The surgery was taking longer than expected. It had already been seven and a half hours, and the operating room’s sign still showed “Surgery in Progress.”
At first, Xia Yang only occasionally checked his watch, but as time dragged on, he looked at it more frequently, feeling increasingly anxious and restless.
Every minute felt unbearably long.
Tang Siming was also pacing with a furrowed brow near the operating room door. “Didn’t they say it would take seven hours? Why isn’t it over yet?”
“Oh, come on, you think it’s like timing a massage?” Liang Yue shook his head, pulling Tang Siming back to his seat. “This kind of complex surgery involves removing bone spurs, performing an autologous tibial graft, and finally replacing the bone defect with an artificial prosthesis. You can’t estimate the time that precisely! No news is good news.”
“Right, that makes sense.”
Xia Yang listened absentmindedly to their conversation. He didn’t understand the technical terms, but hearing them made him feel uneasy.
Another half-hour passed, and he became increasingly restless, plagued by thoughts of the surgery failing. His palms began to sweat coldly as these worries consumed him.
“Hey, you don’t look so good,” Liang Yue noticed, handing him a cup of hot coffee. “Don’t worry too much. How about we pray for Yi Ge together while we wait?”
“Okay,” Xia Yang nodded, forcing a smile.
“I’ll go first,” Liang Yue said, sitting upright, hands clasped together as he bowed devoutly towards the air. “May Yi Ge’s surgery be successful. If it is, I vow to quit smoking, drinking, and playing poker.”
Tang Siming followed suit: “May Yi Ge’s surgery be successful. If it is, I’ll give up on stocks and mutual funds, sparing my family from ruin.”
After their prayers, they turned to Xia Yang. “Your turn, brother-in-law.”
“I…” Xia Yang hadn’t really thought it through. “Um… if Yi Ge’s surgery is successful… then… I vow to stay with him till old age, never betray him, always be loving, and never divorce.”
“Good! Well said!” The two friends clapped like seals, their applause echoing through the hospital corridor.
Feeling somewhat guilty, Xia Yang glanced again at the operating room, his mind in turmoil. He hadn’t put much thought into what he had said; the words just slipped out.
Perhaps the heavens heard their sincere prayers because, just as they finished, the red light outside the operating room turned off, and the sign changed to “Surgery Completed.”
The three of them stood up immediately.
Xia Yang rushed towards the operating room door, almost tripping over a chair in his haste.
“Careful, don’t get too excited!” Liang Yue steadied him.
Xia Yang brushed off the help and hurried to the door, just as Aaron stepped out, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“How is he, Doctor? Is my husband… still intact?” His voice trembled.
He had gone in as a whole man; he had to come out with all his parts. Otherwise, Xia Yang would be devastated.
Aaron wiped his sweat and adjusted his glasses. “Rest assured, Mr. Xia, the surgery went as expected. Mr. Han’s condition is currently stable.”
“So, the surgery was a success?” Xia Yang asked, his heart still pounding.
Aaron smiled slightly. “There’s still a recovery period to consider, but based on my experience, it seems successful.”
Cheers erupted from Tang Siming and Liang Yue behind them. Xia Yang felt a heavy weight lift from his chest, the air seemed fresher, even scented with disinfectant.
“So, Doctor, when can I see him? He’s probably been through a lot these past few hours…”
Aaron smiled warmly. “We’ll need to wait a bit longer. Mr. Han is currently in the recovery room. Once we’ve confirmed everything is stable, he’ll be moved back to his room.”
“Okay.” Xia Yang nodded obediently.
For the first time, he felt an overwhelming urge to see Han Yi.
He couldn’t explain it—perhaps a surge of post-crisis relief and excitement, even though the crisis and survival weren’t his own.
After a brief conversation with Aaron, Xia Yang and the others waited for Han Yi to be brought back to his room.
Just as they sat down, Xia Yang’s phone rang. It was a video call from Mrs. Tang.
“…Grandma wants to video call me.” He gripped the phone, his hand trembling slightly, his tongue almost tripping over the words.
Of all times, why now?
If Grandma found out they were spending their honeymoon in a hospital, she’d probably come after him with a 40-meter-long knife!
“What should I do? Quick, help me think of something!” he pleaded to the two friends.
“Relax, it’s easy!” Liang Yue’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Just say you and Yi Ge are here for a premarital check-up.”
“What? We’ve been married for almost six months; a premarital check-up now would be silly.” Xia Yang shook his head, dismissing the idea.
“Then say you had a fight with Yi Ge.”
“Uh… that might imply domestic violence.”
Liang Yue’s ideas ranged from immature to legally problematic, none of them practical.
After a moment of thought, Xia Yang decided to cancel the video call and sent a voice message instead.
**[Yang]**: “Sorry, Grandma, Yi Ge and I are at a hot spring, not convenient to video call~”
Tang Siming and Liang Yue gave him a thumbs up. “Good thinking, brother-in-law. A little bit of PDA can work wonders.”
The trick worked. Mrs. Tang didn’t call back, and a few minutes later, she sent two voice messages in response.
**[Grandma]**: “Sorry to disturb you, I’ve been trying to call Xiaoyi several times, but he hasn’t answered. I got worried.”
**[Grandma]**: “Have fun, you two. I’ll video call you tonight.”
Xia Yang nervously replied with an “ok,” setting the matter aside for the moment.
…
By late afternoon, Han Yi was wheeled back to his room from the recovery room.
All his vitals were normal, and the oxygen mask had been removed.
Tang Siming and Liang Yue gathered around his bed, showering him with concern.
“How are you feeling, Yi Ge? Is it painful now that the anesthesia has worn off?”
“You really worried our brother-in-law; he didn’t even eat lunch, waiting outside the operating room the whole time.”
Xia Yang stood behind them, looking at the man on the bed. He had plenty to say, but his mind felt blank at that moment, unable to find the words.
Han Yi waved off his friends, signaling that he was fine. The two, sensing the need for privacy, quietly left the room, leaving the couple alone.
With the door closed, the room fell into a serene silence, like a still pond. Their eyes met, and the emotions beneath the surface were hidden deep below.
Xia Yang took a couple of steps closer to the bed. The man before him looked calm and composed, even after an exhausting eight-hour surgery. He didn’t seem defeated, just slightly pale, a faint trace of fatigue visible.
As Xia Yang gazed into Han Yi’s eyes, a mix of emotions welled up, stirring his heart.
It felt strange, as if the person on the bed, reborn, was family—someone he genuinely cared about.
Seeing him overcome such a significant hurdle moved him, filling him with joy.
He was quite the actor, getting so deeply into character!
“Mr. Han…” After a long pause, Xia Yang spoke softly, pointing to Han Yi. “Your lips are dry. Would you like some water?”
Han Yi nodded.
He hadn’t had water for ten hours since the pre-surgery preparations began.
“Alright, wait here, I’ll get it right away!” Xia Yang turned to fetch water, but then remembered the doctor’s instructions.
No water for six hours post-surgery.
“Uh…”
He returned, looking a bit embarrassed. “You’re not allowed to drink water yet.”
Han Yi: “…”
“How about a substitute?” Xia Yang suggested, trying to cheer him up. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a small item the size of half a finger. “We can’t drink water yet, but using this might make you feel a little better.”
Han Yi looked at the item in his hand. “What is that?”
“Lip balm, unscented,” Xia Yang explained.
As he spoke, he twisted open the lip balm, applying it to his own lips. He then pressed his lips together.
The light pink lips looked clean and translucent, even more glossy and moist after the balm, resembling delicate petals or plump cherries.
Han Yi’s eyes lingered on his lips for a moment. “Okay.”
“Great, let me apply it for you.”
“No…”
The word “need” caught in his throat, unable to come out. Han Yi had reached out, intending to take the lip balm himself, but seeing the young man’s lips again, he suddenly paused, his arm freezing mid-air.
“…It’s a good alternative,” he conceded, almost against his will.
“See? Trust me, I know what I’m doing!” Xia Yang smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand propped on the pillow, leaning forward in a slightly intimate arc.
The light dimmed, and the distance between them suddenly closed, their warm breaths occasionally mingling…
Han Yi could clearly see the blue veins on Xia Yang’s fair neck and the fine hairs on his cheeks. He could even smell the faint scent of gardenia from the hand soap on Xia Yang’s fingers.
He closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by a strange illusion.
“It’s done.” Xia Yang put away the lip balm, maintaining his position as a crescent moon-shaped smile appeared on his lips. “How do you feel? Better?”
Han Yi remained silent.
At such close proximity, the youth’s features were magnified. His lips parted slightly, then closed, glistening and soft, full and inviting. For some reason, the word “jelly” popped into Han Yi’s mind.
He couldn’t quite explain why he thought of that.
Just then, Xia Yang’s voice pulled him back to reality.
“In six hours, you can drink and eat. Is there anything you’d like? I can ask Butler Fang to prepare it.”
Han Yi paused for a moment. “Jelly.”
“Uh?” Xia Yang was stunned, thinking he misheard. “Are you… sure?”
Could it be that the anesthesia had dulled his intelligence?
It was hard to imagine the stoic Han Yi eating jelly… it seemed quite cute.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright.” Xia Yang, still puzzled, opened a shopping app and typed in the product keywords.
Several options popped up on the screen. As he scrolled, he read aloud, “There’s bowl jelly, stick jelly, and even jelly you can suck. Which one do you want?”
Han Yi glanced at him, his Adam’s apple moving slightly. “The kind you can suck.”
“Okay.”
After placing the order and making the payment, Xia Yang sat back on the sofa by the bed. The room fell silent again.
Han Yi checked the time. “You haven’t eaten lunch, have you? Go eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Xia Yang replied, rubbing his stomach. It felt empty, but he genuinely wasn’t hungry, possibly because he was saving his appetite for when the six hours were up.
“Then rest.” Han Yi suggested, noticing Xia Yang stifling two yawns.
“…I’m not tired either.” Xia Yang shook his head, looking at him. “You’ve just had surgery; your body is weak. You should sleep some more.”
He placed his palm gently over Han Yi’s eyelids, brushing down lightly.
Han Yi: “…”
“Rest well,” Xia Yang whispered.
Han Yi brushed his hand away. “I thought you were going to say, ‘Rest in peace.'”
“…”
Neither of them felt sleepy, so they stayed like that for a while until Xia Yang suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, right, while you were in surgery, Grandma messaged saying she wants to video call us.”
“What? A video call?” Han Yi’s eyes narrowed, a frown forming.
“She said she called you several times, but you didn’t answer. She must be worried and wants to see us with her own eyes to feel at ease.”
Han Yi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Even though the surgery seemed successful, there was still a period of observation ahead. He wasn’t ready to let Mrs. Tang know about the surgery just yet.
He tried to prop himself up, but Xia Yang quickly held him down.
“Don’t move,” Xia Yang said seriously. “The doctor specifically instructed you not to move for 72 hours—no sitting, standing, lying face down, or sticking out your butt. You have to stay flat on the bed.”
Han Yi: “…”
“Follow the doctor’s orders, or I’ll have to tie you to the bed,” Xia Yang threatened.
Helpless, Han Yi lay back down.
They couldn’t avoid the video call with Mrs. Tang; it was inevitable.
After thinking for a moment, Han Yi looked up and calmly said, “Come here.”
“Huh?” Xia Yang was puzzled. “Where?”
Han Yi didn’t respond verbally, just patted the empty space beside him on the bed.
The VIP hospital bed was large enough to comfortably fit two men.
Xia Yang watched his gesture, biting his lip shyly. “Another bed scene? And it’s a sickbed play script?”
Author’s Note:
Xia Yang: My plastic husband has grown up; he can now direct scenes!
Director Han: Heh.
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