Chapter 111: Accounting to Oneself |
The doctor's gaze also locked onto Zhang Shutong.
"Your boyfriend?"
She stood up, planted her hands on her hips, and interrogated him, the corners of her white coat flaring out with more authority than Teacher Song himself.
Lu Qinglian looked like the absolute model of a well-behaved girl, the type parents loved most—with her oval face and peach blossom eyes, and when she furrowed her brow slightly from the pain of her wound, she had that pitiful look that evoked sympathy. She appeared quiet and obedient at a glance. So why had such an obedient girl suffered such a serious injury?
This blame could only fall on her flighty and unreliable "boyfriend."
But this one thing needed clarification:
"No!"
They spoke in unison. Zhang Shutong immediately stood up, while Lu Qinglian remained seated on the bench, her voice flat.
"Then who is it?" The auntie glared.
"Didn't you just say it wasn't you?" The auntie was confused now.
"I meant I'm not her boyfriend..."
Zhang Shutong thought to himself, Auntie, what kind of eyes do you have? Do we really look that much like boyfriend and girlfriend? Why not siblings or something like that?
At the funeral in the original timeline, a group of aunties had misidentified him as her "little boyfriend."
In the last timeline, he'd been a heartless scoundrel who turned his back on her.
And now what was he? A delinquent who'd led an innocent girl astray?
Oh right, there really was a motorcycle parked outside.
Zhang Shutong felt he couldn't explain it clearly even to himself. But the auntie stopped pursuing it and sat back down on her stool with an annoyed huff.
After all, she was a doctor, not a teacher or parent. Her extra questions earlier were only out of concern since both were students. Two immature young people—never underestimate what kind of trouble they could cause. Especially since her own daughter attended middle school on the island, seeing these two touched a nerve and made her feel sorry for this girl.
The auntie pulled a pen from the holder, the tip dancing across the medical record as she addressed Zhang Shutong with no warmth:
"I don't care what your relationship is. Don't go running around anymore today. Go home and rest properly, especially you—"
Zhang Shutong didn't understand why she was emphasizing him specifically.
"She's a young girl who doesn't know better, but how can you not know better? Do your families even know about this, or did you sneak out behind your parents' backs? Hurry up and send her home. Did you hear me?"
Whatever the auntie had imagined, Zhang Shutong had given up trying to guess. This time it really was his fault, so before Lu Qinglian could speak, he nodded and quickly admitted his mistake:
"You're absolutely right. It's my fault. So however we need to treat this, we'll definitely cooperate actively..."
...
A few minutes later, in the hospital corridor.
"Zhang Shutong, I always thought you had common sense. I was wrong."
Lu Qinglian sighed softly behind him.
This was the first thing she said, and the only thing.
But her silence made him feel somewhat guilty.
The crutch made crisp sounds on the colorful terrazzo floor. Fortunately, he'd brought enough money today. Zhang Shutong bought her another crutch. Lu Qinglian said nothing, but earnestly thanked him again, making it seem as if she'd received a great favor and he'd been very good to her.
Though perhaps that really was the case—normally when she got sick, she rarely even came to the hospital. She'd just tough it out.
Now Lu Qinglian's foot had been medicated and wrapped in bandages. Zhang Shutong needed to go to the second floor for his injection, so he instructed Lu Qinglian to sit on the benches in the corridor and not move around.
"Where to afterwards?" Lu Qinglian asked quite seriously.
"Let's not push it. Rest for a bit. Tonight is what matters." She actually still wanted to force herself to continue. Zhang Shutong's feelings were complicated. "Follow the doctor's orders. We'll discuss it later."
Lu Qinglian nodded to show she understood.
Zhang Shutong quickly climbed the stairs. The dead of winter was flu season, and he brushed past many people on the way. The smell of food, body odor, mixed with the scent of disinfectant—it all made him dizzier. He stopped at a corner, sighed, and thought how what you fear most always comes to pass.
If he'd known Lu Qinglian's foot was injured this badly, he should have gotten an IV. But now the payment was made and the medication prescribed. What's done is done—there's no such thing as "if I'd known."
He came to the ward entrance. Figures crisscrossed everywhere, the sofas nearly all occupied, the IV poles like miniature utility poles. He took his medicine and went inside to queue up. Just then his phone rang, making his heart jump—but fortunately it was just an insufficient balance notification.
Only then did he remember that in 2012, data was both expensive and limited. He'd left it on all day and had actually used up all his minutes.
Then it was time to recharge. There wasn't a China Mobile app yet; he'd have to reply through text message. As he pondered this and listened to the nurse ahead calling out:
"Your turn, hurry up!"
Zhang Shutong was still figuring out the text message as he entered the ward's medication room. There was a small bed inside. He lay down on it and pulled down his clothes. He could hear the crisp snap of the nurse breaking open the ampoule. The iodine felt cool on his skin. She was a young nurse, but experienced. Without a word, the needle plunged into his skin with a puff. At that moment, his phone dinged—the recharge had gone through.
"You're quite busy, huh? Taking a girl classmate out to play?" The young nurse stepped on the trash can pedal and teased. "But don't rush off just yet. Stay for half an hour of observation."
The insufficient balance notice and the recharge confirmation were only minutes apart, so probably no messages or calls would have been missed. Zhang Shutong first checked everything over, confirmed there were no issues, then belatedly nodded.
The cold wind had kept his nerves taut; the warm room made him relax. But this relaxation backfired. Supporting himself on the handrail, he slowly descended the stairs. For a moment the world spun—everyone he looked at seemed to drift in his vision.
Lunchtime had arrived. The hospital had no cafeteria. Zhang Shutong belatedly remembered he needed to address the food situation, so he went to Lu Qinglian's side to ask what she wanted to eat—he'd go buy it. But Lu Qinglian glanced at him:
"Don't push yourself."
Zhang Shutong understood what she meant and nodded, saying he'd nap for a bit and to wake him at noon. If there were any calls or messages, wake him immediately. Before he'd even finished speaking, he closed his eyes.
His whole body felt like it was floating on clouds, but he didn't feel cold. Zhang Shutong knew this was a good sign—it meant his temperature wouldn't keep rising.
He was someone who had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. All around, footsteps clattered noisily, light flickering through his eyelids, but his consciousness gradually drifted away.
He slept very soundly.
Until Lu Qinglian woke him. Zhang Shutong stared blankly for a moment, hearing his phone ringing.
"Teacher Song." Lu Qinglian said briefly. "It's now 11:58."
Oh, Teacher Song... no rush then.
He blinked his sleepy eyes, feeling like he'd slept for three or four hours when in reality it hadn't even been half an hour.
Zhang Shutong answered the call.
"Hello, hello, Shutong, still in bed?"
"Just woke up." He touched his forehead—it was cool and smooth. The fever had broken.
"I told you that you needed a good sleep. Even your voice sounds much more energetic."
Really?
Hearing this, he carefully assessed how he felt and found he really had recovered. Zhang Shutong was surprised himself, so much so that he stood up and walked a few steps.
His body wasn't heavy anymore, his head wasn't dizzy anymore. Though there was still some faint fatigue, it was so much better than before the injection.
The fever-reducing shot really worked.
Zhang Shutong asked Teacher Song what was up. The other side exclaimed:
"Are you at home now? I'm coming to pick you up right away. I've already reserved a restaurant..."
Wait, what restaurant?
Zhang Shutong recalled that when they parted yesterday, Teacher Song had mentioned treating them to a meal. He'd almost taken "I'll treat you next time" as just polite talk, never expecting the homeroom teacher was serious.
"It's at the shopping center at Qiumian's place, a big private room. You five can order whatever you want," the man said with a chuckle. "And this is all thanks to Qiumian's father. When I went to get my car, I was just planning to go to Commercial Street, but he insisted on giving me a prepaid card. I said I couldn't accept it, but he said it was to treat you kids—you ran around yesterday for Qiumian's sake. If he wasn't tied up right now, he'd want to host the meal himself..."
Zhang Shutong's mind was a bit muddled. It felt like he'd woken up to a different world, even giving him the illusion he'd jumped timelines.
He hurriedly asked a few more questions before figuring out the situation.
Turns out Teacher Song had also gone home for a late sleep. By noon, the sun came out and much of the snow on the mountain road had melted. The Gu family's bodyguard went to the staff dormitory to get him, brought the spare tire to the villa, and Teacher Song was able to drive his beloved car back.
Chairman Gu had wanted him to stay for lunch, but Teacher Song said he still had to treat some students to a meal—he'd promised yesterday—which led to this phone call.
No wonder he'd just mentioned driving to pick him up.
Zhang Shutong had only noticed the restaurant part and overlooked how his car got there.
Then he thought about how the other said "you five can order whatever"—could it be...
Zhang Shutong's heart stirred:
"Is Gu Qiumian coming too?"
"Unfortunately, no." He could practically see the man shrugging. "I'm telling you, kid, when she used to call you, you were all kinds of reluctant. Now that she's not taking the initiative, you've gone and reversed course."
"I heard you say five people." Zhang Shutong said sheepishly.
"When I said five, I meant you four plus Qinglian," Teacher Song was exasperated. "Qinglian also ran around with you all day—you forgot already?"
Zhang Shutong hadn't forgotten Lu Qinglian. It was just that since he'd been with her all day today, he'd subconsciously not factored her in.
"So are you home or not? Give me a straight answer. After I pick you up, I still need to go up the mountain to find Qinglian." Teacher Song urged again.
But Zhang Shutong hesitated.
Though eating anywhere was still eating, though his current condition was fine and going to a meal wouldn't be a problem, he still felt his own mission wasn't finished.
That's why when the doctor mentioned IV drips, he'd instinctively refused. He'd told Lu Qinglian his plans this morning, but he just had this sense of guilt about not focusing on the main task.
"Oh right, you don't need to worry." Teacher Song added. "When I went there, I saw Qiumian. She's fine, she was about to have some... some younger schoolgirls over to hang out. After all, she's not that familiar with Ruoping and them yet—they only had one meal together yesterday. She needs time to warm up. So don't overthink it. Tomorrow, Sunday, I'll ask if she wants to come out..."
Zhang Shutong could roughly guess what Gu Qiumian was doing. Same as before—the young miss summoning her little minions to the house for a party, singing karaoke in the downstairs media room. The driver probably even went to the city to buy a few pizzas from Pizza Hut. Though she hadn't planned to leave the island, her life at home wasn't really different from going out.
Teacher Song was also considerate, specifically explaining that she had her own circle and it was perfectly normal not to come out to eat with a few close friends. They could make plans for tomorrow.
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Gu Qiumian.
This time she'd proactively sent a photo. The image was quite dark, with colorful lights flashing above, but Zhang Shutong could identify the background as the media room. He saw a sofa where he'd just watched a movie with her.
Gu Qiumian herself wasn't in the frame, but he saw three young girls. One Zhang Shutong found somewhat familiar—she had short hair and was holding a microphone, bouncing around in front of the screen. She seemed to be the little secretary by Gu Qiumian's side, playfully making a peace sign at the camera while being photographed.
In the center of the coffee table burned a candle, surrounded by several crystal glasses. Amber liquid glimmered mysteriously in the candlelight—a proper KTV atmosphere. This underground building was no longer yesterday's cold space. In just one day it had transformed completely. Just from the photo you could feel the lively, bustling atmosphere. The few of them had started singing at noon and would probably keep playing until dark before dispersing.
"So, going or not?" Teacher Song was smoking, his voice mixing with the wind.
"Alright." Zhang Shutong agreed after all.
...
"But why didn't you tell me you were with Qinglian?"
At 12:30 PM, Zhang Shutong stood outside the shopping center keeping Teacher Song company while he smoked.
He hadn't let the teacher come pick them up. After asking Lu Qinglian's opinion, she indicated that with the crutch, resting anywhere was the same. Besides, she wasn't comfortable at the hospital anyway, so Zhang Shutong brought Lu Qinglian along.
Her foot injury couldn't be hidden, but when Teacher Song asked about it, Lu Qinglian only said she'd accidentally twisted it yesterday.
The other friends hadn't arrived yet, so she went to wait inside the Ford Focus.
Only the two of them remained outside to chat.
Teacher Song's gaze could only be described as admiring:
"I was worried you'd be lonely at home by yourself. Turns out you already had plans."
"We went to the hospital." Zhang Shutong emphasized. "And we made the plans yesterday."
"How's her foot?"
"No bone damage, but she needs to rest."
Teacher Song paused, then sighed:
"So my words yesterday were wasted."
Apparently the earlier jokes were just an opening. He became unusually serious:
"Didn't I tell you to stop obsessing over that whole killer thing? This isn't something someone your age should be worrying about. Why won't you listen? You dragged Qinglian out first thing this morning to play detective again?"
Zhang Shutong was about to speak, but the man waved his hand:
"No need to make excuses. I know you well enough. You mix truth and lies together. Even when you tell the truth, you're selective about it. What reaches my ears has nothing to do with the actual facts."
Fine. The homeroom teacher had him completely figured out.
Zhang Shutong could only say:
"But there's one thing you don't need to worry about. Her foot really was twisted yesterday, not injured in some accident today."
The man nodded but didn't plan to joke around with him anymore. He frowned again:
"What about this afternoon?"
"After we eat, I'll go home and rest. We'll see about tonight."
"What do you mean 'we'll see about tonight'?" Teacher Song was exhausted.
Zhang Shutong was exhausted too:
"Just tonight. That's it."
"Sigh, I'm not trying to scold you, but do you really expect to find something that even those bodyguards and police couldn't?"
"I don't expect to."
"Then why go through all this trouble?"
"To account to myself?"
Teacher Song didn't say whether he believed it or not, only sighed. "I'm tired just thinking about it for you. Let me guess—on the way here, were you thinking about how to explain this to me?"
Zhang Shutong actually hadn't thought about that. Probably because of the fever, he hadn't prepared his story in advance. He'd just handle whatever came up.
Of course, now he was starting to get a headache.
Teacher Song continued talking to himself:
"After you get past me, you're probably figuring out how to explain it to your friends. If they try to talk you out of it, you definitely won't listen. If they want to come with you, you won't agree to that either. And if you lie about it, I think you're starting to hate lying now. Am I right?"
Zhang Shutong nodded helplessly.
"So your teacher will help you out one last time." He said. "If I said I'd drive you around this afternoon, you two are so secretive, you definitely wouldn't want that. So I'll just help cover for you. Don't mention the motorcycle later. Anywhere you might slip up, just blame it on me. Say... let me think, say I took you out to eat, but Qinglian twisted her ankle coming down the mountain, so we made another trip to the hospital."
Zhang Shutong was silent for a moment. Teacher Song patted his shoulder. "Don't be so moved. It's what a teacher should do."
He thanked him:
"But I thought you'd interrogate me thoroughly."
Teacher Song said lightly:
"Well, everyone has things they don't want to talk about. If you wanted to tell me, you would have said so already. Asking now wouldn't help.
"You just said you wanted to account to yourself. Though I don't quite understand what someone your age needs to account for, maybe I've told you too much and influenced you in some way. That's not good. But Shutong, do you know that sometimes accounting to yourself is the hardest thing of all?"
The man's shoulders suddenly slumped. He ground out his cigarette:
"Do you remember what I mentioned yesterday, about how your teacher once had a girlfriend?"