Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Chen Jue really couldn't bear to see him cry. Zhang Yan was someone who loved to smile but also loved to cry.

Chen Jue understood that he was in the throes of surging hormones, so he let him cry for a while before saying, "The child was born safely, wasn't he? He's very healthy. I checked him just now, so don't worry."

Zhang Yan shook his head frantically. He wasn't crying because of the child—he was crying because of Chen Jue.

His voice choked with sobs:

"Jue Geer, thank you. I know you saved both my life and the child's. You are my Zhang Yan's lifesaver, a second father to me."

Those words carried a lot of weight. Chen Jue looked at his tear-streaked face and gave a faint smile. He thought Zhang Yan probably didn't know that he himself had also saved Chen Jue. He had survived, and the child had survived with him—Zhang Yan couldn't know what that meant to Chen Jue.

He could never forget the scene of Jiang Xinhe's death. He could never forget the scene of that child dying. Even now, pregnant himself, he couldn't let it go.

A mother and child lost, a surgery that failed—that had been a devastating blow to him.

But now he had saved Zhang Yan. He had saved his child.

Zhang Yan's tears still fell like there was no end to them, pooling in his ears as he lay on his back.

Chen Jue handed him a soft piece of linen cloth: "Stop crying. You're supposed to be resting after childbirth now."

Aunt Zhou said that women in confinement shouldn't cry—it hurts the eyes—and shouldn't do too much of anything, since it all took a toll on the body. Chen Jue didn't disagree, because the body was already damaged.

Giving birth in ancient times was like walking through the gates of hell itself. Even in modern times, hundreds of thousands of women die in childbirth every year, let alone in ancient times.

That number isn't an exaggeration; it's a real statistic. Hard to believe, right? Childbirth sounds so normal to modern ears, yet hundreds of thousands die every year.

Life hung by a thread, like after a severe injury. The blood Zhang Yan had lost couldn't be fully replenished even with a full month of rest after childbirth.

Why do we call mothers great? Because the physical damage of childbirth is irreversible. No matter how much technology later generations come up with, it could never return a mother to her former self. That was impossible.

Only the body itself knows the damage it's taken.

No matter how much the elders tried to comfort her, it didn't change anything. So Chen Jue also supported Zhang Yan resting properly for a full month.

Zhou Dajiang came in carrying the child who had just finished nursing, and Zhang Yan finally got his emotions under control. Looking at the child, he said, "Jue Geer, you are my lifesaver and the child's second father, so I want the child to have you as his godfather. You must agree."

Zhou Dajiang chimed in beside him, "Yes, yes. You and Dalin are the saviors of our Zhou family. The child will have both of you as godfathers."

Zhang Yan had been unconscious and didn't know that his surgery had been done by Chen Jue and Dalin together. Zhou Dajiang knew, and he didn't mind that Dalin had entered the room where his husband gave birth—he was too grateful to mind.

Moreover, he had seen during the surgery that Chen Jue had covered his husband's body completely, with everything except the stomach covered by clean white linen cloth.

Though it looked a bit like...

Zhou Dajiang didn't want to think about that scene again. He thought how lucky he was that Chen Jue and his husband had saved his own husband.

That was why, just outside earlier, he had already expressed his gratitude over and over to Huo Lin.

When Zhang Yan heard this, he also turned his head to look outside: "Then please thank Brother Dalin for me. Once I'm back on my feet, I'll go thank him in person. Jue Geer, thank you both—you and your husband. Why don't the two of you give the child a name?"

Since they were giving them the right to name the child, Zhou Dajiang called out toward the window, "Dalin, why don't you name the child? I know you're educated. You and Jue Geer are both educated people—you'll definitely come up with a good name!"

Chen Jue didn't look outside. He knew Huo Lin was out in the courtyard. Ever since they'd cleared the air, whenever Chen Jue went inside, Huo Lin stayed outside.

Perhaps it was because there was Zhang Yan recovering from childbirth inside, so he felt awkward coming in. Or perhaps he didn't want to face Chen Jue. Either way, they truly couldn't share a roof anymore.

Chen Jue's brow furrowed slightly. Once Zhang Yan was well enough, Chen Jue would be leaving.

Zhang Yan was still pressing Huo Jilin to name the child, and Chen Jue heard a cold voice from outside the window saying, "Let Chen Jue name him."

Zhou Dajiang hurriedly brought the child over to Chen Jue.

Chen Jue looked at the child's round, broad forehead and said, "I'll give him a nickname. For his formal name, let Uncle Zhou decide."

Everyone in the village followed generational naming conventions. The child's generation couldn't be just randomly changed.

"Call him Tuantuan," Chen Jue said.

He looked at Zhang Yan: "Mid-Autumn Festival is almost here too. Didn't you say you wanted to call him Yuanyuan? Tuantuan works too—tuantuan yuanyuan, round and complete."

Aunt Zhou, who had been looking at the child over their shoulders, smiled at the name: "Good, good. That's a good name. Tuantuan yuanyuan—if you have another child, you can call him Yuanyuan."

Chen Jue slightly raised an eyebrow, then re-tucked Zhang Yan's thin blanket and said with a smile, "Zhang Yan will need at least three years to recover from this surgery."

In modern times, some have two C-sections within three years, but Chen Jue didn't want that for Zhang Yan. Ancient conditions were too harsh. If it happened again, he couldn't guarantee Zhang Yan's life.

So there was no need to rush him into another pregnancy.

Zhang Yan himself had been scared by this experience, but he didn't think his mother-in-law's words were wrong. Looking at his peacefully sleeping eldest son, he smiled and said, "Then I'll wait three years before having another. By then this one will be older too."

The concept of "more children, more blessings" was deeply rooted in ancient people's minds. Every family in the village had at least three children. Zhou Hehua was the exception, because her family had hereditary reasons that made pregnancy risky.

So Zhang Yan's thinking was understandable, and Chen Jue didn't try to persuade him otherwise. Zhang Yan was still young—they'd see how he recovered this time.

"Jue Geer, when can he eat something?" Aunt Zhou asked.

"In another hour," Chen Jue told her. After a C-section, patients need to fast for six hours. About four hours have passed now.

Aunt Zhou said okay: "So he can only drink that radish soup you mentioned? What about the chicken soup... it's already simmering."

Chen Jue nodded: "Radish soup first. After he passes gas, then the chicken soup. Passing gas means—"

Chen Jue saw that Zhang Yan was awake, and with Aunt Zhou and Zhou Dajiang both there, he explained how to care for him after childbirth. It was somewhat different from what the midwife Aunt Zhao had said.

Oh, right, the midwife Aunt Zhao hadn't left yet. She was also worried about Zhang Yan. Though she didn't know how Chen Jue had saved Yan Geer, she was very happy about it. She had already gone over all the postpartum care advice with Aunt Zhou.

Because the way the baby was delivered was different too, Aunt Zhou nodded throughout. What Chen Jue said while writing on paper was treated like gospel truth.

Zhang Yan, though a bit embarrassed listening to it all, paid close attention.

He felt that Chen Jue was even more nervous than he was. An hour later, after he drank the radish soup as instructed, Chen Jue asked him how he was feeling several times, which made him a little embarrassed.

Fortunately, he passed gas normally, and he also urinated—right on Chen Jue's mattress.

Chen Jue hadn't yet figured out the urinary catheter problem, so he just let Zhang Yan do things naturally.

If the mattress got wet, they changed it.

Anyway, Zhang Yan would be staying here for the next few days.

After such a major surgery, Zhang Yan couldn't move around much for a while, and it was best for him to stay in the semi-sterile room Chen Jue had set up. It made it convenient for Chen Jue to observe his recovery after the surgery. So Huo... Jilin was sent to stay at Zhou Dajiang's house.

After working from morning till night, they should have been exhausted, but Zhou Dajiang was too excited to sleep. He noticed that Huo Lin next to him wasn't asleep either.

Two grown men lying on the same kang was nothing unusual—when they went out for forced labor, a whole row of guys would sleep packed together.

But somehow, lying next to Huo Lin, he felt a little uneasy.

Perhaps it was because it was too quiet.

Zhou Dajiang was plain-spoken and taciturn, and Huo Jilin was even more tight-lipped, so the two lay there without a word for a long stretch.

The silent cold radiating off Huo Lin only got colder.

After much deliberation, Zhou Dajiang worked up the nerve to speak first: "Dalin, are you not used to staying here? Your bedding is all new—today's been a real hassle for you folks."

He'd gone all out to make Huo Jilin feel welcome, airing out and laying out the new quilt meant for Yan Geer's wedding, figuring he'd done everything right.

But from the brief silence when Huo Lin saw the kang and got on it, he felt that Huo Lin didn't seem too eager to get on it.

He hadn't said a single word since he'd climbed up.

Huo Jilin listened to his words with his eyes closed, not moving, and only said in a low voice: "It's fine, no need to be polite."

The thing was, he couldn't sleep—after two months on the battlefield, sleeping with a sword in his arms, where killing was constant, he'd messed up his sleep.

Any little movement around him and he couldn't sleep.

But on Chen Jue's kang, he'd actually slept.

Weird, right? In the past, he and Chen Jue had been on opposite sides; Chen Jue ought to have hated him. If he'd known he was Huo Jilin, he'd have smothered him with a pillow in his sleep. But he'd still fallen asleep.

Because Chen Jue was cut from the same cloth—someone from the same world.

Or perhaps he'd seen right through Chen Jue—even if his own brother-in-law had pushed him down the stairs to his death, he still wouldn't kill him.

Because of his character, because of his medical ethics. Because of who he was.

Huo Jilin opened his eyes in the darkness.

After laying it all out to Chen Jue today, the two hadn't said a word to each other.

Huo Jilin knew this would be the outcome; he'd braced himself for this countless times. But now that it was actually happening, he still couldn't shut his eyes, because closing them would bring back the moment Chen Jue died.

And then he was thinking about Chen Jue's death again.

The medics had cleaned Chen Jue's wounds, wiped the blood off his face, and laid him out quietly on the bed.

He hadn't died with his eyes wide open like they do in the movies. His face was blank, eyes closed like he was just asleep, his eyelids completely still, which made his lashes look impossibly long.

He'd stared at his face for a long time—longer than the night he'd stood by his kang.

When the doctor pronounced Chen Jue dead, his mother, Director Zhou, passed out, and Dean Chen went to bring her around.

So he sent everyone away and stood alone in front of Chen Jue's body.

The hospital room was stark white, the sheets were white, and Chen Jue lay there, his face pale.

Huo Jilin felt like his soul had floated right out of him. There was no grief. There was nothing at all.

Jiang Xinhe and her child had both died today.

Now Chen Jue was dead too.

Maybe he'd just gone numb from all the death.

Or maybe this was just who he was.

He was a cold-blooded, hard-hearted man—whether it was strong-arming his way into control of Huachen Pharmaceutical or his cold, arranged marriage, it all proved he didn't have a drop of feeling in him.

Now, standing at Chen Jue's bedside, he confirmed all over again just how cold-blooded he was.

Objectively speaking, Chen Jue's death was related to him. If he hadn't been assigned as Jiang Xinhe's attending physician, he might not have died.

Chen Jue had died for his wife and child, and he stood before his body without a single tear.

He even thought that with Chen Jue gone, there would be no one left to hold opposing views, no one left to cross him.

After who knows how long, Dean Chen, standing outside, told him in a flat tone that he was taking Chen Jue away.

Dean Chen's voice carried a distance, and Huo Jilin could understand—after all, it was his brother-in-law who had caused Chen Jue's death.

The fact that Dean Chen hadn't attacked him like his brother-in-law had was already a sign of his good upbringing.

He wanted to reach out and cover Chen Jue with the sheet, but his hand seemed frozen, unable to do so.

Dean Chen stepped past him and slowly pulled the white cloth over Chen Jue. He finally managed to extend his hand, but halfway there, it dropped again. He didn't even know what he had intended to do with it.

He was certain Chen Jue was thoroughly dead—those clear, cold eyes had never opened again, never met his.

The dead cannot return to life. Everyone knew that.

But Chen Jue had come back to life, reborn in this indescribably shabby, broken world.

Huo Jilin pressed his hand against his chest, because his heart was beating a little too wildly. He could clearly hear the heartbeat, thumping one after another, as if with an echo.

A faint, ambiguous smile tugged at the corner of Huo Jilin's mouth. In the darkness, no one could see his expression.

He just kept his eyes open, staring at the pitch-black ceiling. He had said Chen Jue couldn't just vanish like that, couldn't just end abruptly like that.

How could he die before he saw whether his decisions were right or wrong?

Chen Jue, how could you die?