CH 15

Fair warning: There’s a significant section about PTSD/survivor’s guilt.

“Laoshi, do you regard me as your friend?”

This is the first time I have heard him call me ‘Laoshi.’ He has always called me ‘Professor Bei’ or even by my full name before.

Over the years, many people have called me Laoshi, and even Yang Haiyang sometimes jokingly addresses me as one. I thought I have long been familiar with it. But when Shang Muxiao calls me that, I feel that there is something different. His ‘Laoshi’ is unlike anyone else’s.

I know it is a common form of address, but when he says it, for no apparent reason, it makes my fingertips tingle and my back feels uncomfortable as if ants are crawling over it.

“Get up, get in the car.” I ignore his question and just hone in on unlocking the car.

After a while, Shang Muxiao also gets into the car, seated on the passenger side.

“Have you noticed that whenever you do not want to answer my questions, you pretend like you did not hear them?”

I slowly drive the car out of the basement, and give him a primer on the conventions of being an adult.

“When a person chooses to be silent, you should cease being pushy. If he wants to answer, he will answer the first time, and if he chooses not to, then he simply does not want to.”

Shang Muxiao lets out a long, lukewarm ‘oh’, then lowers the back of his chair and speaks no more.

The sun always sets very early this time of year, and while it had still been a little bright when I got home, it is now completely dark.

I figure that Shang Muxiao’s fever is induced by the cold, so it should not be a big problem. I find a close-by hospital, which is only five kilometres away from my home, and we arrive there in about twenty minutes.

The car pulls into the basement and the wheels grind over the speed bumps, making a fair amount of noise.

I cannot tell if Shang Muxiao rouses from the movement or if he is awake in the first place, he suddenly says, “Was that your girlfriend back there?”

I pause for a moment before I realise that he is talking about Shen Luoyu, and I hurriedly say, “No, she’s my cousin.”

He is not even thinking about it more thoroughly. Would I have agreed to that funny bet if I had a girlfriend?

–

On parking the car, Shang Muxiao gets out first, and when I finally settle the car and go to look for him, I see him crouching again in a corner.

“Can you still make it?” I am a little worried that he will not be able to make it to the consultation room.

He stands up, his body wobbling precariously, thankfully not falling over.

“Dizzy.” He leans against the wall, looking pale.

I tell him to hang on a little longer, and on the way, I watch him almost at every step to see that he is keeping up well and only then do I feel relieved.

We finally make it to the front desk. They check his temperature; it is forty degrees, even higher than yesterday.

The doctor takes a blood test, reads the report and prescribes two bags of IVs. I have gone back and forth to pay for the medication, as Shang Muxiao sits quietly on a bench in the hospital corridor, his jacket zipped up to his head, with the collar up, and half his face hidden inside.

There are not many people in the ward. Even with the cold weather, all the windows are closed and the air conditioning is on, so it can seem a bit stuffy.

As soon as Shang Muxiao steps in, he frowns and chooses to sit by the window, silently pushing the window wide open so that fresh air can flow in.

Then I go to close the window again.

He looks at me in displeasure and goes to open the window again, only for me to slap the back of his hand.

“Are you trying to get your brain burnt?”

He has a fever of forty degrees and still has the courage to let the cold air blow on him; he must really think his life is too long.

He rubs the back of his hand and makes a face. He tries to say something, but swallows it back when he catches my gaze, and does not touch the window again after that.

The nurse arrives with the equipment for injection and sticks one on Shang Muxiao. He says nothing when she does it, but when she leaves, he shows me the back of his hand like a child seeking pity from an adult.

“Laoshi, she injected me, it hurts so bad.”

The joints in Shang Muxiao’s hands are well outlined, his fingers long and slender, and the skin on the back of his hands is less flesh-y that one can easily see the veins and bones traced there. To say that Nvwa spent different efforts on each person when she created them, she must have put extra effort into creating Shang Muxiao to make him more pleasing to the eye from his head down to his feet, not to mention his hands.

“There is no injection that does not hurt.” Unmoved, I check the wall clock, and see that it is already almost seven o’clock. Shang Muxiao still needs to finish the two IVs. He cannot finish them in just an hour, so it looks like we will have to dine at the hospital. “What do you want to eat? I’ll order a takeaway.”

“I don’t want to eat, I’m not hungry.” He nestles into his seat and looks like he’s going to sleep again.

He has not eaten all day, and even if he is not sick, starvation is going to make him sick.

I open the takeaway app and pick a nearby restaurant. Ignoring what Shang Muxiao said, I ultimately ordered a bowl of chicken congee for him and a bowl of mixed noodles for myself.

Half an hour later, the takeaway arrives.

I place it on a small stool reserved for a patient’s attendant, pick up the bowl of congee and gently push it towards Shang Muxiao.

He opens his eyes slowly, sees the congee passed in front of him, and ignores it. 

“I told you I don’t want to eat.”

It is not this much trouble to get even Yang Youling to eat.

How can this ‘dog’ who is already twenty years old still be as difficult to serve as a two-year-old?

And why on earth am I even serving him? Just because he is Yang Haiyang’s future brother-in-law?

I feel like a babysitter right now. While my good friend is out there on a date, with no one to take care of the naughty kid at home, it is up to me, the bachelor one who is occupied with nothing. I’m the one who has to do all the work to take care of someone’s child, feed him and chase him around at home, all for the sake of my good friend’s newfound love.

Yang Haiyang has no idea what I have put myself through for him.

I scoop up a spoonful of congee, place it in front of my mouth and blow on it, and then pass it in front of Shang Muxiao.

“Open your mouth.” If he refuses again, then I’m going to shove this spoon in his mouth.

Shang Muxiao looks at the congee and then at me, and perhaps he picks up something in my tone of voice and no longer acts stubborn, obediently downing the congee.

In this way, I do the scooping while he does the eating, and we do not communicate with each other the whole time until almost half of the bowl of congee has been eaten.

“I really can’t finish it.” He tilts his head, refusing to eat any more. “Go ahead and eat as well, your noodles are getting cold.”

Seeing that he genuinely does not have an appetite, and since he has already eaten enough, I no longer force him. I put the bowl of congee aside and pick up my noodles.

Noodles are the tastiest when served hot, but when left out for a long time, they tend to lump up and stick together, thus compromising the taste. My noodles have been in the open for quite some time, and they are now almost in a lump, but I cannot be too choosy with my condition, so I swallow them all in a couple of sips.

It is almost nine o’clock when Shang Muxiao’s two bags of IVs are finally fully finished.

I ask the nurse to take his temperature again and it is 38.9, not quite back to normal, but it has slowly gone down.

On the journey back, while waiting at a red light, I indulge in some hesitation before I ask, “Do you want me to send you back to your place?”

He was in a bad situation yesterday, so it was justified to offer him my place, but it would seem peculiar to let him stay there any longer.

Even Shen Luoyu can tell that he and I are not compatible. We are two completely different types of people, be it in the way we conduct ourselves or in our personalities, we can be said to be the opposite of each other.

Looking after him when he is sick and taking him to the doctor is as far as our relationship can go at the moment. To make fun of myself as a babysitter is one thing, to actually be one is another.

With no immediate reply from Shang Muxiao, I cannot help but look at him and find him looking at me too.

I can see his very dark eyes even in the dark interior of the car. “Are you sick of me?”

Tapping my index finger on the steering wheel, I press down the restlessness in my heart and say, “Where do you live?”

He slightly looks down and says, “My family’s home, but I cannot go back now. My dad and I had a row, he found out about that day at the exhibition and kicked me out, and even had all my cards blocked.”

So this was the real reason for him coming over to my place on a very late and rainy night.

“Have you gotten hold of your sister yet?”

He lies back in his seat, and says without looking at me, “I turned my phone off.”

“……”

What a thoughtless child. I can imagine how anxious Shang Yunrou would be right now since she cannot reach him, and she might even break down in tears and make it to the police.

“Turn it on right now and let your sister know you’re okay.” In exchange, I compromise, “If you really don’t have anywhere to go, you can stay at my place until you’re well.”

He is young and fit, for sure he will recover soon. He will be fully well in two days at most.

I will let myself be a mom for two more days, I think to myself.

From red light jumps to green, and the traffic moves forward again.

Within the quiet car, Shang Muxiao suddenly speaks after a long silence.

“Thank you.”

–

When we arrive home, Shen Luoyu has already left, leaving a note on the table saying that there are dishes she made in the fridge and that I should heat them up and eat them when I am hungry and not always order takeaways.

I send her a message of thanks and tell Shang Muxiao to make himself comfortable, and then head into my bedroom.

Through the door, I can hear a bombardment of text messages echoing from outside and figure that Shang Muxiao has finally switched on his phone.

–

Afraid that I will not be able to sleep well and it will spoil my mood in tomorrow’s class, I take a sleeping pill before I go to bed, except that it makes it worse. Why, despite being in my own home and familiar surroundings, I still get the nightmares.

One moment, people in the dorm room are discussing their plans in life after graduation, and the next moment, three blood-soaked bodies appear in front of me.

“Bei Jie, it hurts, save me! Save me!!” Lu Feiheng is crawling towards me, the flames on his body charing his skin little by little.

I try desperately to put out those fires, but to no avail at all. I can only watch helplessly as he turns to ashes and black char in front of me.

Fear floods my heart and I tug at my hair, my screams all caught in my throat, unable to make a sound. I feel something tight on my feet and look down to see that it is Jing Shen who has grabbed me. He asks me why I did not save them, why I am the only one who lives, and before he can finish his sentence, he turns into ash and dissipates in front of me.

I shake my head and keep backing away.

“No, no…”

Then I suddenly step on something, I stiffen and look back to see the already distorted body of Xu Wei.

The strings of rationality in my head suddenly snap, and I begin to scream and howl my heart out.

I didn’t mean to survive, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

I am at fault. I should not have survived the accident, please forgive me… forgive me…

“Bei…”

“Bei Jie…”

I keep struggling. My consciousness is blurred. I only feel my body being gently shaken and I hear intermittent calls made to me.

“Bei Jie, wake up… you’re having a nightmare, it’s okay, whatever it is, nothing happened…” A hot palm caresses my cheek and I struggle to open my eyes; some kind of liquid sliding down the corners of my eyes, blocking my vision for a moment.

The emotions involved in the dream have been so intense to the point of being brought to reality.

“I’m sorry…” I choke out, still in a state of confusion as to where I am and who is in front of me.

“Shhh.” In the darkness, the other person holds me up gently, caresses my back and asks, “Why are you apologising?”

Trembling all over, I cannot resist the urge to move closer to this reassuring embrace.

“For… I am the only one alive…”

Deep down, I know this is a form of PTSD, a psychological problem, but every time I remember my three best friends who died tragically in the dead of night, I still feel uncontrollably guilty for having survived.

The atmosphere is still, and the other person wraps his arms more tightly around me. His voice is soft, as though he is talking to me, but also as though he is talking to himself.

“…Being alive is not something to be ashamed of, you do not need to apologise to anyone.”