At nine-thirty in the morning, the household maid, Sister Mary, knocked on Li Shanqing’s door: “Shanqing, breakfast is ready.”
His parents, busy with work, had already left, leaving the house empty and quiet. Li Shanqing went downstairs and sat at the dining table. Before picking up his spoon, he yawned, tugging at his injured mouth.
One of Li Shanqing’s physical defects was overly sensitive pain nerves. Even a small cut at the corner of his mouth caused such pain that he slumped onto the table, whimpering pitifully, appearing utterly helpless.
The day before, when he took a hit, he had to grit his teeth to avoid losing face in front of his classmates.
“Still hurts after a night’s sleep?” Mary asked with concern, leaning down to touch his shoulder. “Did you stay up late last night? Your dark circles are huge. Staying up late is really unhealthy.”
Li Shanqing tilted his head to look at her, half his face still buried in his arm: “If Sister Mary had come to wake me at noon, how could I have dark circles?”
He had his reasons for staying up late and spoke with conviction: “I don’t have classes this week, so sleeping late and waking late isn’t staying up.”
Mary hesitated to speak but finally said honestly, “But Madam said you were suspended from school.”
“Yeah,” Li Shanqing sat up, propped his chin, and winked at her, “and suspension means no classes, right?”
Mary fell silent, pouring him a glass of orange juice and placing it in front of him.
Li Shanqing enthusiastically drank half the glass, praising its freshness: “Only the most amazing girl could pick such great oranges.” His compliments made Mary smile, and he lowered his voice mysteriously: “Sister Mary, since you’re so great, I’m going to tell you a secret.”
Mary, all too familiar with Li Shanqing’s antics, froze her smile: “Don’t tell me.”
“Too late,” Li Shanqing said smugly, “the secret is I’m going out this afternoon.”
Seeing Mary’s face scrunch up, he quickly reassured her: “Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long. Just a quick visit to Bingang University.”
“Your lung condition just improved; you shouldn’t go out,” Mary said, anxious and a bit annoyed. “What if Madam and Sir find out?”
“That’s why it’s a secret! I’ve already checked—Mom’s in court from two to five, and Dad’s in a meeting. As long as we keep it between us, who’ll know?”
Li Shanqing, mid-speech, noticed her expression soften and pressed his advantage: “When I come back, I’ll queue at Hongsheng to buy your favorite egg cakes. You’re off tomorrow—take them for a picnic with the other sisters. How’s that?”
Mary, tempted by the mention of Hongsheng, wavered further. After much deliberation, she asked, “Are Sir and Madam really both busy?”
“Absolutely certain! If they call, we’ll handle it like we always do—no mistakes,” Li Shanqing assured her firmly. “And if anything goes wrong, I’ll take responsibility for your whole life. You know your name’s already in my will.”
“Shanqing.” Mary cut him off, exasperated.
A devout Buddhist, she muttered prayers asking for the Bodhisattva’s forgiveness, then pointed at him from afar: “No more unlucky talk like that, and you must come back on time, got it?”
Li Shanqing promised again and ate his breakfast completely.
At noon, he called his parents separately, patiently listening to their long lectures. Just before two, he put on the thick coat and sweater Mary specified, tightly secured his mask, and wrapped himself up so thoroughly he lost all contact between his skin and the air.
He took a taxi to Bingang University. On the way, the driver had the radio on, tuned to a current affairs channel discussing Weiyuan Biotech.
“As we all know, Weiyuan Biotech is Bingang’s beacon of medical technology. Since its large-scale military applications began, the company has been in the public eye for three years. Recently, following the death of founder Zhuang Zhicheng in a car accident, the power struggle between his heir and the chief operating officer has reached a fever pitch.
“Yesterday, Chief Financial Officer Zhuang Zhizhong stated that Zhuang Zhicheng’s letter of intent was forged by Han Miao, causing a major uproar. Today, we’ve invited Professor Alan Chan from Bingang University of Technology and Lawyer Qiu Qiuxin from Zhongyi Law Firm to discuss the possible outcomes for Weiyuan Biotech’s future.”
The host had barely finished when the driver slapped the button, switching to pop music.
“Always talking about this damn company,” the driver grumbled. “What ‘beacon of medical tech’? It’s just stuff for rich people to live longer—nothing to do with regular folks like us.”
Li Shanqing didn’t respond, but when the driver coughed excitedly, he instinctively pressed his mask tighter and slightly lowered the window.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, seemingly displeased: “What’s that supposed to mean, kid? I’m not sick.”
“Sorry, I haven’t fully recovered from the flu and didn’t want to infect you,” Li Shanqing explained smoothly.
The flu was a lie, but with his severe asthma requiring daily steroid inhalers, his voice was perpetually hoarse, so no one doubted his claim of illness.
“Oh, got it,” the driver said, taken aback, and fell silent. At a red light, he grabbed a mask from the glove compartment and put it on.
For now, the driver wasn’t wrong. Most families, even if they poured out everything, couldn’t afford the SyncPulse implantation surgery, and the ongoing cost of medication capsules was astronomical for ordinary people.
But none of this diminished Li Shanqing’s near-fanatical interest in Weiyuan Biotech.
Twelve years ago, Dr. Zhuang Zhicheng, commissioned by the military, led the development of the SyncPulse medical sustained-release device. After the first-generation model debuted, clinical trials showed exceptional results in pain management and chronic disease treatment.
By the second generation, the device could be updated, required fewer physical metrics from implantees, and, after years of testing, was widely implemented in the military three years ago.
At thirteen, Li Shanqing read that news and, over the years, closely followed Weiyuan Biotech’s research achievements, gradually realizing that SyncPulse was his only hope for a normal life.
Since birth, Li Shanqing’s body had never been well. He couldn’t handle cold or heat, and a few steps of running triggered asthma attacks, ruling out all sports. While his classmates spent holidays having fun, he was lucky if his holidays didn’t involve hospital stays.
With his intelligence, he could have skipped grades and been in university by now, but frequent illnesses and leaves—sometimes weeks, sometimes a year—had extended his school years.
Recently, at the start of the school year, he caught a cold that led to pneumonia, requiring a month-long hospital stay. If he could get SyncPulse, things wouldn’t be like this.
Mid-year, Dr. Zhuang announced at the third-generation model’s press conference that an agreement had been reached with the military to bring SyncPulse to the civilian medical market, contributing to the future of healthcare.
Watching the press conference, as Dr. Zhuang’s voice grew passionate, Li Shanqing felt as though he glimpsed his own healthy future through the screen.
The taxi stopped at the nearest pedestrian drop-off point to Bingang University. Li Shanqing paid, and the driver wished him a speedy recovery.
A light rain had started. He thanked the driver, pulled up his coat’s hood, and got out, heading toward the biomedical lab.
At two forty-five, Li Shanqing reached the lab building, just in time to see the person he’d met yesterday afternoon step out of the glass doors.
The heir from the news wore a black trench coat, handsome and tall but with a stern expression, instantly signaling he wasn’t easy to approach.
Figuring out Zhuang Xu’s schedule wasn’t hard. Using information from Bingang University’s lab websites and the junior-year curriculum, it was simple to deduce. For Li Shanqing, sneaking out of the house was probably harder.
If asked about his motive for risking his mother’s wrath to find Zhuang Xu, Li Shanqing would guess it was a mix of curiosity, possessiveness, and a desire for control.
SyncPulse was his hope, so Zhuang Xu was too. He needed to get closer, to understand more, to feel secure.
Plus, Zhuang Xu’s serious demeanor and indifference to Li Shanqing annoyed him, making him want to shake things up and disrupt Zhuang Xu’s composure.
No living person could ignore Li Shanqing. It sounded immoral, excessively self-centered, but Li Shanqing never shied away from his lack of morals and didn’t care much about it.
The wind hit his cheeks, wet and cold. Just as he was about to stage a “chance” encounter, the car picking up Zhuang Xu pulled up to the building’s entrance.
Seeing Zhuang Xu about to get in, Li Shanqing, in a panic, ran a few steps to the stairs.
Zhuang Xu must be very healthy, as his reflexes were quick. Sensing Li Shanqing’s movement in his peripheral vision, he stepped back instantly, his posture slightly defensive.
Recognizing Li Shanqing’s eyes above the mask, Zhuang Xu paused, a flicker of confusion and wariness in his gaze.
“Hey, we meet again!” Li Shanqing greeted him naturally, noticing Zhuang Xu’s slight pause at his hoarse voice.
“What are you doing here?” Zhuang Xu asked, his brows slightly furrowed.
Li Shanqing almost blurted, “I came to find you,” since he was thick-skinned enough, but after those few steps, his chest felt tight. Opening his mouth to breathe, he heard a faint wheeze, swayed, and instinctively grabbed Zhuang Xu’s arm while reaching for his inhaler.
Clearly, Zhuang Xu heard it too, realized he was having an asthma attack, and didn’t pull away.
Li Shanqing pulled down his mask to use the inhaler, making a noticeable sound. Combined with Zhuang Xu’s already eye-catching presence, they quickly drew attention. It was perfect timing for Li Shanqing, and once he felt slightly better, he boldly asked, “Can I get in the car with you?”
He closely studied Zhuang Xu’s expression, which showed a struggle—likely wanting to refuse as harshly as the night before. But evidently, Zhuang Xu wasn’t cold-hearted enough, and he simply said coolly, “Get in.”
His plan succeeding, Li Shanqing grinned and climbed into the car. After Zhuang Xu closed the door, he teased, “How’d you recognize me with my mask on? Made quite an impression, huh?”
The driver glanced at them in the rearview mirror.
“What do you want?” Zhuang Xu’s displeasure was obvious, restrained only by his upbringing, as he repeated, “How did you know I was at the lab building?”
“I came to find you and wandered around your campus forever,” Li Shanqing lied effortlessly, immune to others’ rejection. “Maybe the Bodhisattva pitied how long I walked and let me run into you.”
Zhuang Xu’s brows furrowed again: “What do you want with me?”
Li Shanqing tilted his head and said, “I want to get to know you.”
Most people fell for his charm, but Zhuang Xu didn’t buy it, cutting through his act mercilessly: “You have my number. If you don’t explain clearly, please get out.”
Realizing Zhuang Xu was serious, and with the car now in a less crowded area, Li Shanqing half-truthfully fabricated, “I want to be a volunteer for SyncPulse’s chronic illness trials.”
Zhuang Xu clearly hadn’t expected this, his gaze briefly confused.
Seizing the moment, Li Shanqing pressed on proudly: “I have severe asthma, as you saw, so I’ve always followed Dr. Zhuang’s company. You’re about to launch the civilian version of the device, and I want to be the first to get it. You might not see it, but I’ve got plenty of health issues—perfect conditions for your trials. My mom won’t agree, so I came to you.”
“Even if Lawyer Zhou doesn’t agree, what can I do?” Zhuang Xu said, looking exasperated. “Besides, you’re a minor; you can’t get the implant.”
“You’re about to be CEO—can’t you just put me on the waiting list? I’ll be eighteen by the time my turn comes,” Li Shanqing said, inexplicably thrilled by Zhuang Xu’s helpless expression.
He didn’t realize then that this thrill would become an unhealthy addiction, endlessly repeated.
Unaware of this, Zhuang Xu genuinely believed Li Shanqing had come only for the volunteer list. After a moment, he seemed done talking: “First, I’m not the CEO. Second, even if I were, I couldn’t help you. I won’t tell Lawyer Zhou about today, and you shouldn’t bring it up again. I’ll take you home.”
“We’re parting so soon?” Li Shanqing pouted, but he’d already pushed too far today and feared being left on the spot if he pressed further, so he compromised: “Can you drop me at Hongsheng Bakery instead? I need to buy some pastries for Sister Mary.”
“Fine,” Zhuang Xu said curtly, telling the driver, “Go to the nearest Hongsheng.”
Seeing him agree, Li Shanqing couldn’t resist: “If I stop showing up at your school, will you reply to my messages?”
“No,” Zhuang Xu said icily.
Li Shanqing’s face crumpled, and he pressed, “Not even one? Out of ten, you’d reply to at least one, right?”
“Li Shanqing, can you stop talking?” Zhuang Xu seemed utterly exasperated, calling his name for the first time.
Li Shanqing sighed, fiddling with his asthma inhaler and looking out the window. After a while, seeing Zhuang Xu’s expression calm as he read something on his phone—likely a paper—his mischievous urge resurfaced, and he interrupted, “Zhuang Xu, say my name again. It sounds nice.”
Li Shanqing was actually kicked out of the car, but Hongsheng was only about five hundred meters away. He put his mask back on, walked slowly, and soon arrived.
On a weekday afternoon, there was no line at Hongsheng. Li Shanqing quickly bought the egg cakes for Mary and snapped a photo to send to Zhuang Xu, saying, “Thanks for dropping me off at Hongsheng.”
No reply.
Back home, Mary sprayed him with disinfectant, reapplied ointment to his mouth, and hurriedly grabbed a thermometer to check his temperature, muttering, “Please don’t let anything be wrong.”
“Even if I caught a virus, it wouldn’t hit this fast,” Li Shanqing said, used to being fussed over like a toy, chuckling at her. “It’d at least wait till midnight to spike a fever, and I’d take fever medicine myself.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Mary scolded, finding his words ominous, pursing her lips and silently apologizing to the Bodhisattva.
Li Shanqing picked up his phone and saw a message from his biology class group mate, Mo Zhongqi, with the list of tasks he needed to do and a greeting: “Shanqing, you doing okay?”
“Doing great,” Li Shanqing replied. “Sleeping in at home. Thanks for holding off Ye Bo’an yesterday.”
“No big deal! Did you tell your parents why it happened?”
“Nope, nothing worth saying.”
“Won’t they punish you if you don’t explain?”
“Nah,” Li Shanqing reassured the worried Mo Zhongqi. “My health’s too fragile for punishment. They just scolded me a bit, and it’s done.”
“Everyone says you cursed him out good,” Mo Zhongqi said. “I’ve wanted to curse him out too—shameless jerk with all his talk. But be careful next time; your health’s not great. Hide behind me if it happens again.”
They chatted a bit more, and Li Shanqing suddenly thought of Zhuang Xu.
Teasing Zhuang Xu was so fun. He was only three or four years older, so why did he act like such a stern adult? Not teasing him for an hour felt like an eternity. Itching with excitement, Li Shanqing sent a message: “If I can’t be a trial volunteer, can I intern at your group’s nanomedicine lab over the summer? It’d beef up my resume. I want to study biomedical engineering in college and be your junior.”
About two hours later, after finishing his assignments with no response, Li Shanqing wondered if Zhuang Xu had blocked him—how petty. Then his phone pinged with a new message.
Zhuang Xu said, “Apply to the group’s internship program by email yourself.”
