"Time to clock out."
Ye Shuang glanced at the clock, noting it was the end of his shift, yet he made no move to pack up—his gaze drifted toward the two students lying on the sickbeds behind him, both resting with fevers.
"Though I’ve already notified their families to pick them up, the response is still a bit slow," Ye Shuang mused. Perhaps it was because the parents were also tied up with work. Not everyone could easily take time off, after all.
Especially in smaller companies with incomplete policies, even requesting leave often felt like begging for a favor rather than simply giving notice.
"School doctor~ I feel awful… comfort me, please…" One of the regulars on the sickbed whined pitifully.
"Rest properly and don’t talk," Ye Shuang replied. "I’ll stay here until your parents arrive."
The girl on the bed added weakly, "My dad might not come. To them, making money matters more. With so many kids at home, I’m just the third wheel—unloved by uncles and ignored by grandpa."
"Heh… cough… cough…"
"Still, it’s nice here. So relaxing, and you’re so kind, school doctor."
Ye Shuang said, "Alright, try to sleep a little more."
Before long, a parent arrived, scowling at the student on the bed.
"I told you to take care of yourself! Do I look like I have time to drag you to the doctor?! So many mouths to feed at home—this is such a pain!"
Ye Shuang interjected calmly, "This parent, your child likely caught the flu. It’s not about whether she took care of herself or not."
"Then how come others aren’t sick?! Just you?" The parent snapped.
"They are. Right here," the boy on the neighboring bed chimed in.
Parent: "…"
"Several students have fevers today. This isn’t your child’s fault, so please don’t blame her," Ye Shuang continued.
Gradually, the parent simmered down, though an apology to their child was out of the question. "Let’s go," they muttered.
The girl slowly sat up, offering Ye Shuang a frail smile before leaving.
"Your grades are terrible, and you’re always causing trouble. Why can’t you be more like the Wang family’s kid next door?!"
"…Okay."
Ye Shuang watched them leave in silence.
Beyond a brief explanation, he didn’t say much more to the parent. No amount of reasoning could change someone’s ingrained temperament.
Many parents loved comparing their children to outstanding peers but never thought to measure themselves against exemplary parents.
"Teacher Ye, you can head off first. I’ll be fine here—just a guy with a fever," the boy on the bed said with a grin.
"My mom probably won’t be able to pick me up till after work."
"It’s no trouble. As the school doctor, it’s my responsibility to look after you when you’re sick," Ye Shuang replied. "Feeling any better?"
"Yeah, slept a bit earlier."
"Good. Rest some more."
"Got it. Thanks, Teacher Ye. No wonder you’re so popular."
Popular?
Ye Shuang blinked, then chuckled without further comment.
Around then, Bai Yuyou and Tang Keke messaged him, saying they’d gone ahead to their part-time jobs—since classes were canceled after their cleaning duty, they’d headed straight to work.
Ye Shuang tapped out a reply, telling them to take care and be careful, before deciding to check on them at the restaurant after escorting the remaining student home.
He couldn’t shake the worry.
"Guess this is what parenting feels like," he thought wryly.
"…"
A knock sounded at the door. Tap-tap-tap.
Ye Shuang turned to find an unexpected visitor—a scrawny old man stood at the entrance, scanning the infirmary with sharp eyes.
"Hm?"
"What’s with the ‘hm’? Where’s my precious little fish?" Anshi Yilang demanded, glancing around.
"How would I know? She’s always vanishing without a trace," Ye Shuang said, then added, "Wait… are you still not out of her blocklist?"
Anshi Yilang’s neck flushed. "Nonsense! I’m her beloved grandpa. Getting blocked is just that child’s idea of a joke."
So he was still blocked.
"You’re a school doctor, yet you’ve got a game controller on your desk?" Anshi Yilang frowned, spotting the device.
Ye Shuang glanced at it. "This? It’s An Shiyu’s."
Anshi Yilang immediately brightened. "Ah, gaming’s good. Sharpens the mind."
Ye Shuang: "…"
This old man’s mood swings were faster than flipping pages. Anything his granddaughter did was golden, huh?
"Hey."
"My name’s Ye Shuang, not ‘hey.’"
"Whatever. You’ve got my little fish’s contact info, right?"
"I do, but we barely talk."
"Then—help me reach her."
Before he finished, Ye Shuang’s gaze turned pitying. Anshi Yilang bristled. "What’s that look for?!"
"Nothing. I’m definitely not feeling sorry for you."
"You just said it outright, you brat!"
Ye Shuang pulled out his phone and located An Shiyu’s contact. Their chat history was sparse, to say the least.
An Shiyu: Oi. I’m playing VR in the infirmary.
Ye Shuang: Denied.
…
An Shiyu: Hungry. Bring me pizza.
Ye Shuang: It’s 2 a.m., sis.
…
All exchanges like this. Ye Shuang tapped the voice call button, and it connected almost instantly.
A voice crackled through: "What?"
"Your grandpa’s looking for you."
"Tch. You’re not my grandpa."
"I mean your grandpa. He came to me because he couldn’t find you." Ye Shuang sighed and handed the phone over. "Here, talk to him."
Anshi Yilang accepted it eagerly. "Little Fish—"
Beep.
He stood frozen for several seconds before silently returning the phone. "Done talking."
Ye Shuang: "…"
"Done" as in hung up on, right?
To preserve the old man’s dignity, Ye Shuang took the phone back without comment.
"If she won’t talk to me, tell her not to bail on our agreement again," Anshi Yilang grumbled.
"Hm?" Though puzzled, Ye Shuang nodded. "Alright, I’ll pass it along when I see her."
After asking about the fever outbreak among students, Anshi Yilang finally left—but as Ye Shuang watched his retreating figure, an inexplicable loneliness seemed to cling to him.