Chapter 38 – Old Friends Will Meet Again
Xu Shaoqiu hadn’t expected to encounter so many people filling out fake forms in his lifetime.
“No wonder I thought the emergency contact number he left was a little strange… it wasn’t a local number at all.”
Yin Sijue’s eyes darkened, a complex mix of emotions flickering within them. He reached out to turn down the volume of the game, then turned to Xu Xingchen, motioning for him to continue.
Xu Xingchen tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “Actually, Ji Wei must have recognized me when he fell off the treadmill that day, but he seemed hesitant to bring it up, so I didn’t mention it to my brother. Still, since it involves an old injury, it’s better to know the full story when playing professionally.”
He shifted into a more comfortable position and began recounting the past.
“He was brought to the hospital around this time three years ago. I was an assistant physician at Taipei First Hospital back then. Ji Wei was barely fifteen when he came in, suffering from multiple fractures and sprains.”
Yin Sijue’s face grew colder. “How did he get injured?”
Xu Xingchen recalled, “His parents called an ambulance in the middle of the night, but he refused to explain what had happened no matter how we asked. But doctors have seen everything—we knew right away.”
“The child had jumped from a building.”
…
The office fell into dead silence, the atmosphere frozen like unbreakable ice. Outside the window, a blanket of dark clouds pressed down, as suffocating as Xu Xingchen’s words.
Xu Shaoqiu froze, his phone slipping uncontrollably from his lap and clattering to the ground.
“Why… why?”
Xu Xingchen took a sip of water before continuing.
“I suspected domestic violence, so I threatened to call the police. Only then did the couple finally tell the truth.”
“They said the boy jumped out the window on his own. Luckily, they lived only on the third floor. When he was brought in, he was covered in dirt and leaves. He must have fallen into a flowerbed and survived.”
Xu Xingchen tapped his index finger lightly against the rim of the ceramic cup, his voice rasping as his mind drifted back to that chaotic night three years ago.
‘How dare you threaten those two?’ The elderly doctor had yanked his assistant aside, his face dark with anger. “Do you know who they are?!”
Xu Xingchen, a recent graduate eager to shake up the system, had bristled. “Who cares who they are? That boy obviously jumped. His parents are covering it up and refusing to tell the truth. They must be hiding something!”
The old doctor tapped him lightly with a hammer and lowered his voice. “Don’t you ever watch the news? That couple is…”
He leaned close to Xu Xingchen’s ear and whispered a few words.
Xu Xingchen’s eyes widened, but his anger only burned hotter. “So what? Is being a high-ranking official supposed to mean anything?”
“You!” the old doctor fumed, his eyes bulging with anger. “I don’t care about you anymore! Remember to join the ward rounds later, and stop talking nonsense!”
…
It was still dark. At five in the morning, the city was shrouded in indigo fog. Xu Xingchen, on night duty, trudged over to bed 1032 and picked up the medical chart on the bedside table.
“Right tibial spiral fracture, sacroiliac joint sprain, vertebral compression fracture, and multiple abrasions of varying degrees…”
He glanced at the patient’s personal information. The name was Ji Wei, 14 years old, with a birthday coming up soon.
A rustling came from the bed. The pale-faced boy had slowly woken, blinking his large eyes and looking at him weakly—like a wounded kitten.
The two stared at each other for a long time before Xu Xingchen finally broke the silence.
“You woke up pretty quickly. Your injuries aren’t too serious, but you’ll need to rest for a few days.”
He didn’t want to explain so many medical terms to a child, but the boy’s parents had already dropped him off at the hospital and rushed back to work. They hadn’t even asked about his condition. They simply paid the bill and left.
I’d never met such parents.
Ji Wei remained silent, staring at him wordlessly.
Xu Xingchen continued, “Your parents… aren’t here right now. Don’t be sad. Call me if you need anything.”
The boy in the hospital bed finally spoke in a hoarse, dry voice: “Thank you, doctor.”
“?” Xu Xingchen glanced at the medical record, puzzled. “It didn’t mention any vocal cord injury…”
After a pause, he realized the 14-year-old was probably still going through voice change.
It was a bit late for him to start.
Xu Xingchen glanced awkwardly toward the bed. The boy’s youthful face had vanished beneath a blanket—Ji Wei had pulled it over his head, unwilling to say another word.
“…Sorry. Get some rest. I’m off to check the next ward. Ring the bell if you need anything.”
But two hours later, when Xu Xingchen returned to bed 1032 after completing his rounds, the bed—and the wheelchair—were already empty.
He searched the bathroom and the hallway but couldn’t find anyone. Alarm bells blared in his chest, and he rushed to the security room to check the surveillance footage.
The guard on night duty had been lazy and was still fast asleep. Xu Xingchen quickly grabbed the mouse and pulled up the recordings.
At 5:30 a.m., the footage showed Ji Wei sitting in bed for a long time after the dressing-change nurse had left, staring blankly at a bird perched on the windowsill.
After a while, he seemed to make up his mind. He pushed himself up with both hands and struggled to sit. Slowly, he lowered his legs to the floor and reached for the wheelchair in the ward.
With no support, the boy collapsed to the ground. He stayed there for a long moment before forcing himself onward, dragging against the tiles with his hands, inch by inch, until he finally reached his destination.
Then, with one hand braced on the ground and the other gripping the seat, he pulled himself into the wheelchair and pushed out of the ward.
Xu Xingchen’s eyes widened, unable to imagine how painful that process must have been.
He checked the corridor surveillance again and traced Ji Wei’s path, watching as the boy wheeled himself out through the hospital gate without a backward glance.
It was nearly seven o’clock. The streets were dim with morning light, and pedestrians had already begun to come and go.
Ji Wei struggled to flag down a passerby and borrowed their phone to make a call. Not long after, a young man hurried over and took him away.
Xu Xingchen’s gaze lingered on the surveillance footage for a long while, until the first rays of sunlight filtered into the hospital, gilding the windowsill of the security office door.
The young doctor’s mind flashed with images like a slideshow.
He thought of the well-dressed, sanctimonious couple, the fear in the boy’s eyes upon waking, and the desperate struggle he had gone through just to reach his only hope.
In truth, I still don’t know why that boy named Ji Wei jumped from the building.
But it doesn’t matter, Xu Xingchen told himself.
The light spilled into the room, scattering golden specks across the back of his hand. He moved the mouse, flicked his finger, and with a single click, deleted all surveillance footage related to Ji Wei.
…
“That’s what happened.”
Xu Xingchen’s mouth was dry as he spoke. He picked up his cup, found it empty, and went to fetch water from the dispenser.
When he returned, cup in hand, he noticed that Yin Sijue, sitting beside him, hadn’t moved at all—frozen, like unmelted ice.
His brother, as if struck by lightning, took a long time to retrieve his dropped phone.
“Brother, are you… okay?” Xu Xingchen asked cautiously.
Xu Shaoqiu let out a slow breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a tissue. “What happened after that? Didn’t his parents come to the hospital to inquire?”
“They did. His father came home from work and found his son missing. He flew into a rage, but couldn’t find him on the surveillance footage. They were reluctant to call the police, and the matter was dropped.”
Yin Sijue’s brows furrowed, his eyes darkening.
How could parents be so indifferent to their own child’s disappearance?
What had he gone through? Jumping and falling, battered and bruised—and then still forcing himself to run away?
He was only fourteen years old. How did he survive without his parents?
Watching Yin Sijue’s face grow colder and colder, Xu Xingchen hurried to add, “Ah, but I think he seems quite cheerful now. The last time I visited your base, I saw him getting along well with the other team members. He must have put that incident behind him long ago.”
Xu Shaoqiu frowned. “It’s precisely because Unique looks so cheerful now that I can’t imagine him having gone through something like that in the past.”
After speaking, he glanced at the tablet streaming the live match. On screen, Ji Wei had just clutched a 1v2 in the fifth round of PUBG, securing a chicken dinner.
At that moment, the overall points board showed AVG in second place, only four points behind UGC in first.
Only one match remained.
Xu Shaoqiu looked away, his voice hoarse as he continued. “Back when he was on the team, I always felt he was overly cautious about everything, always so polite. Once you get to know him, you realize he’s actually a mischievous kid at heart, but he keeps deliberately hiding that side of himself. It’s like—”
“Pretending to be obedient,” Yin Sijue said, brows furrowed, the pale-blue livestream glow reflecting in his eyes.
Xu Shaoqiu nodded. He understood—children who grew up in such families would instinctively hide their true thoughts.
Two minutes later, the mid-roll ads ended, and the final, decisive round had begun.
The players took their seats one after another. The casters cheered for each team, while the roar of the audience filled the arena.
Among the crowd of pro players, Ji Wei’s gaze toward the camera stood out most, as if he were speaking through the lens to someone.
His eyes shone with pride and excitement. Across the screen, Yin Sijue met his gaze, as though he could hear him say: See? I’ve made it this far! You weren’t wrong to believe in me.
Yin Sijue looked away, turning his gaze toward the window. Moonlight spilled in, illuminating his shadowed eyes, leaving nowhere to hide the faint redness beneath them.
He stared at the moon for a long time, memories surfacing, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with unspoken emotions.
“Do you remember when it was?”
Xu Xingchen froze for a few seconds before realizing the question was meant for him. “When what was?”
“The day he was brought to the hospital. Do you remember the exact date?”
“Wait, let me check my phone… I was on the night shift that day. Let me see—ah, right, it was July 19th!”
“…”
Outside, the cicadas droned into the night. A breeze drifted past, carrying clouds that veiled the cold moonlight. Yin Sijue blinked belatedly, then slowly closed his eyes.
The questions that had circled in his heart for days finally had an answer.
[Their trial should be scheduled for July 20th. I might go over two or three days early. What about you?]
[I still have some things to take care of. I’ll probably only make it on the 19th.]
…
[Next time we play together, it should be at the AVG base. Wait for me there!]
A dense ache spread through his chest, like countless tiny needles slowly pricking—an unfamiliar mix of soreness and numbness.
In his ears, the rousing sound effects of the match opening swelled. After the host finished the opening words, the final game of the Summer Tournament was about to begin.
The broadcast camera gave AVG a close-up, while the three commentators outside speculated on who would claim tonight’s championship.
On screen, Da Shu said something into his headset. Ji Wei, adjusting his equipment, turned his head and smiled, his eyes curving like crescent moons. Realizing there was a camera on him, the boy pursed his lips in slight embarrassment.
Yin Sijue couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth lift.
Three years had passed in a fleeting blur, like clouds shifting across the sky.
Fortunately, old friends would always meet again.
I hate his parents so much :((