DCH CH 9
by LinnaceThis Doctor is So Sweet
Monday.
A day that all working people dislike.
Dean Cui held his usual Monday morning meeting with the department heads and deputy directors.
When it was Director Jiang’s turn to speak, the room’s attention shifted. It’s often said that in hospitals, orthopedics and ophthalmology are the most lucrative departments, and indeed, the orthopedic department had far more equipment and resources than others.
On his second day at the Second Hospital, Lu Jingcheng overheard the nurses gossiping—Director Jiang Xiao had just bought a luxury riverside apartment with a stunning view of the Qiantang River.
By his first week, eager junior colleagues had already spilled everything about Director Jiang’s demeanor and work style.
On the surface, Jiang Xiao was the picture of ease—diligent with patients, always smiling and amiable with colleagues from other departments.
But within her own department, opinions were far less flattering: outwardly smooth and humble, inwardly harsh and quick to shift blame. She delegated tasks relentlessly, even splitting PowerPoint slides among her subordinates. Beyond a handful of surgeries, most of her work was done via WeChat, with her primary role being meetings where she presented others’ work. She was the epitome of a leader who talked big but did little.
Lu Jingcheng stayed out of departmental politics. If work came his way, he did it. A top-tier workhorse.
Just last Saturday, while visiting an exhibition, he’d heard from Qingyi that on the day he was hospitalized, the original appointment had been with Director Jiang.
It dawned on Deputy Director Lu—no wonder Jiang had been wary of him lately. She probably thought he’d latched onto the powerful Huo family.
Though, in a way, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Lu Jingcheng wasn’t part of Jiang’s inner circle. He’d been poached from the First Hospital by Dean Cui. Since joining, he’d been a model of quiet diligence—or perhaps he simply couldn’t be bothered with office intrigue.
Do whatever. Fire him if she dared. His mindset was remarkably unfazed.
Since taking over the Second Hospital, Dean Cui had implemented sweeping performance reforms. Young and ambitious, he needed tangible results to silence the skeptics.
Beyond recruiting top talent, he’d even struck a deal with Huo Entertainment to film a medical drama.
Performance, reputation, and publicity—all flourishing at once.
Inside the Huo family mansion.
Huo’s father reviewed the project proposal his assistant had brought. He’d developed a keen interest in medical dramas after his recent hospitalization, where he’d witnessed the raw spectrum of human emotion.
The emergency room at 2 a.m. was still packed—desperate parents clutching children, faces etched with helplessness. The payment counters on the first floor were always crowded, and across the way, the pediatric emergency unit was no different, filled with anxious guardians.
An elderly man waited alone at the front desk—whose father was he? In the pharmacy line, an old woman struggled to scan a barcode for a bag, her arms full of medicine and a small granddaughter in tow. Even the simplest tasks became ordeals.
Tears, prayers, wails, gratitude, embraces—all coexisted here.
Huo Entertainment had never ventured into this genre before, but after his personal experience, Huo’s father now saw the dramatic potential in these “human collisions.”
Though, he mused, his son seemed unusually invested in this proposal.
As the meeting wrapped up, Dean Cui briefly mentioned the medical drama. Office gossip spread faster than facts.
By the time Lu Jingcheng walked from the conference room back to the orthopedics department, he’d already heard countless wild rumors. Combined with the recent hospitalization of Huo Ting, the Huo family’s heir, theories ranged from “scouting locations” and “switching to acting” to “method research for a role.”
Lu Jingcheng scoffed internally.
He’d explained countless times—Young Master Huo had genuinely thrown out his back.
Deputy Director Lu paused at his office door and saw someone sitting at his desk, legs crossed with casual elegance. The man noticed him, waved, and grinned.
As a child, Lu Jingcheng had loved martial arts novels. While most boys in his class preferred Jin Yong’s works, he was the lone fan of Gu Long’s.
Those novels were full of dashing, romantic protagonists—refined, gentle, and effortlessly poised.
Back then, he’d tried to picture what those heroes looked like. He couldn’t recall the exact images now, but he remembered one phrase: “the very picture of grace.”
He admitted—he had a soft spot for graceful, scholarly types, especially the kind who wielded folding fans.
Now, such a gentleman seemed to be right in front of him.
Of course, that was just the exterior. Inside lurked a spoiled rich kid. Lu Jingcheng mentally added.
Qingyi’s looks were classically handsome, the kind that made girls swoon. The night before, Lu Jingcheng had searched for fan-made tribute videos and found a highly upvoted comment:
「During matches, my heart’s in my throat—during edits, I’m screaming “my baby!”」
Lu Jingcheng studied Qingyi, who was now chattering away cheerfully in front of him.
What an idi*t.
A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes—one he didn’t even notice himself.
Suddenly, a sweet female voice called from the doorway: “Dr. Lu?”
He turned to see a well-dressed middle-aged woman with a college student—the girl who’d also been there for back pain the day Qingyi visited. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “It really is you! I’ve come for therapy a few times but never saw you.”
“Don’t bother the doctor during work,” the woman chided gently before smiling apologetically at Lu Jingcheng. “Sorry to interrupt.”
The girl pouted. “I just wanted to say hi. He never came to see me, either.”
Lu Jingcheng walked over, gesturing for her to hand him the therapy sheet. As he reviewed it, he teased, “In a hospital, it’s a good thing if the doctor doesn’t seek you out. If I came looking for you every day, you’d be in trouble.”
The girl grinned sheepishly, stealing glances as he read. He pressed lightly on her lumbar spine before returning the sheet. “You’re recovering well. Keep up the exercises, and avoid sitting too long.”
Before she could speak, her mother interjected, “Got it. Thank you, Doctor.”
The girl stuck out her tongue playfully but pressed on, “Dr. Lu, I haven’t thanked you properly yet. Are you free? I’d love to take you to dinner! Also, how often should I come back for check-ups?”
Youthful energy radiated from her, her gaze bright and hopeful.
Lu Jingcheng sighed inwardly but met her eyes warmly. “Just rest up. If there’s no discomfort, no need for special visits. A follow-up CT in three months is fine.”
His refusal was tactful but clear.
The girl was sharp. Her nose wrinkled briefly in disappointment, but she quickly bounced back. “Okay, Dr. Lu. If everything’s fine before school starts, I’ll just head back to campus.”
Confident, sunny, and full of life—she didn’t cling to what wasn’t hers.
Lu Jingcheng gave her an approving nod and watched them leave.
The moment they were gone, Qingyi slung an arm around his neck, wrinkling his shirt.
“Piss off,” Lu Jingcheng grumbled, but made no move to shake him off, letting him fiddle with his tie.
Qingyi—whose skilled gamer’s hands now toyed with the fabric—mimicked the girl’s tone: “Dr. Lu~ how often should I come baaack~?”
He dragged out the last syllable, layering it with exaggerated sweetness.
Lu Jingcheng choked on his own spit, coughing violently.
One look at his face told Qingyi exactly what he was thinking. Undeterred, he continued in that saccharine voice, tracing circles on Lu Jingcheng’s chest: “Dr. Lu~ I didn’t see you during my last few therapy sessions either~”
Tears pricked Lu Jingcheng’s eyes from coughing. He shot Qingyi a glare. “The ‘college girl’ act doesn’t suit you.”
Qingyi handed him a tissue, reverting to his normal voice. “Then what does?”
Lu Jingcheng snorted, ignoring the question. “Is your team always this free? Or is something else ‘acting up’ today?”
Qingyi picked up the script he had casually placed on the desk earlier and waved it with feigned seriousness: “I’m actually very busy, Deputy Director Lu. I came today to discuss filming matters with your hospital’s administrative dean.”
Lu Jingcheng took the script and glanced at the title on the cover, “A medical drama? Which department is this one about?”
Qingyi’s smile deepened: “The person I’m interested in is in orthopedics—how could I possibly set the protagonist in another department? Right?”
Lu Jingcheng’s lips twitched as he mentally cursed himself: Why did you have to ask?! Why did you open your mouth?! You shouldn’t have asked him at all!
His expression darkened as he shoved the script back into Qingyi’s arms: “Then go discuss your artistic creation. I have surgery later. I won’t keep you.”
Young Master Huo watched his retreating figure, then placed an exquisitely wrapped gift bag on Dr. Lu’s desk, accidentally nudging the mouse in the process.
The screen lit up, and Qingyi once again saw the paused livestream replay of that day’s match on Lu Jingcheng’s computer. An idea flashed in his mind as he pulled out his phone and sent Wumian a WeChat message:
【Can you do me a favor?】
【What do you want now?】
【I want to commission some merch. Didn’t you do something similar before?】
Wumian, currently sitting on the toilet pondering life’s mysteries, wondered if his prolonged squatting had induced hallucinations:
【You mean that time I was chasing a college girl?】
【Yeah.】
Qingyi sent over the screenshot—the exact moment during the match when Lu Jingcheng’s Cai Wenji had attacked the tower. In the image, the adorable little healer had her ultimate activated, chubby hands raised, ready to deliver the final, decisive basic attack to the already near-dead crystal.
【???】
Young Master Huo issued his command: 【Just get it custom-made based on this image.】
【Where the hell did you even get this screenshot?】 Having missed the livestream due to the match, Wumian was utterly confused.
【Are you giving this to a college girl???】
Qingyi didn’t reply, sending only a “None of your business” sticker instead.
Wumian’s head was full of question marks: Weren’t you chasing Dr. Lu?! How the hell did you switch to a college girl so fast?
Player.
Absolute f*cking player!
But complaints aside, the captain’s orders had to be followed. The problem was—how was he supposed to know what style or details to go for?
Ask Qingyi?
As if that idi*t would know!
Sitting on the toilet in distress, Wumian suddenly had an epiphany—why not ask the actual college girl on their team what she’d like?
He quickly sent a message:
【Jiuge, sorry to bother you, but quick question—if you were buying figurines or plushies as a gift, what kind would you pick?】
When Lu Chengjing received the message, she bolted upright from the couch. This was her area of expertise!
Her fingers flew across the screen—
【Go for the BIGGEST one!】
Lu Jingcheng did have surgeries scheduled for the afternoon, along with consultations for other departments. He was so busy he had to literally jog to the bathroom.
Let alone finding time to eat.
8:00 PM.
After finishing his last surgery, he dragged his exhausted body back to his office and collapsed into his swivel chair, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, too tired to speak.
His mind blank, he spun the chair to face away from the desk, debating whether he should grab a meal.
His doctor’s rationality told him he had to eat, but he was too drained to move.
After a long moment of zoning out, he decided to just head home early. Skipping one meal wouldn’t kill him.
But the moment he turned back and opened his eyes—he saw it.
An exquisitely packaged gift bag on his desk—gold and green wrapping, radiating luxury.
A note was attached: “Snacks for you.” —Qingyi
Inside was a box of chocolates.
Just as Lu Jingcheng was staring in disbelief, his phone buzzed with a message from Qingyi:
【If your surgery ran late, have some chocolate. Left it on your desk.】
The chocolates were molded into little gold bricks, and the inner packaging was even more extravagant than the box. Lu Jingcheng looked up the brand on his phone—Dubai.
This was what he called “snacks”? Of course it fit the captain’s standards.
He slowly unwrapped the foil and placed a small piece in his mouth. Dark chocolate, the rich bitterness spreading across his tongue.
With the chocolate still melting in his mouth, he opened his office door and clocked out.
As he walked through the ward corridors, he instinctively checked on the patients in passing rooms.
Good. Every room was peaceful—even the usual noisy ones were resting quietly.
The bitterness in his mouth had gradually faded, replaced by a faint, lingering sweetness—subtle but unexpectedly moving.
Maybe this rich kid isn’t so bad after all.
The thought crossed his mind as he savored the sweetness, his impression of Qingyi softening ever so slightly.
In the taxi, he finally replied:
【Thanks. It’s sweet.】