Crossing People
One must not drown oneself
“Dr. Jian, don’t be mad at me anymore.”
The smell of the hospital wasn’t pleasant. The cleaning lady in the ward was very diligent, but the air was always filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant.
The distance between them was very close. Jian Qing didn’t have a refreshing scent, only a faint smell of alcohol that drifted into Lu Yinxi’s nose.
Lu Yinxi slightly raised her head, staring directly into Jian Qing’s calm eyes. She placed both hands on Jian Qing’s waist, her palms touching the firm texture of the white coat, and the body beneath the coat stiffened instantly, tensing her spine.
Jian Qing’s lips moved, but before she could speak, Lu Yinxi, as if electrocuted, let go of her hands.
The hospital wasn’t exactly a clean environment. The seemingly white lab coats might be covered with various germs.
She remembered that Jian Qing had a bit of a cleanliness obsession and was afraid of being pushed away mercilessly like last time.
Moreover, a wave of heat rose behind Lu Yinxi’s ears, and a strange feeling surged in her heart.
Hugging around the waist felt really wrong.
She would occasionally hug her friends around the waist, acting cute and playful, but she never had this kind of electrifying feeling. Her nerve endings seemed to be countless times more sensitive, and the unfamiliar touch was magnified infinitely, causing her heartbeat to accelerate.
Jian Qing watched Lu Yinxi withdraw her hands, pressed her lips together, and her eyes remained calm: “I’m not mad.”
After spending so much time together, Lu Yinxi had figured out this person’s personality in front of her and softly retorted, “If you’re not mad, why did you ignore me all noon?”
Her tone carried a bit of grievance.
Jian Qing averted her gaze, not looking at her, and said softly, “Are you a three-year-old? Do you need me to coax you with candy, giving you constant attention?”
Lu Yinxi was silent for a moment, moving her feet to place herself back in Jian Qing’s line of sight: “If you don’t want to pay attention to me, that’s fine, I don’t care, but there’s a patient who needs your special attention.”
In the hospital, Jian Qing focused more on work than personal matters, and she automatically ignored the first part of Lu Yinxi’s sentence, asking, “Who?”
Before Lu Yinxi could answer, Jian Qing looked around: “Let’s talk in the office.”
Lu Yinxi followed Jian Qing back to the office, sitting in the farthest corner, and spoke in a low voice: “Teacher Zhao has suicidal tendencies. We need to inform the doctors, nurses, and aides to be careful, not to leave sharp objects in the ward, and not to leave her alone.”
Jian Qing habitually squeezed hand sanitizer, rubbing her hands while asking, “When did you find out?”
“Just now, while I was chatting with her. We were having a good conversation, and she suddenly said she wanted to die. When I heard that, my heart skipped a beat, and I didn’t know how to comfort her. She seemed very optimistic, always actively receiving treatment, laughing and talking with everyone. Last time, I even heard her advising the patient in the next bed to stay positive…”
Jian Qing rubbed her temples and sighed almost inaudibly: “I will ask everyone to pay attention.”
Having worked in the hospital for a long time, one would almost always witness patients committing suicide.
Especially terminal cancer patients, with no hope of cure, they tend to have depressive and anxious tendencies. Those negative emotions lower their compliance, affecting the treatment outcome. Patients, after prolonged suppression and despair, fearing they become a burden to their families, dragging others down, often choose to end their lives.
If a patient directly exhibits sleep disorders, irritability, or prolonged low mood, it is easy to notice and implement interventions.
But some patients, without deep conversations, you can’t tell at all. They appear to be laughing and joking, fearless of life and death, giving family members and healthcare workers an illusion of active treatment, but in reality, they are just forcing a smile.
If no one notices these patients’ inner world, they might head towards self-destruction, jumping off buildings, cutting wrists, swallowing pills… ending their lives in various painful ways.
Lu Yinxi looked down at her toes.
Such a death doesn’t solve problems; it only takes away some problems and creates new ones.
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Patients think by ending their lives, they reduce their family’s burden, but in fact, it brings an insurmountable shadow to the family members, and even the responsible doctors and nurses may fall into feelings of guilt and failure. That sense of dereliction will haunt them, making them sleepless at night.
Lu Yinxi looked up at Jian Qing’s face and asked, “Hey, you seem to be feeling down?”
Jian Qing’s face had no expression, but Lu Yinxi accurately read the emotional change.
Lu Yinxi gently tugged on her clothes, comforting her: “Don’t be down. With more experience, you’ll start to notice these things. Teacher Zhao hid it so well; if she didn’t say anything, it would be really hard for others to notice. Also, some patients are afraid of doctors, just like students get nervous seeing teachers, they don’t dare to talk much, let alone share their inner thoughts.”
During her time in the oncology department, Lu Yinxi noticed that patients and their families never dared to chat with Jian Qing about trivial matters.
Jian Qing had a young and pretty face, but it was always cold, with no emotional color in her eyes, only seriousness.
Some family members, clearly much older than Jian Qing, would still stand up obediently and listen to her instructions during rounds, like students seeing a teacher.
Lu Yinxi continued to soothe Jian Qing: “I’m not a real doctor, so I can be more approachable, make friends with them, and talk about their feelings. If all doctors were like me, they might have a mental breakdown and quit within two years.
An expert once said that treating and saving lives is like carrying people across a river. So I think doctors can’t be soft, absorbing negative emotions like a sponge. To carry people across the river, you must first ensure you don’t drown yourself, right?”
Keeping a distance from patients is a form of self-protection.
In other departments, doctors can get close to patients, even become friends, but oncology is a department with little sense of cure achievement. Many patients are destined to die. The deeper the emotions doctors invest, the more painful and powerless they feel when patients pass away.
Lu Yinxi was once someone who carried people across the river but drowned in the water. Now, she doesn’t want to see anyone end up like her.
Jian Qing looked at her, with a faint smile in her eyes, and couldn’t help but reach out to rub her head: “You talk a lot.”
Blabbering non-stop.
Lu Yinxi gently swatted away Jian Qing’s hand, snorting: “I’m comforting you, and you think I’m nagging. I’m not talking to you anymore.”
She turned her head away, not speaking.
Jian Qing rubbed her head again, without saying anything, and opened the computer in front of her, logging into the doctor’s workstation to check the patient’s medical records.
Lu Yinxi waited for a while, not getting any comfort from Jian Qing, and let out a small cold snort.
Jian Qing turned her head, glanced at Lu Yinxi, still silent, but slightly curled her lips into a faint smile.
Having gotten used to Jian Qing’s cold demeanor, seeing her smile suddenly, Lu Yinxi couldn’t look away, wanting to imprint that smiling face in her heart.
After a moment, she couldn’t help but softly scold her: “You’re laughing at me again. What’s so funny? What’s so amusing…”
Jian Qing shook her head, retracting her faint smile, and seriously returned to work.
Lu Yinxi didn’t dwell on it, savoring her smile for a moment, unconsciously curling her lips, covering her heart, wondering if she should get an ECG, feeling that her recent heart rate was off.
Thinking of this, she returned her thoughts to medical matters, remembering that it was work time.
From her perspective, Jian Qing might not be a good person in the traditional sense, but she was a good doctor, with no fault in her medical ethics and skills.
She doesn’t remember if Bed 24’s Teacher Zhao had any role in the original story or if she would affect Jian Qing.
But from her experience, if a patient commits suicide in the hospital, the attending doctor, if not aware beforehand, would likely be taken to the medical department or sued in court.
Even if the doctor had no medical errors, out of humanitarianism, the hospital would still choose to compensate and apologize to settle the matter.
If Teacher Zhao really chose to end her life, Teacher Zhou, who had been taking care of her, might not cause trouble, but Teacher Zhao’s family might.
Patients with severe illnesses without family caregivers are often high-risk factors for medical disputes. If such a patient dies in the hospital, unseen family members might appear in the ward, slamming tables, shouting, and grabbing doctors by the collar for answers.
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In reality, sometimes, some hospitals’ doctors dare not accept such patients.
By accepting such patients, Jian Qing was actually taking a huge risk.
Lu Yinxi wasn’t sure if what she was doing interfered with the storyline, but emotionally and logically, she couldn’t just sit by.
This virtual world felt too real. Those patients were living people, not just tools revolving around the protagonist, showing their own emotions and life trajectories in unseen corners.
Even if not for Jian Qing, for the sake of a sick elderly person, she had to intervene.
Lu Yinxi approached Jian Qing again, asking: “Dr. Jian, will you tell Teacher Zhou about this?”
“I will.”
“Teacher Zhao asked me not to tell Teacher Zhou, fearing she would be sad.”
“It can’t be kept from her. She’s the caregiver and must be informed to provide round-the-clock care.”
If not fulfilling the duty to inform, the doctor has to bear some responsibility.
“I understand.” Lu Yinxi sighed softly, “I was just thinking, Teacher Zhao doesn’t want Teacher Zhou to be sad, but she will definitely know, and knowing will make her sad. She might not want Teacher Zhao to know she’s sad, so she’ll pretend not to know and not be sad. It’s so frustrating to think about.”
Jian Qing was a bit dizzy from her words, not understanding why it was frustrating, and coldly said: “Then don’t think about it.”
Lu Yinxi was choked for a moment, about to retort that some empathy is hard to control, but then thought that perhaps Jian Qing had long been immune to these things.
Healthcare workers, when they first step into clinical practice, have the softest hearts, full of enthusiasm, wanting to save lives, to treat every patient kindly, not yet experienced unwarranted doubts and accusations, not yet hurt, betrayed, like the farmer and the snake, still shedding tears for patients, for the world’s suffering.
Later, after seeing too much human warmth and coldness, the naivety was worn away, a heart forged through countless trials, learning to guard, to keep distance, to restrain emotions, not to empathize, becoming what others saw as a serious and cold “white coat.”
She wondered what Jian Qing was like when she first stepped into clinical practice? Did she ever cry for the patients?
Lu Yinxi couldn’t imagine this block of ice crying. She looked cold-hearted and restrained.
But she continued the topic: “Hey, did you cry when you first started clinical practice?”
Jian Qing was typing on the computer, glanced at Lu Yinxi, and said, “Cry? You think I’m like you.”
Hmph, this block of ice was mocking her again.
Lu Yinxi turned her head away, falling silent.
But she was indeed hit right. When she first started her internship, hearing family members’ heart-wrenching cries, she couldn’t help but cry.
Her empathy was too strong, able to easily immerse in various emotions.
It’s an advantage, but sometimes also a disadvantage.
She looked up at a red slogan embedded on the office wall—
【Sometimes to cure; often to help; always to comfort.】
This is the truest portrayal of the oncology department.
In the field of oncology, doctors’ sense of achievement never comes from saving lives, but from extending every cancer patient’s life and alleviating every patient’s pain.
She also once had enthusiasm, diving into it, but later, her dreams were shattered by reality, making all her ideals and ambitions a luxury.
She fled in disarray.
Jian Qing talked little, didn’t like chit-chat, but with Lu Yinxi, she was a bit more patient. Seeing Lu Yinxi shrink into the corner, seemingly upset by her mockery, she seriously explained: “Clinical practice requires a calm mind and professional judgment. Being emotional can affect the diagnosis and treatment.” She slightly shook her head, “Wei Mingming’s heart is too soft. When a patient dies, she hides to cry.”
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Lu Yinxi, snapping out of her silence, attacked Jian Qing personally: “Maybe she’s afraid of you scolding her, you’re so fierce.”
Jian Qing slightly raised her eyebrows: “Fierce?”
Lu Yinxi nodded: “Very fierce.”
Not really fierce, just occasionally a bit mischievous, teasing people, mocking people, with a hint of gloom when silent. Children seeing her would cry in fear. From the outside, she didn’t seem like a kind person.
No wonder she got the villain script.
Jian Qing ignored the childish personal attack, stood up, found a stack of materials, and threw them to Lu Yinxi: “I’ll quiz you when I get back.” Then she planned to go to the nurse station to tell the head nurse to pay special attention to the patient’s condition.
Lu Yinxi obediently responded, looking down at the materials.
As Jian Qing turned to leave, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a few pieces of candy.
Recalling her cold words from earlier—
“Are you a three-year-old, needing me to coax you with candy, giving you constant attention?”
Jian Qing looked at the candy, then at Lu Yinxi, who was focused on the materials, and secretly slipped the candy into her white coat pocket, then left as if nothing had happened.
