DCH CH 7
by LinnaceThis Doctor at The Comic Con (1)
The next day dawned bright and clear, the sky a cheerful azure.
But Qingyi had been sulking all morning.
He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even complain during his physical therapy session.
It all started when Dr. Lu pressed a hand to his lower back during rounds and said quietly, “You’ve mostly recovered. After today’s therapy, you can be discharged.”
Qingyi’s good mood instantly evaporated. “Can I still come see you after this?”
“What, you want to herniate another disc?” Lu Jingcheng didn’t look up from his notes, though the corner of his eye caught Qingyi’s pout.
He could practically see the metaphorical puppy ears drooping.
For all his rich-kid antics, Qingyi remained oddly endearing. Behind his surgical mask, Lu Jingcheng’s lips quirked upward.
Over the past hour while helping Qingyi pack, Wumian had counted eighteen sighs.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about our tournament strategy—I won’t buy it.” He tossed clean clothes at Qingyi’s head before slinging an arm around his neck. “Your Highness, be honest. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
Qingyi stared into the distance, answering irrelevantly, “Was my request yesterday too… pure?”
“Huh?”
“I need an excuse to come back,” Qingyi muttered, more to himself.
Following his gaze, Wumian spotted Dr. Lu outside the ward, calmly discussing surgical details with a patient’s family. His professional demeanor radiated reassurance.
The realization hit Wumian like a freight train. He rolled his eyes at Qingyi’s lovesick behavior—but as his longtime teammate, he recognized this wasn’t just a passing fancy. When someone like Qingyi fixated, he meant it.
By the window, sunlight outlined Dr. Lu’s profile as he spoke with another doctor. Even Wumian had to admit: young, accomplished, unfairly handsome. No wonder Qingyi was hooked.
Stepping out of the ward, Wumian suddenly froze. If Dr. Lu rejected him… Oh no. My career is doomed. He grabbed Qingyi’s shoulders. “Captain. You’ve got this!”
Qingyi: “???”
Meanwhile, intern Dr. Gao texted Lu Chengjing: “Your brother’s acting weird.”
“How?”
“Keeps ‘coincidentally’ lingering outside Qingyi’s ward. Yesterday he dragged me out there to ‘discuss’ something—total pretext!” She attached a photo of Qingyi at reception with Dr. Lu subtly in-frame.
Lu Chengjing laughed. “Nice composition. Submit this to the Pulitzers.”
“HELLO?? Focus! You think he’s into your captain?”
“Pfft. I’ll bet you a luxury sushi buffet—Qingyi’s not chasing anyone. If he liked someone, he’d just throw money at them.”
Qingyi was indeed busy. Between make-up streams and endorsements, his schedule overflowed.
Like most pro players:
- Win’s mid-laner Zhou Taiqing forced smiles: “‘Make-up streams’? No no, I missed you all~”
- Zero’s Yushan despaired: “67 hours left. Can I livestream sleeping?”
- Sen’s jungler Qiuhe snacked lazily mid-game: “If I tryhard, I’ll embarrass the whole league.”
As a top-tier player, Qingyi’s endorsement load was brutal. He’d initially refused the con’s cosplay request—until two factors changed his mind:
- The event would count toward his mandatory streaming hours.
- More free time to (theoretically) woo a certain doctor.
…Theoretically.
He sighed, staring at the midriff-baring Ji Xiaoman cosplay outfit. Why did I agree to crossplay?
Too late now.
Onstage, Qingyi endured the spotlight. “Captain!” a fan shouted, “You smell amazing!”
He responded with practiced smiles—until spotting a familiar figure.
Tall, lean, in a tailored trench coat. Lu Jingcheng.
Sunlight haloed him as he raised a Fujifilm camera, deliberately avoiding Qingyi’s gaze while capturing his every move.
He came.
Post-event, Qingyi bounded over. “Long time no see, Dr. Lu.”
“We literally met two days ago.”
“You took my fashion advice.” Qingyi grinned at the Burberry trench. “I’m honored.”
Lu Jingcheng stiffened. “It’s just a coat.”
“A limited-edition coat.”
“Damn rich kids,” Lu Jingcheng thought, but Qingyi had already moved on: “Photo together?”
Resigned, Lu Jingcheng agreed—though not without grumbling.
Qingyi internally cackled. Tsundere.
Reviewing shots, Qingyi zoomed in. “Looking good.”
“Complimenting me or yourself?” Lu Jingcheng quipped.
“You, obviously.” Qingyi tugged at his crop top shamelessly. “Wouldn’t settle for less.”
Lu Jingcheng’s eye twitched. “Do all rich people just… say whatever they want?”
(And if I say yes… will you lose interest?)
Qingyi set his trap: “So, did it make your heart race?”
“Mhm.”
Two seconds later, Lu Jingcheng processed what he’d just admitted. “…Mhm?”
Qingyi grinned. “When will your heart race, then?”
Meeting that playful gaze, Lu Jingcheng reached out, tucking a stray lock behind Qingyi’s ear with a dangerously charming smile.
“Not interested.”
He knew how these games worked—the push and pull, the coy denials.
Those were the games worth playing.