Chapter 10: Alone

The mushroom had lost its power.

Her ability was gone.

This sudden mind-reading bullet screen had appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as abruptly. It was exactly like a temporary buff in a video game—effective, but fleeting.

And it had disappeared precisely when Lu Canran needed it the most.

Just like those streaming platforms that let you watch the first six minutes of a movie for free, then ask you to become a VIP to view the rest.

Lu Canran had been successfully baited.

She was more than willing to pay for this superpower now—

But where was the service provider? Couldn’t it be like that penguin app, popping up the top-up page the moment you gave your phone a little shake?

The young nurse asked, “All done?”

Lu Canran sighed. “It’s over.”

Asking Liang Yuanzheng so bluntly about the person he liked had been way too sudden. Lu Canran still felt shy about it, so she quietly followed her friends back to the hospital room.

Xu Qiao brought some real exam questions for graduate school prep. Zhu Huaxin brought a deck of cards. Qin Bingshuang brought fruit cuts and glutinous rice cakes from a convenience store discount. Chen Wanli brought trouble.

“I’m sleepy,” Chen Wanli was just as blunt in speech. “Aren’t there two beds here? I’m gonna nap on one.”

That had always been his personality. After saying hi, he climbed straight into bed like it was nothing, a little jumpy, and fell asleep not long after, his snores soft and steady, as if he were truly exhausted.

He looked like a worn-out thief.

Lu Canran played five rounds of Dou Dizhu^[1]Dou Dizhu (斗地主) is a popular Chinese card game typically played by three players. One player acts as the “landlord” and the other two form a team to play against them. The game uses … Continue reading with her friends. She was the landlord every single time—and won all five rounds. Even Qin Bingshuang, who proudly called herself the “God of Gambling in Room 116,” was shocked. “How did you know I was hiding a straight? Do you have X-ray vision or something?”

Xu Qiao, quietly working through exam papers on the side, said, “You just have to count cards. Didn’t I teach you that last time? All you need to do is keep track of which cards have been played, compare them with your own hand, and then make deductions based on how others play. It’s not hard.”

Zhu Huaxin praised enthusiastically, “No wonder you scored 148 on your college entrance exam in math. You pick things up fast.”

Lu Canran said nothing, staring at the cards in her hand. Clear bullet screens floated above them. Several cards were clearly flashing messages like [Pick me, pick me,] along with a detailed set of suggested moves for her to choose from. Each option came with a clearly marked win probability.

After losing the ability to read people’s thoughts through bullet screens, Lu Canran suddenly realized she could still read bullet screens on objects. It was as if she had been granted a God of Gambling system.

But it wasn’t of much use.

Although the job market for university students was incredibly tough these days, Lu Canran wasn’t quite ready to find employment through the Criminal Law. Sure, that was technically part of the system too, counted as a stable government job, but getting herself locked behind iron bars didn’t seem like the most respectable career path.

She gloomily played her hand. “Straight.”

Another win.

Sigh. If only love were this easy.

Xu Qiao, itching to play, wanted to join a round too. Zhu Huaxin and Qin Bingshuang were already completely defeated and suggested switching things up. With four people, they could play mahjong, and they could even order takeout while they played.

Lu Canran said she was done playing. She stood by the window and noticed the rain had stopped. When she turned back and glanced at the graduate school math practice papers Xu Qiao had brought, the answers automatically surfaced before her eyes. Each question even came with a detailed explanation.

Sigh.

If only love could be this simple too.

Lu Canran made up her mind—she was going to keep cheating at love.

She opened the food delivery app, tapped on the midnight snack red envelope promo out of habit, and searched for the restaurant. Under Zheng Ji’s Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms, there were quite a few negative reviews, all complaining that the mushrooms weren’t fresh and that the late-night menu had limited options.

Lu Canran ordered the stir-fried mixed mushrooms with the most bad reviews, praying she could successfully renew the ability.

When picking up the takeout, Lu Canran moved sneakily, not daring to let her roommates know she had secretly ordered from that place again—especially not Qin Bingshuang. She slipped out of the room like a thief, tore open the takeout bag like a thief, tossed the distinctive paper bag into the trash like a thief—and then ran straight into Liang Yuanzheng like a thief.

He and Xue Ningyuan had been discussing something. As they turned the corner, they saw Lu Canran bent over, tossing something into the trash. All three froze in silence.

Xue Ningyuan hadn’t expected a patient to still be so full of energy this late at night.

Lu Canran hadn’t expected to run into her crush while sneaking around eating garbage-tier food.

And Liang Yuanzheng hadn’t expected Zheng Ji’s Chicken Stewed with Mushrooms to be that delicious.

“Hungry?” Liang Yuanzheng asked. “I have an electric pot and some fresh eggs in my on-call room.”

Working in a hospital drained people both physically and mentally. At the very least, every standardized training resident lived a life no better than that of a beast of burden. Liang Yuanzheng had a large appetite and often added an extra meal during night shifts.

Lu Canran felt like his gaze was saying, Stop digging through trash for food, junior.

She had to offer a proper explanation for her behavior. “I wasn’t digging through the trash. I was just throwing away a takeout bag.”

Then she noticed his gaze had shifted to, Eating from that place isn’t much different from eating trash.

Xue Ningyuan apologized for bumping into her, explaining that a patient had suddenly experienced heart palpitations and needed emergency care. Lu Canran didn’t mind in the slightest and waved it off, saying it was fine, really.

Liang Yuanzheng, with no patience for this small talk, simply told Lu Canran to return to her room and rest—and also suggested she throw away that takeout.

There were only the two of them left in the hallway. It was already late, and the day was coming to an end. Lu Canran was just one step away from renewing her power. Her clever little brain turned quickly and came up with the perfect win-win solution. She obediently said, “Okay, okay,” then swiftly tore open the takeout chopsticks and, right in front of Liang Yuanzheng, shoved three huge bites into her mouth—then immediately tossed the rest of the takeout away.

She moved way too fast.

With his limited life experience, Liang Yuanzheng hadn’t been able to predict her actions. Polite social distance prevented him from reacting in time. By the time he realized what was happening, Lu Canran had already devoured the stir-fried mushrooms like a cat tearing into a cardboard box.

“I already threw it away,” Lu Canran said earnestly, waiting for her power to renew. “Senior.”

Liang Yuanzheng felt like he needed to go take a few breaths from the oxygen machine.

And then, something happened that made him want to even more.

Chen Wanli stumbled out of Lu Canran’s hospital room, groggy and half-awake, shuffling unevenly toward the restroom. As he passed the two of them, he even greeted Lu Canran, “Go back and sleep soon, will you? I’ve already taken a nap and you’re still out here wandering around. Yo, Yuanzheng, long time no see. Still looking half-dead, I see.”

Lu Canran made up her mind to complain to her mom as soon as she got back—tell her Chen Wanli was bullying the guy she liked, and that from now on, she should stop making chicken drumsticks for him.

Liang Yuanzheng didn’t respond to Chen Wanli.

Up to this point, Liang Yuanzheng had already said far more than usual. In fact, he used to be very good at talking, good at turning his life into a moving speech. That skill had earned his family quite a few emergency charitable donations, and it had also helped him win a financial aid spot in class through personal storytelling.

He was also skilled at communicating with patients, explaining the consequences of ignoring medical advice in ways they could understand. If Lu Canran were just an ordinary junior, by now Liang Yuanzheng would have calmly shown her the tube that could reach directly into her stomach, telling her that she might need it for gastric lavage soon and that she should start mentally preparing.

But things were different now. Lu Canran wasn’t just any patient. Even Chen Wanli, who had just walked past barking like a dog, could hardly be considered a normal human being.

“I’ve got food in my room,” Liang Yuanzheng said, carefully choosing his words. “You don’t have to be so… desperate.”

Faced with a choice between “craving” and “crazy,” Lu Canran chose the former. “I just kind of wanted to eat it.”

These days, the term “big craving girl” online usually carried a tone of indulgence and affection, while “big crazy girl” had more mixed reviews. The only “crazy girl” who had truly won everyone’s hearts was still Little Swallow from over twenty years ago.^[2]The term “big craving girl” (大馋丫头) is often used affectionately to describe a girl who really loves to eat—it’s seen as cute and endearing. In contrast, “big crazy girl” … Continue reading

Lu Canran didn’t have eyes that big, nor a personality that wild.

But tonight, she let herself go just a little.

“Is the on-call room just for you, Senior?” Lu Canran asked carefully. “Is that okay?”

—Of course it was.

Liang Yuanzheng found that Lu Canran was like a freshly sprouted little mushroom. Everything she looked at seemed new and interesting to her, and yet she was so cautious about it all. Her mushroom cap was topped with dry twigs and fallen leaves as camouflage. On the surface she stayed still and quiet, but in reality, her eyes were darting around, taking in everything.

He almost wanted to dig out his own pair of eyes and offer them to her, telling her to slow down and stop moving her eyes so fast.

The on-call room that the affiliated hospital had prepared for standardized training residents was actually quite decent. Two beds, two desks, recently renovated. Not very spacious, but about the same size as a graduate student dorm. Since Liang Yuanzheng often worked night shifts, he was more or less settled here.

When he opened the door, he checked quickly. The bedsheets were neatly laid—though not immaculately so. They weren’t perfectly flat and wrinkle-free. The blanket was folded into a square, the kind of square a normal person would casually fold, not the sharp-cornered standard of a military bunk. The sheets had just been changed two days ago, so there was no chance of any leftover… bodily traces.

Given the limited conditions, it was a kind of perfection achieved through doing one’s best.

On the desk, textbooks, a black leather notebook, a thermos, and a discounted IKEA desk lamp with a small defect were all neatly arranged.

Lu Canran carefully sat down on his chair, her ponytail lightly brushing the worn-out backrest.

Liang Yuanzheng suddenly felt the urge to buy a softer cushion for the chair, or maybe a pink backrest pad to cover the peeling paint on it.

He found a new set of tableware—not something he had specially prepared for today, just part of a buy-one-get-one-free deal. There wasn’t much food in storage. Liang Yuanzheng simply boiled some soft-boiled eggs. “How many eggs do you want?”

“Would three be okay?”

“Mm, do you want scallions or cilantro?”

“…No, it’s okay. Thank you, Senior.”

That brief exchange gave her the fluttery illusion of being an old married couple.

Lu Canran had been quietly observing all along.

Walking into this room—wasn’t it basically the same as stepping into her senior’s bedroom? She didn’t even dare sneak a glance at Liang Yuanzheng’s bed. Staring too long felt like she was harassing his body from a distance.

So she fixed her eyes on his desk instead, trying to absorb as much information about his life as possible.

Liang Yuanzheng served the soft-boiled eggs in a pristine white bowl. The egg whites were fully set, while the yolks were soft and golden like the morning sun, perfectly half-cooked. He had peeled off the shells, sliced the eggs in half, drizzled them with a light, well-balanced sauce, and handed them to her with a spoon that had a wooden handle carved into the shape of a tiny mushroom.

Lu Canran took one bite and immediately felt her eyes sting.

Noticing something was off, Liang Yuanzheng asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s delicious,” Lu Canran replied, shoveling in more egg. “It’s so good it’s making my eyes sting a little.”

“Sting?” Liang Yuanzheng paused. “This dorm was just renovated over the winter. Maybe there’s still some residual formaldehyde.”

Lu Canran: “……”

When your mouth is full, any strong emotion only makes your teeth chew faster. But no matter how hard you chew, you can’t break emotions down and swallow them. As Lu Canran ate that soft-boiled egg, an incomparable sadness surfaced within her.

If Liang Yuanzheng had been terrible at cooking, if his on-call room had been a mess, then maybe, if she couldn’t have him in the future, she would have had one less regret.

But of course, the egg he made had to be this delicious. So delicious that just thinking about how his heart already belonged to someone else made Lu Canran spiral into a flurry of morally questionable thoughts.

How awful. This liking was slowly turning her darker.

Turning her into fungus, into a mushroom, into one of the countless little mushrooms hiding in the forest undergrowth.

—Liang Yuanzheng, could you like me too?

—I’m really nice. Maybe better than you ever expected.

“Senior,” Lu Canran said, “I wish it were mine.”

Liang Yuanzheng, who was putting the ingredients back in place, paused for a moment and turned to look at her.

“I mean,” Lu Canran said quickly, “this soft-boiled egg is so delicious—I wish I had made it myself.”

“The method’s really simple,” Liang Yuanzheng replied. “Start with the eggs in cold water, bring it to a boil, turn off the heat, cover with a lid, and let it sit for six to eight minutes.”

Lu Canran thanked him. As she lowered her head to eat the last soft-boiled egg, in that narrow room, she heard him take a deep breath.

“Canran,” Liang Yuanzheng said, “if you’re ever hungry at night again, don’t order takeout. You can contact me.”

His expression was a bit serious, a bit sympathetic, as if he were really saying, If you’re ever hungry again, don’t eat garbage. Just come to me directly.

Lu Canran gave a small “mm” in reply.

Liang Yuanzheng added, “Food poisoning isn’t a small matter. Don’t rely too much on luck, and don’t overestimate the hospital’s capabilities.”

“Actually,” Lu Canran said in an even softer voice, “I was really happy this time… to be in the hospital and have you taking care of me.”

“I wasn’t putting my faith in the hospital’s ability, but in yours, Senior.”