21. Dr. Yang Wen-Hua
In Taitung at dawn, the sunlight had just risen above the distant mountains.
The corridor outside Guanghua Hospital was already bustling. The sound of gurney wheels, the hurried footsteps of nurses, and the call bells coming from the distant wards blended into the distinctive morning sounds of a hospital.
Yet inside the surgical department's conference room, the atmosphere was unusually tense. Several thick medical records were spread across the center of the long table, while several examination images were projected onto the wall. In the black-and-white images, the human organs looked like a complicated and difficult-to-decipher map.
Director Shao Qingyang sat at the head of the long table, his hands clasped and his chin slightly lowered. His gaze swept across the faces of the physicians one by one. Sitting to his right, Yang Wen-Hua quietly reviewed the medical records. He did not rush to speak. But from his tightly pressed lips and the fingers constantly turning the pages, it was clear that he was rapidly organizing his thoughts. Sitting beside him, Su Junsheng was equally focused.
"These two cases we've admitted recently," Shao Qingyang finally said, his voice low, "are both quite difficult." He reached out and tapped the two medical records on the table.
"炳煌, how about you and the other three colleagues split into two groups? Each group can handle one case. You can support each other and share the pressure."
After he finished speaking, the conference room fell silent for several seconds. Attending physician Chen Binghuang slowly raised his head. He pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, his gaze settling on the case images on the projection screen.
"Director, I've already evaluated both cases beforehand." He paused, his tone becoming even more cautious.
"The risk of surgical failure is quite high."
The two physicians sitting nearby exchanged a glance. Chen Binghuang continued, "I recommend transferring them to the main hospital, or transferring them to Tzu Chi Hospital nearby. They have specialists in neurosurgery and cardiac surgery, and their equipment and staffing are more comprehensive."
Shao Qingyang listened without answering immediately. He leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "If we transfer all the patients out..." His fingers lightly tapped the tabletop. "Then is there really any need to hold this meeting today?"
Chen Binghuang's expression changed slightly.
Shao Qingyang did not raise his voice. Instead, he became even calmer. "Binghuang, I admit that with the current staffing at the branch hospital, handling these two cases is indeed a challenge." He raised his eyes. "But a challenge doesn't mean we are incapable of handling them."
The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly became heavy.
Chen Binghuang was silent for a moment before saying, "Director, I'm not afraid of trouble."
"I know."
"I just think that besides the patients' interests, we also have to consider the reputation of this hospital." Chen Binghuang folded his hands on the table, but his fingers unconsciously rubbed against each other.
"If something really goes wrong during surgery, none of us can escape responsibility."
Shao Qingyang slowly furrowed his brow. He looked at Chen Binghuang, a trace of disappointment passing through his eyes. "Pushing patients away is not the way to solve the problem." His voice became deeper. "If the attending physician isn't willing to take on this responsibility..." He paused. "I'm not going to force you."
Chen Binghuang's lips moved. In the end, he seemed to have finally found a reasonable way out.
"Director, I'm sorry." He picked up the phone on the table and glanced at it.
"The next two weeks happen to be my scheduled vacation. A few months ago, my wife already booked a family trip abroad through a travel agency." After saying this, he did not even dare to look directly at Shao Qingyang.
Shao Qingyang stared at him for several seconds. The only sound in the conference room was the hum of the air conditioner.
"All right." Shao Qingyang finally spoke. The expression on his face had clearly turned cold.
"The attending physician may leave first."
Chen Binghuang breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Director." He stood up and gathered the materials from the table.
At that moment, Physicians A and B also quietly began to move. The two exchanged a glance.
Physician A cleared his throat. "Director..."
Shao Qingyang looked up.
"I think... these two cases may..."
"May what?"
Physician A was suddenly at a loss for words. "May... be beyond my ability to handle."
Shao Qingyang's expression darkened instantly. He said nothing more. He simply raised his hand and gestured toward the door. "You may leave too."
Physician A froze. "Director, I..."
"Get out." His voice was not loud, but there was no room for negotiation.
Physician A lowered his head. Physician B also stood up. The two of them left the conference room together.
The moment the door closed, the conference table suddenly seemed strangely empty. Shao Qingyang said nothing. He lowered his head and looked at the two medical records on the table. After a moment, he raised his head.
Only three people remained in the conference room: Yang Wen-Hua, Su Junsheng, and himself. Shao Qingyang looked at the two young physicians before him, and his expression gradually softened.
"Wen-Hua, Junsheng."
The two looked up.
"I'm very touched that you're willing to stay." Shao Qingyang leaned back in his chair. "But there's one thing I want to remind you." His gaze became serious. "Think it through. Don't run away halfway."
As soon as the words "run away halfway" came out, Yang Wen-Hua and Su Junsheng looked at each other. After a brief silence, they both burst out laughing. The tension in the room eased somewhat. Su Junsheng lowered his voice and said to Yang Wen-Hua, "Senior, that sounded pretty intense coming from the director."
The corners of Yang Wen-Hua's mouth lifted slightly. "We're men, aren't we? How could we be afraid of hardship and difficulty?"
Shao Qingyang looked at the two of them and could not help smiling as well.
Yang Wen-Hua reached out and picked up the case materials from the table. "Director, can Junsheng and I study these two cases first?"
"Of course." Shao Qingyang picked up the folder and handed it directly to him.
Yang Wen-Hua reached out and took it. The moment the folder landed in his palm, his expression also became serious. He knew that from this moment on, this was no longer an ordinary clinical discussion. The lives of these two patients might very well depend on the judgments made by the few of them. And what he was truly facing might not be medical skill alone. It was responsibility. And even the possibility of failure. Yet strangely, he felt no retreat in his heart. Instead, a long-dormant fighting spirit slowly rose within him.
Seeing his expression, Shao Qingyang suddenly said, "Wen-Hua, I heard that you had excellent grades in medical school." Yang Wen-Hua looked up.
"You ranked first when you chose surgery as your specialty." Shao Qingyang smiled. "Sure enough, the way you think is different from most people."
Yang Wen-Hua lowered his eyes to the medical record.
"Don't worry, Director." He raised his head, his voice firm.
"I won't run away halfway." He clenched his fist and lightly tapped it against his chest.
"This is a man's promise."
Su Junsheng immediately nodded in agreement. "Me too." He looked at Shao Qingyang.
"Following Director and Senior Wen-Hua, I know I'll definitely learn real skills."
Shao Qingyang froze for two seconds, then laughed. He stood up, walked over to Yang Wen-Hua, and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "That's the spirit!"
Yang Wen-Hua's body swayed slightly. Shao Qingyang looked at him, and suddenly there was another indescribable emotion in his eyes.
"A man's promise." He repeated the words. "I like that." His hand remained on Yang Wen-Hua's shoulder.
"Wen-Hua, do you know? When I look at you..." Shao Qingyang's gaze became somewhat distant, as if he were looking through the young man before him and seeing himself twenty years earlier.
"I seem to see that young man I used to be again—the one with an unyielding spirit and a sharp tongue."
Su Junsheng laughed. "I've heard that story from the head nurse."
Shao Qingyang turned his head. "Oh?"
"The head nurse said that the director used to be an all-around expert in surgery." Su Junsheng became more animated as he spoke. "No matter what field it was, you studied it yourself and even performed the operations personally."
Shao Qingyang could not help laughing. "An all-around expert?" He shook his head. "Don't listen to them exaggerating."
"But you said it yourself!"
"I said I was interested in surgery." Shao Qingyang pulled out a chair and sat down. "As for positions, reputation, titles..." He shrugged. "I've never cared much about those things."
Yang Wen-Hua looked at him. At that moment, he suddenly understood why he was willing to stay. In the medical profession, what most easily causes people to lose themselves may not be failure in surgery, but the applause that comes after success. Reputation, status, power, and even the admiration of patients and fellow physicians can all gradually make a person forget why he picked up a scalpel in the first place. Yet the director before him seemed to still remember.
Su Junsheng said with a smile, "So Senior Wen-Hua and I privately call the director the medical world's surgical version of the maverick doctor, Black Jack."
Shao Qingyang raised an eyebrow. "Black Jack?"
"Yeah." Su Junsheng's smile grew even brighter. "He dares to take on all kinds of difficult and complicated cases."
Shao Qingyang leaned back in his chair, a childlike smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Heh-heh. I really do like Black Jack."
Yang Wen-Hua and Su Junsheng exchanged smiles. Their laughter was soft. But in the conference room, which was gradually falling quiet, the three men's gazes eventually fell once again on the two medical records on the table. Their smiles slowly faded. The real challenge was only just beginning.
Yang Wen-Hua reached out and opened the first medical record. The paper made a faint rustling sound beneath his fingertips. His expression gradually became more serious. He knew that from this moment on, there was no turning back. And for the first time, he clearly realized that becoming a true surgeon was not simply about having the courage to pick up a scalpel. More importantly, when everyone else was afraid of failure, would he still dare to fight with everything he had for a single human life?
22.
In Taitung at dawn, the sky had only just changed from deep blue to gray-white. The curtains in the surgical department's on-call room were half drawn, and the faint morning light seeped through the gap, falling across the two thick medical records on the desk. From the hallway outside came the occasional sound of a nurse pushing a medication cart. The small sounds of the wheels rolling across the floor were especially clear in the quiet on-call room.
Yang Wen-Hua sat at the desk, the cuffs of his white coat slightly rolled up. He held a ballpoint pen in his right hand while his left hand pressed down on the medical record. He had been reading for nearly an hour straight. The coffee on the desk had long since gone cold, yet he had not taken a single sip.
Across from him, Su Junsheng opened the imaging materials for Case A1. Several CT scans were spread across the desk. In the black-and-white images, abnormal shadows lurked deep inside the human body like enemies waiting in ambush, silent but merciless.
Su Junsheng frowned and pointed to one of the images.
"Senior, in Case A1... there are tumors in the liver, lungs, and pancreas." His finger stopped over the image. "Look at these locations. The cancer cells have clearly already spread."
Yang Wen-Hua did not answer immediately. He leaned slightly forward, his eyes fixed on the image, while his right hand lightly tapped the desk with the ballpoint pen.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
It was an unconscious habit he had whenever he was thinking.
"This one in the lung," he finally said, "is still relatively localized." He picked up his pen and drew several small circles beside the image. "We can consider localized resection." The tip of the pen moved to the liver. "The liver and pancreas are more complicated. Simple resection won't be enough. We also have to consider tissue removal, vascular embolization, and electrocautery to control the bleeding."
Su Junsheng nodded slightly, but his brows remained furrowed. He pulled his chair a little closer.
"But in that case, the surgery could take a very long time." He paused, his tone becoming even more serious. "Especially bleeding from the liver and pancreas... if we can't control it, the patient may not make it through the operation."
The on-call room suddenly fell silent. Outside the window, an ambulance siren sounded, approaching from a distance before gradually disappearing at the other end of the hospital.
Su Junsheng lowered his head and looked at the medical record, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the paper. He knew this was not an ordinary operation. More importantly, he knew that Yang Wen-Hua, sitting across from him, was fighting another battle in his mind. On one side was the patient's life; on the other was the surgical team's own limit of ability. If anything went wrong at any point, what was being called a "challenge" could become the end of a human life.
Yang Wen-Hua was silent for a moment before raising his head.
"Junsheng, here's what I'm thinking—if we're fast enough, precise enough, and our coordination has no gaps..." He held out two fingers and pointed separately to the lungs and liver. "We can consider operating on the liver and lung simultaneously."
Su Junsheng froze for a moment. He looked up at Yang Wen-Hua.
"Simultaneously?"
"Yes." Yang Wen-Hua's voice was calm, but his eyes were intensely focused. "Shorten the operating time and reduce the risks associated with prolonged anesthesia. Handling the two areas simultaneously requires a high level of coordination, but if we divide the work clearly enough, it may not be impossible."
Su Junsheng did not answer immediately. He looked at the images on the table, then at Yang Wen-Hua. After several seconds, he slowly nodded.
"I understand what you mean, Senior." His eyes gradually brightened. It was not blind excitement, but the fighting spirit unique to physicians when confronting a highly difficult case. "In other words, keep the surgery within the shortest possible time while clearly dividing everyone's responsibilities."
Yang Wen-Hua nodded. "Exactly." He closed Case A1 and picked up another medical record. "Next, let's look at A2."
Su Junsheng sat up straight. "Okay."
Yang Wen-Hua opened the medical record and quickly scanned the examination data.
"For A2, we'll first repair the heart valve." He tapped the medical record with the tip of his pen. "Then we'll dilate the main blood vessel, clear out the clotted blood inside, and insert a stabilizing stent."
Su Junsheng looked over the data. After a few seconds, he nodded lightly.
"Mm." He picked up his pen and quickly wrote down the surgical sequence in his notebook. "That's the same procedure I had in mind."
Yang Wen-Hua looked up at him. Their eyes met in midair. No further words were needed. Yet at that moment, it was as though they had completed a silent confirmation.
They both knew that the real test was neither the few lines written on the medical records nor the discussion in the conference room. It would come on the operating table, when the patient's life hung by a thread, and they had to prove whether they could truly do what they had just said—fast, precise, steady, and completely seamless in their coordination.
Su Junsheng closed his notebook and took a deep breath.
"Senior."
"Yeah?"
"These two cases... they're really tough."
Yang Wen-Hua glanced at him, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "That's why the director handed them to us."
Su Junsheng smiled as well. "Then we can't let the director down."
Yang Wen-Hua neatly stacked the two medical records and stood up. By now, the morning light had penetrated the curtains and illuminated half of his face. He lowered his head and looked at the records in his hands, his expression gradually becoming calm and composed.
To him, this was not merely an operation. It was also an opportunity to prove himself. Yet he knew clearly in his heart—a physician can challenge the limits of surgery, but he cannot gamble with a patient's life to prove his own courage.
He tightened his grip on the medical records and turned toward the door.
"Let's go."
Su Junsheng stood and followed him.
"Where?"
Yang Wen-Hua did not turn around.
"Let's find the director and tell him our plan."
Their footsteps, one ahead of the other, gradually disappeared down the surgical department's morning corridor.
23. A Surgeon’s Operation
Inside the operating room, the surgical lights were still glaringly bright. The air was filled with the mixed smell of disinfectant and blood, while the monitors gave off a steady “beep... beep...” After several hours of surgery, the patient's vital signs finally began to stabilize.
Yang Wen-Hua stood at the operating table, fine beads of sweat forming at his temples. Even after maintaining the same position for such a long time, his hands remained so steady that there was almost no sign of fatigue.
A nurse handed him a needle holder.
“Dr. Yang.”
“Mm.” Yang Wen-Hua took the instrument and lowered his head to look at the final incision. At this moment, what was truly needed was no longer speed, but patience. Stitch by stitch, he closed the wound.
The final stitch.
Tie the knot.
Cut the thread.
He raised his head. “Done.”
The head nurse standing nearby let out a long breath and reached over to help him organize the instruments. Yang Wen-Hua stepped back and removed his gloves. Only after several hours of intense concentration did he suddenly feel that his shoulders were as heavy as if they had been filled with lead.
He turned and walked out of the operating room. As soon as the door opened, the air-conditioning from the hallway blew toward him. Yang Wen-Hua removed his mask and took a deep breath.
Just then, a middle-aged man in his fifties hurried toward him. Three children followed behind him. The oldest was in his teens, while the youngest was still holding on to his father's clothing. The moment the man saw Yang Wen-Hua, he immediately stopped.
“Doctor... my wife's surgery...”
The man's voice trembled slightly.
Yang Wen-Hua looked at him, his expression softening.
“The surgery went very well.”
The man froze for a moment.
“Really?”
“Really.” Yang Wen-Hua nodded. “Your wife is still recovering. She'll need to be closely monitored over the next few days. Once her condition is stable, she can gradually return to normal life. But after she is discharged, remember to bring her back for follow-up appointments according to the hospital's schedule.”
The middle-aged man's eyes reddened.
He gripped Yang Wen-Hua's hand tightly. “Doctor, thank you so much...”
Yang Wen-Hua gently patted the back of his hand. “You're welcome. It's my job.”
The man shook his head, tears already welling in his eyes.
“To us, she's everything.”
The three children behind him also fell silent. The man suddenly turned around and gave the three children a meaningful look.
“Come on, say thank you to Uncle Doctor.”
The three children followed their father and bowed deeply to Yang Wen-Hua together.
“Thank you, Uncle Doctor.”
Yang Wen-Hua was stunned for a moment. He had never expected that an ordinary operation could represent a life-and-death wait in the eyes of another family.
He crouched down and looked the youngest child in the eye.
“Your mom is very brave. You need to be a good boy and listen to your dad, too. Wait for your mom to get healthy again, okay?”
The little boy nodded vigorously.
“Okay.”
Yang Wen-Hua stood up and smiled at them again.
“When your mom comes out of the intensive care unit, remember to go spend some time with her.”
After watching the family leave, he remained standing there for a moment. The corridor was still full of people coming and going. A nurse pushed a hospital bed past him, while from the other end came a doctor's voice calling a patient's name.
A hospital never stops operating because of one person's life or death. But for one particular family, those few hours just now may have been the longest wait of their entire lives.
Yang Wen-Hua turned and walked toward the surgical department's on-call room.
The on-call room was much quieter. Yang Wen-Hua pushed open the door and sank heavily into the back of the chair. He picked up the teacup on the desk and took a sip. The tea had already gone cold, and its bitter taste spread across his tongue.
He had just put down the cup when the internal phone on the desk suddenly rang.
“Ring—”
Yang Wen-Hua reached out and answered it.
“Hello?”
Shao Qingyang's steady voice came from the other end.
“Wen-Hua?”
“Director.”
“I know you just finished an operation.” Shao Qingyang paused. “There's something I'd like to talk to you about. Can you come over for a moment?”
Yang Wen-Hua glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Sure, Director. I'll be right there.”
After hanging up, he stood. Fatigue still weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he did not linger.
Outside the director's office, Yang Wen-Hua raised his hand and knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
He pushed the door open and entered.
Shao Qingyang was sitting behind his desk. Several documents were spread across the desktop, one of them a paper from a recent international medical journal. When he saw Yang Wen-Hua, Shao Qingyang looked up and smiled.
“Just finished surgery?”
“Mm.”
“Sit.”
Yang Wen-Hua pulled out a chair and sat down. Shao Qingyang picked up the journal and lightly tapped the cover.
“I read the paper you recently published in an international medical journal.” He raised his eyes. “Sure enough, every generation produces its own talented people.”
Yang Wen-Hua smiled slightly.
“Thank you, Director.”
“Over the past two years, you've taken on a considerable share of the workload in the surgical department's operating rooms.” Shao Qingyang leaned back, his gaze becoming serious. “What's even more remarkable is that you've almost never turned down cases that other physicians weren't confident about handling.”
Yang Wen-Hua fell silent. In his mind, the faces of patients from the past two years flashed rapidly before him.
Those who succeeded.
Those who failed.
Those who survived.
And those whose lives could not be saved despite their best efforts.
He knew very clearly that doctors were not gods. Every time they stepped into an operating room, they had to face two possible outcomes: saving the patient and failing to save the patient.
Shao Qingyang looked at him.
“So, in my opinion, you should move up and become an attending physician.”
Yang Wen-Hua looked up.
“Director...” He paused for a moment. “I'm still young.”
“Being young isn't a reason.”
“I need more clinical experience.” Yang Wen-Hua's voice was calm when he said it.
But Shao Qingyang knew that he was not being modest. He genuinely believed that he was not ready yet.
Shao Qingyang smiled instead.
“Thank you for being considerate of me.”
Yang Wen-Hua was stunned.
Shao Qingyang leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands.
“In our profession, seniority and the proper order between juniors and seniors have always mattered. If you were promoted to attending physician now, there are still several senior physicians ahead of you, and it would actually put me in a difficult position.”
He pulled a document from the folder on his desk.
“So I'm giving you another opportunity.”
Yang Wen-Hua took the document.
“The president of the main hospital asked me to recommend one colleague to attend an international medical conference in Shanghai and present a research paper.”
Yang Wen-Hua's eyes remained fixed on the document.
Shanghai.
The two words pierced his heart like a fine needle without warning.
For an instant, a name flashed through his mind.
Ci-En.
That promise.
Ten years.
The time agreed upon was getting closer and closer.
His fingers unconsciously tightened around the document.
Shao Qingyang did not notice anything unusual and continued.
“I've carefully evaluated the candidates, and this opportunity belongs to you.”
Yang Wen-Hua looked up.
“Director, but my current workload...”
“You don't need to worry about that.” Shao Qingyang raised a hand and interrupted him. “I'll rearrange your clinical duties.”
He picked up the journal on the desk.
“At Guanghua Hospital, no one can compare with you when it comes to the quality of your publications and your international visibility. It's not easy to excel in clinical work while also keeping up with research.”
Yang Wen-Hua lowered his head and looked at the document in his hands.
Shanghai.
A complicated feeling suddenly arose inside him.
On one hand, this was the academic stage he had dreamed of. On the other hand, that city might force him to face a relationship he had buried for many years.
What if Ci-En had really come back?
What if, this time, he could really see her?
He did not know whether he was looking forward to it or afraid of it.
Shao Qingyang's voice came again.
“You don't have to give me an answer right now.”
Yang Wen-Hua looked up.
“First, choose one of your papers and send it to the organizers. You'll leave for Shanghai at the beginning of next month.”
The office fell silent for several seconds.
Yang Wen-Hua finally nodded.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Director.”
Shao Qingyang smiled.
“You don't have to thank me.” He stood up, walked over to Yang Wen-Hua, and patted him on the shoulder. “Opportunities always go to those who are prepared at any moment.”
Yang Wen-Hua also stood. Shao Qingyang looked at him with admiration in his eyes.
“Keep up the good work. One day, you'll be a bright new star in the field of surgery.”
Yang Wen-Hua said nothing. He merely nodded slightly.
When he walked out of the director's office, he was still gripping the information about the medical conference in Shanghai tightly in his hand.
Morning light streamed through the window at the end of the hallway. He stopped and looked outside.
Shanghai.
That name appeared in his mind once again.
Lin Xiuling.
And deep in his memory, the smile of the girl from ten years ago also quietly emerged in the morning light.
Yang Wen-Hua closed his eyes.
It turned out that some promises do not disappear with time. They simply remain hidden deep in the heart, waiting for the day when fate calls them awake again.
24. Qingxiu Jiaren Medical Aesthetics Clinic
By evening, the neon lights in Shanghai's commercial district began to illuminate one after another. The plane trees outside swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the traffic on the streets gradually grew heavier.
The day's appointments were about to end, yet the Qingxiu Jiaren Medical Aesthetics Clinic was still filled with the faint smell of disinfectant. At the front desk, a nurse was organizing the day's medical records.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded at the entrance.
A young flower shop deliveryman walked in carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
“Excuse me, is this Qingxiu Jiaren Medical Aesthetics Clinic?”
The nurse looked up.
“Yes.”
“This bouquet is for Dr. Lin. Please sign for it.”
The nurse took the bouquet and glanced down at the card. A smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.
“The same person again.”
Zhang Dongmei, who was standing nearby organizing documents, came over when she heard this.
“Who?”
The nurse waved the card in her hand.
“Dr. Zhao!” she said, deliberately drawing out the words.
“This Dr. Zhao really is thoughtful.” Zhang Dongmei looked at the beautifully wrapped roses and could not help smiling. “But our boss never seems particularly warm toward Dr. Zhao.”
She reached out and took the bouquet.
“Give it to me. I'll arrange them.”
Zhang Dongmei removed the wrapping paper and placed the flowers one by one into a glass vase beside the display window.
The bright red flowers looked especially striking under the lights.
The nurse looked at the bouquet, resting her chin in both hands.
“If Dr. Zhao sent me flowers, I'd run straight to him.”
Zhang Dongmei burst out laughing.
“Wake up!” She placed the last flower in the vase and turned around. “We're born to be maids, so stop dreaming.”
The nurse pouted.
“Can't I at least dream about it?”
“You can.”
Zhang Dongmei pushed the vase closer to the display window.
“In your dreams.”
The two looked at each other and laughed.
Zhang Dongmei patted the counter.
“All right, that's about it for today. Clean up the counter and get ready to go home.”
The nurse nodded.
“Okay.”
Inside the examination room, Lin Xiuling sat at the desk with her phone against her ear. She was still wearing her white coat, and several medical records were spread across the desk.
Zhao Xiaodong's voice came through the phone.
“Xiuling, are you free tonight?”
Lin Xiuling was about to answer when another incoming call suddenly appeared on the phone screen.
She lowered her head and looked.
Su Mingzhu.
Her eyes brightened slightly.
“Dr. Zhao, please hold on for a moment. I'll answer a call from my classmate in Taipei first.”
She pressed the switch button.
“Hello, Mingzhu. This is Xiuling.”
The voice on the other end was filled with excitement.
“Xiuling, I have some news to tell you.”
“What news?”
“Do you still remember Senior Wen-Hua?”
Lin Xiuling's hand holding the phone suddenly stopped. Her originally casual expression instantly became focused.
“...Of course I remember.”
She tried to make her voice sound calm. But Su Mingzhu did not notice the subtle change in her tone.
“He's going to Shanghai to attend a medical conference.”
Lin Xiuling's heart suddenly jumped. She sat up straight.
“You mean... Senior Wen-Hua is coming to Shanghai?”
“That's right!” the voice on the other end said with a laugh. “And I've already found out his flight.”
Lin Xiuling unconsciously tightened her grip on the phone.
The name she had buried deep in her heart for two years suddenly crossed the distant boundaries of time and space and appeared before her once again.
She had once told herself that matters of the heart should be left to take their natural course.
She had also told herself that since he had never given her a promise, she should stop expecting anything.
But at this moment, she realized that those words had never truly convinced her.
“What day? What time is his flight?”
Her voice unconsciously quickened.
Su Mingzhu told her the flight time.
Lin Xiuling quickly picked up a note from the desk and wrote down the time.
After finishing, she stared at the numbers on the paper for several seconds.
“Okay, I've written it down.”
A smile slowly appeared at the corners of her mouth.
“I'll go to the airport to pick him up.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Su Mingzhu's meaningful laugh.
“Ooh—”
Lin Xiuling immediately became alert.
“What do you mean, ‘ooh’?”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Mingzhu.”
“Okay, okay!” Su Mingzhu laughed. “But you've waited this long. Now that the opportunity has come, you have to make the most of it.”
Lin Xiuling looked out the window. The neon lights on the street had already come on. There was anticipation in her eyes, along with a trace of uneasiness.
“Let nature take its course.”
She said softly, “Things like love... can't be forced.”
When she said those words, even she did not know whether she was telling Su Mingzhu or reminding herself.
“Mingzhu, come visit me in Shanghai sometime. It's my treat.”
The two chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up.
Lin Xiuling stared at her phone screen.
The screen had already gone dark.
But her heart could not calm down.
Nearly two years had passed.
She had thought that time would be enough to bring her peace.
She had never expected that just one name and one flight would be enough to awaken all the emotions she had deliberately suppressed.
She took a deep breath.
She pressed the call button again.
“Dr. Zhao, I'm sorry to keep you waiting.”
Zhao Xiaodong's voice came through again.
“That's okay.”
“You were saying... a birthday party?”
“Yeah. I wanted to invite you.”
Lin Xiuling leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment.
“I see... but unfortunately...” She glanced at the flight information she had just written down. “I have a friend coming from Taiwan that day, so I probably won't be able to attend your birthday party.”
The person on the other end of the phone seemed to make a suggestion.
Lin Xiuling froze for a moment.
“Bring him along?” She could not help laughing. “That... I'll have to ask him first.”
“Him?” There seemed to be a hint of probing in Zhao Xiaodong's voice.
Lin Xiuling did not answer immediately.
After a second, she said, “He's my senior from medical school.”
“What kind of relationship do you have?”
Lin Xiuling smiled softly.
“Just senior and junior.”
Her gaze fell on the window.
“He used to take very good care of me.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Lin Xiuling keenly sensed that something had changed in his tone.
“What?” she teased deliberately. “It sounds like you're...”
She stopped there and did not continue.
Some relationships do not need to be explained.
Especially the relationship between her and Yang Wen-Hua, which even she herself had not truly figured out.
The voice on the other end said a few more words.
Lin Xiuling glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Not tonight. I still need to get a few things ready.” She smiled. “Maybe another time. I'm going to get some rest. Bye.”
She hung up the phone.
The examination room suddenly became quiet.
Lin Xiuling sat in the chair without moving for a long time.
She lowered her head and looked at the note on the desk.
A series of flight times was written on it.
She reached out her finger and gently touched the numbers.
“Senior...” she murmured softly.
For two years, she had kept telling herself not to wait.
But now, when he was truly about to appear in Shanghai, she finally realized—
She had never truly stopped waiting.
After a moment, Lin Xiuling stood up.
She removed her white coat and hung it on the coat rack on the wall.
After arranging her hair and straightening her collar, she opened the door to the examination room.
Zhang Dongmei was at the front desk organizing the last batch of instruments.
Lin Xiuling walked over.
“Dongmei, check today's instruments one more time.” She paused. “Once you've confirmed that everything is fine, you can go home.”
Zhang Dongmei looked up, her gaze lingering on Lin Xiuling's face for a moment.
“Yes, boss.” She suddenly blinked.
“But...”
“Hmm?”
“You seem to be in a particularly good mood today, boss.”
Lin Xiuling froze. “Do I?”
“Of course.” Zhang Dongmei stepped closer, smiling meaningfully. “Could it be that you're going on a date with Dr. Zhao?”
Lin Xiuling laughed. “No, that's not it!”
She picked up the handbag from the desk.
“I have a friend coming from Taiwan.”
“A friend?”
“Mm.” She paused. Her eyes unconsciously drifted toward the bouquet of flowers that had just arrived beside the display window.
“I need to go out and buy a few things.”
Zhang Dongmei followed her gaze.
Suddenly, she seemed to understand something.
But Lin Xiuling had already turned and walked toward the door. She pushed open the clinic's front door.
On the Shanghai streets at dusk, neon lights illuminated her face. She raised her head and looked at the city lights gradually coming alive.
The name that had lain dormant in her heart for two years once again emerged with perfect clarity.
Yang Wen-Hua.
And this time, he was about to cross the two years that had passed and come to the city where she was.
