Chapter 5

As dusk settled in, Wen Yan finally took off her surgical gown.

The clock on the wall read 6:30, nearly an hour earlier than usual.

She walked to the locker, took out her backpack, and started changing her shoes.

Zhang Sheng happened to come out of the operating room next door. Seeing her, surprise flashed across his eyes. “You’re off this early today?”

“Mm.” Wen Yan answered as she bent down to change her shoes.

“Want to go to the climbing gym?” Zhang Sheng came over and leaned against the locker door. “A new one just opened. The wall’s pretty good.”

Wen Yan straightened, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “No, I’m in a hurry to get home.”

“You’re going home again.” Zhang Sheng frowned, a trace of irritation in his voice. “Wen Yan, you’re really hard to ask out.”

He muttered, “I wonder what kind of woman could actually get you...”

“That’s the wrong expression.” Wen Yan cut him off, her tone as calm as if she were correcting a terminology error in a chart. “I’m a person, not instant noodles, so ‘get you’ isn’t the right verb. Thanks.”

With that, she sidestepped him and walked past.

Zhang Sheng stood where he was, watching her slender, straight back disappear around the corner of the hallway. After a long moment, he finally cursed under his breath.

————————

The evening wind outside the hospital carried the sharp bite of early winter.

Wen Yan instinctively grabbed a shared bike and pedaled home at an unhurried pace.

She liked riding a bike.

When the wind rushed past her ears, it could gradually blow away the smell of disinfectant from the operating room, the anxious questions from family members, and the metallic clatter of instruments.

When she passed the braised-food shop at the mouth of the alley, one that had been open for more than ten years, she squeezed the brake and stopped.

“Dr. Wen, off work?” the proprietress called out familiarly. “There are some freshly braised chicken legs today; I peeled the skin off and saved two for you.”

“Thanks, Aunt Wang.” Wen Yan scanned to pay and took the paper bag, still warm.

The oil had soaked through the paper, spreading a small patch of heat across her palm.

She rode toward the city center’s busiest district. About ten minutes later, she stopped in front of a skyscraper with a glass curtain wall.

This was one of the city’s top residential buildings, with one elevator serving one household; the privacy was excellent.

Wen Yan’s apartment was on the top floor.

The elevator opened directly into the unit. As the door slid shut behind her, the motion-sensor lights came on automatically.

Soft, warm light gradually brightened the space; first from the hidden strips in the ceiling, then the floor lamp in the corner, then the Italian designer chandelier above the island.

It was a 600-square-meter duplex.

The living room, with its six-meter ceiling, faced a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and a glittering city nightscape.

The interior was minimalist modern, with large areas of blank white space and very little furniture, but every piece had clearly been chosen with care: a Minotti sofa from Italy, an &Tradition armchair from Denmark, Flos lamps from Germany.

Empty, quiet, spotless.

Wen Yan set her briefcase on the floating cabinet at the entry, took off her flats, stepped barefoot onto the warm oak floor, and headed straight to the workout area on the west side.

It was an eighty-square-meter professional exercise room.

One wall was a floor-to-ceiling mirror; the other held all kinds of training equipment: TRX suspension straps, kettlebells, battle ropes.

In the corner stood a professional rowing machine. Beside it was a solid wood weapon rack, neatly lined with several Baji Quan practice implements: a pair of broadswords, a long spear, and two heavy cast-iron hammers.

Orthopedic surgeons needed astonishing physical strength.

Ever since Wen Yan entered her master’s tutelage in college, she had kept to a strict training routine.

Morning boxing practice, evening strength work; never missed.

Today she was training with the hammers.

Not the flashy kettlebell swings you saw in a gym, but a true Baji Quan weapons routine.

Wen Yan changed into workout clothes, took down the pair of cast-iron hammers from the rack, and stood before the mirror.

Breath sinking low, center of gravity dropping.

Then she began.

“Eighty... eighty..."

The low counting chant echoed through the empty workout room.

In rhythm with her steady breathing, the nearly thirty-kilogram hammers traced heavy arcs through the air in her hands, the wind whistling around them.

She was practicing the basic skill of “smashing the stake.”

It simulated driving a wooden stake into the ground; the force had to be solid and the power continuous from start to finish.

Sweat quickly soaked the back of her workout shirt.

The fabric clung to her skin, outlining the clean lines of her back and her narrow waist.

In the mirror, the woman’s expression was focused, her lips pressed into a straight line; each swing of the hammer carried precise control.

No one knew how long she had been at it when her phone began to buzz on the equipment rack beside her.

Wen Yan set down the iron hammers and walked over, slightly out of breath.

Two words lit up on the screen: Wife.

Jin Zijin had changed that contact name herself yesterday. Wen Yan stared at the two characters for two seconds before her fingertip finally slid to answer.

“Hello?”

“Still not off work?” Jin Zijin’s voice came through. The background was very quiet, though faint, muffled echoes could be heard. “Why aren’t you home yet?”

The word home made Wen Yan pause.

She looked around. This was the place she had lived for four years; every piece of furniture had been selected by her personally, every corner matched her habits and taste.

Outside the huge windows was a skyline she knew well, and the workout room still held her own sweat.

But the “home” Jin Zijin was talking about was in the south suburbs; it had a garden and a lake, and the bed they had shared last night.

“I’m back at my own apartment,” Wen Yan said.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“Is something wrong?” Wen Yan asked.

“Nothing major.” Jin Zijin sounded relaxed, even a little lazy. “I’m on a business trip. Grandma’s worried you’ll be lonely eating alone, so she wants you to come have dinner with her.”

Wen Yan understood instantly.

The old lady had waited and waited and gotten anxious.

“I can go over now.” She said at once.

“No need to rush.” Jin Zijin seemed to let out a soft laugh. “From your place to the old residence, it’ll take more than an hour even without traffic.”

“Just stay where you are. I’ll explain it to Grandma.”

Wen Yan gripped her phone and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, streams of cars and neon lights flowed below; the city was entering its busiest hour of the night.

She hesitated, then said, “Wouldn’t that be a bit...”

“It’s fine.” Jin Zijin’s tone was firm. “Grandma dotes on the younger generation; she won’t mind these things. Besides, you just got off surgery. You should rest properly.”

“Then I’ll go tomorrow?” Wen Yan tried.

“Tomorrow’s not necessary either.” There was laughter in Jin Zijin’s voice. “You’re still working. Running around all over the place would be exhausting.”

Wen Yan fell silent.

She thought of the morning in the car, when Jin Zijin had said, “On the first day of marriage, it’s only right to send my partner to work.” She thought of that peppermint-scented goodbye kiss, and of the steaming lunch at noon...

The tenderness she had never once asked for brushed lightly at her chest like feathers.

“It’s fine,” she heard herself say. “The driver will take me; don’t worry about it.”

A very soft intake of breath came from the other end, followed by the click of high heels against the floor.

Jin Zijin seemed to be walking.

A moment later, the woman asked, “What are you doing right now?”

Wen Yan answered honestly, “I just finished hammer practice.”

“Hammer practice?” There was curiosity in Jin Zijin’s voice. “What kind of hammer?”

“Baji Quan equipment.” Wen Yan walked over to the rack, her fingertips brushing the cold iron surface of the hammers. “Cast iron. Fifteen kilos each.”

“Oh—” Jin Zijin drew out the sound, her voice somehow carrying a hook through the phone line. “Fifteen-kilo iron hammers... Dr. Wen really is strong.”

Wen Yan’s heartbeat skipped.

“Let me see?” Jin Zijin said again.

See?

Before Wen Yan could react, the call had already ended.

The next second, a WeChat video call request popped up.

She looked down at herself. Her athletic quick-dry shirt was soaked through, clinging tightly to her body; her hair was stuck to her forehead, and her face was surely still flushed from exercise.

It was a mess, completely inappropriate for meeting anyone.

Reason told her to refuse, but her fingertip had already tapped “accept” before she could stop herself.

The screen lit up.

Jin Zijin appeared on it.

She was standing in front of a hotel floor-to-ceiling window, with a dazzling foreign city nightscape behind her.

The woman wore a champagne-colored satin evening gown, with a black suit jacket draped carelessly over her shoulders. Her long hair was pinned up without a strand out of place, revealing a beautiful neck and collarbone.

But what caught the eye most was the diamond necklace at her throat.

The main stone was a pear-shaped diamond of at least ten carats, as clear as a frozen spring; around it were tiny pink diamonds set densely together, their reflected light flowing with a rainbow sheen.

The necklace curved down along the line of her collarbone, its end disappearing into the deep V of the gown.

Elegant, aristocratic, and aggressively beautiful.

She was worlds apart from the woman from last night, the one lying beneath Wen Yan, breathing hard, hair damp against her cheeks, eyes wet and teasing.

For a moment, Wen Yan forgot to breathe.

“Look at the iron hammers.” Jin Zijin’s voice pulled her back.

Wen Yan immediately adjusted the angle of the camera so Jin Zijin could see the hammers on the rack.

“So these are the fifteen-kilo iron hammers?”

The woman rested her chin on one hand and leisurely swept her gaze over the hammers on the screen.

She nodded, her expression approving, and smiled. “Now let me see you.”

Wen Yan was very obedient. Almost the moment the words left Jin Zijin’s mouth, she adjusted the camera so that her whole body appeared before her wife.

Jin Zijin’s gaze moved upward, settling on Wen Yan’s sweat-damp neck, then her rising and falling chest, and finally resting on the lines of her forearms, taut from training.

“The separation in your brachioradialis is excellent.” Jin Zijin evaluated, her tone as professional as if she were appraising a sculpture. “Your core strength should be very good too.”

Wen Yan: “..."

An indescribable feeling rose in her, subtle and strange.

She felt like an exhibit in a museum, being carefully examined by a discriminating collector.

But there was no indecent familiarity in Jin Zijin’s eyes; only pure appreciation.

Wen Yan suddenly asked, “You know a lot about muscle structure?”

The moment she said it, even she froze.

Jin Zijin clearly hadn’t expected that question either.

The woman raised a brow, then laughed.

Her eyes curved pleasantly.

“I’ve seen a lot of people; naturally I understand a little.” She admitted frankly. “But someone like Dr. Wen, who can hold a scalpel and also swing a fifteen-kilo iron hammer..."

Jin Zijin paused, then added, “You’re the first.”

Wen Yan gave a quiet “oh,” her gaze drifting back to the diamond necklace.

She was thinking that Jin Zijin would probably look very good in jade.

That quiet, restrained green; against her cool, fair skin, it might suit her even more than diamonds.

Jin Zijin quickly noticed her distraction. “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking...” Wen Yan said honestly, “jade might suit you better.”

Jin Zijin laughed. “Grandma says that too.”

“She has quite a collection of good things. I’ll take you to see them next time.”

The video call continued for a few more minutes, most of which was Jin Zijin talking about her itinerary abroad while Wen Yan listened quietly.

It ended only after someone knocked on the door and reminded Jin Zijin in English that she needed to attend a banquet.

The screen went dark.

Wen Yan stood in the center of the empty 600-square-meter apartment and suddenly felt a hollowness in her chest.

For a moment, she even felt that this place was quiet to the point of fear.