Bone-Attached Disaster - Chapter 3:

Chapter 3: Disgust

Lu Jie tossed and turned all night, utterly unable to sleep. Before this, he had almost gotten used to the fracture and wasn’t losing sleep because of the restricted movement in his leg. After struggling for a while, he even started to feel extremely uncomfortable in his cast-covered leg—it was itchy and stuffy, making his whole body uneasy.

What was Fu Jia’an’s expression when he saw him today? Was it relief? Indifference?

The words “high school classmate” felt like a clear boundary being drawn, not to mention the self-introduction that followed—”Hi, I’m Fu Jia’an.”

What the hell? “Hi” what? Did he think Lu Jie was brain-dead? That he needed a personal reminder because he couldn’t recall his name?

What choked Lu Jie up even more was that perhaps over the years, he had intentionally or unintentionally imagined what it would be like if he could talk to Fu Jia’an face-to-face again. Accusatory, angry, mocking, or nonchalant.

But that single phrase, “Hi, I’m Fu Jia’an,” scattered all his pent-up resentment.

And the kiss… did he feel happy and satisfied after pulling one over on him?

Yes, he had also kissed Fu Jia’an once back then, but there was a reason for it. Although he didn’t like Fu Jia’an, he certainly hadn’t intended to play a trick. What was this now? Tit for tat?

It was like accidentally knocking over a child’s ice cream. You worried he thought you did it on purpose to spite him and thought many times about how to properly explain. Then, when you finally met again, he immediately kicked over the ice cream in your hand.

The feeling of being retaliated against for no reason was genuinely frustrating, especially a boomerang after twelve years.

This feeling of always being outguessed, of always losing, made Lu Jie irritable for the first time in a long while.

“Little Lu, why are you still awake? Did we bother you?”

Old Du’s daughter, Du Zhenzhen, who rarely had time to stay overnight, stayed tonight, sleeping curled up in clothes on the small sofa with her own small blanket as a cover.

Despite the simple conditions, it didn’t affect the warm atmosphere between the father and daughter. Behind the curtain dividing the beds, Lu Jie heard them continuously chatting—just trivial things about life—but their low laughter kept drifting over.

In truth, if he were truly sleepy, these sounds wouldn’t bother him at all. But Lu Jie couldn’t conjure up sleepiness today, and once night fell, it became too quiet, so almost every word of the conversation between Old Du and his daughter, Du Zhenzhen, reached his ears.

“No, I just have a bit of insomnia tonight.”

“Then we’ll be quieter. Sorry about that, Brother Lu,” Du Zhenzhen said.

Lu Jie just thought it was wonderful that such a harmonious father-daughter relationship existed in the world.

Thinking this, the unread messages from his mother lying in his phone started giving him a headache again. Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well pick some harmless messages to reply to.

Lu Jie sat up, leaned against a soft pillow, and unlocked his phone.

This hospitalization was a rare vacation for himself, so he had turned off all message notifications. For urgent matters, they could call; otherwise, he’d reply when he felt like it.

As soon as he opened it, Lu Jie saw a friend request: Shen Rufeng.

Lu Jie keenly noticed on this screen that the other party had added him by searching his mobile number. This meant that no one had shared his WeChat with Dr. Shen; instead, Dr. Shen had found his number in the patient information.

He tapped “Accept” and greeted him first: [Dr. Shen? Hello there.]

Lu Jie added a smiling emoji to be friendly, even though he didn’t know why Dr. Shen was contacting him via phone at this hour instead of coming to the ward. It was most likely personal, unrelated to his medical condition, and speaking of personal matters… Lu Jie could only think of the interlude with Fu Jia’an earlier.

Sure enough, Shen Rufeng got straight to the point: [Mr. Lu, regarding what happened today, I apologize to you on Jia’an’s behalf. He did it to show me something.]

Lu Jie’s fingers paused on the keyboard. He laughed silently and awkwardly. He pictured Dr. Shen’s genial, spring-breeze smile behind his glasses during every round, and coupled with these two sentences, it was utterly irritating.

Lu Jie: [What do you mean, “to show you something”?]

Shen Rufeng: [I just arranged a blind date for him a while ago. He probably thinks this will stop me from urging him to date.]

Shen Rufeng: [I’m very sorry for causing you trouble.]

Lu Jie’s brow furrowed tightly. What was this? Had he walked into a scenario between the two brothers? They were close family, and he was just a bystander who was used as a tool?

What kind of mess was this? His “vacation” mood was completely ruined.

Perhaps not wanting to get involved in other people’s family matters, or perhaps simply wanting to ruin Fu Jia’an’s plan, he replied to Shen Rufeng decisively: [I’m heterosexual.]

He then typed another sentence: [Fu Jia’an might not be, you should pay more attention to him.]

Closing the chat with Dr. Shen, Lu Jie scrolled through his contact list. Since over a decade had passed, he couldn’t quite remember the person’s nickname. The search took a long time. Lu Jie’s obsessive-compulsive tendency kicked in again. He vaguely saw four characters in his hazy memory but couldn’t recall what they were exactly.

Until his sliding finger found the correct answer—”Short-dated Canned Goods” (Linqi Guantou), Fu Jia’an’s nickname.

Lu Jie tapped on the “Short-dated Canned Goods” profile picture and checked his Moments. Although it was empty, he didn’t think the other party would have deleted him. There’s no need to delete someone who’s been forgotten, gathering dust. But if he sent a message, would he see a red exclamation mark (meaning he was blocked/deleted)?

To test his theory, he sent a message to “Short-dated Canned Goods”: [I’m being discharged tomorrow.]

There was no red mark, but also no reply. It was 10 PM. Although he knew Fu Jia’an always had good sleep quality, wasn’t this a bit too early to be asleep?

After thinking it over, Lu Jie was still annoyed. He was suffering from insomnia while the perpetrator was sleeping soundly? He was used and retaliated against—a perfect two birds with one stone.

By 1 AM, Old Du and Du Zhenzhen were asleep. Lu Jie had to be careful to make his tossing and turning movements as quiet as possible. The suppressed annoyance bred irrational emotions, making him impulsively want to grab his phone and send yet another message.

The moment he touched the phone screen, Lu Jie realized this version of himself was unfamiliar—no, familiar and yet unfamiliar.

How many years had it been since he was this impulsive? He had long left behind his reckless and immature youth and was even moving further away from his prime. He was certainly unwilling to accept some things, but since it was Fu Jia’an he lost to, perhaps it wasn’t impossible to let it go.

That guy was a genius. Anyone who lost to him had to concede, right? Who fights over things and acts on impulse at thirty? Just sleep.

Before coming out of the operating room, Fu Jia’an checked the time: 4:07 AM. The surgery had lasted an astonishing 12 hours.

Shortly after leaving Lu Jie that afternoon, he received a call to rush back and prepare for surgery. The ER had received a car crash patient with a fractured skull. The impact had also caused a subdural hematoma, with the swollen brain protruding slightly from the skull fracture. Examination revealed multiple severe injuries, including fractured ribs and internal organ damage. After an emergency consultation, the patient was immediately rushed to the operating room for a joint procedure.

Outside the operating room, Fu Jia’an saw the patient’s parents, a kind-looking, honest couple, anxiously waiting. Their eyes were swollen from crying, and they stared blankly at the operating room door, as if a sliver of hope lay beyond the gap.

Seeing Fu Jia’an emerge, a faint light sparked in their eyes. They quickly approached him, their manner extremely cautious.

Fu Jia’an didn’t remove his mask, his tone flat. “Are you the family of patient Lin Qi?”

The couple nodded quickly. “Yes, we are.”

“The surgery was a success. He is out of danger.”

As the Chief Resident, Fu Jia’an didn’t have his own on-call room bed, but luckily he could occupy Shen Rufeng’s bed anytime. After a quick wash, before he could close his eyes for a moment, Fu Jia’an confirmed the times for the next morning’s consultation and surgery in his memo and set a 7:30 AM alarm.

He only had about two hours to rest, but the nerves that had been taut from the life-and-death speed were unable to relax yet. He lay on the pillow. The lights were dimmed, and outside the small window was a faint moonlight; dawn was near.

The sounds in his memory were cluttered: the ambulance siren, the hysterical crying of the patient’s parents outside the ER, the sound of opening the skull, the sound of sealing vessels under the microscope, the sound of drawing suture lines… These fragmented, fleeting moments suddenly flooded his brain like a high tide after being deliberately ignored. The physical exhaustion also belatedly began to spread throughout his body.

Fu Jia’an’s right hand, along with his right arm and shoulder, was stiff like a plank of iron. Moving a single finger caused an ache and numbness. He would forget these chronic issues while concentrating on surgery, but as soon as his mind relaxed, the soreness nearly consumed him.

His phone vibrated twice.

He didn’t want to reply; he didn’t want to deal with anyone’s messages.

The vibration persisted, quickly turning into continuous incoming call alerts. Fu Jia’an saw the name on the screen, shifted his posture, and finally lifted his arm listlessly, slowly swiping the screen after half a minute of vibration. He hung up.

The next second, the on-call room door was pushed open.

“Why didn’t you reply to all the messages I sent?” Shen Rufeng said.

“Too lazy to reply. Hand.” He didn’t even want to utter an extra word.

“Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

“Too lazy.”

“How was the surgery? Smoothly?”

Fu Jia’an seemed distracted for a moment and said, “Smoothly.”

“Alright,” Shen Rufeng glanced at the time. “Then rest up. I’ll wake you for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t bother.” Fu Jia’an raised the arm that wasn’t aching, covered his eyes, wearing a look that warned people to stay away.

Shen Rufeng smiled and folded his arms, the light reflecting off his glasses and completely obscuring his slightly squinted eyes. “Are you really not going to check your phone? What if someone sent you a message?”

Then the door closed.

How strange. Fu Jia’an closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them a few seconds later. Although he wasn’t hopeful, he decided to check WeChat anyway.

The screen light condensed into a small rectangular bright spot in Fu Jia’an’s pupils. The moment the messages loaded, a bright red unread circle appeared on the avatar of a pinned contact.

10:09 PM Lu Jie: [I’m being discharged tomorrow.]

This was the first message in twelve years.

Just then, the phone vibrated again, as if the sender realized he was online.

5:31 AM Lu Jie: [I’m saying, do you hate me that much?]

Fu Jia’an immediately pieced together the whole story. His brother must have said something to Lu Jie, which triggered Lu Jie’s stubborn temperament again. He was restless and sleepless late at night, finally sending the message in angry accusation.

After 12 years of no contact, the word “hate” was glaringly present. He wasn’t asking if Fu Jia’an hated Lu Jie; he was clearly stating that Lu Jie super hated Fu Jia’an.

Looking down again, the message had been silently recalled.

Fu Jia’an felt like he was floating on a cloud, lighthearted. He sat up and replied to Shen Rufeng: [He contacted me.]

Shen Rufeng: [You can afford to type now? Does your hand not hurt? What did he say?]

Fu Jia’an automatically ignored the first two questions: [He said he hates me.]

As he typed, his eyes unconsciously curved, the delicate corners forming a faint line, as bright and cheerful as a shower of pear blossoms shaken by the wind just before sunrise.

He said he hates me. Really, it’s adorable.