Whatever Zhuang Xu’s own opinion, Dr. Shao from Weiyuan Biotech’s nanomedicine lab was particularly welcoming toward Li Shanqing.
Two weeks after receiving his acceptance letter, Dr. Shao had already contacted Li Shanqing multiple times, asking if he’d like to visit the lab beforehand and, if his studies allowed, start the internship early. She was happy to make arrangements.
In their most recent call, Dr. Shao expressed genuine concern for Li Shanqing’s family situation, strongly encouraging him to apply for the Zhuang Zhizhong Scholarship. She noted that with his grades, if he signed a contract, the scholarship would likely cover all his university tuition and living expenses.
Though Li Shanqing had spent much of his life in hospital wards, he was well-versed in social dynamics and quickly understood that Dr. Shao hoped he’d agree to terms binding him to join Weiyuan Biotech after graduation.
Unfortunately, for Li Shanqing, making career decisions now was premature.
First, whether he’d live long enough was uncertain. Second, if he had a choice, Bingang, with its scarce sunlight and constant damp rain, wasn’t his top pick for settling down.
His earlier talk of becoming Zhuang Xu’s junior was mostly flattery and nonsense; Li Shanqing had long planned to attend a school in a better climate.
Dr. Shao, likely around his mother’s age, was very earnest, so Li Shanqing didn’t want to give her false hope. He told her honestly that his family wasn’t short on money and the scholarship could go to students who truly needed it. On the other end, her tone betrayed clear regret.
“My body’s pretty weak, and I might be incapacitated half the year,” Li Shanqing reassured her. “Giving me a scholarship would be a big risk for you.”
To cheer her up and because he genuinely wanted to see Weiyuan Biotech’s lab, Li Shanqing shifted topics, proposing a visit during spring break to learn for a week in advance. Dr. Shao agreed immediately.
After several exchanges, on the second morning of spring break, Li Shanqing arrived on time at the gate of Weiyuan Biotech’s affiliated research campus.
Accompanying him were three other students from the same program, from different schools. One, a girl named Han Xinran, had met Li Shanqing at a competition last year. The four soon bonded, chatting as they followed Dr. Shao and another research mentor through several low-risk areas.
The nanomedicine lab spanned three floors of the research center, vast in scope. Though they didn’t see every area, the tour exhausted Li Shanqing.
At lunchtime, he took out his packed meal and ate with his peers. They looked at his sparse, bland food with sympathy—unlike some people who found him fussy and disruptive, like when he visited their home, and their chef was told to make just one dish he could eat.
And even that dish, Li Shanqing didn’t like, so he went hungry.
During lunch, Li Shanqing glanced at his phone. Plenty of unread messages, but still none from Zhuang Xu.
Last night, he’d told Zhuang Xu he was starting at the lab, asking if he’d come see him. After much prodding, Zhuang Xu wouldn’t budge, saying he was too busy today. Li Shanqing wasn’t sure if he was truly busy or just brushing him off.
Most of the time, Li Shanqing found Zhuang Xu easy to read: as long as he was shameless enough and persistent, one of his requests would eventually get through.
Their chats often felt close. If Li Shanqing really wanted to know something, a few pleas and some nagging would get Zhuang Xu to spill. He thought they were already pretty good friends.
But at other times, Zhuang Xu seemed to dislike him. Like at Zhuang Xu’s house for dinner.
Zhuang Xu was harsh, uncaring that Li Shanqing couldn’t eat anything, and treated Zhou Silan far better than him.
Wasn’t a rare, brilliant student like Li Shanqing worth Zhuang Xu’s care and concern?
Even Dr. Shao, a first-time acquaintance, considered his frail health, assigning him data analysis in the lab that afternoon instead of making him follow the mentor around.
Sure, data analysis was boring, but it showed Dr. Shao’s care for him from their first meeting.
Six months since meeting Zhuang Xu, long enough to hatch several broods of chicks, yet Zhuang Xu remained an unyielding block of ice, keeping Li Shanqing at arm’s length with his impartial, “don’t bother me unless it’s important” demeanor.
But Li Shanqing’s least favorite things were giving up or admitting defeat. In recent weeks, he’d mentally set up a scoreboard for their interactions: a cold shoulder from Zhuang Xu docked one point, a reply earned three, successfully pushing Zhuang Xu to do something scored five, and making him angry racked up ten.
Li Shanqing loved competitions and tests, bored enough to obsess over adding numbers to his scoreboard daily.
With this in mind, eager to score more points, he finished lunch and messaged Zhuang Xu: “Morning lab tour was so exhausting.” He added crying emojis, then, “Are you coming to see me?”
Hours later, after analyzing data all afternoon, staring at screens until dizzy, he got a reply: “No time to come.”
So heartless!
Li Shanqing, annoyed, deducted one point. Just then, an analyst nearby called him for something, so he set his phone down.
Zhuang Xu had been busy all day.
The approval for the clinical trial application was finally taking shape. He urgently gathered department heads, discussing from morning to afternoon, drafting a complete plan.
Volunteer criteria weren’t fully set. After the meeting, the clinical operations head asked for his input privately. Zhuang Xu had points to discuss, so they stayed to talk.
Zhuang Xu suggested the team, within safe limits, lower the health requirements for volunteers to include a broader range of unhealthy individuals, making the trial more valuable.
It was nearly 5 p.m. when he returned to his office, finally checking his unread messages.
Li Shanqing’s first day interning at the lab didn’t bring many complaints, just that he was tired from walking and asking if Zhuang Xu would visit.
It was just an internship at the group’s lab, not a graduation ceremony. Given Zhuang Xu’s position, even if he went, they couldn’t talk freely. He didn’t see why Li Shanqing was fixated on this.
Zhuang Xu replied that he wouldn’t go. Unusually, Li Shanqing didn’t respond immediately.
At dinner, Zhuang Xu and Zhou Kaiqi ate simple food in the company cafeteria, then worked a bit more. Still no new messages from Li Shanqing.
Considering Li Shanqing’s poor health and his mention of being tired, if something happened to him at the lab, Zhuang Xu would be responsible. After some thought, he called Dr. Shao.
“Mr. Zhuang?” Dr. Shao sounded surprised.
She was eating, her tone calm despite her surprise, suggesting no intern had fallen ill.
Since he’d already called, Zhuang Xu asked, “How’s the internship going today?”
“Very well! That high schooler I mentioned is outstanding, so smart, analyzing data faster than others,” Dr. Shao said. “He’s not applying for the scholarship, but the other three interns are great, and two are keen on it.”
Zhuang Xu chatted briefly before hanging up.
It was dark outside, late. By late March, Bingang had humid warm breezes and fresh air.
In his air-conditioned, dry office, Zhuang Xu couldn’t feel the outdoor atmosphere and, for some reason, struggled to focus on work.
The open document on his computer, a lab report, had lines of text and numbers, long and short, crooked and straight. He read each sentence several times to comprehend it, blaming his busyness, complex tasks, and the changing weather.
At 9:30 p.m., he finished everything and left the building.
On the way home, he messaged Li Shanqing: “Home yet?”
He asked because Li Shanqing hadn’t mentioned past illnesses before. Perhaps his long silence meant he’d overexerted himself at the lab and was now seeking treatment.
If so, Zhuang Xu should know, out of duty and courtesy.
After getting home and washing up, there was still no reply. After some thought, Zhuang Xu called Li Shanqing. It rang for a while before he picked up.
Li Shanqing’s voice wasn’t weak but sleepy: “Hello?”
He sounded muffled, like he was buried in blankets, his breathing uneven and faint. Zhuang Xu realized he’d just been asleep.
“What’s up,” Li Shanqing mumbled, “Zhuang Xu?”
Since he was fine, there was no need to chat. Zhuang Xu said, “Yeah,” and Li Shanqing added, “I was so tired after dinner, I fell asleep.” He sounded half-awake, not very sharp.
Zhuang Xu stayed silent, sitting on his bed, his hand oddly disobedient to his brain.
After six months of relentless pestering, Li Shanqing had become a kind of white noise in Zhuang Xu’s life—annoying when too loud, but just right when soft.
Perhaps Zhuang Xu had grown used to it, admitting that Li Shanqing’s noisy presence, though troublesome, was better than nothing.
Without him, everything would feel duller and harder to bear.
The phone rustled, and Li Shanqing seemed to sit up, sounding clearer as he spoke: “I was so tired today.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me work’s more exhausting than school?”
He suddenly complained, then demanded, “Zhuang Xu, why didn’t you warn me?”
Zhuang Xu never indulged his tantrums. It was Li Shanqing’s choice, nothing to do with him. He pointed out, “Didn’t you apply for it yourself?”
Li Shanqing grumbled, then seemed to recall: “Why’d you call? If it’s nothing, I’m going back to sleep.”
Zhuang Xu paused, saying, “Send me your latest checkup report and key medical records.”
Finally landing on a legitimate reason, Zhuang Xu gave the call a necessary purpose, his thoughts flowing smoothly, no longer stuck: “I’ll forward them to clinical operations.”
Li Shanqing went quiet, then asked softly, almost disbelieving, “Are you putting me on the volunteer list?”
His voice was light, dreamy with unprecedented joy, as if Zhuang Xu granting his wish would make him perfectly well-behaved, never mischievous again. Anyone hearing it would hesitate to crush his hope.
But it wasn’t as Li Shanqing assumed. Zhuang Xu had no choice: “Just for reference in setting volunteer criteria.”
Li Shanqing let out an “ah,” his tone cooling, a bit upset, saying after a few seconds, “Okay.”
“Then what’s in it for me if it’s just reference?” he asked next.
“What do you want?”
“Don’t you know what I want?” Li Shanqing whined stubbornly. “Zhuang Xu, just say you’ll get me on the volunteer list.”
He was like an ignorant child, ignoring rules and unaware of unattainable realities.
Zhuang Xu couldn’t make such a flippant promise, but that day, he did say, “I’ll keep an eye out for you. You need to meet the criteria first, and we’ll see.”
Li Shanqing cheered up, said goodnight, hung up, and sent the reports.
Zhuang Xu read them before forwarding them to clinical operations, discovering Li Shanqing’s fragility—his medical history and allergens outnumbered his awards. His survival was a testament to modern medicine.
Such a frail body sustained Li Shanqing’s sharp mind, enabling his eloquence and nonsense. Whether this was the creator’s cruelty or design was unclear.
Late that night, Zhuang Xu forwarded the reports to the team, asking for a prompt analysis to explore implant feasibility for the sustained-release device.
It wasn’t appropriate. Everything Zhuang Xu did and thought then was hard to justify with a respectable excuse.
That night, he couldn’t sleep, endlessly recalling Li Shanqing’s plans for the future. He’d said he’d be Zhuang Xu’s junior, work at Weiyuan Biotech, so Zhuang Xu thought a lot, believing those plans weren’t impossible.
Zhuang Xu, an only child, had moved often with his parents, getting along well with classmates but never having a truly close friend.
But if Li Shanqing could get healthy, if he had to be part of Zhuang Xu’s life—after his Ph.D., working together, starting in Bingang, maybe going global.
Even if it meant enduring his erratic personality, that future wasn’t bad.
Everything Zhuang Xu thought that night was a long-running joke, thankfully unknown to others. He’d never admit to thinking it for a second and vowed never to look back.
Like an inflamed appendix needing removal, unequal expectations for another person were the same. Erasing memories or burying those fragments deep in the mind was the best treatment, the only hope for healing.
