DCH CH 4
by LinnaceThis Doctor, I Want to Chase Him!
Lu Jingcheng gently closed the hospital room door behind him, cutting off the view of Qingyi’s handsome face.
Unlike Qingyi, whose intentions were obvious at a glance, Lu Jingcheng’s expression gave nothing away—though he hadn’t even noticed the faint, lingering smile on his lips whenever he talked to Qingyi.
Just a spoiled rich kid with a dirty mind.
That was the label Deputy Director Lu mentally stuck on a certain team leader after leaving Qingyi’s room.
Pulling his mask back on, he went to assign tasks to the two interns.
He hummed softly under his breath, his steps lighter than usual.
Meanwhile, Qingyi lay flat on his hospital bed. A young doctor had just explained his treatment plan for the next few days.
Soon after, Director Jiang Xiao from orthopedics walked in. There was no sign of annoyance over Qingyi skipping their earlier meeting—just a professional inquiry about whether he needed anything.
Orthopedics required heavy investment in equipment, and Director Jiang wasn’t about to ruin ties with the Huo family over something minor. In her eyes, Deputy Director Lu might be skilled, but he wasn’t as smooth in handling connections as she was.
“You got lucky,” she said. “Another patient’s blood sugar was too high for surgery, so Director Lu suggested moving you up. We didn’t want to delay your competition, so we admitted you first.”
When Lu Jingcheng had asked her to adjust the schedule for Huo Ting, she’d been surprised—why bother helping a privileged case? But she’d agreed anyway.
Of course, she had her own reasons, which was why she made sure to take credit in front of Qingyi.
Playing both sides—keeping the old and young Huo happy—could only benefit her.
Qingyi smiled politely. “Thank you, Director Jiang, but there’s no need to trouble yourself. Dr. Lu has been taking good care of me.”
“If you need anything, just let me know.”
“No need, I can handle it myself. Thanks though.”
“Don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Really, Director Jiang, this is something I’d rather manage on my own.”
Director Jiang knew when to back off. The moment she left, Qingyi broke into a stupid grin.
Heh heh heh… So Dr. Lu personally pulled strings for me. Not a coincidence. Heh heh heh—
His dazed smile only faded when a deep, smooth voice interrupted.
“What are you grinning about?”
Qingyi snapped back to reality—but before he could hide his teeth, he saw Lu Jingcheng standing at his bedside, hands in his pockets, with Wumian trailing behind, carrying a large bag.
“Dr. Lu… You came back?”
“I was about to leave, but your MRI slot got confirmed. You’re scheduled for 1 PM, followed by another scan. Though right now, I’m thinking you might need a brain CT more than an MRI.” A hint of amusement flickered in Lu Jingcheng’s dark eyes.
Qingyi ignored the teasing. “1 PM? Got it. I’m honored you came to tell me yourself.”
They’d only known each other two days, but Qingyi could already tell—Lu Jingcheng was the cold outside, warm inside type. A total tsundere.
The thought made him flash another bright smile, nearly blinding poor Wumian.
Lu Jingcheng stood tall in his white coat, his striking eyes unreadable. He handed over the appointment slip. “Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Dr. Lu.” Qingyi reached out, their fingers brushing—
A tiny spark seemed to pass between them.
For a second, something wordless hung in the air.
Their eyes met at the same instant.
Locked in that gaze, Lu Jingcheng forgot to pull his hand away.
Qingyi’s smile sent an indescribable warmth curling through his chest. Those dark eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies, pulling him in deeper.
The air between them grew still.
Then—
“Dr. Lu?”
Qingyi’s clear voice broke the silence, laced with faint curiosity.
Lu Jingcheng startled, reflexively trying to withdraw his hand—but how could an ordinary person outpace a professional athlete’s reflexes?
Qingyi caught his fingers instead.
Behind them, Wumian’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. What the—?!
“Your hand’s burning up,” Qingyi murmured, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Haven’t been resting? Overworked last night? Running a fever?”
Lu Jingcheng: “…Is he doing this on purpose?”
Wumian: “???”
Captain, are you even listening to yourself?!
For the first time, Lu Jingcheng was grateful for his mask hiding the flush creeping up his neck.
“I’m fine.” He extracted his hand, voice taut with controlled tension. “Rest well. I’ll check on you during rounds tomorrow.”
Ignoring Qingyi’s smirk, he turned, exited, and shut the door—all in one fluid motion.
Only then did Lu Jingcheng exhale sharply.
Two brief visits to Qingyi’s room, yet his pulse still hammered wildly. He stared at the closed door, willing his heartbeat to steady.
Since when does anyone affect me like this?
…Maybe I really am overworked.
Inside the hospital room:
Wumian glanced between the door and Qingyi—who was still gazing at it dreamily—before finally setting down the bags he’d been holding.
Qingyi barely acknowledged him, too absorbed in scrolling through Lu Jingcheng’s social media.
After prolonged hesitation, Wumian cleared his throat. “So… Manager called while I was coming up.”
“And?” Qingyi didn’t look up, zooming in on a photo of Lu Jingcheng at some medical conference.
“Says he booked you a sponsorship deal. Couldn’t reach you—apparently you hung up on him?” Wumian relayed. “Jiuge will handle details. Should I confirm?”
“Was busy with Dr. Lu’s checkup…” Qingyi’s reply grew increasingly distracted. “Whatever. It’s offseason anyway…”
His voice trailed off as he fixated on Lu Jingcheng’s latest post: a standard group photo from an academic seminar.
Qingyi enlarged the image, zeroing in on Lu Jingcheng’s face—small and striking even in a crowd, his white coat buttoned meticulously to the top, radiating restrained elegance.
Yet all Qingyi could recall was yesterday’s unexpectedly bold remark. That proper exterior hides fire, he mused, fingertip hovering over the screen—
The photo suddenly minimized.
Startled, a giddy thought struck him: Does anyone else know this side of him… or just me?
Meanwhile, Wumian droned on about the sponsorship. Getting no response, he peered at Qingyi’s phone. “What’s so fascina—”
“Out.” Qingyi snapped the screen dark, shoving Wumian’s face away. “My privacy, thanks.”
Wumian snorted. “Pathetic. Which streamer’s pics are you drooling over now?”
“Leave.“
“Ah. So it’s Mr. Streamer this time?” Wumian smirked.
“Mine,” Qingyi corrected, grin widening impossibly. “Added him yesterday.”
Outside, nurses sneaking glances at their star patient saw sunlight gilding his hair as he lounged on the bed—face softer than his usual competitive intensity, lit with pure, unguarded joy.
Elsewhere:
Fresh from a shower, Lu Jingcheng collapsed onto his bed, fatigue somewhat eased. He absently opened the game still buzzing with championship celebrations—though to most players, it just meant free trial skins and in-game currency.
His thumb hovered over the friend list.
One new addition glowed at the top: Qingyi 【Pro Player】 – Online Now.
A notification popped up:
【Qingyi】: Dr. Lu~ Wanna carry me in a match?
Lu Jingcheng’s finger twitched.
Somewhere beneath his ribs, that strange warmth flickered again.
Lu Jingcheng didn’t think much of it at first.
Then a notification popped up in his game mailbox: 【Received: Cai Wenji’s “Floral Oath” Skin. Gifted by: IF·Qingyi.】
Attached message: “Know why I’m sending you so many flowers? Hope they make you smile as bright as blossoms~”
Staring at the screen showing the adorable little healer character, Lu Jingcheng’s expression morphed into pure confusion: Where did he even learn these cringe pickup lines?
The next second, a 5-player team invite flashed across his screen—[IF Qingyi], complete with that glaring pro player badge that nearly blinded him.
“Heh heh~” Qingyi’s dumb chuckle came through the voice chat. He didn’t actually start the match—knowing Lu Jingcheng had pulled an all-nighter, this wasn’t about gaming.
He just wanted another excuse to talk.
“Why suddenly gift me a skin?”
“Gotta bribe my healer,” Qingyi replied smoothly. “Need you to keep me alive out there.”
Lu Jingcheng kept his tone clinical. “Healers only provide critical saves. The rest is up to you.”
Hearing only silence on the other end, Qingyi asked, “You home yet? After last night, you should rest.”
Beside him, Wumian broke into cold sweat: What exactly happened between you two last night?! Stop saying these things in front of me!
A yawn escaped Lu Jingcheng. The mention of sleep suddenly made exhaustion crash over him. “Yeah…”
Qingyi’s voice softened. “See you tomorrow, then.”
The call ended. As Qingyi grabbed his MRI appointment slip and left, Wumian stood frozen in existential crisis.
“So last night you… Wait, you were at the clubhouse! How did you and Dr. Lu even—” Wumian’s eyes screamed things I don’t want to know.
“What are you imagining?” Qingyi looked scandalized. “Dr. Lu was doing overnight surgeries! Didn’t you hear the nurses this morning?”
“…That’s what you meant?”
“What else?” Qingyi feigned shock. “Ohhh~ Your mind’s in the gutter! Expecting something to happen?”
“……”
“Don’t worry, I’ll work hard to meet your expectations.” Qingyi nodded solemnly.
“???!”
After exiting the game, Lu Jingcheng didn’t log off immediately. He went into settings and marked Qingyi as a special follow—then relogged just to pin him at the top of his friends list.
Professional courtesy, he told himself. Might as well go all out.
But when he finally lay down, sleep wouldn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, Qingyi’s grinning face materialized.
Am I… actually falling for him?
He sat up abruptly and marched to the living room where his younger sister Lu Chengjing was lounging.
Dressed in pajamas that somehow still looked formal on him, Lu Jingcheng loomed over her with such intensity that she immediately put down her feet from the coffee table. “Bro…?”
“Need intel.”
Chengjing sat up straight like facing a superior officer. “Your Majesty commands?”
As an IF战队 staffer who handled their partnership with the hospital, Chengjing found herself expertly grilled under the guise of casual sibling chat. Before she knew it, she’d spilled everything—from the Huo family background to Qingyi’s upcoming cosplay appearance at Cosmic Festival next Saturday.
Satisfied, Lu Jingcheng patted her head and left his bewildered sister behind.
Back in bed, he searched the event details, fingertips hovering over Qingyi’s promo image:
【Special Guest: Pro Champion Qingyi (Huo Ting) Cosplaying as Ji Xiaoman.】
A smirk tugged at his lips as he studied the schedule, completely forgetting his original purpose.
“Going on Saturday?” Chengjing peeked through his door.
“Probably on shift.” Lu Jingcheng didn’t look up. “You?”
“Hard pass!” She shuddered. “Seeing Qingyi lately gives me high blood pressure.”
“Do these events come with merch?”
“Yeah… why?”
“Save me the largest Ji Xiaoman plush.”
“???”
Their next meeting happened at 11 AM in the orthopedic ward hallway—decidedly unromantic.
Fresh from physiotherapy with a lumbar brace strapped on, Qingyi shuffled toward his room like a man who’d seen the afterlife.
Lu Jingcheng emerged from his office just then. Those peach-blossom eyes crinkled. “Fancy meeting you here, Captain.”
“Just Qingyi’s fine.”
A chuckle escaped Lu Jingcheng as he took in the sight. “…Cute.”
He had to admit—Qingyi had it all. Looks, pedigree, sunny personality, fat paychecks. No wonder he had hordes of fans.
Pity currently outweighed attraction though, watching the usually suave captain hobble around in that… thing.
To be fair, Qingyi’s posture had improved dramatically. In a few days, he’d be back to his dashing self.
If only Wumian hadn’t “helpfully” bought him a lumbar brace from the hospital gift shop—in pink strawberry print, no less.
The bright pink strawberry print wrapped conspicuously around Qingyi’s waist had turned heads all the way from the physiotherapy room. When passing the nurses’ station earlier, the nurse reviewing charts had done a textbook double-take at the sight of that lumbar brace.
Qingyi kept his gaze fixed straight ahead during the entire walk back to his room, but there was no mistaking the poorly suppressed snickers around him. Some recognizing fans had even whipped out their phones for photos. He could practically hear his esports rivals roasting him in their group chats already.
Frantically patting his pockets yielded no mask to hide behind. The weight of public humiliation pressed down until—
Lu Jingcheng appeared like a beacon. The doctor was having an unusually good morning—a tricky surgery case had just come back benign, meaning his team could clock out on time. Nothing lifted a surgeon’s spirits like good pathology reports.
So here they were: one man wanting to vanish into the earth, and another radiating enough sunshine to power a small city. A cursed pairing, yet somehow perfect.
“Let me help you back.”
“You’re laughing at me internally, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. It’s cute.”
“Me or the brace?”
Lu Jingcheng blinked innocently. “Both.”
As they navigated the hallway, nurses wheeled a groaning post-op patient past them.
“What procedure did he have?” Qingyi asked.
“Funny you ask.” Lu Jingcheng’s smile turned wicked. “Lumbar disc herniation. A more severe case than yours.”
A full-body shudder ran through Qingyi.
“Keep neglecting your core exercises, and that’ll be you,” Lu Jingcheng warned with faux solemnity.
“Will you still escort me like this if that happens?”
“I’m not escorting you. We just happened to be going the same way.”
“But I saw your colleague begging you to review scans over WeChat.” Qingyi mercilessly exposed him. “There was even a ‘clinging to your thigh’ meme.”
“Keep talking, and I’ll leave right now.”
Qingyi mimed zipping his lips while tightening his grip on Lu Jingcheng’s arm.
——
In the examination room, Lu Jingcheng—who usually delegated follow-ups to interns—found himself personally unfastening that ridiculous strawberry brace.
The hands typically wielding bone drills and osteotomes now worked carefully at the straps. Qingyi, usually the picture of disciplined perfectionism, had buried his face in his arms like an ostrich. That pristine white coat and clinical demeanor made the contrast even more devastating.
“Progress looks good.”
A muffled “…Mn.” came from the human burrito on the bed.
As Lu Jingcheng adjusted the brace, he noted how Qingyi’s ears had turned the exact shade of his lumbar support.
“Don’t you have offseason events coming up?” Lu Jingcheng asked knowingly. “Take care not to reinjure yourself.”
“Yeah. A comic con this Saturday.”
“That soon? Those are exhausting—you’ll need to pace yourself.”
“Should be fine. Just standard meet-and-greet stuff.”
Lu Jingcheng exhaled through his nose. “You accepted without checking details?”
“It’s literally standing around as a human poster. What’s to check?”
“Mm. Better verify.” Lu Jingcheng’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Rest well. I’ve got rounds.”
The nursing staff had started noticing his unusual attentiveness toward the esports pro. When teased about being a fan, Lu Jingcheng would only smile ambiguously.
What they couldn’t see was the uncharacteristic softness in his interactions with Qingyi—like the first spring breeze coaxing buds to bloom. And that breeze had long since rustled through Qingyi’s ears, stirring something already taking root in his chest.
“Wait!” Qingyi suddenly twisted toward him. “Come with me. I’m inviting you.”
Lu Jingcheng took in the blatant hope in those eyes, knowing exactly what chain of events acceptance would trigger. Even prone on the bed, Qingyi’s intentions radiated with nuclear intensity.
The infuriating part? Lu Jingcheng wasn’t disgusted. If anything, a traitorous part of him preened at the attention. But his tsundere instincts chose that moment to stage a mutiny.
“Not going.”
——
Just inviting me to a con? What else do you want?
To chase you properly.
Get lost.
——
Humming, Lu Jingcheng headed for lunch when elevator doors revealed his sister mid-phone rant:
“You ARE going! Wumian said you agreed after reviewing requirements! No I don’t care—you’re cosplaying Ji Xiaoman and showing that waist! Yes I’m a tyrant! In the elevator now, coming to your room!”
As she stormed off, Lu Jingcheng stroked his chin.
Ah yes. He’d nearly forgotten.
Ji Xiaoman’s costume featured a crop top.
Suddenly, that comic con seemed exponentially more interesting.