I slept with my sister's classmate, and she turned out to be my boss.

On Tuesday morning, Chen Dapeng received a call from the hospital.

"Mr. Chen, it's time to remove the stitches from the corner of your mouth. You can come today or tomorrow."

He had originally intended to say tomorrow, but then changed his mind: "Today, then. Any time this afternoon is fine."

"After 2 PM, general surgery outpatient clinic."

After hanging up the phone, he glanced at the calendar.

The provincial audit team will arrive the day after tomorrow. He Ying has been extremely busy these past few days—she attended three meetings yesterday and worked overtime until after 10 p.m.

He messaged her.

She replied almost an hour later: "Busy".

He thought that removing the stitches was a minor matter, and he could handle it himself without telling her.

At 2:10 p.m., Chen Dapeng arrived at the county hospital.

The outpatient hall was bustling with people, and there was a queue of moderate length in front of the registration windows.

He registered for a general surgery appointment and went up to the third floor with the registration slip.

He sat down on the bench outside the clinic and waited for his number to be called.

There are two more people ahead of us.

He took out his phone and scrolled through WeChat.

He Ying didn't send any messages; her last sentence was still: "Busy."

He thought for a moment and sent her a message: "I went to the hospital to get my stitches removed, it's nothing serious."

After sending the message, he felt he had been too superfluous—was it really necessary to tell her about the stitches being removed?

But the message has already been sent and cannot be taken back.

He put his phone in his pocket and leaned back in his chair.

The corridor was quiet, with only the occasional nurse pushing a cart passing by.

"Chen Dapeng".

The nurse poked her head out and called out numbers.

He stood up, pushed open the door, and entered the examination room.

The examination room was small, with an examination bed, a table, and two chairs.

On the table was a tray of sterilization equipment, containing scissors, tweezers, and gauze.

The doctor was a man in his forties, wearing black-rimmed glasses, and was writing a medical record.

He glanced at Chen Dapeng and pointed to the examination bed:

"Sit there."

Chen Dapeng sat down, and the doctor came over, lifted his chin, and looked at the wound on the corner of his mouth.

"The recovery is going well."

The doctor turned around and picked up scissors and tweezers from the instrument tray.

"It won't hurt to remove the stitches, don't be nervous."

Chen Dapeng didn't speak, and closed his eyes.

One stitch, two stitches, three stitches.

"alright."

The doctor put down his instruments and placed a piece of gauze on the corner of his mouth.

"Press for a while, until the bleeding stops."

Chen Dapeng opened his eyes and reached out to press the gauze.

"The wound is healing well, and I can get it wet in a couple of days. The bruises on my face have also faded, and you can't see anything about them anymore."

"Thank you, doctor."

Chen Dapeng stood up, pressed the gauze against his hand, and pushed open the door to leave the consultation room.

He paused for a moment in the corridor.

He Ying stood at the door.

She was wearing a dark, thin coat, her hair was tied in a low ponytail, and she was holding a paper bag.

She just stood there, looking at him.

Chen Dapeng lowered his hand that was pressing on the gauze, and there was still a slight stinging sensation from the wound at the corner of his mouth.

"Why are you here?"

He Ying glanced at him, her gaze lingering on the pink scar on his face for a moment before looking away.

"Just passing by."

When she said those two words, her tone was very calm, as if she were talking about something extremely ordinary.

But Chen Dapeng knew that the county hospital was on the east side of the county town, and the county government was in the center of the county town, a fifteen-minute drive away.

She couldn't have just "passed by" here; she came specifically to see him, but was too embarrassed to say it outright.

But he didn't expose her.

The two stood in the corridor, neither of them speaking.

Two minutes later, He Ying asked.

"Is it all demolished?"

"It's all demolished."

"What did the doctor say?"

"They said the recovery is going well, and I can get it wet in a couple of days."

He Ying nodded but did not reply.

"Have you eaten?" Chen Dapeng suddenly asked.

He Ying glanced at him and said, "I ate."

"What did you eat?"

He Ying opened her mouth, but didn't say anything.

Chen Dapeng smiled and said, "You didn't eat."

"I ate." He Ying's tone was a little stubborn, but her eyes were somewhat evasive. "I ate this morning."

It's 2 PM now.

He Ying did not respond.

Chen Dapeng took the paper bag from her hand, opened it and glanced inside—it contained two steamed buns, still warm.

He handed the paper bag back.

"Buy it for yourself, right?"

He Ying took the paper bag, bent down, took out a steamed bun from inside, and handed it to him.

"Do you want some?"

Chen Dapeng looked at the steamed bun she handed him, then looked into her eyes.

"eat."

He took the bun, took a bite, and found it was filled with fresh pork. The dough was a bit thick, and the filling was on the salty side, but he thought it was one of the best buns he had ever eaten.

He Ying also took one and ate it in small bites.

She ate very elegantly, completely unlike Chen Dapeng who finished a meal in a few bites.

The two stood in the corridor, each holding a steamed bun, neither of them speaking, only the occasional sound of chewing.

A nurse passing by glanced at them, her gaze lingering briefly on the wound on Chen Dapeng's lip before moving away without stopping.

After finishing the steamed bun, He Ying crumpled the paper bag into a ball and threw it into the trash can at the end of the corridor.

She walked back and stood in front of him.

"Chen Dapeng".

She rarely called him by his full name; she usually called him "Dapeng" or "Xiao Chen."

When she uses her full name, it usually means she's about to say something serious.

"Um?"

Your injury is because of me.

Chen Dapeng opened his mouth as if to say something, but He Ying interrupted him by raising her hand.

"Let me finish." Her voice wasn't loud, but it was very serious. "The things you did for me were because of me. The reason you got beaten up was also because of me. You had three stitches in your lip, a bruised rib, and you were beaten up alone in a hotel in Liuhe Town."

She looked at him, her gaze deep and intense.

"You never complained. You never asked me if it was worth it."

Chen Dapeng fell silent.

The corridor was quiet, with the fluorescent lights humming softly.

"County Magistrate He—"

"Don't call me County Magistrate He," He Ying said, her voice slightly hoarse. "Not now."

Chen Dapeng looked into her eyes, his throat tightening slightly.

He didn't know what to call her.

Should we call her "Sister Ying"?

The form of address is somewhat intimate, but not enough.

Is her name "He Ying"?

It's too direct; he can't bring himself to say it.

Is her name "Yingying"?

That's what his older sister calls him; it's too intimate, he doesn't dare.

He Ying didn't urge him; she just stood there and waited.

Footsteps came from the other end of the corridor. A doctor came out of the examination room, glanced at them, then looked down at the medical records and walked past them.

Chen Dapeng took a deep breath.

"Sister Ying."

He finally called out.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was very clear.

He Ying's lips twitched slightly—not the kind of formulaic smile, but a genuine, heartfelt smile with light in her eyes.

Chen Dapeng had never seen that kind of smile on her face before.

When she speaks on stage, she is authoritative and distant.

When she's reviewing documents in the office, she's calm and efficient.

When she squats down in the fields of Shuangqiao Town to knead the soil, she is serious and focused.

But now, she smiled.

She smiled like an ordinary girl who would be happy if someone called her "sister".

Looking at her smile, Chen Dapeng's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

"Dapeng".

He Ying's voice was very soft.

"Um?"

"Once all this is over—"

She paused for a moment, as if considering how to say it.

Someone else walked by in the corridor, their footsteps interrupting the conversation.

After the person walked away, He Ying shook her head.

"Never mind. We'll talk about it later."

Chen Dapeng looked at her and asked, "What did you say?"

He Ying did not answer.

She reached out and gently touched the scar on his face.

Her fingertips trembled slightly.

Chen Dapeng stood there, motionless, he didn't even dare to breathe.

He Ying's finger lingered on his face for about three seconds before she withdrew it and turned to walk towards the stairwell.

She took two steps, then stopped without looking back.

"The provincial audit team will arrive the day after tomorrow. It will be very busy, so be prepared."

"it is good."

He Ying didn't say anything more and quickly went downstairs.

Chen Dapeng stood there, stunned, touching the spot on his face where she had touched him.

This was the first time He Ying had physical contact with him while she was conscious.

Last time, it was also in a hotel, and both of them got quite drunk.

He stood there for a long time.

Finally, he lowered his hand, took a deep breath, and went downstairs.

As he walked out of the hospital, he took out his phone and saw a WeChat message from He Ying.

"Are the steamed buns delicious?"

Chen Dapeng stared at the words, a slight smile playing on his lips—it aggravated his still-healing wound, causing a slight pain, but he paid it no mind.

He typed a few words: "Delicious. This is the best steamed bun I've ever eaten."

The other party quickly replied: "Of course, the steamed buns I bought are delicious."

Chen Dapeng looked at the message and suddenly burst out laughing.

He never expected that He Ying had such a cute side.

Passersby glanced at him and probably thought he must be crazy, standing at the hospital entrance grinning like an idiot.

Chen Dapeng didn't pay any attention, put his phone in his pocket, and strode towards the parking lot.

The wound at the corner of my mouth still hurts a little.

But the pain was different from before.

It even has a slightly sweet taste...

When he walked to the parking lot, he saw the black Passat.

He Ying was sitting in the driver's seat, her hands on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the windshield.

He then walked over and knocked on the car window.

The car window slowly rolled down, and He Ying turned to look at him. Her expression was much calmer than it had been in the corridor, but there was a faint blush on her earlobes.

Why haven't you left yet?

"There's a problem with the car."

Chen Dapeng glanced down at the instrument panel—everything was normal, and no warning lights were on.

He didn't expose her. Instead, he bent down and leaned against the car window frame, instantly closing the distance between them.

He Ying didn't dodge or turn her head; she just stared at him.

"Get in the car."

Chen Dapeng was taken aback: "Where to?"

"I'll take you back."

"Um."

He Ying pressed the central locking button, and the car door clicked open.

Chen Dapeng walked around the front of the car, opened the passenger door, and got in.

He Ying shifted gears, released the brakes, and the car slowly drove out of the parking lot.

Neither of them spoke.

The car was quiet. Chen Dapeng leaned back in his seat and looked out the window.

After driving for a while, He Ying suddenly spoke up.

"The doctor said that the cut on your lip will leave a scar?"

Chen Dapeng reached out and touched the scar: "They say it will leave a little bit, but it won't be noticeable."

Do you regret it?

"Regret what?"

He Ying didn't look at him, her eyes fixed on the road ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel, her tone flat: "I regret going to Liuhe Town that night. I regret helping me with the audit team. I regret knowing me."

Chen Dapeng was silent for two seconds.

No regrets.

He Ying's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

"And you?"

He Ying did not answer. The car stopped slowly at a red light at the intersection.

She finally turned her head and looked at him.

There was so much in her eyes—heartache, guilt, gratitude, and other emotions that she herself might not be able to explain.

"Dapeng," she said softly, "do you know, you can be really annoying sometimes?"

Chen Dapeng was taken aback: "How am I annoying?"

"You never ask if it's worth it." He Ying turned back to look at the red light ahead. "You never complain. You never say, 'I got hurt because of you.' The more you do this, the more I feel—"

Before she could finish speaking, the red light turned green, she stepped on the gas, and the car continued to move forward.

Chen Dapeng looked at her without speaking, but a voice inside him said:

What do you think?

Do you feel indebted?

Feeling sorry for them?

Or do you still feel—that you care about me too?

He didn't ask.

There are some things that are not the right thing to say yet.

The car turned into the alley where Chen Dapeng lived and stopped downstairs.

He Ying parked the car, her hands still gripping the steering wheel, staring at the gray wall in front of her.

Chen Dapeng unbuckled his seatbelt, preparing to open the door.

"Dapeng".

He Ying suddenly spoke.

He stopped and turned to look at her.

He Ying didn't look at him; her gaze remained fixed ahead, but her lips were slightly pursed, as if she was hesitating about something.

"The provincial audit team will arrive the day after tomorrow."

"I know."

"It will be very busy then."

"I know."

"Get ready."

"I know."

He Ying finally turned her head and looked at him.

The two stared at each other for a second, two seconds, three seconds.

"All you ever say is 'I know'?"

The corners of her mouth curved slightly, not in a smile, but in a helpless yet slightly indulgent reproach.

Chen Dapeng looked at her, and a sudden impulse welled up inside him—he wanted to say something, to do something, but he held back.

He opened his mouth, but in the end only said one sentence: "Drive carefully on the road."

He Ying glanced at him, then turned back and gripped the steering wheel again.

Chen Dapeng pushed open the car door and got out.

As he closed the car door, he heard He Ying's voice coming from inside the car window.

"Dapeng".

He bent down and looked at her through the car window.

"Don't tell your sister about the steamed buns."

Chen Dapeng paused for a moment, then laughed.

"it is good."

He straightened up, turned around, and walked into the building.

After walking a few steps, I heard the sound of a car starting up behind me.

He didn't turn around, but he knew that the car must have stayed where it was and hadn't driven away immediately.

Just like in the parking lot.

She was waiting, waiting for him to walk away.

After going upstairs, Chen Dapeng walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and looked down.

The black Passat is still parked downstairs.

A few seconds later, the car slowly drove out of the alley, turned onto the main road, and disappeared into the traffic.

Chen Dapeng stood by the window, looking in that direction, for a long time.

He reached up and touched the scar on the corner of his mouth.

The scar she touched...