The Ceo Of The Company Next Door Seems To Have A Crush On Me Chapter 12

Contact Information and Mild Depression

Yan Xucheng took two steps forward, tentatively calling out a name that had suddenly appeared in his mind: “Lu Zhijian?”

His voice was soft, as if afraid of startling the butterfly resting on the dry tree trunk.

Lu Zhijian subconsciously hid the report in his right hand behind him. He finally spoke the name that had appeared countless times in his heart but never had the chance to be uttered. The simple three syllables left his tongue like notes dancing a minuet: “Yan Xucheng.”

His shyness and surprise were poorly concealed beneath his gentle smile. Yan Xucheng saw it all clearly. For some reason, a smile also touched his lips. Lu Zhijian couldn’t quite describe it, but it was different from his usual polite, everyday smile.

Speaking across a distance of over three meters was inconvenient. Yan Xucheng walked briskly to his side and asked, “Are you here because you’re sick?”

“Ah,” Lu Zhijian made a meaningless sound. He looked hesitantly at the report in his hand. “It’s nothing serious. Y—a friend recommended I come for a check-up.”

Having personally witnessed the deadly antagonism between Yan Zhu and Yan Xucheng that day, Lu Zhijian was extremely vigilant and swallowed Yan Zhu’s name.

Yan Xucheng maintained a strong sense of boundaries with casual acquaintances. Since Lu Zhijian didn’t mention it, he didn’t press the matter. Everyone has secrets; it was normal, especially for someone like Lu Zhijian, who clearly maintained a strong sense of distance. Asking too many questions would be very offensive.

“I have something else to do, so I’ll just—”

“Wait.”

Just as Yan Xucheng was about to wave goodbye, Lu Zhijian grabbed his wrist. A pair of clear, smoky-blue eyes looked at Lu Zhijian in confusion.

Lu Zhijian awkwardly released his grip, his eyes, like cold stars, meeting Yan Xucheng’s gaze: “Can we exchange contact information?”

His ears were slightly red, and he tried to justify his action: “We count as friends, right?”

Yan Xucheng found this amusing. A mischievous streak from his high school days suddenly surged up. He remained still, waiting to see what else Lu Zhijian would say.

The stars in Lu Zhijian’s eyes seemed to melt with the glaciers and flow into the water. He wasn’t quite sure, tentatively looking into Yan Xucheng’s eyes: “Do we?”

“Acquaintances… no, people who know each other…”

Yan Xucheng felt that if he didn’t respond soon, Lu Zhijian might start crying. Lu Zhijian’s trembling and hesitant voice greatly satisfied his sudden mischievousness. He laughed out loud, extending his right hand directly to grasp Lu Zhijian’s left hand: “Of course we count as friends.”

An unfamiliar warmth transferred from the palm of his hand into his body. Lu Zhijian felt a little strange, but it would be impolite to pull away when someone actively offered a handshake, so he could only return the handshake somewhat stiffly.

At that moment, Yan Xucheng suddenly squeezed twice, like a rosebud quietly basking in the sun suddenly bursting open two petals, startling the butterfly resting on the flower. Then, Yan Xucheng naturally withdrew his hand and took out his phone from the pocket of his white coat: “Do you scan me or do I scan you?”

Lu Zhijian didn’t care about the question of who scanned whom: “Either is fine.”

Yan Xucheng nudged Lu Zhijian’s arm: “Tsk, don’t say ‘either is fine,’ choose one.”

“I’ll scan you.” The founder of Juefei Media wouldn’t let an opportunity slip away again and again.

The system immediately sent a greeting in the chat interface. Yan Xucheng waved his hand: “Goodbye~”

Lu Zhijian also smiled and waved back: “Goodbye.”

He suddenly became mature and reliable. Just now, he looked like a child afraid to talk to strangers. But even if Lu Zhijian was a child, he would be the well-behaved kind, the type who would only stare longingly at something he wanted, never crying or throwing a tantrum.

Yan Xucheng knocked on the half-open door and smiled at the person inside: “Uncle-Master, I’m here!”

Dr. Fang Li was an elegant middle-aged man in his forties with two-thirds of his hair already white. According to him, it was due to studying too hard in his youth, resulting in premature graying.

Fang Li put down the thermos containing pearl milk tea, rubbed his temples, and repeated for perhaps the hundredth time: “Nephew, how many times have I told you? Use titles at work. If people hear us, they’ll think we have nepotism.”

Yet you keep calling me ‘Nephew’ all day long. Everyone on our floor knows I’m your nephew.

However, Yan Xucheng had one virtue: respecting the old and caring for the young. He generally didn’t talk back to old men, unless he couldn’t help it: “Fine, Vice Director Fang.”

“Hey—hold it!” Fang Li held up his hand dramatically. “Not Vice Director. I’ve been promoted, Director. Got it?”

Yan Xucheng didn’t want to watch the old man gloat. He couldn’t hold back now: “Then, Director Fang, shouldn’t you celebrate? How about celebrating it along with your fiftieth birthday the day after tomorrow?”

Since entering his forties, Fang Li had been very sensitive about his age. He had even stopped celebrating his birthday since he turned forty. Yan Xucheng was clearly stabbing him in the heart (#｀皿)

“Alright, Director. What about the follow-up treatment for that child…”

Mentioning the child Xu Songmian made Fang Li feel that his remaining black hair was also in jeopardy, constantly testing the boundary of turning white.

“Sigh—” Before saying anything else, exhaling the pent-up stale air was beneficial for health.

In a way, Fang Li and Xu Songmian shared a deep connection. He had treated this young patient with immense sadness at his previous workplace. He was extremely difficult to cure, not due to technical issues.

Every time, Fang Li could treat him almost completely—though not fully cured, reborn, enlightened, or cheerful—but at least he wouldn’t resort to self-harm. However, Xu Songmian always had to go home. No matter how capable Fang Li was, he couldn’t arrest and control his parents.

Thus, Xu Songmian’s condition repeatedly relapsed, and relapsed repeatedly. Fang Li also tried talking to Xu Songmian’s parents, but the two “successful individuals” simply wouldn’t listen to him. Since they genuinely weren’t abusing Xu Songmian, Fang Li couldn’t even call the police.

During the most severe period, Fang Li was almost dragged into depression himself by Xu Songmian.

For the sake of his mental and physical health and his life, Fang Li could only choose to resign and go on vacation to heal himself. After the vacation, he was invited to Qishan.

This year was only the second year of operation for the Jingji branch of Qishan Private Hospital. This meant that shortly after Fang Li settled down, he encountered his old acquaintance again.

Fang Li sighed again: “…That’s how it is. Don’t prescribe any of these medications. I’ll give you his treatment plan later. Pay attention to it yourself. He’s currently staying in our psychiatric inpatient unit. We’ll go together during rounds. Focus on him…”

There was nothing more they could do.

Lu Zhijian walked out of the elevator on the sixteenth floor. It was eleven in the morning. Normally, this should be construction time. Even if there was no construction, people would be moving furniture in and out. Today, the apartment across the hall was unexpectedly quiet.

Could it be… they had finished renovating?!

Today was truly a good day. Although he went to the hospital and received a diagnosis that he was sick, he not only met Yan Xucheng and added him on WeChat, but his neighbor’s renovation project also seemed to be over. The sixteenth floor was about to return to its former tranquility. This was truly excellent news.

In fact, the renovation across the hall wasn’t very noisy. The apartment had good soundproofing, and they were very disciplined, starting work at appropriate times and controlling the noise within reasonable decibels. However, having a group of strangers constantly coming and going still made Lu Zhijian uncomfortable.

Lu Zhijian opened the door and went home, casually placing the report in the entryway, then crouching down to change his shoes.

Although it was a workday, the trip to the hospital had consumed the entire morning. Since he had nothing planned for the afternoon, Lu Zhijian, as the biggest boss, skillfully gave himself a short vacation.

He changed into comfortable loungewear and walked into the kitchen, putting on the apron hanging nearby.

Lu Zhijian grew up with his grandfather in Haicheng, making him half a Southerner, accustomed to drinking soup since childhood. He found various medicinal ingredients in the cupboard and followed the recipe on his phone: “Poria, goji berries…”

Stewing soup takes a long time, so Lu Zhijian wasn’t in a hurry to stir-fry dishes. He picked up his diagnosis report from the entryway and sat on the sofa, beginning to study the various data points. After flipping through it repeatedly, he looked at the four large, bolded, and enlarged characters: Mild Depression.

Lu Zhijian was a little confused about why he was depressed. He clearly felt very normal. He had been this way for so many years, studying hard and working diligently. The numbers in his bank account were getting longer and longer. Everything was on the right track.

See, he could even make a joke.

The doctor said he wasn’t yet at the stage where medication was needed. So how should he treat it?

Should he just skip work and happily do his own things at home?

The imagination was beautiful, but it wouldn’t work. So many people relied on him for their livelihood; he couldn’t just quit. Besides, given Secretary Mo’s personality, if he suddenly disappeared without a word, she would definitely show up at his door acting like Aunt Xue.

Thinking of this, Lu Zhijian suddenly shook his head, trying to shake Mo Huai out of his mind. That was too terrifying; it was best not to try it lightly.

The doctor also told him to regularly receive psychotherapy.

Hiss, he actually didn’t really want to be alone with a strange doctor and have to confess his innermost thoughts.

A flash of inspiration crossed his mind—no wonder he could start from scratch. He found the WeChat contact for Yan Xucheng, whom he had just added, edited the message several times, and sent: Are you there?