girlfriend called it in first, and he called us right after. Better to make peace than hold a grudge—don’t be too hard on him, just talk it through.”
Cheng Chang said, “I know. I just want to ask him something.”
Stepping out of the police station lobby, Cheng Chang stood at the entrance and dialed the monk’s number. It rang three times before someone picked up.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” Cheng Chang said. “I’m awake.”
“…”
There was a clattering sound, as if the phone had been dropped. After a moment, the rustling sound of someone picking it back up followed.
The old monk, hands trembling, picked the phone back up and was about to hang up when Cheng Chang spoke up just in time. “Don’t hang up. I have something to ask you.”
“…Ask away.”
“Did you summon my soul again?”
“…Holy shit! Weren’t you unconscious back then? You could actually see everything?”
“Answer my question first. Besides that one time the night I was first admitted, have you summoned my soul again since?”
“No, of course not, I wouldn’t dare. I only did it that one time, and it nearly scared me half to death. My master told me afterward that someone with your kind of fate shouldn’t have their soul summoned carelessly—it might affect… the other timeline, or something? And it’s not easy to call back once it’s gone, either.”
Hearing this, Cheng Chang fell into thought.
So, the reason he’d been able to return this time was entirely because he’d been on the brink of death.
“Are you still in Hangzhou? Let’s meet up.”
“No way.” The old monk was adamant. “You’re way too much trouble. I don’t want to see you again for the rest of my life.”
“I’m standing outside the police station right now.”
“…”
“So, should I file a report?”
“…”
“During a typhoon, you drove me off the mountain—intentional harm?”
“…”
“I just bought your talisman, and then I got into a car accident—consumer fraud?”
“…”
“Summoning souls outside the hospital morgue in the middle of the night—feudal superstition?”
“…You can’t do this! You bought that talisman of your own free will, and when I sent you down the mountain, how was I supposed to know you had a heart condition and would get into an accident!”
“I know,” Cheng Chang said. “But I could certainly hire a lawyer to establish a legal chain of causation for everything you did.”
“…”
“And given the fact that you failed to help someone in mortal danger, plus the hospital’s back-courtyard surveillance footage of you summoning souls, I’m afraid the police will have to bring you in for questioning.”
“…”
“So, will you come see me yourself, or should I have your police uncle bring you here?”
“…”
An hour later, the old monk showed up outside the police station lugging a woven sack, cursing up a storm. “Hooligans aren’t scary—what’s scary is a hooligan with an education!”