Relatives and friends always said to Mrs. Yang, “You’re so fortunate—both your daughters are doctors. What good karma from a past life you must have earned.”

Mrs. Yang could only nod along, murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes.” It was too much trouble to explain otherwise.

But how could she explain?

Both her daughters were beautiful and remarkably clever, only eighteen months apart in age. Without either of them planning it, both had been admitted to medical school at sixteen, and by the time they finished their internships and began practicing, they still looked like young girls.

Yet unlike most mothers, Mrs. Yang didn’t hold especially high expectations for them. She always said that all a person needed was health and happiness.

The other aunties disagreed. “When your children top every subject without needing to be pushed, of course you can afford to say that.”

And marriage? A family of their own? Mrs. Yang was too embarrassed to bring it up.

Neither of her daughters even had a boyfriend.

The sisters each worked more than eighty-six hours a week. They didn’t even need clothes to go out in—a white coat sufficed for the entire day.

Mrs. Yang wasn’t nearly as happy as the aunties imagined.

Besides, there were many kinds of doctors—neurosurgeons, cardiologists—all of them so distinguished.

But Yang Yipin was a plastic surgeon.

Her mother asked, “So you just sew double eyelids for people?”

Yipin couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Yes.”

Yang Erjing was a veterinarian.

Her mother asked, “So you just neuter cats and dogs?”

Erjing, with better composure, simply said, “Yes.”

That wasn’t the whole truth, of course.

Yang Yipin had originally been a surgical intern. One day, while interning under her mentor Dr. Huo Jiansi in the outpatient clinic, she saw a young mother weeping.

The mother clutched her newborn tightly, refusing to let go, tears streaming down her face while the nurse beside her tried in vain to console her. When the doctor tried to take the baby from her arms, she absolutely would not allow it. Suddenly the newborn whimpered and turned its small face—Yipin gasped softly. The infant had been born with a cleft lip and could not nurse.

Dr. Huo smiled gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll operate on her right away.”

That afternoon, Yipin followed Dr. Huo into the operating room. Under anesthesia, the tiny infant looked like a porcelain doll. Dr. Huo needed only fifty-some minutes to repair the upper lip. His skill was extraordinary, the stitching flawless—you couldn’t tell there had ever been anything wrong.

When they returned the baby to her mother, the young woman’s worried expression dissolved instantly into overwhelming joy, and she thanked the doctors again and again.

From that moment, Yang Yipin decided to become a plastic surgeon.

She underwent training rigorous enough to rival neurosurgery, and today she already ran her own clinic.

If her mother still believed she merely touched up double eyelids and double chins for wealthy ladies, well, that wasn’t entirely unfair—that was indeed part of her work, and a lucrative part at that.

Mrs. Yang would ask hopefully, “A son-in-law? Grandchildren? Any progress at all?”

Erjing sighed. “Old people are like children—they want whatever they don’t have.”

Miss Yang the second had loved animals since childhood, so naturally she became a veterinarian. She didn’t work at an ordinary clinic—she was the lead practitioner at a well-equipped animal hospital, always swamped with work.

Owners who brought their pets to that hospital no longer thought of their cats and dogs as mere animals—they regarded them as family.

Sometimes Erjing would ask her sister for advice.

“A seventeen-year-old golden retriever, too weak and old to move—what should be done?”

“What’s the average lifespan of a golden retriever?”

“Eleven years.”

“Goodness, that’s like two hundred in human years. Give him pain medication and vitamins, take him home, and don’t go looking for more diagnoses.”

Mrs. Yang grew exasperated. “Do you two have nothing else to talk about?”

The sisters promptly switched to discussing the weather.

The sisters didn’t live with their mother. Nor did they lay all their private affairs bare to her.

In truth, Yipin already had a boyfriend, but fearing family pressure, she kept it from her mother.

His name was Wang Shenpo, a fund manager. A friend had introduced them a year ago, and lately they’d grown quite close—Yipin spent almost all her free time with him.

What did she like about Wang Shenpo?

He made her laugh.

That mattered enormously. For a woman with her own career, whether the other person had wealth or status was beside the point—and it wasn’t yet time to think about marriage. Being able to laugh was everything.

Wang Shenpo loved to play and knew how to play, seemingly possessed of boundless energy, always bringing Yipin surprises.

She liked him. And yet, she never brought him home.

Shenpo had asked, “When can I meet your mother?”

“Most men are terrified of meeting the mother.”

“Meeting her would give things a kind of… status.”

“Something to complain about to her later, perhaps?”

“Tsk. I’m not that kind of person. If anything ever goes wrong, I’ll grit my teeth and bear it myself—I’d never go crying to reporters.”

Yipin thought it over. “Next year, then. If we’re still together, I’ll introduce you to my family next year.”

“Do you remember how we met?”

She remembered a friend making the introduction, half-joking: “Dr. Yang, this is Manager Wang.”

He’d instantly liked her short hair and flat shoes. Most importantly, he had no doctor girlfriend—not even a dentist.

A couple of days later, while playing ice hockey, he’d been struck hard across the brow by an opponent and needed stitches. He immediately called Dr. Yang Yipin in a panic.

She told him to come to her clinic right away.

He’d still managed to drive himself over, blood streaming down his face, looking dreadful.

Yipin had him lie down at once and examined the wound—fortunately it was only superficial—but Wang Shenpo howled like a pig being slaughtered.

Annoyed, she remembered telling him, “One more sound and I’ll knock you out completely and take my time cutting.”

He’d cried from the pain.

The wound wasn’t small—it took seven stitches—and she let him sleep it off at the clinic.

That was how their friendship began.

The stitches came out three days later, and within a week the scar was almost invisible. Wang Shenpo sent over a small crystal mirror engraved with the words “Kind heart, benevolent hands”—the four characters made Yipin laugh so hard she doubled over.

The mirror still hung in the clinic’s reception room.

Today, her first patient was a young girl.

“Please, sit. What can I do for you?”

The seventeen- or eighteen-year-old girl took a breath. “Doctor, I’ve thought this through very carefully. I’ve been considering it my whole life.”

Ah, the whole life of a seventeen-year-old. Yipin smiled warmly. “What would you like to do?”

“Dr. Yang, I don’t like my nose. I want the tip made smaller and the bridge raised. How much would it cost, and when could you do the surgery?”

Yipin sighed softly. The girl truly seemed to believe she knew exactly what she wanted.

“Let me have a look… hm, your features actually go together beautifully. Round eyes suit a round nose. And your face is quite sweet besides. What is there to change?”

The girl froze.

“Come, sit closer to the computer. Let me show you something.”

Yipin took a digital photograph of her, front and side profile.

“This is you.”

Yipin added a sharp, high-bridged nose to the image. “Suppose this is you after the surgery—suddenly you have a standard Greek nose. To match it, your forehead would need to be raised too, and your chin lengthened. Look—is this still you?”

The girl stared, dumbstruck.

“Your eye sockets might need deepening too. Look, now you’ve become a foreigner. Your parents and classmates wouldn’t even recognize you.”

The girl nearly burst into tears. “No, no! I just wanted a higher nose.”

“Trust your doctor—your own nose is the best-looking one for you. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But—”

“But what? You’re still not satisfied? Once you’re past twenty-one, once you’re fully grown, if you still feel this way, come back and see me. It won’t be too late.”

“Doctor—”

“Shh, don’t say anything more. Go home, think carefully about what I’ve told you. A higher nose won’t earn you top grades, and it won’t make your classmates or friends love you any more than they already do. Besides, you’re already pretty enough.”

Yipin had the nurse show the girl out.

Nurse Peng came back in a moment later. “Another loss-making deal.”

“Isn’t it just. We didn’t even collect a consultation fee.”

“That one only wanted a nose job. The last one wanted breast augmentation at fifteen. Tell me that’s not asking for trouble.”

“She ended up going somewhere else, with her mother’s signature. She’s a rising young singer—needs a good figure.”

The nurse shook her head. “Cruel world.”

Yipin added, “A jungle of monsters.”

Next was a young married woman requesting liposuction of the abdomen.

“Mrs. Liu, you could try abdominal exercises first.”

Mrs. Liu laughed. “Dr. Yang, I’ve heard about your temperament for a long time now—your surgical skill is first-rate, but you’re reluctant to operate. You’re always chasing patients away.”

Yipin was startled. “Really? I have that terrible a reputation?”

“I’ve been troubled by these five pounds of belly fat for years now. I absolutely must be rid of it.”

Yipin examined Mrs. Liu, asking in detail about her medical history. Mrs. Liu grew a little impatient. “Other people have already finished their surgeries and gone home by now.”

“A careless doctor treats lives carelessly.”

“I’ll sign my own waiver. It’s none of your concern.”

Where did these women find such courage?

“Your blood pressure and cholesterol are both slightly elevated.”

“I know.”

“Tomorrow morning at eight sharp, come in on an empty stomach and we’ll do the surgery.”

“What, I have to wait until tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tomorrow’s the earliest.”

Mrs. Liu left in a huff.

The nurse came back in. “Mr. Wang is calling for you.”

“What is it?”

“Miss, it’s my birthday today.”

“Oh, right, I nearly forgot. What would you like as a gift?”

“A passionate kiss, an embrace, a burning love.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“See you tonight.”

She had just hung up the phone when someone knocked.

“Do you remember me?” Yipin looked closely—the face seemed vaguely familiar, quite young, pretty but haggard. She thought she recognized her, though she wasn’t certain. “Is it—Cen Mei’e?” It seemed to be one of Erjing’s old classmates.

The woman nodded.

“It’s been so long. Why don’t you ever come by the house?”

Long ago, she and Erjing had both been keen swimmers, running and training together.

The woman’s smile was strained. “I’ve been busy with other things.”

“So today you’ve come to see me about something?”

“Yes, Sister. I want to buy this medicine.”

She handed over a small slip of paper. Yipin looked at it and understood at once. “This is a controlled substance.”

“That’s why I came to a doctor I know.”

“I can’t help you with this.”

The woman grew agitated. “Sister, we know each other. Don’t say—”

“I want to help you break free of this addiction.”

“Sister, will you give it to me or not?”

“Mei’e—”

She grew angry and swept everything off the desk onto the floor.

The nurse rushed in. “Doctor, should I call the police?”

Yipin waved her hand. “Mei’e, go. Take care of yourself.”

Cen Mei’e left without another word.

Yipin’s heart grew heavy. She tried to reach her sister at once. The receptionist said, “Dr. Yang is in surgery right now.”

“I’ll call back later.”

The receptionist recognized her voice. “You mean the other Dr. Yang.”

“That’s right, I’m her sister.”

“She’s performing heart surgery on an old cat. Should be finished in about an hour.”

Yipin checked the time—she had some free time anyway, so a visit to Erjing’s clinic seemed like a good idea.

The moment she stepped into the waiting room of the Ark Animal Hospital, Yipin knew immediately who the old cat’s owner was. A boy of twelve or thirteen stood by the door, fists clenched tight. He wasn’t crying, but his expression carried a grief that ran deep.

Yipin was struck. Even when he fell in love and had his heart broken someday, it probably wouldn’t hurt this much. That old cat must have been with him his whole life.

Yipin went over to ask about the case.

The receptionist said, “The X-ray showed an enlarged heart. Dr. Yang will do everything she can.”

Yipin nodded.

“That boy is the owner. The surgery costs over twenty thousand. He withdrew his entire life savings from the bank without hesitation.”

Yipin was deeply moved. Before long, Erjing emerged from the operating room. The boy rushed toward her at once. Erjing put a hand on his shoulder and said a few words; his tears turned instantly to smiles.

Even Yipin let out a breath of relief. Yang Erjing’s assistant carried out the elderly cat.

“Hey, sis, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“So mysterious.” Erjing pulled off her surgical gown. “Don’t tell me you’re getting married?”

“Do you remember Cen Mei’e?”

Erjing froze. “Did she come bother you too?”

“So you already knew.”

“I turned her away. That’s why she went to find you.”

“We should both be on guard.”

Just then, Erjing spotted the tortoiseshell cat, now conscious, lying limp on the stretcher, its owner gently combing its fur.

Yipin sighed. A boy so young understood how to treasure the life of an animal, and yet there were grown adults out there squandering their own lives.

Yipin’s mobile phone rang.

It was her clinic’s nurse calling. “Dr. Huo has asked you to hurry over to the West Mountain Children’s Hospital right away.”

Yipin answered, “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

Dr. Huo was waiting for her.

“Yipin, come with me.”

Not knowing what had happened, Yipin followed her mentor into the ward.

There she saw a small child sitting on the hospital bed, eating ice cream.

Dr. Huo said lightly, “She was rescued from a mining disaster and sent here by the Red Cross. She’s badly injured and needs our help.”

The child turned her head. Yipin froze.

Half her face was gone—her left eye reduced to a single hollow socket—but her brain had not been damaged, and so she had survived.

Yipin understood at once what her mentor meant.

She spoke a few gentle words to the child, who couldn’t understand at her age of five or six, but who was remarkably docile all the same.

Yipin examined her. “The skull structure will need to be reconstructed.”

“Are you confident?”

Yipin smiled. “Otherwise, what kind of apprentice would I be?”

“Come, walk me through the procedure.”

Yipin and the attending physician went into the conference room.

By the time they emerged, it was already past eight at night.

She walked toward the parking lot and saw a dark figure standing beside her car.

Yipin was startled and nearly turned to walk away, but the figure said, irritated, “Hey, it’s me.”

In a flash, Yipin remembered—it was Wang Shenpo. Damn it! They’d had plans tonight.

She’d already stood him up. What punishment would fit that crime?

“You didn’t even send word—left me to fend for myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This is truly the most miserable birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Well, it’s not even midnight yet.”

“Look at you, already worn out. Fine, fine, I’ll drive you home—just buy me a cup of coffee, and we’ll call it even.”

Yipin was nearly moved to tears with gratitude.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Young, beautiful, and a doctor—I suppose that earns you certain privileges.”

Yipin smiled. “Someday I’ll take care of your under-eye bags for free.”

Wang Shenpo, torn between laughing and crying, simply pulled her tightly into his arms.

Back home, Yipin still hadn’t set her work aside, explaining to her boyfriend, “We had to peel back Little Bailuo’s entire face to reset the shattered cheekbone and forehead bone first.”

Wang Shenpo had already fallen asleep on the sofa. Poor fund manager.

Yipin worked alone in her study late into the night, then went to bed.

The next day, it was Wang Shenpo who woke first. He shook her awake.

“I need to get back to the office and check the stock prices.”

“I won’t see you out.”

He gently stroked her hair. “Once we’re married, will it still be like this—always missing each other?”

Yipin took his hand, feeling there was something that needed to be said plainly. “I will never give up my work.”

“I might have to carry the baby to the emergency room myself while looking for you.”

“You’d carry the baby? Don’t you have clients to attend to?”

He looked lost. “But we’d both be so busy.”

“Wonderful.”

“And you can still laugh about it.”

“Tsk! Worse than that would be one of us busy and the other idle.”

“Hm! That’s actually a fair point.”

“Off to work, Manager Wang.”

“See you later, Dr. Yang.”

Her patients were waiting for her.

Yipin explained to Mrs. Liu, “After the surgery you’ll be able to wear a size four. But if he doesn’t love you, this won’t help either.”

Mrs. Liu nodded sadly. “I understand what you mean.”

“If it’s for your own sake, to feel better looking in the mirror, that’s fair enough too. But remember—watch your diet from now on, or the fat will come right back.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

The surgery took just over an hour.

While Mrs. Liu was still resting, the nurse came in. “Doctor, there’s an emergency patient.”

A pale-faced woman with a young man was waiting outside.

Yipin didn’t even take off her mask before going to examine the young man’s eye area.

“Doctor, will there be scarring?”

Yipin considered. “This is a knife wound.”

“Doctor—”

“You must understand, I’m required to report this to the police.”

“No, no, doctor, please give him a chance.”

Yipin sat down. “I can stitch this up right away.”

But the woman pulled the young man up. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“Ma’am, delaying treatment risks infection.”

“We can’t call the police.”

The nurse had already picked up the phone.

It was the young man himself who spoke up. “Mother, I’m not afraid. I’m the victim here.”

Yipin let out a breath of relief.

“Please, come with me.”

The wound above his brow had cut down to the bone—for a doctor, torn flesh like this was ordinary enough.

A police officer was already waiting outside.

“Zheng Lixin, please come with us for questioning.”

Yipin said gently, “Don’t be afraid. Just tell them the truth.”

After they left, the nurse remarked, “If we hadn’t called the police, they’d have paid double.”

Yipin looked at her. “Well, that’s fine, then—we’ll be the clinic that only serves people with something to hide, and go broke soon enough. From now on, if it looks like a shady character, turn them away.”

Mrs. Liu’s family came to pick her up, her driver supporting her back to the car.

A relative said with some worry, “It looks like it hurt quite a bit.”

“She’ll be fine in three to five days of rest.”

“Honestly, we never thought her waist looked thick at all.”

Yipin could only smile. “Well, she’s happier now, at least.”

So much time on their hands—dwelling on their own reflections, mirrors becoming their best friends, the more they looked the less they liked what they saw, flaws multiplying, self-loathing deepening…

Yipin was opening mail in her office and came across a charity fundraising flyer: it described a medical program that had already given free surgery to more than two hundred orphans with cleft lips across Wenshan, Zhaotong, Simao, Qujing, and Kunming in Yunnan Province, through the Red Cross hospital there, and this year the program would extend to children in Baoshan, Dali, Chuling, and the Honghe region, using reconstructive surgery to repair cleft lips, cleft palates, and other oral deformities. The flyer asked for donations to support the program.

Yipin was deeply moved—it was the first time she’d ever heard of places called Wenshan, Zhaotong, or Simao.

She wrote out a check at once, her mind turning over the question of how she could do more.

Dr. Huo’s assistant called.

“Yipin, eat something substantial. The surgery will run more than three hours.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Yipin never ate before surgery—she worried it would cause stomach discomfort and distract her focus.

Wang Shenpo brought wonton soup to visit, one for everyone, and the nurses beamed with delight.

He said, “Making up for your birthday treat.”

Seeing Yipin lost in thought, he teased, “Dr. Yang, where has your soul wandered off to this time?”

Yipin answered, “Yunnan.”

“What?”

“I have surgery this afternoon, so I won’t have time for you.”

“I already knew that.”

“Please bear with me.”

“Are you heroic and dashing in the operating room?”

“Covered head to toe in a mask, cap, and gown—what do you think?”

“I’d love to see it.”

“If you’re not squeamish about blood, you could visit the hospital. Today Dr. Huo is doing a teaching demonstration—you could watch from the observation gallery above the operating room with the other students.”

“Really?”

“Manager Wang, go home and read a detective novel instead.”

“No,” he said, quite excited. “This is a rare opportunity.”

“All right, let’s head over together.”

Wang Shenpo thought to himself—an observation gallery, what was there to fear? He genuinely wanted to take things further with Yang Yipin, and understanding her work firsthand seemed like the right thing to do.

The moment Yipin entered the hospital, she stopped talking entirely. Her lovely face took on an added air of solemnity, a kind of focused beauty. Wang Shenpo couldn’t help but marvel—how could this delicate creature possibly wield a scalpel?

He waited in the observation room.

Other medical students filed in for the demonstration, bringing notebooks, chattering excitedly.

The patient was brought into the operating room first, already under anesthesia, lying on the table like a porcelain doll.

Wang Shenpo watched Dr. Yang Yipin—strange, even her surgical gown couldn’t hide her slender figure.

One of the students said, “Dr. Yang is here.”

“She’s Dr. Huo’s top student.”

“Dr. Yang is my role model.”

“She’s said to be the most beautiful female doctor in the city.”

The surgery began.

At the first incision, Wang Shenpo knew immediately he shouldn’t have come.

Yes, he’d been injured before, he’d bled before, and he didn’t mind violence in movies. But watching live facial surgery made his palms, his forehead, his spine break out in a cold sweat.

The students, meanwhile, were narrating the scene animatedly to each other.

“Look how skillfully Dr. Yang holds the eyeball in place.”

“Ah, the part soaking in the solution is the donor graft—it can be attached to the eyebrow ridge and left to heal naturally.”

“Look, the whole face has been peeled back—doesn’t it look just like a mask?”

Wang Shenpo suddenly felt his stomach turn. He stood up unsteadily.

The other students noticed and asked, “Are you all right?”

He forced himself to answer, “I’ll just step outside for a moment.”

Already dizzy, he struggled to make it outside, and only after gulping fresh air did he manage to steady himself.

He couldn’t bring himself to watch any more.

Wang Shenpo, after all, was better suited to circling around in the world of finance.

He quietly left the hospital.

So this was it—Yang Yipin possessed a will of iron and skill worthy of the legendary physician Hua Tuo. Today had truly opened his eyes.

That evening, Yipin found him.

“You didn’t see the end of the surgery? Everyone stood up and applauded.”

Wang Shenpo was silent a moment before asking, “Will that little girl’s face be restored?”

“She’ll need a series of smaller follow-up surgeries. The eye she lost can’t be recovered, but she’ll be able to live a normal life. Someone has already expressed interest in adopting her.”

“Yang Yipin, you’re truly remarkable.”

“Hm, why does that word feel a little… off, somehow.”

Wang Shenpo said nothing.

Yipin asked, “Want to go out for a drink?”

“I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“All right then. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Wang Shenpo hung up the phone despondently. In that instant, he had already decided to distance himself from Yang Yipin, and eventually to end things.

He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, but men have a sixth sense too—he couldn’t accept a partner so formidable, so strong. Perhaps it was because he was, in the end, only an ordinary man; he simply wasn’t a match for her.

Yipin returned home exhausted and fell asleep at once.

The next day when she woke, she too seemed to sense something in the air. Her hair still carried the scent of disinfectant; at home she was used to a yellow medicated soap; and she always thought the most attractive outfit in the world was a white shirt and khaki trousers. A woman with such a personality was admirable, but perhaps not the easiest to appreciate.

She made coffee and read the morning paper. The hospital called.

“Bailuo has woken up.”

“I’ll be right there.”

There was no time to sigh, to reflect, to lament. Erjing called right after: “Today is Mother’s fiftieth birthday.”

“Ah, half a century already.”

“I’ve booked a table at the Capital Fragrance restaurant. You absolutely must come.”

“How could I be so unfilial as to miss it.”

“Did you get her a gift yet?”

“I’m going right now.”

“Get her a strand of peacock-blue South Sea pearls.”

“Understood.”

“Come meet me at my place first.”

“Got it.”

Yipin first visited the hospital to check on little Bailuo, discussed the case with Dr. Huo’s team, and then returned to her own clinic.

The moment she walked in, she heard Nurse Peng telling a prospective patient, “Dr. Yang’s surgical skill is so refined—you’ll be as beautiful as you want to be.”

Yipin was amused, caught between laughter and exasperation.

She looked closer and saw a woman with a veil over her face, hunched in her seat, silent.

“The doctor is here.”

At those words, the woman raised her head, a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Her voice was hoarse. “Dr. Yang, my name is Hu Kexin.”

Yipin sat down. “Take your time, tell me everything.”

Her voice trembled with emotion. “Doctor, please restore my appearance.”

Yipin noted her hands and realized she wasn’t very old.

“Doctor, I’ve inherited some money. I can cover the cost of reconstructive treatment. Please help me.” She clenched her fists.

Yipin said gently, “May I remove the veil?”

“Promise me first.” She was stubborn about it.

“If you won’t let me examine you, how can I treat you?”

She hesitated slightly, then reached up and slowly removed the head scarf.

Yipin saw a face scarred by burns, the skin twisted with scar tissue, the features pulled almost beyond recognition.

Frightening as the face was, it did not shake Dr. Yang Yipin more than little Bailuo’s injury had. But the nurse, seeing it, let out a startled gasp.

Yipin said, “The wound has healed reasonably well.”

“Doctor, this is what I used to look like.”

She produced a photograph.

In it was a lovely young woman, standing before a university entrance.

“Ah,” Yipin said. “The University of London.”

“Yes, doctor. Have you been to London?”

“I visited once.”

She produced a newspaper clipping as well. “Doctor, this is how it happened.”

Yipin was surprised—the woman had clearly come prepared, laying out her situation with remarkable organization. Though her tone was emotional, her mind was evidently quite clear.

The English clipping read: “A small explosion occurred in a laboratory at the Royal College. A male and female chemistry student were injured…”

“The woman was me. My face was burned. The man was my fiancé at the time, Zheng Lixin—his hand was injured.”

Yipin said nothing.

“I never saw him again after I recovered. A year later, he married a literature student.”

“Did you finish your degree?”

“Yes. I struggled through to graduation.” Yipin felt a measure of comfort at that.

“That’s good to hear.”

“That girl’s father owned a well-known textile factory.”

Yipin exhaled softly. “Does that matter?”

She sighed. “Doctor, you’re right. It doesn’t matter at all.”

Yipin said, “Life’s road is full of thorns—many times we’re left bleeding and broken. If we sought revenge for every wound, we wouldn’t have enough time or strength in another lifetime.”

“Please treat my face.”

“For the future, not for the past.”

She answered, “So that job interviews will go more smoothly.”

Whether or not that was her true motive, Yipin didn’t press further—she proceeded with a thorough examination and scheduled the first surgery.

“In total, this will take about a year. The process will be quite painful, and the cost will be significant. You need to be prepared for that.”

“Will I need extensive skin grafting?”

“We now have artificial skin available—the results are excellent. Don’t worry.”

She relaxed completely.

After the patient left, Yipin asked idly, “What did you mean, ‘as beautiful as you want to be’?”

The nurse laughed sheepishly.

“Does appearance really matter that much?”

Nurse Peng suddenly spoke with unusual candor. “Doctor, I consider myself somewhat educated too. I tell my own daughter, ‘Memorize your multiplication tables, study your English well, it’ll serve you someday.’ But doctor, how many of the women who come here for liposuction and skin resurfacing actually got where they are through excellence?”

Yipin smiled. “You’re being far too pessimistic.”

“The truth is discouraging. Look at those women who come in for fat removal and dermabrasion—do you think intelligence had anything to do with their success?”

“You mustn’t insult the clients.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Yipin returned to her office to study Hu Kexin’s case in detail.

That afternoon, a mother brought her son in to remove a birthmark on his face.

Another elderly woman requested removal of under-eye bags.

Yipin never said to her patients, “You’re seventy or eighty years old, on your way out—why worry about such things.” She was especially attentive with elderly patients, helping restore their confidence, lifting their spirits, adding years to their lives.

She suddenly remembered an errand and hurried to the shopping district to choose a gift. Peacock-blue South Sea pearls were rare and expensive, but she finally found a suitable piece and rushed home to change.

Erjing had already called several times.

The sound of flapping wings came through the phone.

“What is that, a pterodactyl?”

“Come see for yourself and you’ll find out.”

Yipin hurried over to Erjing’s clinic.

There she found an eagle with an injured wing, its wingspan, fully extended, as long as both of Erjing’s arms together. Though bound in restraints, it still looked magnificent. Yipin was awed.

“Well, look at this. From the ground you just look like a kestrel, but up close you’re enormous. How did you get hurt?”

“We think it collided with a train and fell. A kind passerby brought it in.”

“Terrifying.” Erjing sighed. “These days the city isn’t a place for eagles anymore. Sometimes they fly all day and still can’t find food—and this one’s too proud to eat carrion or garbage.”

“Every one we save is one saved.”

Erjing turned. “Come see the earrings I bought Mother.”

She opened the box—brilliant, set with a large diamond, clearly expensive.

“As people get older, gifts get more and more practical—towels, appliances, food, that sort of thing, how tiresome. Mother will love this set of pearl jewelry.”

Yipin smiled, impressed by how thoughtful it was.

“I know Mother always wanted a son. Well, so what if she did—it’s her own birthday that matters most. Who cares if she carried us for ten months and lost sleep raising us and paid for our schooling.”

“Don’t get worked up.”

Erjing laughed. “Right, let’s go home for dinner.”

At the house, there was another surprise waiting.

Yipin found her mother beaming, chatting merrily with a young man.

Who was this?

“Let me introduce you—this is my boyfriend, Wu Heshu.”

Yipin understood at once—Erjing really was clever. This must be the best birthday gift for their mother, something Yipin herself would never have thought to arrange.

Little Wu was smooth-talking and had brought expensive gifts, useful ones and edible ones, and wished the mother ten thousand years of life.

He stayed for dinner too, full of laughter and conversation.

Someone remarked, “The three of you look like sisters, Mrs. Yang.”

“Both her daughters are so clever and capable, but Mrs. Yang has such refined grace—she outshines them both.”

Smooth words, utterly shameless, and yet their mother lapped it all up, delighted beyond measure.

After dinner, they cut the cake, the birthday dinner concluded, and everyone said their goodbyes.

Yipin was so tired her eyes could barely stay open.

“Was that really your boyfriend?”

“We’ve been on a date or two. Borrowed him to fill out the scene.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“What did you think of little Wu?”

“Slick and oily. Rather off-putting.”

Erjing laughed. “And your Mr. Wang Shenpo?”

“How do you even know about him?” Yipin froze.

“A little groundhog told me.”

Yipin turned her head away. “It’s over.” There was a note of quiet grief in her voice.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have brought him into the operating room. He’s kept his distance ever since.”

“Tch, you’re a doctor, he was bound to find out eventually—how could you hide it forever. A man that shallow only deserves a schoolgirl.”

“Are there even schoolgirls left these days? Every pop star and celebrity comes out of Harvard now.”

“Don’t worry, where there’s a will there’s a way—worst case, go find one in some corner of the developing world, you’re bound to find someone illiterate.”

Yipin said, “Since Father passed, today’s probably the happiest Mother’s been.”

“Lucky it’s just the two of us daughters. No son-in-law or daughter-in-law around to upset her.”

Yipin patted her sister’s shoulder. “You still can’t let go of the fact that Mother once wanted a son.”

Erjing exhaled. “I’ve decided to keep that abandoned eagle.”

Yipin was astonished. “Eagles belong in the wild. Where would you even keep it?”

“On the balcony of my building. Free to fly whenever it wants, welcome back anytime.”

“Ha, eagle nests are traditionally built high up, after all.”

Erjing drove her sister home.

Yipin washed her face and went to sleep.

The next day back at the clinic, she saw a large basket of expensive fruit. Nurse Peng said happily, “Mrs. Liu sent it over. She can fit into a size four again.”

Mrs. Liu was in the waiting room, her hourglass figure restored after all these years, positively glowing with satisfaction. She’d already recommended a Mrs. Zou, a Mrs. Lu, a Miss Wu, and a Miss Qi to come try it too.

After thanking the doctor profusely, she added, “Everyone’s been singing your praises.”

Yipin smiled and saw her off.

While everyone was enjoying the fruit, another set of visitors arrived—a mother and daughter, both fine-featured, though it wasn’t clear why they’d come to see Dr. Yang.

“Doctor, our surname is Yue.”

“Is it Miss Yue who wishes to be seen?”

“Yes—Ailan, take off your coat and let the doctor see.”

The fifteen- or sixteen-year-old Ailan shyly removed her coat, and Yipin understood at once.

She smiled gently. “You must have suffered quite a bit.”

Ailan nodded gratefully. “Ever since I was eleven, I’ve endured nothing but teasing.”

Mrs. Yue sighed. “She has trouble even moving properly, constant back pain, and she can’t exercise.”

“Ball sports and running would indeed be difficult. Swimming shouldn’t be a problem, though.”

“Doctor, she can’t even find a swimsuit that fits.”

Yipin nodded.

“We saw Dr. Lin Weiyuan first—he’s the one who recommended you.”

Yipin examined Ailan.

Mrs. Yue looked discouraged. “I don’t know which ancestor’s genes did this—I myself have no figure to speak of, and yet Ailan ended up with this enormous burden.”

“Don’t worry, the surgery is quite straightforward.”

“But she won’t be able to breastfeed in the future.”

Yipin offered comfort. “Life is rarely perfect in every way.”

“To need such a major surgery at just fifteen—it worries me so.”

“Worrying is a mother’s instinct.”

“Dr. Yang, you really do understand.”

Ailan hadn’t said a word the whole time.

“Ailan, what do you think, yourself?”

She said quietly, “I just want to be like everyone else. It’s hard to buy clothes now, and the boys call me ‘the cow’ behind my back.”

“Slap them.”

“The girls tease me, calling me tomorrow’s scandal star.”

“Have you told a teacher?”

“I’m afraid of making things worse. I don’t dare do anything.”

Mrs. Yue said softly, “I’ve also thought it best to just let it go quietly.”

Yipin checked the schedule. “Next Thursday morning at ten, come to Bo’ai Hospital for a checkup. Friday morning we’ll do the surgery.”

Mother and daughter Yue both let out a breath of relief.