Disciplinary Code chapter 78

“Revisiting old places” was something Ji Yao had mentioned once before.

But in Jiang Heng’s understanding, this wasn’t the kind of trip that you could just decide to go on casually. Ji Yao’s work was demanding, and he often felt stretched thin. He cherished his weekends and even struggled to find time for a full week off.

However, the booked flight tickets on Ji Yao’s phone were undeniable. The dates and flight details were all there, leaving Jiang Heng no room for doubt.

Moreover, Ji Yao had chosen a specific date that held significance. It was the same date as their previous trip to Hokkaido, and it seemed like a strong commitment to “start over.”

Holding the phone, Jiang Heng remained silent for a few seconds before letting out a resigned smile.

“Aren’t you busy?” Jiang Heng asked. “Can you take time off?”

He felt somewhat embarrassed that, over the years, he had become more realistic compared to the romantic notions of the past.

Ji Yao had found himself in impulsive situations many times. He was easily influenced by the atmosphere in certain settings, often making quick decisions on the spot. However, he had matured somewhat in the past six years, becoming more grounded and knowing that some preparation was needed before acting on impulse.

“I just called my boss and got it approved,” Ji Yao replied. “I’ll take extra shifts during the Lunar New Year. With the weekends and some annual leave, it works out perfectly.”

During the Lunar New Year, hospitals were usually quite busy, but this year happened to coincide with several of Ji Yao’s colleagues either getting married or visiting family. Staffing was short, and Ji Yao’s willingness to take on extra holiday shifts was a big relief to Hao Yu, the head of the department.

“I might have to spend New Year’s Eve at the hospital,” Ji Yao said, “but it’s okay. You’ll be with me, right?”

For Jiang Heng, it didn’t matter much. His sense of ceremony had always been more about the people he was with rather than the occasion itself. Whether they spent the evening in a hospital lounge eating takeout or had a candlelit dinner at home didn’t make much difference to him.

However, he couldn’t resist teasing Ji Yao a little. “Isn’t it against the rules to have family members at the workplace?”

“Well, technically, yes,” Ji Yao replied, tilting his head to give Jiang Heng a mischievous look. “So, I’ll just tell them that you were crying and throwing a tantrum at home, refusing to spend the New Year without me, and you locked the door to prevent me from going to work.”

Jiang Heng hadn’t expected Ji Yao to turn things around so quickly. He had a knack for twisting words and making it seem like Jiang Heng was the one causing trouble. Jiang Heng couldn’t help but smile.

“In that case, I’ll pass,” Jiang Heng said playfully. “I don’t want to ruin Dr. Ji’s professional image. I’ll just work overtime myself.”

Although Zhou Fang’s case had been resolved, online public opinion was still active. Her decision to appeal had caused a stir on social media. However, when Jiang Heng thought about it that night, he realized that the current sentencing was already quite cautious, and the probability of a retrial seemed low.

Ji Yao didn’t pay much attention to this, as his testimony had already been filed. He believed that this matter was no longer related to him. However, when he returned to work the next day, he was greeted by a large red banner at the entrance of his office.

The banner was about half a person tall, with a red background and gold characters that read “The Compassion of a Doctor” and Ji Yao’s name.

Ji Yao: “…”

He stared at the banner in silence for a full half minute, wracking his brain but failing to come up with an answer.

So, he gave up searching for an answer and asked straightforwardly, “Who sent this? Why isn’t there a signature?”

“It was sent by Ms. Li Linghua,” Hao Yu said as he walked out of the tea room with a tea tray in hand. He came over to join the commotion with a smile on his face and said, “She had it delivered by a courier this morning, specifically addressed to you. Dr. Ji, you’ve done well this time.”

Ji Yao had more questions, but he couldn’t figure out the purpose behind the banner. Checking his phone, he realized that Li Linghua had given an exclusive interview last night.

In the interview, Li Linghua had stopped the reporter, claiming she had a few more words to say. With her fingers tightly intertwined, she appeared hesitant and remorseful. It seemed like she had contemplated for a long time before speaking.

“In fact, I want to apologize to someone,” Li Linghua had said in the interview. She didn’t mention Ji Yao by name but expressed regret for falsely accusing someone and acknowledged the gratitude for their willingness to testify.

“I believed what others said and caused harm to the doctor,” Li Linghua said. “I deeply apologize for my actions and feel ashamed. This incident has made me reflect deeply. In the future, I am willing to establish a fund to help those who have suffered unjustly in doctor-patient disputes.”

The interview was concise, and the video ended there. Ji Yao blinked a few times, somewhat caught off guard.

However, the public reaction to Li Linghua’s interview was mostly positive and reasonable. Medical-patient relationships became a trending topic once again, and Ji Yao skimmed through the discussions on social media. It appeared that the sentiment was favorable and rational.

Ji Yao didn’t hold a grudge against Li Linghua anymore. If this incident could open up a new channel of communication in the strained doctor-patient relationship, it would be a good thing for everyone.

It seemed that Hao Yu shared the same sentiment. He was excited and looked at Ji Yao with shining eyes.

“The hospital director has heard about this, and he has a high opinion of you,” Hao Yu said. “Work hard and keep it up.”

Ji Yao wasn’t sure what “high opinion” meant in this context, but for the moment, he decided not to dwell on it. Instead, he enjoyed the enthusiasm that came with it.

“High opinion” or not, the banner had brought some tangible benefits. For instance, he received a bonus of two thousand yuan, which excited him like a child. Jiang Heng was the first person he wanted to share the news with, so he sent a WeChat message with a picture of the white envelope he held in his hand.

“It’s great,” Jiang Heng replied. “It looks pretty thick.”

“It’s two thousand yuan,” Ji Yao said generously. “So, what do you want? I can fulfill a small request for you.”

Jiang Heng chuckled at Ji Yao’s enthusiasm. He stood up from the sofa, walked to the window, and gazed down at the plaza below. In the not-so-distant square, Lunar New Year festivities were in full swing. A large bunch of balloons swayed in the air, resembling a bouquet of flowers basking in the sun.

In his romantic relationships, Jiang Heng rarely asked for things. He wasn’t good at it and didn’t know how to express his needs. At times, he would rather push the relationship to its limits than utter the words and say what he wanted.

The rhythm of controlling a romantic relationship was straightforward, but making requests was challenging. However, at this moment, he felt an inexplicable urge to make a request.

“mmmh, let’s see,” Jiang Heng said, his gaze fixed on the beautiful bouquet of colorful balloons. He chuckled softly. “How about giving me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers?”