Chapter 32

The hospital staff cafeteria was packed at this hour.

The air was thick with the mixed smells of disinfectant, greasy food, and tired sweat.

Wen Yan took a tray and sat down in a corner by the window.

Outside, the city was sinking into dusk; the sky was a gray-blue, and a few streetlights had already come on, like drowsy eyes.

She ate mechanically, her taste buds nearly numb.

The relief of a successful surgery had long since been worn away by the silent sparring in the lounge.

What was left was a familiar weariness.

The subtle exclusion among coworkers, the hidden jealousy, the insinuations wrapped in innuendo...

For her, these were far harder to understand than a complex surgical chart, and far more draining.

She would rather stand at an operating table for another eight hours than spend ten minutes dealing with those tests and appraisals.

People were really annoying sometimes.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She took it out and saw a message from Jin Zijin: “Did the surgery go smoothly?”

Just five short words, no extra questions, no pressure; yet it was like a sliver of light piercing the noisy, chaotic air around her.

Wen Yan paused with her fingertip on the screen, then immediately replied: “Just finished. It went well.”

Almost at once, the chat box showed “the other party is typing...”

A few seconds later, Jin Zijin called directly.

Wen Yan looked at the name lighting up the screen; she instinctively glanced around before standing and walking to the relatively quiet junction by the corridor to answer.

“Hello?” Her voice was lower than usual, roughened by the surgery and carrying a trace of fatigue she couldn’t quite hide.

“Just finished surgery?” Jin Zijin’s voice came through the phone; the background was very quiet, as if she were in a car or some private space. “Have you gotten off work yet?”

“Not yet. I’m eating in the cafeteria.” Wen Yan leaned against the cold tiled wall and closed her eyes a little.

Just hearing her voice seemed to loosen the taut nerves that had been stretched all day.

She still had a night shift tonight, so she wasn’t going home.

“You sound a little tired.” Jin Zijin caught it sharply. “Was that surgery difficult?”

“It was fine; it went smoothly.” Wen Yan didn’t want to talk about the details of the surgery. That would drag her back into the tense mindset of her profession. “I just stood for a bit too long.”

“Mhm.” Jin Zijin didn’t press further. Instead, she asked, “You’re on night duty tonight?”

“Yes. I have to pull an all-nighter.”

Jin Zijin’s voice carried a hint of a smile as she teased, “Want me to bring you a late-night snack?”

Wen Yan couldn’t help laughing. “You’re going to bring me a snack?”

“You’re in Nancheng right now. Can you even fly back?”

Jin Zijin snorted. “How do you know I can’t fly back?”

“My wife works so hard. To bring my wife a late-night snack, let alone Nancheng, even if I were in the Southern Hemisphere, I could fly back.”

She really was very good at coaxing people.

On the phone, it was wife this, wife that, but in ordinary life she might not even call out once.

Wen Yan was speechless for a second, then laughed. “Alright, alright. I know.”

“You’re Superman; you can fly.”

“But if you really do come back early today, go home and rest first.”

“In two days, there’s the summit. Your physical condition matters too.”

Wen Yan tried to persuade her a couple of times; she really couldn’t bear to make her run around for her again.

Jin Zijin understood what she meant and sighed helplessly. “Alright.”

Wen Yan cleared her throat and smoothly changed the subject. “Right, in two weeks it’s Mom’s birthday banquet. Will Liang Auntie have time to finish the dress?”

Jin Zijin answered quickly. “She said no problem. She’ll have you try the sample next week.”

“Okay.”

The two of them chatted a little longer about ordinary, unimportant things. Someone on Jin Zijin’s end seemed to remind her of something in a low voice, and she said, “I have to go out now. Finish your meal and head back early to rest.”

“Okay. You too; don’t stay up too late.”

“I know.” Jin Zijin paused, then suddenly lowered her voice and said with a sigh, “Wen Yan, I really miss you.”

So direct, so fervent, like the brightest summer sun; there was nowhere to hide.

Wen Yan lifted her eyes and looked through the gray-blue curtain of night toward the distant sky. After a moment, she said, a little shakily, “Mm.”

“I miss you too.”

So, so much.

——————

After dinner, Wen Yan made her rounds as usual.

When she reached the room of the car accident patient Zhang Yue, she saw the volunteer girl from before feeding her something.

Zhang Yue looked much better than before. Her movements were still stiff and laborious, but her eyes were bright, full of resilience.

“Dr. Wen.” When Zhang Yue saw her, she smiled at once in gratitude.

“How are you feeling? Does the wound still hurt?” Wen Yan stepped forward to check the injured limb, as always.

“Much better. I can feel myself getting stronger every day,” Zhang Yue said, then looked at the volunteer beside her. “It’s all thanks to Xiao Lin, and the insurance matter has made progress too.”

Wen Yan nodded. Looking at the hope rekindled in Zhang Yue’s eyes, the gloom brought on by the workplace mess in her own heart faded quite a bit.

This was the meaning behind her choice to stand in the operating room.

To use concrete things to resist the unpredictability and suffering of life; to witness reconstruction after the break.

That sense of accomplishment was far more solid than any fame or title.

She gave a few more reminders about rehabilitation precautions. When she left the room, she ran into Zhang Sheng in the corridor.

He seemed to have been waiting there on purpose, holding a medical chart, his expression a little unnatural.

“Dr. Wen, the X-rays for the patient in Bed 3—Dr. Wang said you should take a look too.”

Wen Yan took the films and held them up to the light, studying them carefully. “An old fracture. The healing shape isn’t very good, with a slight malunion. Surgery is recommended to correct it; otherwise the risk of long-term joint wear will be high.”

She gave her professional assessment, calm and matter-of-fact, as if nothing had happened in the lounge yesterday.

Seeing how unbothered she was, Zhang Sheng’s expression grew even more complicated.

He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end he only nodded. “Mm. I’ll talk it over with the patient.”

“Okay.” Wen Yan returned the films to him and kept walking without stopping.

She could feel Zhang Sheng’s gaze on her back, but she didn’t turn around.

Some things needed no explanation, and no entanglement.

Her battlefield was the operating room, the wards, and every patient who needed her skill and judgment.

As for everything else, she didn’t have the energy, nor the interest, to deal with it.

By the time she finally sat down at the doctor’s office computer and started writing the day’s last few charts, the clock on the wall had quietly slipped past ten.

The office lights were glaringly white; only the sound of keyboard taps and the occasional ticking of instruments in the distance accompanied her.

She rubbed at the corners of her eyes, which had gone dry, blue-light glasses perched on her nose as usual.

Just then, the clear sound of leather shoes came from the hallway outside.

It drew nearer and nearer, then stopped at the office door.

Those footsteps didn’t belong to any night-shift nurse, nor to any resident.

They were too composed, and too familiar.

Wen Yan’s fingers paused on the keyboard; she lifted her head in confusion.

The half-closed door was gently pushed open.

Jin Zijin stood at the doorway, a phone in one hand and an exquisitely crafted lacquered food box from a famous private restaurant in the other.

She looked as though she had just stepped away from some formal engagement; she wore a sharply tailored dark suit, with a cashmere coat over it, her makeup immaculate, only the slight dustiness in her eyes hinting at the weariness of a long trip.

She looked at Wen Yan, the only doctor on duty in the office, and her gaze lingered briefly on the glasses on her nose and the white coat over her shoulders. Then the corner of her lips curved.

Her tone was teasing when she spoke: “Dr. Wen, night shift’s hard work.”

Wen Yan froze completely. Her mind went blank for a few seconds. After a moment, she let out a helpless laugh. “You really are...”

Ah, this person really loved giving people surprises.

Jin Zijin tilted her head and asked with a smile, “Is it convenient if I come in?”

Wen Yan nodded. “Mm.”

Smiling, Jin Zijin came in and closed the door behind her, shutting out the cold and the noise from outside.

She placed the food box on one corner of Wen Yan’s desk, which was already piled with charts and papers, her movements as natural as if she were in her own home. “Here, I brought you a late-night snack. It’s from a famous private kitchen in Nancheng; give it a try.”

Wen Yan swiveled her computer chair, reached out, and wrapped her arms around Jin Zijin’s waist, looking up at her. “You just got off the plane?”

Jin Zijin nodded. She glanced up at the camera, then looked back down at Wen Yan.

The woman before her was in a white coat, wearing glasses, her hair tied low in a ponytail; she looked almost offensively chaste.

Jin Zijin really liked her like this, and teased with a smile, “If I hug you here, will it look bad?”

Wen Yan laughed softly and used a little strength to pull Jin Zijin closer into her arms.

Jin Zijin yielded and fell into her embrace, lifting her arms to wrap around Wen Yan’s shoulders. She buried her face in Wen Yan’s shoulder and inhaled deeply.

The scent of loquat drifted softly through the air, and Jin Zijin shivered in comfort. “Mm... now this feels like coming home.”

——————

Wen Yan brought Jin Zijin to the break room.

The thin door was pushed open, and a faint smell of smoke mixed with stale bedding hit them at once.

The break room was tiny, with two rows of narrow iron hospital beds.

There was an old table, and not even enough chairs to go around.

The lighting was dim; the sheets were blue-and-white striped, washed pale with age.

Compared with any environment Jin Zijin usually found herself in, this place was worlds apart.

Wen Yan almost immediately felt a stab of embarrassment.

She hurried forward, picked up the nearly empty can of air freshener on the table, and pressed it into the air a few times in haste.

Click, click.

Cheap lemon fragrance filled the room in a rush, trying to cover the unpleasant smell.

“Sorry,” she said, turning to face Jin Zijin, her ears a little hot. “The on-duty conditions are pretty simple. There aren’t many people here normally, so it’s a bit messy, and there’s some smell too.”

Yet Jin Zijin didn’t seem to mind.

Her gaze swept over the hard iron bed, over the gloomy night outside the small window, and finally returned to Wen Yan’s slightly flushed face.

The embarrassment on that face, and the little unconscious gestures meant to protect her feelings, were like tiny needles that pricked at her softly.

She said nothing, only stepped forward and took Wen Yan’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “It’s fine.”

“As long as there’s somewhere to rest, that’s enough.”

Wen Yan’s body stiffened slightly. She nodded gently. “...Mm.”

The two of them sat by the bed; the iron frame gave a faint creak.

Jin Zijin opened the food box. Inside was still-warm beef ribs in clear broth, paired with crisp vegetables and a bowl of glistening rice.

The aroma immediately overwhelmed all the other smells in the room.

“Eat up, while it’s hot.” Jin Zijin handed her the chopsticks.

Wen Yan asked, “Have you eaten?”

Jin Zijin laughed softly and looked at her tenderly. “I already ate. This was specially packed for you.”

“Come on, eat while it’s hot.”

Wen Yan really was hungry.

She took the chopsticks and ate quietly.

The beef ribs had been stewed until tender and flavorful; the broth was clear and delicious, soothing her empty stomach.

She ate carefully. Her pace wasn’t slow, but she still kept good manners; only the slight fullness of her cheeks and the delicate flutter of her lashes revealed the simple satisfaction the food brought her.

Jin Zijin sat at the side and watched her eat.

This was the first time she had seen Wen Yan like this, in a white coat and glasses.

Tall and lean, her frame made even more solitary by the oversized white coat.

Warm yellow light cast faint shadows over her lowered brows and the bridge of her nose; her long lashes traced a small patch of tired gray-blue under her eyes.

She was only 28, still at the age when she should have been enjoying her youth, yet she had spent the whole day working herself to the bone in the operating room.

At last she had a chance to catch her breath, and in the end she was still sitting in this cramped, shabby room, eating from a thermal box.

So cute.

And so pitiful.

A strange ache of heartache surged up without warning.

She couldn’t help reaching out, her fingertips brushing gently over the tired shadow under Wen Yan’s eyes, her voice so low it was almost a sigh. “My Dr. Wen... you’re so pitiful.”

Wen Yan was just lifting a piece of beef rib when she froze at the words and looked up at her in astonishment.

Her eyes behind the glasses widened, full of confusion.

Jin Zijin looked at her, her fingertips sliding from the corner of her eye to her cheek as she said with a tenderness even she hadn’t noticed, “Working overtime until you can only rest in a place like this; you can’t even eat three proper meals a day...”

Wen Yan blinked, then lowered her head slowly to look at the beef ribs in the box, thick with meat and stewed until tender.

Then she glanced unconsciously at the strong line of her own arms visible beneath the white coat, and thought back to how she had just finished more than half the meal without any trouble...

Huh?

Her?

Could someone like her, this human bottomless pit, also be called pitiful one day?

Wen Yan looked up at Jin Zijin and couldn’t help asking, “Am I very pitiful?”

“I eat a lot, and I’m this big too. You still think I’m pitiful?”

She pointed at herself, utterly puzzled.

Who would have thought Jin Zijin, stroking her cheek, would answer very seriously, “You are pitiful.”

“Like a big dog that fought outside all day; when it gets home, it gnaws randomly on a couple of dog bones, then has to go back out and fight again...”

“There’s never any time to rest. It’s pitiful.”

The more Jin Zijin thought about it, the more heartbroken she felt.

She even imagined Wen Yan pulling all-nighters and still having to do emergency surgery; when she was so exhausted she might just fall asleep in her clothes, Jin Zijin felt like she was going to ache to death.

————————

Jin Zijin thought that finding someone cute wasn’t so bad. But once you thought someone was pitiful, then you were done for [laugh-cry].

She had rushed over all day in a state of wind and dust, only to see her wife still working overtime; she felt sorry for her wife, but not sorry enough to feel sorry for herself. You’re beyond saving.