Volume One, Chapter 41: Traded for Life

The chicken soup noodles had to be postponed. Just before the end of the shift, trouble arose in the inpatient department—a leukemia patient in the VIP ward started causing a commotion.

Security was called in.

When Ye Sheng arrived at the ward, he saw a crowd gathered around the consulting room. The head nurse was leading the medical staff and security guards, dispersing the patient and his family.

From within the room came a mother’s anguished scream: “Son, what are you trying to do… Do you want to take your mother’s life?”

Ye Sheng reached the doorway and saw a mother kneeling on the floor, tearfully begging her son. The son sat curled up by the window, his long thin legs drawn in, methodically slicing his own hand with a fruit knife.

Blood streamed down, staining his arm red, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, numbly hurting himself.

Behind the mother stood four or five burly bodyguards, none daring to approach or act rashly.

—Did someone call the police?

Ye Sheng turned his head and silently mouthed the question to Mia.

Mia nodded, handed over the patient’s file from the resident doctor, and Ye Sheng recognized it immediately.

She’d seen countless patients, not all memorable, but this one stood out—multiple suicide attempts, a feeble desire to live.

They had suggested psychological intervention. The family was wealthy, claiming they’d consulted psychologists for years and the whole family was undergoing therapy, yet the child still refused to live.

Sometimes, an illness traps not just the patient, but everyone intimately connected to them.

Ye Sheng stepped forward, reached down to help the mother up, meeting her tear-streaked eyes. “Don’t pressure him like this. As a mother, kneeling to your own son puts a heavy moral burden on him.”

She handed her a tissue, and the mother wiped her face, glancing at Ye Sheng’s name badge on his coat. “…Are you Director Ye?”

“Yes, hello.”

Ye Sheng nodded. “Let’s have the bodyguards wait outside. They’re intimidating. Your side’s imposing, making Li Mo seem like he’s fighting alone. Look, he has a knife in his hand but only hurts himself. That means he’s afraid of harming you.”

Suddenly addressed, the boy by the window finally reacted, turning to look at Ye Sheng.

His sunken face was pale and delicate, lips pressed tightly in stubbornness.

Lady Li followed the suggestion and sent the bodyguards out, but Ye Sheng suddenly asked, “Anyone got a cigarette? Let me have one.”

The bodyguards hesitated, then one tentatively offered a pack.

“Thanks.” Ye Sheng pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. “Got a light?”

With a flick, the lighter ignited the cigarette.

Everyone watched in surprise.

Li Mo stared at Ye Sheng, who was enveloped in smoke, frowning. “Isn’t smoking forbidden in the hospital?”

Ye Sheng, cigarette between his lips, walked over, dragged a chair to the bedside, sat down, took two puffs, then looked up with a smile. “There’s plenty the hospital forbids. Causing a scene is one, yet here you are.”

Li Mo shifted his position on the windowsill, startling Lady Li into alarm.

She was about to speak, but Mia quietly tugged her sleeve, leaning in to whisper, “He’s distracting him. Director Ye is experienced with rebellious teens—one touch and it works.”

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Li Mo caught sight of Ye Sheng’s badge, a hint of surprise in his gaze. “So young, and already a director?”

“Yes.” Ye Sheng tapped ash into a disposable paper cup, crossed his legs. “I traded my life for it.”

Li Mo froze. “What do you mean?”

Ye Sheng raised his head and gestured a number. “Six hours. I pulled an all-nighter for your surgery—my back still hurts. Don’t you think you owe me a meal?”

“…"

Li Mo wrinkled his nose, looking embarrassed, lowering his head. “I didn’t ask you to save me.”

Ye Sheng curled his lips—a child after all, emotions written plainly on his face. A rather kind-hearted boy.

“You’re right. I’m a doctor, saving lives is my duty… So, will you treat me or not?”

“I will.” Li Mo replied instinctively, meeting Ye Sheng’s smiling eyes, then hesitated.

Perhaps it was the emotional contagion, or maybe the casual conversation with Ye Sheng smoking made him relax. The invisible hand strangling him suddenly loosened, his furrowed brow smoothed, and his complexion improved.

Li Mo knew that doctors at Haici Hospital didn’t care about a meal. His parents had tried to give a thick red envelope after surgery, but Director Ye refused. Now he insisted on being treated… “What do you want to eat?”

Ye Sheng smiled. “Do you have money?”

“I do.” Li Mo instinctively glanced at his mother, as if only now noticing her face. His smile faded, pain surfacing. “…All my money comes from my parents.”

He gripped the fruit knife. “They raise me, pay for my treatment. It costs a lot, so they work day and night, entertain, put on smiles… Then they come home, comfort me, take me to see psychologists. I know they’re exhausted and suffering.”

“I’ve wanted to die for a long time… It hurts too much. Being sick hurts, treatment hurts. After each round of chemo, I really want to die. Dragging this weak body around, I can’t do anything I want. Living—just a walking corpse…”

Lady Li was already in tears, Mia stepped forward to hold her, stopping her from crying out and further upsetting the child.

A parent’s emotions are often felt most keenly by their children and directly impact them.

“What is it you want to do but can’t?” Ye Sheng asked casually.

Li Mo pressed his lips. “I love Brazilian jiu-jitsu, really love it! My coach says I have talent, but since I got sick, I haven’t set foot in the gym.”

Ye Sheng pulled out his phone and checked his work schedule. “Tomorrow’s impossible, but the day after tomorrow, in the afternoon, I’ll take you.”

Li Mo looked up abruptly, blinking.

“Take me where?”

“The jiu-jitsu gym, your treat.”

Ye Sheng was perfectly direct, snuffed out his cigarette, stood up, and deftly took the fruit knife from Li Mo, who was still dazed. “Look at how you’ve cut yourself. Those wounds will take two days to heal. Without strength in your hand, you’re bound to be pinned by me.”

Li Mo finally reacted. “What do you mean? You know Brazilian jiu-jitsu?”

“Brown belt—does that count?” Ye Sheng pocketed the fruit knife, signaled the nurse to bandage Li Mo’s wounds.

Li Mo’s eyes went wide and round.

Watching Ye Sheng leave the ward, being scolded by the head nurse for smoking, Li Mo poked his head out.

“Brown belt? Are you bluffing?”

Ye Sheng, arm around Lady Li, walked out without responding to the kid.

Mia smiled brightly, filling the room with her presence. “Our fairy Director Ye never bluffs.”