The smell of disinfectant burned white spots on the retina, and Xia Chan shrank into the shadow of the changing room of the school infirmary. Through the gap of the cloth curtain, she saw Jiang Zhixi lying on the side of the diagnosis and treatment bed, and her wet forehead hair stuck to the edge of the metal instrument tray, like butterfly wings wet by the rain.
"This time, it will be injected to the tympanic stage." The school doctor put on a forehead mirror and picked up the cold-lighted needle with tweezers. "Are you sure you don't need anesthetic?"
Jiang Zhixi bit the hearing aid between his teeth and smiled vaguely, "I need to remember the waveform of each pain." His right hand clenching the sheets, and blue-purple capillaries appeared at the bulge of the carpal bone.
The moment the tip of the needle pierced the eardrum, Xia Cicada's ear canal was full of phantom pain. She saw Jiang Zhixi's pupils suddenly contract, and physiological tears overflowed the small mole at the end of her eyes, leaving dark marks on the pillowcase. His left hand scratched in the air, and finally held the drooping stethoscope tube, as if it were the umbilical cord connecting the real world.
"It will be deaf." The school doctor pulled out the bloody needle, "The high-frequency sound range has been permanently lost, and the next attack may be..."
"Shh--" Jiang Zhixi suddenly turned his head to look at the curtain, and the blood-stained cotton swab slipped between his fingers. "Here is the breathing rate of the third person."
When Xia Cicada turned back, she overturned the instrument car. In the cracking sound of surgical scissors and glass medicine bottles, she touched the German medicine box in her pocket. Jiang Zhixi's figure was covered, and he covered her with a bloody palm and exclaimed.
"This is the third time." His thumb pressed against her thripping carotid artery, and his sweaty shirt pressed against her back. "How is Miss Stalker going to compensate?"
Xia Cicada raised the medicine box and poked between his ribs, but froze when he saw the tissue fluid oozing out of his ear canal. The morning light passed through his transparent auricle and saw the fine surgical suture marks on the inner cochlea, like the texture of crushed cicada wings.
"Why don't you use painkillers?" She found her voice trembling.
Jiang Zhixi tore off the blood-stained medical tape and put it on the back of her hand, and his fingertips traced along her palm pattern: "Pain is a scale, reminding me how much time I have left to hear it..." His breath suddenly brushed her trembling eyelids, "... The sound of cicadas."
The alarm suddenly sounded, and Jiang Zhixi pushed her away. When the three black-clothed bodyguards broke through the door, he had regained his perfect appearance, and the collar to the top covered all the bruises.
"Young master, the chairman invites you to participate in tonight's charity auction." The head bodyguard stepped on the rolling pill box, "Do you need to deal with the witnesses?"
Xia Chan took the opportunity to kick the medicine box into the drain pipe and raised her head to show the burn scar on her neck: "I'm helping Jiang tutoring garbage classification." She grabbed "Ear, Nose and Throat Science" and patted it on the table. "By the way, learn how to deal with medical waste."
That night, Xia Cicada found a miniature camera deep in the shelf of the convenience store where she worked. The surveillance screen is the school infirmary during the day, and the time code shows that Jiang's father has watched the whole treatment process. She chewed the peppermint candy to suppress the nausea, and hid the copied surveillance video in the iron box of her mother's antidepressant.
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