Don't Give Your Heart to Your Nemesis - Chapter 18

Both of them tacitly chose to forget the night of the drunken incident, just as they had once forgotten the time in high school when Wen Xiaomian carried him to the infirmary after the sports meet.

The only “evidence” left was the handful of dog bone shaped smoking cessation candies in Wen Xiaomian’s pocket.

The Formula 1 Championship was to be held in three days. Yan Ruixing took a rare period of annual leave to accompany Wen Xiaomian to Shanghai.

Upon arrival, Wen Xiaomian was busy acclimating to the track, leaving Yan Ruixing idle in the hotel. It only then occurred to him that his presence felt quite redundant.

Wen Xiaomian ran his own racing team and was a professional driver with a mature medical team behind him; they were far more reliable than a lone doctor like himself.

Thinking back on how long they had known each other, Wen Xiaomian had not actually been as unreliable as he appeared, save for those few years during his rebellious phase in high school.

Conversely, Yan Ruixing looked around the luxury suite. He had felt it was only natural to come when he left, but now he could not quite justify the meaning of his arrival.

Sang Han called, her voice as loud as Hu Xiaona’s. “You! You! You took annual leave!”

“Yes.”

“Annual leave! You actually took annual leave!” Sang Han had known him for years; forget annual leave, he was a model worker who spent every day covering shifts for colleagues. “Where did you go?”

“Shanghai.”

“Holy crap, did you go to see Kian Wen’s race?”

Yan Ruixing admitted it, though he felt a pang of guilt.

“And you still dare to say there is nothing going on between you two?” Sang Han did not give him a chance to explain. “Do not you dare tell me you went there as a doctor for his safety.”

“The man has an entire professional medical team. Would he need an attending physician who has only been working for a few years?”

Yan Ruixing was already feeling guilty; having Sang Han point it out so ruthlessly felt like salt being rubbed into a wound, followed by a dousing of chili water.

“Do not worry about why I came,” Yan Ruixing offered a meaningless explanation. “Anyway, it is not what you think.”

Sang Han lowered her voice. “Are you two together?”

“I am at the hotel; he is at the training ground.”

“Oh! So are you two staying together?”

“No, we are not.” Yan Ruixing found an excuse. “I have something to do; I have to go.”

“Why so defensive? You are definitely hiding something,” Sang Han said as a parting shot. “I cannot make it to the scene, so cheer for my idol for me! Wish him a clean sweep and a successful title defense.”

Wen Xiaomian did not return until after dinner, dangling a smoking cessation candy from his mouth. He looked around the living room and asked Yan Ruixing, “Which room are you sleeping in?”

Yan Ruixing pointed to the bedroom closest to him.

Wen Xiaomian turned toward the other room, but after two steps, he suddenly remembered. “Do we need the monitor tonight?”

“No.”

Wen Xiaomian gave an “Mhm” and continued toward his bedroom.

Yan Ruixing’s gaze followed his back. “If everything is fine, I will head back tomorrow.”

Wen Xiaomian stopped, seemingly waiting for an explanation.

“I cannot really help with anything here, and there is a lot of work waiting for me at the hospital.” By the end, Yan Ruixing almost wanted to laugh at himself. “I do not have a reason to stay.”

Wen Xiaomian turned back, the plastic stick still in his mouth. “Can’t you just watch one of my races officially, as a friend?”

Friend.

During the years Yan Ruixing was growing up as a disciplined student, Wen Xiaomian was his only exception. The first argument, the first burst of anger, the first fight; even the first time skipping class, the first lie, the first time being forced to stand as punishment, and the first self-reflection essay; countless “disobedient” firsts were all related to Wen Xiaomian.

He had truly hated him; he had held a grudge deep in his marrow.

And that loathing was entirely based on their opposing roles. He was the class monitor and the head of the discipline department; Wen Xiaomian was the problem youth who refused to be managed.

Stepping out of their student identities and putting aside the past of trying to control him, they shared no blood feud, and their differing personalities were not enough to ruin a relationship.

Yan Ruixing looked up and offered a rare smile. “Okay.”

They could not very well fight their way onto the operating table.

Let us just be friends, then.

Wen Xiaomian watched the entire process of the corners of Yan Ruixing’s mouth lifting: a landscape he rarely got to admire. He froze, instinctively wanting to press his wristband, only to realize it was his own heartbeat.

The feeling was extremely unsettling, yet he did not dislike it. Wen Xiaomian averted his gaze, nearly biting through the candy stick.

“Sleep early. Goodnight.” Wen Xiaomian fled in a panic.

“Wen Xiaomian,” Yan Ruixing called out again. “Do you need a massage?”

Wen Xiaomian’s brain felt rusty; the gears were stuck and would not turn no matter how hard he tried.

Seeing no reaction, Yan Ruixing panicked, fearing the dog brain was thinking something unclean. He hurried to explain: “It is a head massage. I learned it from a Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner recently. It should help relieve your symptoms.”

“I will be right there. Wait for me in bed!”

Yan Ruixing: ” ”

The sound of splashing water came from the bathroom. Yan Ruixing went into Wen Xiaomian’s bedroom, walked around, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Yan Ruixing could not quite say where things had started going wrong, but the result was that Wen Xiaomian insisted on taking a shower before the head massage.

The bathroom door opened. Yan Ruixing looked at him through the doorframe and secretly breathed a sigh of relief: Wen Xiaomian was wearing a bathrobe and had not come out shirtless and showy.

However, Yan Ruixing looked at the candy stick in his mouth. “You did not even finish it while showering?”

“I just took a new one.”

“Remember to brush your teeth after eating it.”

“I know.” Wen Xiaomian sat down. “Can we start?”

Yan Ruixing pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

On the extra wide double bed, Wen Xiaomian lay horizontally, with part of his ankles hanging off the edge.

Yan Ruixing sat directly above him, starting with gentle pressure from the shoulders. Wen Xiaomian closed his eyes with a relaxed expression; he seemed comfortable.

But the candy stick by his mouth had a strong presence. Yan Ruixing frowned. “Do not eat this before bed in the future.”

“Fine,” Wen Xiaomian added in a very deliberate tone. “It is the last one anyway. I will not be able to eat them even if I want to.”

Yan Ruixing: ” ”

What an act.

“I will make more for you.” Yan Ruixing asked, “If you do not like the dog bone shape, I can change it to something else.”

Wen Xiaomian looked up at him with a squint. “Let us just stick with this one. We have developed feelings for it.”

“True. It is only natural for a dog to eat bones.”

“Hey, Yan Ruixing, you!”

“Alright, I am done teasing you.” Yan Ruixing pursed his lips and gently pressed him back down. “Close your eyes. I will massage you for a bit longer.”

The comfortable touch was sleep inducing. Once Wen Xiaomian’s breathing completely stabilized, Yan Ruixing let go.

The man was sound asleep, but the lollipop was still in his mouth.

Yan Ruixing gently pinched the plastic stick and pulled it out with some effort. He helped him cover up with the duvet and turned off the bedroom light.

Good luck tomorrow. Goodnight.

On the day of the race, Wen Xiaomian woke up early. He wore a black fireproof inner layer; the tight fitting style made his excellent physique vaguely visible.

Yan Ruixing took a few extra glances before turning his eyes away. He brought over the monitoring device. “Just in case, let us do one more monitoring session.”

The monitoring ended with everything normal, and they rushed to the race track.

Yan Ruixing was placed in a VIP seat with the best view. He looked at the ambulance not far away and secretly touched the first aid kit in his bag.

The race was about to start. Wen Xiaomian wore a red racing suit. The light from the glass windows reflected off him, making him look determined, confident, passionate, and bright.

Yan Ruixing sat at the very front of the main grandstand. The roar and engine sounds pierced his eardrums, but he could only hear his own heartbeat.

Yan Ruixing turned his gaze away and pinched the bridge of his nose.

So handsome.

Sitting in the car, Wen Xiaomian’s wristband kept sending mood alerts: the thumping sensation of an accelerated heartbeat.

The race had not even started; what was he so excited about?

The warm up lap ended, the five red lights went out simultaneously, and the race officially began. Wen Xiaomian stepped on the gas and was the first to charge out.

As the race car sped, Yan Ruixing’s heart rate rose in tandem. Screams rose and fell from the stands. Wen Xiaomian was temporarily overtaken by an opponent.

Yan Ruixing had no time to focus on the race; his mind was rehearsing emergency treatment plans while he monitored Wen Xiaomian’s vital signs on his phone.

The race entered the lap countdown.

By the sixteenth lap, Wen Xiaomian completed an overtake and successfully seized the lead; his heart rate increased by 10%. On the eighteenth lap, a virtual safety car was deployed, limiting speeds across the field with the following car in hot pursuit. In the final three laps, the distance between the two cars narrowed to a minimum, making the race thrilling and intense.

Yan Ruixing stared intently at the monitoring index. Every time the blood oxygen dropped by 1%, his heart felt like it was being lashed by a whip; every time the heart rate rose by another 10%, his heart was torn and squeezed so tightly his vision blurred and he could barely breathe.

On the final lap, the entire crowd stood up; everyone’s attention was focused on the display screens.

Yan Ruixing’s abdominal cavity felt as if it were being crushed by wheels; his body convulsed, and his vision distorted. His mind was filled with the consequences of a crisis: acute intracranial pressure increase, obstructive hydrocephalus, communicating hydrocephalus, subarachnoid hemorrhage, tonsillar herniation, central respiratory and circulatory failure.

On the final long straight, everyone craned their necks, while only Yan Ruixing stayed in the corner, his entire body curled up like a clam shell.

From the beginning, he had not cared about the race result; he only cared about Wen Xiaomian’s safety, praying for it to end quickly.

Amidst the cheers, the race came to a successful conclusion.

Wen Xiaomian opened the car door. Under the gaze of thousands, he pulled off his helmet with one hand and struggled to search the spectator stands.

The direction he was in was packed so tightly it was impassable. The chaotic environment cut off any chance for eye contact. After a few attempts, Yan Ruixing gave up. He retreated to the corner and secretly swallowed two fast acting heart saving pills.

Then, Yan Ruixing received a message.

Wen Xiaomian: [Room 306, wait for me.]

When Yan Ruixing went up, the room was empty. On the table sat coconut water, a glass of warm water, and an elegantly arranged fruit platter. Yan Ruixing finished both glasses of water and checked his wristband again.

The sound of a door opening and locking came from behind. As Yan Ruixing turned around, the dazzling champion came from the track to stand before him, breathless and as urgent as someone fighting a fire.

Wen Xiaomian was still wearing his racing suit, his collar pulled open, looking at him loosely.

They looked at each other in a silence that lasted half a minute.

Wen Xiaomian walked up to him and was the first to speak. “Dr. Yan, how long do you plan to make me wait?”

“Wait for what?”

Wen Xiaomian still had that relaxed look, with the corners of his mouth tilted up, always making one worry he was up to no good. “I won the championship, after all. Can’t you offer some congratulations?”

“Mhm, congratulations.”

“Can you be any more perfunctory?”

Yan Ruixing’s chest felt like it was boiling, with bubbles popping and crackling. “Otherwise, what else can I do?”

“At least like this.”

The man’s palm was scorching as he roughly grabbed Yan Ruixing’s wrist and pulled him into his chest. As if fearing he would struggle, he held him tightly like a bandit.

Yan Ruixing’s wrists were cold, but the body falling into the embrace was hot enough to burn. Yet, the hotter it got, the harder Wen Xiaomian held him.

“This is the last time,” Yan Ruixing said, leaning into his embrace and smelling the scent on his neck.

“Okay.”

“I was very worried about you.” Yan Ruixing hugged him back, trembling as if cold from the lingering fear. “Truly! Very worried.”

“I know.” Wen Xiaomian pressed his wristband against Yan Ruixing’s waist. “I felt it.”