Chapter 23: Painless Syndrome 3

The moment Lu Shun saw the doctor approaching with a document, his world seemed to freeze.

He couldn’t feel his own breathing. His vision blurred, making the words on the white paper indistinguishable. All he could hear was the heavy, thunderous pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears…

He thought it was a critical condition notice.

Fortunately, it wasn’t. It was an emergency surgery consent form.

Where are the family members? Family needs to sign this!

The patient is in hemorrhagic shock and unconscious. We’ll attempt endoscopic hemostasis first, but if the bleeding can’t be controlled, we’ll need to perform emergency laparotomy.

The doctor urgently extended the document, then paused midway to glance at Lu Shun before quickly withdrawing his hand. Are you the patient’s family member?

Only then did Lu Shun react, hearing his own voice floating up uncertainly, I’m… his friend.

Do you have a power of attorney? the doctor asked.

No.

Upon hearing this, the doctor adopted an official tone. Then you don’t have signing authority. Without being family or spouse, you need a power of attorney to sign…

…And you’re talking about power of attorney now?

Lu Shun immediately became agitated, his attitude turning hostile, almost threatening as he addressed the doctor: Can you just save him first? You have time for this, but he doesn’t! He can’t wait!!!

The doctor gave him a disdainful look, turned away, and coldly tossed back, We can proceed with special approval when no family is present. No need to shout at me.

The emergency room doors closed tightly. Lu Shun sat pale-faced on the corridor bench, his thoughts sluggish.

His phone kept vibrating in his suit pocket, with calls coming one after another.

He acted as if he didn’t hear them, unable to process anything or do anything, his entire body numb as he stared fixedly at the emergency room doors.

When He Qiuting was wheeled into the emergency room earlier, he was already unconscious. Though comatose, he was still passively vomiting blood.

Lu Shun had seen so much blood – bright, startling red blood silently flowing from He Qiuting’s mouth and nose, tracing down his jaw, staining his snow-white neck.

He had never seen He Qiuting like this before.

He Qiuting with closed eyes and no signs of life. He Qiuting covered in blood. He Qiuting so undignified. He Qiuting like a broken, pale ragdoll.

Every nerve was stretched taut. Lu Shun gasped for air, feeling the corridor oxygen growing thinner, each inhalation taking forever to exhale.

He couldn’t control his breath-holding, making his brain oxygen-deprived, his vision periodically darkening.

He didn’t know how long he waited like this before the doors finally opened.

Lu Shun felt like a programmed machine – the moment the door cracked open, he shot up from his seat.

His legs had gone completely numb. Supporting himself on his knees, Lu Shun practically stumbled to the emergency room entrance, where he saw He Qiuting being wheeled out on a bed.

He had lost all color, even his lips were white.

White like a handful of winter snow – glaring and cruel, as if he might melt away at any moment before Lu Shun’s eyes.

The surgery was successful. The bleeding stopped without needing laparotomy. Quite fortunate, the doctor said calmly.

However, the patient is too weak and needs quiet rest and observation.

Lu Shun lowered his gaze and saw He Qiuting’s head tilted limply to one side, the blue veins on his neck faintly bulging. An IV needle slanted into his skin, buried beneath the surface, rising and falling weakly with each breath.

The blood on his face had been cleaned away, leaving only a few faint smudges behind his ears and below his collarbone.

He Qiuting…

Lu Shun leaned closer, quickening his pace to keep up with the gurney, his eyes fixed intently on that pale face.

He Qiuting showed no response, still under the effects of general anesthesia. Wrapped in a blue sterile sheet, he lay there quietly asleep.

Lu Shun knew he must be deeply uncomfortable.

An oxygen tube was inserted into his nose, and beneath it lay a thick, long stomach tube, forced through his nasal passage down into his stomach. A urinary catheter was also in place.

Intravenous lines were inserted into his neck, arms, and thighs, connected to infusion bags hanging beside the bed.

Lu Shun was accustomed to He Qiuting’s usual composure and spirited demeanor, making the stark contrast of the current scene all the more jarring. A sudden pang of sorrow hit him, but he held back his tears, refusing to cry in front of everyone.

He Qiuting vomiting blood during the press conference had caused quite a stir. Reporters swarmed the hospital, fiercely competing for headlines, some even posing as family members to sneak into the inpatient ward for information.

Using some connections, Lu Shun secured the entire floor where He Qiuting’s room was located, barring outsiders from entering.

During this time, Lin Xu visited once with Zhou Hang, the vice president of Yunji Real Estate, to check on He Qiuting’s condition.

He Qiuting had previously signed an authorization agreement allowing Zhou Hang to act as acting CEO under special circumstances, handling all company affairs. Seeing that He Qiuting was still unconscious, Zhou Hang didn’t stay long, leaving a bouquet of flowers before returning to the office.

Lin Xu, however, reacted strongly. His eyes reddened at the sight of He Qiuting, and he insisted on staying to care for him. Usually mild-mannered, he didn’t hesitate to confront Lu Shun when his request was denied.

Why can’t I stay? I’m his assistant—I’ve been with him for five years. And you? What are you to him?

Lin Xu was typically gentle and would never dare oppose Lu Shun openly under normal circumstances. But the memory of Lu Shun pulling him aside and taking his place in the ambulance made him tremble with anger.

How much do you really know about him? Lin Xu’s voice quivered.

Oh? So you think you know him well, Lu Shun replied with feigned calm, a hint of mockery in his eyes. He let out a cold laugh and suddenly asked, Do you know his blood type?

He didn’t know why he asked that question, nor what he was trying to uncover.

He’s type B, Lin Xu answered without hesitation, his words clear and precise. He’s allergic to penicillin and has a history of stress-induced gastric ulcer bleeding.

Lu Shun fell silent, feeling utterly defeated.

How could he know so little?

He Qiuting had yet to wake, and no one dared disturb his rest. They all waited in the corridor outside his room.

Uncomfortable being so close to Lu Shun, Lin Xu didn’t stay long. He went downstairs, saying he needed to buy daily necessities for the hospital stay. Lu Shun didn’t stop him.

Leaning back in his chair, Lu Shun felt exhausted to the core—a deep, pervasive weariness that left him drained of strength.

As he sat there lost in thought, Li Feng also arrived at the hospital.

Li Feng recognized Lu Shun and only knew that he had known He Qiuting since childhood, but was unaware of the deeper relationship between them.

The two sat side by side without falling into an awkward silence.

His stomach issues are a long-standing problem, but the ulcers have been more severe recently, Li Feng said.

His assistant just mentioned he has a history of stress-induced gastric bleeding, Lu Shun’s voice was very low, his fingers clenched tightly at his suit cuffs as he struggled to suppress his emotions.

Yes, Qiuting’s stomach has always been weak, and he never rests properly. Working under prolonged high pressure—I think it’s the mental stress causing significant damage to his gastric mucosa.

When did this happen? Lu Shun asked.

In his memory, he had never heard He Qiuting mention the words gastric bleeding before.

Several times, Li Feng recalled. The most recent episode was on the night of your birthday.

Lu Shun’s heart suddenly tightened.

Oh right, didn’t you have gastroenteritis that day too? Li Feng suddenly asked.

Lu Shun’s throat moved slightly, feeling as if a ball of fire was stuck there, unbearably uncomfortable. He slowly nodded.

He was quite concerned about you. He sent me your hospitalization diagnosis from that day and your physical examination reports from the past two years, asking me to check how serious your condition was.

As he spoke, Li Feng gave a bitter smile. At the time, his blood pressure wouldn’t rise, he was drenched in cold sweat, trembling all over—yet he still found time to worry about others.

I reviewed your diagnosis and past examination reports. It’s just mild gastroenteritis, nothing serious at all.

Lu Shun lowered his head, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Li Feng didn’t notice his distress and continued, You two must be quite close? I often hear Qiuting mention you, saying you were very cute as a child. You should advise him more when you can.

Lu Shun struggled to open his mouth, each word coming out with difficulty. He always… neglects himself. His stomach is bad, yet he skips breakfast.

He told me that when he has too much on his plate, he can’t eat anything—he vomits whatever he tries to eat. Li Feng frowned slightly and fell silent for a long moment before saying, I think Qiuting might have anxiety disorder.

A couple days ago, he even experienced auditory hallucinations. He told me there was some System controlling him or something.

If he continues like this, his body will eventually break down.

Li Feng sighed repeatedly beside him. Ah, Qiuting really has it tough, struggling all alone without any family by his side when he’s sick.

After hearing this, Lu Shun felt even worse.

I’m going in to see him.

He slowly stood up and walked into the hospital room alone, locking the door behind him.

He Qiuting lay on the pure white hospital bed, his expression still calm and composed, showing no sign of pain—which only made Lu Shun feel more distressed.

He Qiuting was always well-behaved. He wasn’t the type of child who cried, wouldn’t explain himself when misunderstood, and never boasted about the kind things he did for others.

Everything about him was quiet and unassuming, as if he was afraid of being noticed.

Lu Shun sat by He Qiuting’s bedside, gently enclosing the hand that wore the pulse oximeter. He lowered his head and pressed his face against the cold back of He Qiuting’s hand.

Tears finally overflowed, streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

It had been so long since Lu Shun had felt this devastated, his heart aching with sharp, recurring pains.

Suddenly, the pale, slender fingers moved almost imperceptibly.

Lu Shun quickly raised his head and saw He Qiuting slowly open his eyes. His pupils were slightly unfocused, with a hazy glimmer of moisture in their depths.

It wasn’t tears, but the physiological dampness brought on by anesthesia, making him appear exceptionally fragile and pitiful.

He Qiuting was too weak, his consciousness and eyelids growing heavier. Each blink was slow and feeble as he gradually adjusted his focus, finally resting his gaze on Lu Shun’s face.

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