Chapter 31

In the blink of an eye, Monday came around again, and Wen Yan was assigned seven surgeries.

Time in a hospital always ran on two different scales.

For the patients’ families waiting outside, every second was stretched painfully thin.

For the doctors in the operating room, seven or eight hours of relentless work often felt like nothing more than a few accidental overlaps of the clock hands.

Fortunately, the last surgery ended before six in the evening, with no emergency callouts interrupting it.

She dragged her leaden legs home in the car Jin Zijin had sent for her, returning to her apartment.

When she opened the door, the scene inside made her pause in the entryway.

The lights were all on; the air carried a faint lemon scent from cleaning solution, along with the murmur of voices.

Zhou Ayi, the housekeeper from Jin Zijin’s old family residence, was there with five or six of the household staff, wiping down the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows in an orderly fashion.

The vacuum hummed softly as it moved over the carpet. Zhou Ayi turned and looked at her. “Madam, you’re back.”

The middle-aged woman smiled, her expression carrying familiar respect and just the right amount of warmth. “I was just thinking you should be here soon. We’re almost done anyway.”

Wen Yan changed her shoes and stepped inside, surprised. “Zhou Ayi, this is…”

“Miss told us to bring over some of her usual loungewear and daily necessities and put them away in the closet,” Zhou Ayi explained naturally. “We wanted to come last week, but we were worried it might disturb your rest. Today we thought you’d probably be home earlier, so we came to tidy up.”

“We also did a deep clean, and your clothes have all been reorganized by season.”

Wen Yan glanced around.

The six-hundred-square-meter apartment, which had once felt a little cold and empty because she lived here alone, now seemed infused with a gentle, well-ordered warmth.

Everything was bright and spotless; everything had been put back where it belonged. Even the potted greenery in the corner, which she often watered, had leaves wiped to a glossy sheen.

“Thank you for the trouble,” she said, nodding, her tone soft.

“No trouble at all. It’s what we should do.” Zhou Ayi smiled. “Madam, please rest a bit. We’ll just finish up and leave.”

“There’s dinner for you on the island counter; the chef at home made it, and it’s still warm.”

“All right.” Wen Yan agreed and didn’t say more.

Her privileged background had made her used to being cared for by others.

But this kind of meticulous care, as if it were quietly wrapping itself around her living space, still stirred a trace of unfamiliar warmth in her chest.

She went straight to the bedroom, changed into comfortable loungewear, then headed into the gym.

She boxed two full sets.

Sweat poured off her like rain; her muscles loosened as she worked through the tension accumulated from the operating table, bit by bit.

The sweat running down her skin carried the fatigue away.

By the time she came out of the gym, wiping her face, the apartment had returned to silence.

Zhou Ayi and the others had left at some point. The lighting had been dimmed to a restful level, and the air smelled faintly fresh.

On the island counter sat an exquisite insulated food box.

She walked over and lifted the lid; inside were refreshing vegetables and a soup simmered to just the right degree.

She sat down and ate slowly.

The food soothed her empty stomach and chased away the aimlessness that often came with being alone.

Wen Yan picked up her phone and opened the familiar chat window.

“Zhou Ayi came today and put your things in the closet,” she typed.

The reply came almost instantly.

“Did you see the closet?”

Wen Yan looked at those words and could imagine the other woman raising a brow, looking a little expectant.

She replied, “I’ll take a photo for you in a bit.”

Jin Zijin: “How long is ‘in a bit’? I have a meeting again soon～”

The tilde at the end was half a gentle push, half a coquettish plea.

Wen Yan’s lips curved helplessly. She put down her spoon.

Then she got up, went upstairs, and headed for the closet, which now looked a little different from before.

When she pushed open the door, the ceiling light turned on automatically, spilling a soft glow.

It really did look brand new.

Her clothes, which she had previously hung up haphazardly and sorted purely by practicality, had now been reorganized by Zhou Ayi in a much more meticulous way.

The entire layout of the closet had subtly changed.

Beside her own clothing area, a new territory had been carved out.

Her cotton loungewear was hung next to Jin Zijin’s silk nightgowns.

Her sports tank tops and quick-dry pants hung beside the other woman’s sharply tailored yoga sets and sports bras.

Her usual dark coats and trench coats stood on one side, while Jin Zijin’s exquisitely made sweaters and coats, in colors either soft or vivid, occupied the other.

Two styles, two auras, completely different, yet placed side by side in the same space, sharing the same air.

Like two streams that had once flowed in parallel; here, they quietly converged, their waters still distinct, yet no longer easy to separate.

Wen Yan stood there, quietly looking.

A very complicated feeling began to take shape.

It was like a private patch of land she had occupied alone for a long time had been silently marked as shared, stirring a faint discomfort in her territorial instincts.

But deeper than that was a strange, steady sense of being accepted.

Another person’s traces had been woven into her order.

The other woman had filled those parts of her life that were too empty, too functional, with a different texture and warmth.

Her chest felt warm; full.

She raised her phone, aimed it at the clothes hanging side by side, and took a picture.

The lighting was good; the difference in fabric texture was clearly visible.

Wen Yan looked at the photo for two seconds, then hit send.

Jin Zijin replied quickly, with only four words: “Bo Sea, Yellow Sea.”

Wen Yan froze, then laughed.

She typed back, “You in me, me in you, huh?”

Jin Zijin: “Yes.”

Then another message popped up, as direct and possessive as ever: “Or rather: I’ve invaded you.”

Wen Yan stared at the line, and the tips of her ears instantly burned.

This person… could always turn any scene into something suggestive with ease.

Her fingers moved, a little embarrassed and annoyed as she replied: “…Go to your meeting!”

————————

After dinner, Wen Yan washed the dishes and took a shower.

Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, she felt completely relaxed, wrapped only in a bath towel.

By habit, she went to the closet to get clean loungewear.

Her fingers brushed the gray cotton set that was hers, but they accidentally touched the silk item hanging beside it.

Cold. Smooth. Like the petals of a night-blooming flower, damp with dew.

It was a purple nightgown.

Her movement halted. Her fingers curled unconsciously.

Then, as if drawn by some hidden force, she let go of her own clothes and instead lightly hooked a fingertip under the nightgown’s shoulder strap.

Silk flowed like water over her fingers.

So soft it was almost unreal, like cold water, or a chilly spring breeze, teasing the nerves.

Wen Yan lifted it up and studied it in the light.

Deep purple, rich as undissolved night, yet with dark, flowing highlights created by the sheen of the silk.

The design wasn’t revealing; if anything, it was rather conservative. But the material and color themselves were full of suggestion.

It hung there quietly beside her clothes, like a thick stroke of oil paint suddenly dropped onto a black-and-white ink wash painting.

Out of place, yet dazzlingly vivid.

Vivid enough to instantly awaken all the sensory memories tied to its owner.

Jin Zijin’s skin was very fair, a living, lustrous porcelain white.

When that shade of purple covered it, it became a picture alive with color and sensuality.

Wen Yan remembered the public baths from her university days up north, where she had seen countless female bodies, tall and short, plump and slim, young or mature.

To her then, they were just bodies; shapes and structures in the sense of anatomy, nothing more.

Only Jin Zijin.

Only this person’s body had broken free of being merely an object to her.

It had become a concrete temptation, something that could trigger a chain reaction in her body just by being seen, touched, or even thought of.

Like a snake, silently winding around her and choking off every breath.

What an… enchantress.

Wen Yan let out a silent sigh in her heart.

As if possessed, she lifted the nightgown to her nose and sniffed lightly.

A faint citrus scent, mixed with a clean smell like sun-dried fabric, kicked open the doors of her memory in an instant.

At once, certain images surged forward, breaking through the gates of reason.

The night before last, or some even earlier night.

The person in her arms had sweat-damp hair at the temples, eyes reddened, tears glimmering in spots.

This purple nightgown might have already been pulled down to her waist, or it might still have been hanging loose.

Wen Yan could easily pin both of her wrists with one hand and hold them above her head.

What met her touch was wet, heated skin, trembling tightness, and muffled whimpers that couldn’t be suppressed.

Her own palm was soaked.

The damp sound in the still night was especially charged with feeling.

Every single sound was so scorching, so hot.

She was pressed deep into place, tears at the corners of her eyes.

Crying, she cursed her: “Bastard…”

The curse, broken by sobs, was like a kitten’s claws scratching at the softest part of her heart.

“Pervert.”

She lifted a leg to kick at her, but ended up being pressed even farther open.

Tears fell in a steady stream, like petals swaying in the spring breeze, spilling more sweetness into the fine rain.

The woman bit her lower lip, biting down harder. “Next time… hmph…”

“Next time…” Her breathing came in fragments, but she still forced out a threat. “Next time I’m definitely going to… tie you up!”

Wen Yan remembered letting out a low laugh then, kissing away her tears and breathing hotly against her ear. “All right.”

“Next time, I’ll tie you up.”

So you won’t be able to go anywhere, and can only open yourself for me.

The heat brought on by the memory rose so vividly it felt real.

Wen Yan abruptly let go, as if the silk might burn.

The nightgown fell back into place, swaying faintly.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look away, picking up the gray loungewear and putting it on quickly.

The soft cotton wrapped around her body, but it still couldn’t quite suppress the restless heat simmering beneath her skin.

Don’t think about it. Jin Zijin is on a business trip again.

Tonight would, inevitably, be another night alone.

————————

On Tuesday, the much-anticipated multi-department combined surgery proceeded as scheduled.

When the patient was wheeled into the operating room, the atmosphere was heavy.

The cardiology, anesthesia, and orthopedic teams were all on full alert.

Wen Yan stood at her station, her eyes calm, like the stillest point in the eye of a storm.

The surgery unfolded like a breathtakingly precise dance.

Cardiac intervention came first, followed closely by orthopedic reduction and fixation. Every second was a race against risk; every decision concerned life and the preservation of function.

Wen Yan was completely focused, the world shrinking to the surgical field before her, the instruments in her hands, and the data on the monitors.

Sweat slid down her back and was wiped away in time by the circulating nurse.

Four and a half hours later, the final suture was tied.

“Surgery complete,” the chief cardiac surgeon announced, his voice full of relieved exhaustion.

The shadowless lamp went dark.

Wen Yan slowly straightened her stiff back and removed her mask, revealing a face that was pale but calm.

The mental tension snapped all at once, leaving behind an exhausted emptiness, a dazed feeling as though her brain had been drained dry.

Doctors who had participated in the operation began to file into the changing room.

The head of cardiac surgery at the general hospital patted Wang Fu on the shoulder without stinting his praise. “Director Wang, your prized student is incredible.”

“Her hands are fast and steady, and her mental fortitude is even better. She can hold the line when it matters most; she’s excellent material.”

Wang Fu burst out laughing at that, the wrinkles on his face smoothing as pride and affection filled his eyes. “Old Li, don’t praise her so much you jinx it.”

“My student just has a good build; she can stand there and take the strain. Her mind is careful, her courage is strong, but in the end, she’s still a ‘barbarian’ in our line of work—she makes her living with her hands.”

He turned to Wen Yan, who was changing her shoes, and said kindly but formally, “Xiao Wen, you worked hard today.”

“This patient’s follow-up rehabilitation communication and monitoring will need your attention. Keep in touch with the family as well.”

The meaning behind those words was clear to everyone who knew the ropes.

He was paving the way for Wen Yan, letting her get in contact with higher-level resources and connections.

Wen Yan nodded respectfully. “All right, Teacher. I’ll follow up.”

The crowd dispersed in laughter and chatter; Wen Yan walked alone into the doctors’ lounge.

She took off her scrubs, twisted open a bottle of water, and tipped her head back to gulp down more than half of it. Her throat bobbed rapidly.

The icy liquid slid down her throat and eased some of the restlessness in her chest.

A few doctors from her department came in as well, but the atmosphere was a little strange.

“Dr. Wen, today’s case really made a name for you,” one of the more senior doctors said with a smile. His tone sounded light, but it carried a hidden edge. “Even the big names from the general hospital praised you personally, and Director Wang was grinning from ear to ear. The head doctor’s prized student really lives up to her reputation.”

Wen Yan wiped the water from the corner of her mouth. “Teacher’s guidance was excellent, and the team worked well together. I only did my part.”

“Ah, you can’t say it like that,” another doctor chimed in, his smile deeper though there was no warmth in his eyes. “Sure, Director Wang guided you; but the student still has to have the insight and strong hands to pull it off.”

“People like us get the same teaching, but we can’t make such a beautiful surgery.”

“That’s right.” Someone nearby half-jokingly echoed the sentiment, the joking tone hiding an almost imperceptible barb. “Dr. Wen is our department’s genius, after all; a doctorate at twenty-four, attending physician in two years, papers pouring out like water.”

“If her seniority weren’t so shallow, I’d say the position that opens up when Director Li retires next year might even be something Dr. Wen could compete for.”

The lounge fell silent for a beat.

Director Li was the head of orthopedics; when he retired next year, his position would open up, and one of the associate directors would move up.

That would free up an associate-director slot in the department for the attending physicians to compete for.

The words sounded like praise, but in truth they were vicious, instantly setting Wen Yan on edge.

Her hand on the water bottle tightened almost imperceptibly.

She looked up, her expression unchanged, even curling her lips slightly into a polite smile.

“Dr. Huang is joking,” she said evenly, without a ripple in her voice. “My qualifications are shallow. How could something like that fall to me?”

“If we’re talking seniority and contributions, it should be Senior Brother Zhang Sheng.”

Her gaze swept over everyone present, then settled on Zhang Sheng, whose face had abruptly frozen at the doorway.

Wen Yan’s tone was almost sincere. “Senior Brother Zhang is also one of Teacher’s prized students; he graduated two years before me, has far more clinical experience, and has published more papers than I have. Not to mention he’s so well-liked by everyone. What do you all think?”

Everyone’s eyes turned at once to Zhang Sheng standing in the doorway.

Those looks carried curiosity, amusement, sympathy, and the expectation of someone hoping for chaos.

Caught off guard by the sudden “nomination,” Zhang Sheng’s face turned red and white in turns. He hurriedly waved his hands.

His voice was strained as he tried to clear himself. “Dr. Wen, this is… everyone was just joking. How can you take it seriously?”

“Teacher treats everyone equally. As students, we just need to do our own part; how could we even think about those things…”

Before he could finish, Wen Yan had already screwed the cap back onto her bottle, picked up her coat, and gave the others a slight nod. “I’m going to eat now. You all carry on.”

She turned and left, her back straight, her steps steady, as if the undercurrents in the conversation just now had been nothing more than a breeze brushing past her ear.

Only after her figure disappeared at the end of the corridor did a low rustle of discussion rise in the lounge.

Someone, in a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear, clicked their tongue in a sarcastic drawl. “That’s why these days, even hiring a PhD depends on background.”

“She’s lucky. Good family background means she can hire people to do the research, and just pick the most attention-grabbing surgeries to do herself. Easy as that; she gets everything.”

“Unlike us, grinding away and building seniority, digging through data, writing papers, fighting tooth and nail for a title… sigh, comparing people is enough to make you furious.”

“Exactly. And now she’s even found a good wife; she doesn’t even need maternity leave, basically just like a man, and she’s rich too. Of course the hospital would pour resources into cultivating her.”

“Her wife is a senior executive at Hengxing Group, right? And Hengxing Group even has a lab at Peking University… tsk tsk tsk…”

“Can’t even be envied, really.”

Zhang Sheng stood there listening to the remarks, watching the direction Wen Yan had left in, his face cycling between green and white.

The hand hanging at his side slowly clenched into a fist, his nails digging deep into his palm.

Wen Yan’s last few seemingly humble words had, in fact, pushed him into the spotlight; they were like a needle, hitting the most sensitive and most unwilling corner of his heart with perfect precision.

The corridor lights were bright, cold, and pale; they couldn’t illuminate the twisting ravines in people’s hearts.

————————

(●—●) The general plot of this book is basically centered on the two of them living their lives.

Everyone who’s been reading for a while can probably tell that Wen Yan is actually very smart; she won’t go out of her way to stir up trouble.

And Jin Zijin is very capable when it comes to solving problems.

In other words, aside from their families of origin, there basically won’t be much trouble around them.

Even if something does come up, it can be resolved quickly.

Just like that watch worth tens of millions; she could react immediately and say it was very cheap, a fake.

How to keep people from resenting your life is actually a kind of life philosophy.

But [laugh-cry] when someone’s circumstances are what they are, even if they’re humble, it can’t be helped.

As for how many chapters I’ll write.

This book is a palate cleanser; I’ll do my best to keep writing it until I can spend New Year’s with everyone. [pat head]

TL Note:

Bo Sea, Yellow Sea (渤海黄海) = two neighboring seas; here it means two things are interwoven yet still distinct.