Little Meteor Chapter 6
byChapter 6 The Dish is Too Sour
Jiang Chengxuan had two surgeries scheduled for tomorrow morning, leaving him only the midday break to conduct pre-operative communication with the families. The first surgery involved a complex meningioma, and since the patient was older, the family had an exceptional number of questions and anxieties. Jiang Chengxuan did his best to explain everything in the most accessible language possible.
Lunch breaks were a luxury for doctors. By the time Jiang Chengxuan returned to his office, it was nearly 1:20 PM. Shen Mu was already fast asleep, slumped over his desk, his hand still clutching his phone.
Jiang Chengxuan walked over and gently moved the phone aside. The air conditioning in the office was running quite high during the day, so he retrieved a blanket and draped it over Shen Mu before sitting down across from him.
Shen Mu’s features were naturally cool, but he looked different when he smiled. The full, soft bags under his eyes bunched up against his lower lids, instantly dissolving all the coolness, making his entire face bright and warm—impossible to look away from. However, since their reunion, Jiang Chengxuan rarely saw him smile. Now, asleep, he looked docile. His eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath his eyes, and the slight frown that usually creased his brow was smoothed out, leaving him looking utterly defenseless, even possessing a rare softness.
Jiang Chengxuan raised his hand, his fingertips hovering in the air for a moment before he pulled them back.
He still had a little time, so Jiang Chengxuan went downstairs and bought a cup of Coconut Latte. He remembered Shen Mu used to love it, especially after his midday nap, but he wasn’t sure if Shen Mu’s taste had changed.
The shop was quite busy at the moment, mostly with patients’ family members. The young woman taking his order stared at him for a while. Jiang Chengxuan waited ten minutes before collecting his drink.
When he passed the nurses’ station on his way back, a nurse greeted him. Seeing the takeout bag in his hand, she looked quite surprised: “Doctor Jiang, don’t you never drink coffee?”
Jiang Chengxuan simply smiled and offered no further explanation.
He stopped at the office door when he heard voices coming from inside.
The person talking to Shen Mu was Liang Siyuan, one of his interns.
Liang Siyuan had come looking for Jiang Chengxuan, but since Jiang Chengxuan was absent, he struck up a conversation. He was a Social Butterfly and humorous, and everyone in the department liked him. Shen Mu was laughing and chatting with him.
Liang Siyuan turned around and immediately stood up when he saw Jiang Chengxuan: “Professor Jiang.”
Jiang Chengxuan nodded and glanced at the two cups of coffee sitting on the desk.
Liang Siyuan was completely oblivious: “Screenwriter Shen treated me. He’s really nice… Oh, Professor Jiang, you bought coffee too?”
Jiang Chengxuan’s gaze lingered on Liang Siyuan’s cappuccino for a moment, then he reached out and placed his own Coconut Latte into Liang Siyuan’s hand: “Let’s switch. I want to drink this one.”
Liang Siyuan froze, still processing, but Jiang Chengxuan had already taken his cappuccino, the action so smooth it seemed perfectly natural.
Shen Mu had been extremely sleepy after finishing the script. Worried about feeling drowsy in the afternoon, he grabbed his phone to order coffee. He had a coupon for 14 off 27 that was expiring tomorrow, so he ordered two cups. He was so tired that he fell asleep at his desk, only to be woken by a call from the delivery driver saying they couldn’t bring the order up to the hospital. Just then, Liang Siyuan walked by. Learning it was a delivery for the Neurosurgery Department, he was happy to help and bring it up. Naturally, the extra cup went to Liang Siyuan.
In Shen Mu’s memory, Jiang Chengxuan never drank coffee and had even lectured him on the various drawbacks of coffee, advising Shen Mu not to drink it either. But Shen Mu never listened, often calling him old-fashioned.
Shen Mu realized that Jiang Chengxuan might be jealous right now, which would explain this out-of-character behavior, but the thought was quickly suppressed. Perhaps he had been disappointed too many times before; when the truth was revealed, the only one left embarrassed was always the one who had been overly hopeful.
Shen Mu thanked him and found an excuse to leave.
Liang Siyuan held the swapped Coconut Latte, feeling like he was holding a hot potato. He looked at the door, then at the expressionless Jiang Chengxuan sipping the cappuccino, belatedly sensing a subtle low pressure in the room. He cautiously took a sip of the Coconut Latte. The rich coconut aroma mixed with the mellow coffee tasted delicious, yet at this moment, it carried a strange flavor.
Professor Jiang seems to have feelings for Screenwriter Shen that are not exactly ordinary.
Shen Mu took the revised script to the Dean/Director, having added a section explaining why certain examinations were mandatory for doctors, emphasizing the importance of communication in doctor-patient relationships. The Dean/Director reluctantly nodded.
In the afternoon, Jiang Chengxuan held his clinic hours, allowing him the rare opportunity to leave work on time.
In the hospital cafeteria, Liang Siyuan was sitting with Shen Mu again. Liang Siyuan was talking excitedly, gesturing wildly, while Shen Mu wore a slight smile and occasionally nodded along.
Jiang Chengxuan had mentored Liang Siyuan for a long time and knew his personality—he could chat with anyone—but the sight was inexplicably jarring, especially since Liang Siyuan was practically leaning against Shen Mu’s shoulder.
“What are you two talking about that’s so amusing?”
Jiang Chengxuan set his tray down and sat across from them, his voice steady, betraying no emotion.
Shen Mu looked up at the sound, the smile not yet fully gone from his face. The eyes that usually held a hint of aloofness were softened considerably: “Doctor Liang is showing me a funny medical short video his college made. It’s quite interesting.”
Jiang Chengxuan picked up his chopsticks and delicately pushed aside the green vegetables on his plate: “Is that so? I recall your last monthly exam, your differential diagnosis regarding ‘subgaleal hematoma’ in the case analysis was not clear enough. It seems you have plenty of spare time.”
The smile on Liang Siyuan’s face instantly stiffened. He mumbled softly: “Professor Jiang, no talking about academics during meals. This is the East Asian family curse I’ve fought against since childhood. I finally escaped home, and you can’t continue it here in the hospital cafeteria. My psychological shadow is almost bigger than this tray.”
Shen Mu couldn’t help but laugh out loud, his eyes curving into a beautiful arc: “It seems it’s the same everywhere. Students fear teachers—it’s only natural.”
Liang Siyuan paused for a moment before speaking: “Screenwriter Shen, that’s not fair of you. Why are you gloating?”
“I’m not gloating. I’m just stating the facts.”
“I’m finished eating,” Jiang Chengxuan suddenly put down his chopsticks, picked up his tray, and stood up. “You two take your time.”
Liang Siyuan gasped: “You’re done already? You barely ate anything.”
Liang Siyuan watched Jiang Chengxuan’s almost untouched tray and his rapidly disappearing back. He opened his mouth, then slowly turned back, muttering to himself: “Professor Jiang is really strange today.”
Shen Mu lowered his head and took a sip of water, the corner of his mouth curving slightly: “Maybe the dish was too sour.”
“Sour?” Liang Siyuan looked confused.
Shen Mu smiled: “Just eat your food.”