Chapter 10: Does That Make You Happy?
The office door clicked shut, the latch biting into the strike plate.
He Sichen walked to the sink, pumped out two squirts of foam, and washed his hands with deliberate slowness.
The water rushed and splashed.
Si Yimian sat obediently on the edge of the examination bed, swinging her legs as she watched him.
He Sichen dried his hands, dragged over a round stool, and sat down facing her.
"Let me see the wound."
Si Yimian leaned back on her hands, half-sitting, half-reclining.
Her legs parted slightly, and the hem of her short skirt slid up a little more.
He Sichen paused.
She was completely unguarded, legs open like that, not a trace of self-consciousness.
He looked away, pulled on gloves, and gently peeled back the gauze with tweezers.
The sutures were fine and neat. The surrounding skin was faintly pink, no swelling, no seepage.
"Healing nicely."
He gave his professional assessment and started disinfecting.
Si Yimian stared at him.
From his brow bone to the bridge of his nose, from his jawline to his Adam's apple.
A man seriously changing her dressing was genuinely handsome.
She watched him without a shred of subtlety.
He Sichen felt that gaze and looked up.
Their eyes met.
She didn't flinch. Instead, her eyes curved into a smile.
"What are you looking at?" He spoke first.
"Looking at how handsome Dr. He is."
She answered without missing a beat.
"I've never seen such a handsome doctor. The ones I used to see were all bald old specialists."
He Sichen's face suddenly went warm.
Thirty years of life, and he'd been complimented more times than he could count.
Looks, ability, family background, temperament.
But no one had ever used such simple words to make his heart skip a beat.
Si Yimian suddenly asked, utterly sincere.
"Dr. He, why is your face red?"
Red already?
If she teased him every day like this, would he just combust?
He Sichen looked away and continued what he was doing.
"It's stuffy in here."
His voice stayed flat, as if nothing had happened.
Si Yimian nodded like she understood.
Then she leaned in close and reached out to touch his ear.
"Then why is your ear so hot?"
He Sichen went rigid.
His Adam's apple bobbed. He tilted his head back, dodging her fingers.
"Keep your hands still while I'm changing the dressing."
Si Yimian withdrew her hand and placed it obediently at her side, like a child caught misbehaving.
"Oh. Sorry."
He scooted the stool back, putting some distance between them.
Then he went back to the wound, movements steady as ever.
Finish fast and get her out.
Si Yimian was quiet for a moment, then spoke again.
"Dr. He, are you this fierce with all your patients?"
His hands didn't stop.
"Depends on the person."
"So which kind am I?"
He Sichen looked up at her.
Those doe eyes were full of curiosity, brimming with the desire to learn.
"A patient."
Just two words, and the line was drawn clean.
Si Yimian lowered her head, thinking. Then she looked up at him, eyes clear as glass.
"Then once I'm healed, I won't be a patient anymore."
"How will Dr. He classify me then?"
He Sichen's hands stopped.
This girl's talent for playing dumb was unmatched.
"Patient" was a basket big enough to hold every thought he shouldn't be having.
Once she took off the hospital gown, the basket would break.
How would he classify her then?
Did she want to be a person, or did she want to be *his* person?
"You ask a lot of questions."
He lowered his eyes and went back to cutting the bandage.
The scissors snapped shut with force. A cold sting at his fingertip, and a bead of blood welled up.
He Sichen looked at his bleeding finger, brows knitting slightly.
First time in his career he'd cut himself while changing a patient's dressing.
People would laugh if they heard.
He set down the scissors and pulled off his gloves.
The blood seeped out, sliding down the pad of his finger.
"Hand slipped."
He explained it offhandedly and stood to deal with it.
The moment he rose, his finger was caught.
Si Yimian cradled his hand, lowered her head, and took the injured knuckle straight into her mouth.
Her soft tongue curled over the pad of his finger, giving it a gentle suck.
Something detonated in He Sichen's skull.
His blood split into two currents.
One surged toward the finger she held between her lips.
The other headed straight for—
He Sichen's Adam's apple slammed down. His free hand clenched into a fist at his side, veins standing out.
In his field of vision, the image of her mouth on his finger looked like a small animal tending its wound.
Devout. Innocent. Utterly unaware.
But watching it, every frame of it burned straight down into his gut.
"Let go."
Si Yimian released him obediently and looked up.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
His voice was forced out through clenched teeth.
"Stopping the bleeding."
She said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.
"That's how they do it in dramas."
He Sichen: "..."
He had never been so speechless in his life.
"Uninstall your dramas."
Si Yimian looked baffled.
"Isn't that right?"
"See? The bleeding stopped."
She lifted her chin, rather proud of herself.
He Sichen glanced down at his finger.
The bleeding had indeed stopped.
Licked clean by her.
He let out a laugh that was half fury.
This woman was playing him for a fool.
"So should I thank you?"
Si Yimian waved a hand, tone earnest.
"No need. You're welcome."
He Sichen: "..."
He was welcome?
For what?
For her practicing medicine with drama clips?
His thirty-year vocabulary hit zero in that instant.
He Sichen looked away and took a deep breath.
Forget it.
He'd take the loss.
"Dressing's done. You can go."
He turned and walked to the sink, turned on the tap, rinsed his hands.
Si Yimian rose slowly and smoothed down her skirt.
"What about when the stitches come out? Do I come to you for that too?"
He Sichen didn't turn around. He wanted to redraw that boundary line.
But the words died on his lips as he remembered how she'd deliberately gone to Zhou Mu instead.
This girl's talent for working people was innate.
He Sichen shut off the faucet and pulled a paper towel to dry his hands.
"Just come straight to me."
He crumpled the towel into a ball and tossed it into the trash with a little too much force.
Si Yimian stared at the back of his head, then at the tips of his ears, thoroughly red. The corner of her mouth curved, quiet and secret.
This man was really fun.
"Then it's settled."
She walked to the door, then suddenly remembered something and poked her head back in.
"Oh, Dr. He."
"I'm reporting to Yu'an Headquarters next week. My father arranged it."
"We'll be seeing a lot more of each other. Please look after me."
He turned, leaning against the sink, and looked at her.
Sunlight slanted in from the corridor window, lighting up half her face.
"You're serious?"
"Of course I'm serious."
He Sichen was silent for three seconds.
"Miss Si, Yu'an isn't a place for playing around."
His voice was low, carrying a warning.
Si Yimian nodded, all earnestness.
"I know. It's a place for learning."
"With Dr. He to guide me, I'm sure I'll learn a lot."
The words sounded proper.
But coming out of her mouth, they just didn't sit right.
Did she know his wasn't a decent school? That nothing proper could be learned here?
The only things learnable here were the things that shouldn't be learned.
He Sichen didn't answer.
He was afraid that if he did, he'd follow right where her words led.
"See you next week."
Si Yimian didn't wait for a response. She waved and this time actually left.
The door closed.
Her footsteps faded.
He Sichen stood there, reached up, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He thought of yesterday, her burning paper effigies at the Taoist temple.
"Burn what you lack," she'd said. So what did that make him?
A real-person trial card?
She'd use him, and that wouldn't stop her from burning backup offerings.
He suddenly felt that if she really came to Yu'an—
He probably wouldn't last a month.
From that night in the disposal room until now, wherever she was, he couldn't manage to act like a proper person.
He couldn't think about this anymore.
If he kept thinking, he was afraid he wouldn't dare show up at headquarters next week.