After finishing his IV drip, Su Qingci informed the head nurse and attending physician. He slipped on his coat and changed into sneakers. Before leaving, he spotted the beige scarf hanging on the coat rack and recalled Pei Jingchen constantly reminding him to wear it when going out. He tied the scarf, retrieved the new gloves Pei Jingchen had bought him a few days prior from the drawer, and bundled himself up thoroughly before hailing a taxi to the agreed-upon café.
Dr. Zhao first inquired about Su Qingci’s physical well-being, then offered comfort regarding his mental state. After a few brief pleasantries, Dr. Zhao breathed a sigh of relief: “You gave me quite a scare. I thought something had happened to you again.”
Su Qingci cut straight to the point, explaining his purpose to Dr. Zhao.
In short, I have a friend—Pei Jingchen—who’d like to ask you to find out which doctor treated a friend of his.
Dr. Zhao paused, took a sip of his cappuccino, and said, “That would be me.”
Su Qingci was stunned.
Dr. Zhao possessed an innate arrogance: “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am the most renowned psychiatrist in the capital. Given Mr. Pei’s standing, it’s only natural he became my patient.”
Su Qingci actually felt relieved, deeply grateful. With other doctors, whom he didn’t know well, it would be incredibly difficult to inquire about a patient’s privacy. But Dr. Zhao was different. First, he was Wen Mengmeng’s junior colleague. Second, he had been introduced by Wen Mengmeng and was responsible for Su Qingci’s psychological counseling and treatment during his youth. With such connections, it was much easier to get information.
Su Qingci almost couldn’t wait to ask, “What illness does Pei Jingchen have?”
Just as Dr. Zhao opened his mouth, Su Qingci abruptly raised his hand. “Wait a moment.”
Su Qingci’s breathing quickened with tension. He frantically picked up the glass cup, gulped down some water, and after calming himself repeatedly, said, “You may speak now.”
Dr. Zhao smiled faintly, then grew serious. ” The first time he came to see me, my diagnosis was mild anxiety disorder. I prescribed two medications. By his second visit, it had progressed from moderate to severe.”
Su Qingci’s hands, resting on his knees, jerked back. “When did this happen?”
Dr. Zhao considered the question before answering, “The first visit was in early February this year. The second was mid-March.”
Su Qingci recalled that the period from early February to mid-March encompassed New Year’s Eve, the Spring Festival, and the time he entered the ICU, underwent surgery, and narrowly escaped death on multiple occasions.
Su Qingci felt his breath catch. He took another sip of water, finally easing the dryness in his mouth, and asked, “Could you describe his condition at that time in detail?”
Dr. Zhao nodded. “Symptoms of anxiety disorders can be divided into three categories: psychological symptoms, physical symptoms, and behavioral symptoms. Psychological symptoms refer to persistent or episodic feelings of inexplicable anxiety, tension, fear, and unease—as if misfortune is about to befall oneself or loved ones—leaving the patient in a state of heightened alertness and dread. Physical symptoms include sweating, palpitations, chest tightness, shortness of breath, and sleepless nights. Behavioral symptoms manifest as restlessness, trembling limbs, rigid movements, and a sensation of throat constriction. Pei Jingchen exhibited all these symptoms, and severely so.”
Su Qingci felt his heart sink.
“He’s been suffering from severe anxiety without any relief or improvement. When he came for his follow-up in late April this year, his condition was so dire it alarmed me.” Dr. Zhao shifted his posture and spoke slowly, “I provided him with psychological counseling. Though the results weren’t entirely satisfactory, he cooperated fully with the treatment and remained very proactive.”
Su Qingci: “You mean anxiety disorder… could cause a fear that loved ones will suffer accidents?”
Dr. Zhao hummed in acknowledgment.
Truthfully, Su Qingci needn’t have asked. He’d sensed it long before, finding the answer that very night during the camping trip. Back then, Pei Jingchen had been disheveled, fragile, utterly vulnerable—like an orphan abandoned by his parents, homeless, lost, and helpless. Though his future held promise, the cruelty of losing his most beloved had plunged him into bone-deep despair.
Unable to hold on, powerless to change it. Day after day, night after night, living in constant fear, trembling with dread, unable to find peace.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Su Qingci drained the last of the water in his cup.
Stepping out of the café, he watched neon lights flicker from shop windows as clerks applied Christmas-themed decals to doors and windows. Suddenly, he remembered Christmas was approaching.
It wasn’t even the twelfth lunar month yet—why was it so bitterly cold? Su Qingci wore gloves, yet his hands still felt frozen. If only Pei Jingchen were here. This time, he wouldn’t need to be taught step by step. Pei Jingchen would take his hands in his own, warm them between his palms, and then tuck them both into his coat pocket.
He missed him so much.
Su Qingci sniffed, his eyes stinging hot as fire.
He missed Pei Jingchen so, so much.
But he couldn’t call. It wasn’t that he feared disturbing Pei Jingchen at work—it was the worry that hearing his voice would make him lose control and burst into tears.
After wandering outside for half an hour, Su Qingci returned to the hospital feeling much calmer. Lying in bed, he typed a WeChat message to Pei Jingchen: [When are you coming back?]
He’d only written it in the input box for the sake of it, never intending to send it. But his hand trembled, and the message went out. Su Qingci frantically tried to recall it, but Pei Jingchen was faster: [Just get some sleep. When you open your eyes, you’ll see me.]
Caught off guard, Su Qingci panicked and sent a voice message: “What?”
Pei Jingchen replied with a photo. Su Qingci tapped to enlarge it—it was the aisle of a hard-seat train carriage?!
Su Qingci fired off a string of [??????] in rapid succession.
It turned out Pei Jingchen had successfully accelerated his work pace, compressing a three-day business trip into two. The moment he wrapped up, he demonstrated exactly what it meant for a married man to rush home like an arrow! He ordered Assistant Xu to book a flight immediately, but Xu reported no evening flights available—the earliest departure was the next morning. Pei Jingchen couldn’t wait, couldn’t bear even a single night’s delay. Twelve measly hours? Out of the question! With a sweeping gesture, he declared the train would suffice.
Assistant Xu reported that sleeper tickets were sold out, business class was gone, even second-class seats were gone—only a handful of standing tickets remained.
Pei Jingchen urgently ordered Assistant Xu to grab them, terrified that even those last standing tickets might vanish if he hesitated! Ah, it had been ages since Mr. Pei acted like this. It reminded Xu of the terror he felt at five years old, when his grandmother dragged him to the supermarket to scramble for discounted vegetables!
Back in the capital, Pei Jingchen didn’t even bother returning home. He didn’t have time to change clothes. He jumped into a taxi and headed straight for the hospital ward.
“Xiao Ci, I’ve decided to buy a plane.” What do you think?” Pei Jingchen shaved before the mirror.
After hearing Pei Jingchen’s self-inflicted ordeal, Su Qingci was speechless: “…”
Su Baidong traveled between countries for meetings, flying in and out on private helicopters. If Pei Jingchen wanted one, he could certainly get it—it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it.
After washing up, the weary, fleeing uncle transformed back into a sharp, handsome young man. Shedding his restrictive suit jacket, the half-starved Pei Jingchen rolled up his sleeves and polished off Su Qingci’s leftover nutritious breakfast—thrifty and frugal, clearing the plate.
Pei Jingchen asked, “How’s your body feeling today?”
Su Qingci paused, saying nothing. He stepped forward and embraced Pei Jingchen from the front.
Pei Jingchen froze slightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Su Qingci buried his face in the crook of his neck. “I just wanted to hug you.”
Pei Jingchen’s gaze softened as he gently cupped the back of his head. “Did you miss me?”
Su Qingci murmured, “Mm.”
“I missed you too,” Pei Jingchen said, wrapping his arms around his waist. “So, so much.”
So Pei Jingchen felt it was well worth it. The math was simple: flying back would have been faster, but taking the train meant he could see Su Qingci three hours earlier—a full three hours. He’d gained, he’d won big.
Su Qingci chuckled softly and murmured, “Silly.”
Annalise had once said: Qingci, he’s your salvation, right? But have you ever considered that you are his salvation too?
Su Qingci lightly kissed Pei Jingchen’s lips. After a moment of surprise, Pei Jingchen returned the kiss deeply.
*
In the days that followed, Pei Jingchen went to the company frequently, taking several short business trips along the way.
Lingyue Games was about to go public, with a press conference scheduled for the same day.
When Pei Jingchen woke up early, the other side of the bed was empty. He recalled standing and kissing Su Qingci last night, gradually sitting down on the hospital bed, then lying down. After their lingering kiss ended, exhausted from a full day of work, Pei Jingchen had simply stayed the night with Su Qingci.
Pei Jingchen got up and walked out, spotting Su Qingci sitting on a stool by the floor-to-ceiling window.
“Painting this early? What time did you wake up?” Pei Jingchen had been roused by his biological clock at exactly six o’clock.
Su Qingci replied, “Five minutes before you.”
Pei Jingchen approached and froze abruptly, his brain momentarily losing control over his limbs from the intense shock.
Before Su Qingci sat a canvas painted with sunflowers bursting with intense, passionate color!
Pei Jingchen stared for ages, unable to process it. “You painted this?” he asked incredulously.
Su Qingci chuckled. “Who else?”
Pei Jingchen thought to himself how pathetic he was—why did his nose suddenly sting? Those sunflowers blazed fiercely, as if burning freely under the sun, their brilliance dazzling and overwhelming.
This was a new sunflower painting, different from the previous one.
Su Qingci never painted two identical pictures; every work was one-of-a-kind.
Among Su Qingci’s originals, no painting held greater status than another. Though burning a piece was regrettable, a newly born work held greater value. It embodied richer meaning and more complete emotion.
“Do you like it?” Su Qingci asked.
“Mm.” Pei Jingchen cupped Su Qingci’s shoulders, utterly absorbed in the canvas, his gaze fixed. “It’s truly beautiful.”
Pei Jingchen changed into a suit. Su Qingci tied his tie, carefully smoothed his collar, and brushed non-existent dust from the front of his jacket.
“All set?” Pei Jingchen asked with a smile.
Su Qingci first lifted his head to give him a quick peck on the lips, then praised, “You look so handsome.”
Pei Jingchen held Su Qingci’s hand and instructed, “Wait for me in the hospital room. It’s cold outside today. The forecast says heavy snow. Don’t go out.”
Su Qingci nodded. Pei Jingchen added, “I’ll be back tonight, no later than seven. Make sure you eat a good lunch, okay?”
Su Qingci rolled his eyes. “How old are you, anyway? You’re so young, yet you nag like an old man.”
Pei Jingchen reached up and ruffled Su Qingci’s hair. “I’m off.”
Su Qingci nodded, watching Pei Jingchen walk out the door.
At nine o’clock in the morning, the nurse administered Su Qingci’s IV drip as usual. Su Qingci extended his left arm passively while holding a tablet in his right hand, tuned into the live press conference.
After finishing the IV, the nurse glanced over and smiled. “Mr. Pei sure looks great on camera. He’s so handsome.”
Su Qingci felt a surge of pride, especially as the live viewership soared. More and more people were witnessing Pei Jingchen reach yet another historic milestone.
At exactly ten o’clock, Pei Jingchen formally appeared before the cameras. Under the spotlight, he ascended the podium, microphone in hand: “I extend my gratitude to the China Securities Regulatory Commission and leaders at all levels for their support…”
Su Qingci’s finger tapped the screen, zooming in on Pei Jingchen’s face, then zooming in further. The dazzling spotlight reflected in his pupils, like brilliant, twinkling stars, while his irises were a vast ocean of starlight.
These speeches required no memorization beforehand, for Pei Jingchen had rehearsed them countless times in his mind—perhaps ever since the day he founded Lingyue. Yet through relentless effort, his dream had materialized. Now he stood here with righteous pride, facing countless media reporters, elite talents from all walks of life, and distinguished peers. He declared with head held high: “Through the collective efforts of all our users, Lingyue Games Co., Ltd. has successfully listed on China’s capital market!”
Su Qingci’s breath caught in his throat as his heart, held back no longer, began to pound wildly in his chest—an unstoppable surge of passion.
He truly was dazzling! Every time Pei Jingchen signed a contract, his triumphant demeanor was incredibly handsome and radiant. Yet at this very moment, he seemed to glow from within, more brilliant than ever before.
Su Qingci shifted to the left, admiring Pei Jingchen’s right eye, then shifted to the right, admiring his left eye. He zoomed in on details, then pulled back to take in the whole. His hairstyle was impeccable—no wonder they’d specially flown in a stylist from England. His suit fit impeccably, complementing his complexion. The off-white hue suited Pei Jingchen perfectly—he always looked best in bright colors, especially white suits. No matter how many years passed, Su Qingci remained as deeply captivated as the first time he saw him.
Suddenly, Su Qingci froze.
Pei Jingchen spoke of his vision for the future, his commitments to shareholders, employees, and social responsibility. A luminous point shone brilliantly on his chest—a dazzling brooch.
The one and only sunflower brooch in the world.
On the top floor of the Lanfei Sacred Land Hotel, amidst the unprecedented grandeur of the launch event, under the lenses of countless media cameras, and under the gaze of a global live broadcast.
The thunderous applause echoing from the venue reverberated like a rumbling roar within Su Qingci’s soul.