Later, Nurse Peng remarked, “Usually it’s only people wanting breast augmentation.”

“When the breasts are too large, that’s the problem this time.”

The nurse laughed. “The world is vast—all sorts of strange things happen in it.”

She went to answer the phone, then turned back. Yipin knew at once it was urgent and immediately took the receiver herself.

“This is the public hospital emergency department. Dr. Yang, do you know a woman named Cen Mei’e?”

“What’s happened?”

“She was admitted unconscious after a drug overdose. There was a card of yours in her pocket.”

“I’ll come right away.”

Nurse Peng said, “Dr. Yang, you have other patients scheduled.”

“Please reschedule them for me.”

She drove to the public hospital.

Yipin went from bed to bed but couldn’t find Cen Mei’e.

A staff member came over to ask, “Miss, visiting hours are over. Please come back tomorrow.”

“I’m Dr. Yang Yipin.”

“Ah, Dr. Yang, you’re here. This is Cen Mei’e.” She pointed.

Yipin was shocked.

Cen Mei’e lay unconscious on the bed, barely recognizable—she looked a full fifty or sixty years old, her skin sallow, her hair shaved close to the scalp, her front teeth all gone.

“What happened to her?”

“Clear signs of assault. Police suspect it’s drug-related.”

“Is she in danger?”

“One lung has collapsed, and her heart shows irregularities. She’s critical.”

Yipin felt a wave of sorrow.

“What is she to you?”

“My sister’s classmate.”

“How did she fall to this state?”

Yipin thought to herself: it happens so easily. Two failed relationships, one wrong step, no heart left for work, income lost, and once you slip, you keep sinking until you hit the very bottom.

Who was there to pull her back up?

Who knew how many women had died at the hands of this cold, calculating society, never to be redeemed?

“Dr. Yang, you’re very kind.”

“Does she have any other family?”

“When a person falls this far, where would you even find relatives?”

Yipin approached the patient.

“Mei’e. Mei’e.”

Cen Mei’e suddenly stirred, opening her eyes. Seeing Yipin, she said happily, “Sister Pin, is that you? Is Little Jing free? Let’s go play basketball together.”

“She’ll be here soon.”

Cen Mei’e suddenly changed the subject, saying with sorrow, “Sister Pin, he left me.” Her sense of time had become jumbled.

“It’s all right. We’ll find someone better.”

“Can we?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.”

Mei’e smiled weakly and reached out her hand, but she didn’t have the strength to close the distance.

“I’m not afraid,” she said. “This way I get to see my mother again.”

Yipin held her hand tightly and said nothing.

A moment later, Mei’e’s grip went slack. Yipin’s tears fell, and she pressed the call button.

Outside, the sun shone brightly. A young couple, overjoyed, carried their newborn out of the hospital.

Yipin asked softly, “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A daughter.”

Yipin found herself saying to the strangers, “Love yourself, respect yourself, live with strength, learn to fight against the world—be a good warrior.”

The couple looked at her, bewildered.

Yipin quietly walked away.

That evening, she performed the first skin-graft surgery for Hu Kexin. Before the anesthesia, she held the patient’s hand. “The surgery will be done in stages. It won’t be like in the movies—the bandages don’t come off to reveal a beauty all at once.”

“I understand.”

Yipin stood in the operating room for several hours, gradually loosening the twisted scar tissue on the patient’s face.

The assistant remarked, “Reconstructive technique today is many times more advanced than a decade ago.”

Yipin murmured agreement.

“Educational television has asked whether you’d be willing to demonstrate a procedure for them to film.”

Yipin answered, “Impossible.”

“Some patients might be willing. I’ve seen recordings of facelifts before.”

Yipin said again, “Not something to consider.”

“Then I’ll have to turn them down.”

Just then the assistant said, “The patient is crying.”

“She’s fully under anesthesia—how could she be crying?”

“Perhaps, somewhere in the subconscious, deep down, something touched a painful memory. After all, deep sleep isn’t the same as death.”

“What could be so sorrowful?”

“What do you think?”

The cold operating room fell suddenly silent. Doctor and nurse alike found themselves, in that moment, brushing against their own deepest sorrows.

Yipin finished the surgery with her head bowed.

Having stood for so long, her legs ached a little, and she went to sit in the break room. Wang Shenpo hadn’t come by her place in quite some time now. In the old days, the hospital was always paging “Dr. Yang Yipin, telephone call for Dr. Yang Yipin,” until everyone knew Dr. Yang had a passionate boyfriend.

Those days were gone now.

There were two other people in the break room, likely family of a patient—an elderly man and a young man. At first Yipin assumed they were father and son, but listening to their conversation, she realized that wasn’t the case.

“Sixty years of marriage. However you look at it, it’s hard to let go.”

The young man said quietly, “Professor, I understand.”

“This time, I owe you a great deal for your help.”

“A student’s duty is to serve his teacher.”

So it was a teacher-student relationship after all.

There were good people everywhere—clearly this young man had gone to great trouble, showing real respect for his teacher.

The old professor’s hair was white and thin, his clothes and face equally weary; he somewhat resembled Einstein and looked to be over eighty.

He said with feeling, “Time flows like water, never to return. I still remember struggling together with her in the lab all those years ago, as if it were yesterday—and suddenly we’ve both grown old.”

“Professor, let me get you a hot coffee.”

Yipin spoke up. “You stay with the professor. I’ll get the coffee.”

The young man looked up. “Thank you.”

Ah, striking brows, bright eyes, a handsome bearing—even in a simple white shirt and khaki trousers he carried himself with vigor. Yipin brought back two cups of rich, fragrant coffee.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“My surname is Yang.”

“My name is Xiong Zaihao.”

Just then a nurse came out. “Professor Zhang, please come say your final goodbye to your wife.”

The old professor, dazed, followed the nurse in unsteady steps to say farewell.

Yipin fell silent.

Even after a hundred more years as a doctor, after witnessing a thousand more deaths, some things would still leave her sorrowful.

The young man said helplessly, “The professor’s days won’t be easy from now on.”

Yipin said gently, “And yet, they had sixty precious years together.”

The young man nodded. “You’re right, doctor.”

“Such is the fate of human beings. Perhaps beautiful memories will light the rest of his years, and give him the strength to carry on.”

“Doctor, that’s beautifully put.”

Just then the nurse came out again. “Professor Xiong, your teacher’s wife would like to see you.”

He hurried in.

Yipin also went to check on whether Hu Kexin had woken.

She lay alone on the hospital bed, listening to the sounds from outside the window.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like waking from a long dream.”

“That’s good.”

“Doctor, I’ve been thinking. Once my face is restored, I’ll throw myself into a normal life and work hard.”

“Oh? What were you originally planning to do?”

“I always wanted to appear before him looking my most beautiful.”

Yipin let out a short laugh.

“Yes, doctor, that’s the right reaction.”

“I really couldn’t help it.”

The patient laughed too, though with her face still wrapped in bandages, the laugh came out strained, an odd “hoo hoo” sound that was a little frightening to hear.

“What did you study, to graduate in chemical engineering?”

“I’m going to work in the lab at Distinland Cosmetics.”

“That’s a lucrative place to work.”

“Many of my classmates ended up there too.”

“What field will you specialize in?”

“Skincare science.”

How ironic.

Yipin encouraged her: “I hope someday you can demonstrate the results yourself.”

“Doctor, what I’ve gained from you seems to be more than just a new face.”

“That’s the best thing I could hear from a patient.”

She patted the patient’s hand and took her leave.

Another surgery awaited her the next morning.

In the parking lot, she saw the same young man from earlier, sitting in a jeep, crying.

She couldn’t help but walk over.

He looked up quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize for grieving.”

“She was the kind of teacher’s wife who used to mend our clothes for us.” “May I ask what department you two study in?”

“Prehistoric biology.”

“Ah—dinosaurs, mammoths, saber-toothed tigers.”

The young man, under the streetlight, got a clearer look at this beautiful, kind-hearted young doctor.

He said suddenly, “You’re so young, doctor.”

“So are you, Professor.”

They both laughed, and exchanged business cards.

That night, Yipin wrote in her diary: “Today I saw a grown man’s genuine tears. In this world of mutual suspicion, of hollow and superficial people, where all one sees is arrogance, vanity, boastfulness, insincerity, and self-deception, there are so few left who still know how to cry, or to laugh honestly…”

Yipin laughed at herself immediately after—how like a schoolgirl’s diary entry.

Her sister called.

“The university of science and technology wants to know if you’d give a lecture.”

“I haven’t the expertise—what would I even talk about?”

“If you don’t go, they’ll just find someone even less qualified to fill the seat.”

“Let them do it, then.”

“Why do you cut yourself off from the world like this?”

“I have my own world.”

“Sister, I’m a little worried about you.”

“Worry about yourself instead. Mother will be pressing you about your wedding date soon—let’s see how you handle that.”

“Look at you, dodging good advice already.”

“Yes, showing my age.”

“Soon you won’t even dare say that much.”

“Erjing, what’s the difference between archaeology and prehistoric biology?”

“Quite a lot, actually. Archaeology, as the name suggests, is interested in all things ancient—especially historical artifacts, like Egyptian totems, King Tut’s tomb, the Terracotta Warriors of China’s First Emperor. Prehistoric biology, on the other hand, is about studying the ecology of living things back when they roamed the surface of the earth.”

Yipin was quiet a moment. “Medicine is simpler, in comparison.”

Erjing agreed. “It is.”

The two sisters giggled together.

Yipin didn’t tell her sister about the Cen Mei’e incident—one person’s grief was enough to bear.

The next day, a young woman came to the clinic wanting a pair of beautiful, large eyes. Yipin told her, “Do you have a digital camera at home?”

“Yes.”

“Take a few photos of yourself, enlarge the eyes in the picture, and look at them for a week. If you still think it’s beautiful after that, come back and see me. And remember—ostriches and giraffes have very large eyes too.”

She hurried off to the hospital to perform Yue Ailan’s breast reduction surgery.

Little Ailan was a bit nervous.

“Will I be able to wear a camisole after the surgery?”

“Swimsuits, T-shirts, anything you like. Your spine, shoulders, and back muscles will all carry less strain.”

Ailan let out a comfortable sigh at that.

Any surgery involves blood, of course, but by comparison, breast augmentation was far simpler—it only needed a small incision to insert an implant. This time, Ailan’s entire chest needed to be opened up and completely reconstructed.

While stitching, the assistant couldn’t help but remark, “Dr. Yang’s handiwork is so refined.”

Every stitch had to follow the grain of the skin, sewn with fine precision, so that once the stitches were removed later, no scar would show. Still, many of the fine nerve threads had inevitably been severed, meaning some loss of sensation was unavoidable.

Another assistant weighed the removed fat on a scale. “Doctor, three and a half pounds on each side.”

The nurse smiled. “Like something out of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.”

“She only weighs ninety-three pounds herself.”

“Now that’s what you call a load off one’s shoulders.”

“No more having to endure those strange looks.”

“Please arrange a series of recovery exercises for her.”

The surgery finished. Yipin gently stroked the girl’s face.

She left the operating room, removed her mask, and gave a report to Ailan’s mother.

The nurse came over. “Dr. Yang, Professor Huo is waiting in the office.”

Yipin changed and took the elevator up to the office.

The moment she stepped in, she heard the chatter and laughter of her fellow students.

They were gathered around their mentor, talking animatedly—

“When we got to that hospital, I tell you, even the kitchens in developed countries were cleaner than this. Blood stains on the floor and walls, doctors’ gowns reused without sterilization, needles boiled in plain water…”

“Where was this, exactly?”

“Moscow, believe it or not.”

“Ugh, and the medicine shortages—I just kept hoping I wouldn’t be asked to operate on someone without anesthesia.”

Just then Dr. Huo saw Yipin and said to her, “These kids just got back from a Doctors Without Borders mission.”

Yipin smiled. “Admirable ambition.”

“Going there once really was terrifying—who would’ve thought there were still corners of hell left on this earth in the twenty-first century.”

“From now on I’m only treating colds and the flu.”

“No, I’ll go back again.”

Everyone looked toward a petite, slight fellow student.

She continued, “I’ve never seen patients so grateful before. Some had wounds crawling with maggots, purely because they lacked the most basic antibiotic ointment. I felt like I was truly needed there.”

Dr. Huo asked her, “How did it feel?”

Yipin admitted honestly, “I’ve never practiced medicine in the developing world.”

“Senior sister, wherever you are, you’re still serving patients all the same.”

“But going to a place like that—it makes you treasure life, material things, peace, everything, in a way you can’t otherwise.”

Another student said, “I don’t need to suffer to appreciate what I already have.”

Everyone laughed.

Yipin sipped her coffee, listening to them chat, finding it all rather delightful.

Dr. Huo said, “Yipin, if you’re busy, feel free to head off first.”

Yipin, feeling tired, quietly excused herself.

Wang Shenpo was waiting at her door.

“Oh? Why didn’t you call ahead?”

“I was passing by, saw some freshly baked cocktail buns, and brought you some.”

“Come in.”

“Surgery every day?”

Yipin nodded.

“Making millions a year?”

“I’ve never bothered to add it up.”

He said, “You’ve looked more tired lately.” Yipin nodded.

“Doctors need to take care of themselves too.”

Yipin looked at him and smiled. “What is it you want to say?”

“Yipin, nothing gets past your sharp eyes.”

Yipin said nothing.

Finally he said, “Yipin, let’s still be good friends going forward.”

Yipin smiled. “All right, I agree to that.”

Wang Shenpo let out a breath, his eyes suddenly reddening.

“What’s wrong?” Yipin gently nudged him.

“I really don’t want to let go. It’s just—I’m only an ordinary man. I want to have children right after marriage, come home from work to a wife waiting for me.”

Yipin comforted him. “That’s a perfectly normal thing to want.”

“I’ll never find a better woman than you.”

“There’s someone more suited to you out there, waiting.”

“Thank you, Yipin. We really did have some happy times together.”

“Yes. You made me laugh.”

“From now on, I’ll call you every night just to tell you a joke.”

“Save the jokes for someone else to hear.”

“Yipin—” his voice broke.

Yipin said nothing.

This man, a little showy but never lacking in warmth, suddenly felt like a total stranger. How had they even ended up together in the first place? Not a single thing in common—he spent his days chasing money, she wielded a scalpel.

“Have some hot tea.”

“Actually, I already bought the ring.”

“I know you want to get married.”

He steadied himself. “Now that it’s said, I feel relieved.”

“I still need to visit patients at the hospital.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No need. I have my own car.”

If it had been the more playful Erjing in her place, she might have joked, “Green hills, clear waters, until we meet again.”

But Yipin simply felt tired.

Seeing her patients still brought her comfort.

Hu Kexin, wearing a special face mask, was in good spirits. Yue Ailan had already woken, her mother feeding her.

Running back and forth between clinic and hospital was exhausting.

Yipin splashed cold water on her face.

The nurse, seeing her come out, whispered, “Yao Yili is waiting for you.”

Yipin opened her office door. “Miss Yao.”

“Just call me Yili.”

“You’re looking wonderful.”

“Dr. Yang’s flattery—I just landed a new advertisement, and the client said the same thing.”

Yipin looked at this woman, one of the city’s most celebrated beauties. In a bustling metropolis, when times were good, beauty and adornment mattered above all; and now, facing an economic downturn, a beautiful, cooling presence was needed more than ever to soothe people’s worries.

“You deserve some credit, Dr. Yang.”

Yipin only smiled and said nothing.

She would never admit that Yao Yili was one of her clients.

Still, this famous actress came for a consultation every year without fail.

The beauty said with some regret, “My nose is still a bit too sharp.”

Yipin said gently, “The nose tip is the hardest part to get right.”

“Nothing is too hard for Dr. Yang.”

Yipin smiled. “You don’t have a flat nose to begin with.”

“The singer Tan Zaoxin’s nose bridge—you’re the one who raised it, aren’t you?”

“Who?”

“Dr. Yang, keeping your secrets as always.”

“Perhaps people use aliases when they come to me.”

Miss Yao laughed. “Right, you never read the entertainment pages, you have no idea who’s who.”

“Exactly.”

“I want a nose like that too.”

“You’re already crowned ‘the number one beauty.'”

“Number one?” Yao Yili looked wistful. “Who knows what rank I’ll be in ten years.”

“In a few years you’ll settle down and marry, and you won’t have to worry about rankings anymore.”

“Marry?” She suddenly laughed. “Doctor, first remove this large freckle from my left cheek.”

“That can be done right now.”

Yipin noticed the beauty had an arrow-shaped tattoo on the back of her neck.

“Is that a real tattoo?”

“It is.”

“Oh dear, removing that will be quite difficult. Why not just use a temporary sticker design instead?”

“Not exciting enough.”

Right now, with her flowing hair, snow-white skin, and the deep blue-violet tattoo, there was indeed something striking about the contrast.

“Doctor, please remove this mole on my chest as well.”

She opened her blouse. Yipin murmured softly.

It was a raised mole with irregular borders.

Yipin said, “This mole needs to be seen by a dermatologist. I’ll write down a specialist’s name for you and make the appointment right away—please go see him immediately.”

“What could it be?”

“I don’t know. To be safe, we should have it tested first.”

Yao Yili said nothing—despite being only in her twenties, she had always carried herself with the composure of someone much older.

“The freckles on your face are gone now.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She took out a cigarette.

“Yili, you should really quit smoking.”

Yao Yili smiled. “There’s more than just cigarettes and alcohol I should quit.”

“Drugs especially—one moment’s thrill, a lifetime of harm.”

“Dr. Yang, always so earnest.”

“Sounding like an old woman, aren’t I?”

“No, I like hearing it. No one speaks honestly to me anymore these days. The people around me only flatter me, hoping to gain something from me—even my own mother and sister. Who would dare go against my wishes?”

“The truth is the least welcome thing to hear.”

“Is Dr. Yang afraid of the truth too?”

Yipin imitated her mother’s tone: “A son-in-law? Grandchildren?”

Both young women laughed.

Yao Yili said, “If circumstances allowed, I’d like to have studied a few more years too.”

“Believe me, you’re already more than enough as you are.”

The nurse came in. “Dr. Zou from dermatology is waiting.”

Yao Yili nodded.

Yipin said, “I’ll be in touch with Dr. Zou. If it’s benign, I’ll remove it myself.”

“And if it’s not benign?”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Ugh, now I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

Her tone was perfectly composed—she truly was someone who had seen a great deal in life.

After she left, the nurse suddenly remembered. “Miss Yao left a cake.”

“Take it and share it with someone.”

“Does heaven envy great beauty?”

How was one meant to answer such a question.

Dr. Huo called, coming straight to the point: “Yipin, you’ve already met the younger students. How much are you donating to Doctors Without Borders?”

Yipin answered with a laugh, “A hundred thousand.”

“Good, very generous.”

“My mentor doesn’t even see me as a person anymore, just a source of money and labor.”

Dr. Huo laughed heartily. “Bailuo has gone home to her adoptive family. Would you like to visit?”

“I’ll go right away.”

The couple who adopted her, the Jins, were American, with a comfortable home and great care for her.

Mr. Jin said, “The child came out of a refugee camp with no name, no identification papers, severely wounded, barely alive.”

Yipin said, “Well then, we start fresh from here.”

“She doesn’t want to speak.”

“She’ll be moving to an English-speaking country anyway—she’ll relearn everything.”

“Fortunately for us, she and we seem to get along very well. When she cries at midnight, all it takes is for me to go hold her, and she settles right down.”

“Probably nightmares.”

“Bailuo, come here.”

The child seemed to recognize the doctor and stood a distance away.

Yipin took out a coin and performed a simple magic trick, making the coin vanish and reappear. The child watched, delighted.

“Dr. Yang, you’re really something.”

Yipin smiled.

“You must have a boyfriend already.”

Yipin sighed unexpectedly. “No one’s claimed me yet.”

Mrs. Jin was surprised. “What, has heaven gone blind? Let me introduce you to someone.”

“No, no,” Yipin said. “I’m afraid I’d waste someone’s youth. I don’t even have time to date.”

“Nonsense, who wants a girlfriend clinging to them like a bandage these days? I have plenty of good men in mind.”

Yipin laughed, startled.

“Dr. Yang, don’t mistake me for some meddling old busybody. I’m not usually this eager.”

“I understand, I understand.”

“Come for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

“I—”

Mrs. Jin said sincerely, “Don’t decline.”

“All right, all right.” Yipin chatted with Bailuo a while longer.

She pointed to Mr. Jin: “Papa.” Then to Mrs. Jin: “Mama.”

The child suddenly seemed to understand who these two people, so gentle and devoted to her, really were. She turned and said clearly, “Papa. Mama.”

Mrs. Jin froze for a moment, then gently pulled the child into her arms, tears welling. “Mama loves you.”

Mr. Jin only said, “Dr. Yang, remember, tomorrow at three sharp.”

This kind of appointment felt more tedious than anything.

Yipin’s mind, however, was on the beauty’s lab results.

She asked Dr. Zou, “How is it?”

“The real thing is even more stunning than the photos.”

“Come on, colleague, what’s the report say?”

“Benign. Go ahead and remove it whenever you like.”

Yipin let out a breath of relief. “Have you told her yet?”

“Sister, this is clearly your job to do.”

Yipin called the Yao residence herself. “Dr. Yang would like to discuss the test results with Miss Yao.”

Yao Yili’s maid answered anxiously, “Doctor, something’s happened! I’m like an ant on a hot pan, please come quickly.”

“What’s happened?”

“Yili’s drunk, in terrible pain, vomiting.”

“I’ll come right away.”

“Yes, doctor, and the report?”

“It’s fine, but if she doesn’t cut back on drinking, the consequences could still be serious.”

Yipin rushed to the Yao residence, and only then discovered that the maid had remarkable composure under pressure.

Yao Yili was half-unconscious, having vomited on the bed. Broken glass lay on the floor, and her fingers were cut, blood everywhere.

For safety’s sake, Yipin said immediately, “We need to send her to the hospital.”

“No, Dr. Yang, the reporters in this city specialize in celebrity suicide headlines. If they catch wind of this, Yili’s career is finished.”

“How tragic.”

“You mean Yili?”

“No, I mean the whole profession of tabloid journalism.”

Yipin examined Yao Yili at once—it was indeed just alcohol, no pills involved.

After an injection, she stirred slightly. The maid changed her clothes and moved her to a clean guest room.

Yipin propped her up and asked, “Were you trying to hurt yourself?”

She murmured, “If my body fails me, I’ll have nothing left.”

“You’re fine. Don’t scare yourself half to death.”

“Doctor, young girls keep coming out to compete, some as young as fifteen or sixteen, willing to do anything. The pressure is enormous.”

“You’re still the reigning queen.”

She smiled bitterly and closed her eyes again.

The maid asked anxiously, “How is she?”

“Let her sleep for ten hours—that would do her good.”

The maid relaxed.

“Have the servants make some plain congee, and open the windows.”

The phone rang again, and the maid rushed off to answer it. Only now did Yipin have a moment to take in Yao Yili’s boudoir.

How many wealthy suitors in this city would kill for the chance to sit here and share a cup of coffee with her.

It could only be described as breathtakingly extravagant—Yipin had never seen so many luxurious furnishings crowded into a single room. Every piece of furniture and lighting fixture bore a famous name and pedigree; crystal glass, mirrors, fresh flowers filled every corner.

And yet the mistress of the house carried just as many worries in her heart.

Yipin set down the medication and took her leave; the devoted maid saw her to the door.

Some things, it seemed, truly couldn’t be bought with money.

Back at the clinic, she got a call from Erjing.

“Sis, do you have time to come see this case of mine?”

“Sure, I’m free.”

Erjing was cradling a tortoiseshell cat.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“The owner noticed she’d lost her appetite. Brought her in—turns out her stomach is full of…”

“Mice?”

“No. Coins.”

Erjing took out a small dish holding more than a dozen coins.

“Operated right away and pulled them out. Isn’t that something?”

“So even cats can be misers.”

“She’s fine now.”

“Is that why you called me over, just for this?”

“Her owner is outside.”

“Ah.” So that was it.

Erjing laughed. “Give me your read on him.”

Yipin laughed too. “As long as you like him, that’s what matters.”

“Even so, I’d like a second opinion.”

“You think this is like seeing a doctor?”

“No, better to compare a few before deciding.”

Yipin reached out to stroke the tortoiseshell cat. “This one’s not young anymore either.”

Just then an assistant hurried in. “Dr. Yang, the police brought this dog in.”

Even Yipin, who had seen a great deal, was shaken—the dog’s throat had been savagely slashed by someone, a bloody mess.

Erjing rushed to save it, and Yipin had to step aside.

She heard someone say indignantly, “How could the world come to this!”

Truly. Well said.

That evening, Yipin was invited to a bar to see off an old classmate.

When she arrived, someone was saying, “So Yiling’s really moving far away—I wonder if she’ll adjust to life in Helsinki.”

Yipin was startled. “The capital of Finland? It’s freezing there, covered in ice and snow.”

The bride only smiled.

Yipin nodded after a moment. “Good men are hard to find.”

“Yiling, if you don’t adjust, come straight back—don’t force yourself to endure it.”

“Yiling, learn the language—at least three years’ worth.”

Yipin said nothing. To send her that far away—could she really manage?

If it was truly for the sake of love, such a tragic, thorough sacrifice deserved careful thought—staying behind, after all, she’d surely meet the right person eventually too.

“Life gets dull. A change like this is worth pursuing.”

“Wishing Yiling happiness.”

“It’s close to Paris, at least—you can visit often.” All the old friends privately thought: in three months, Yiling would probably turn up again in the financial district.

Just as the mood turned lively, Yipin looked up and saw a familiar face standing at the door—it was Wang Shenpo.

Yipin was about to greet him when a long-haired woman beat her to it, slithering up like a snake and planting a kiss on him.

Yipin froze, quickly averting her eyes from Wang Shenpo’s line of sight, and stood up at once to slip into the corridor.

She stood there in the dark for a while before quietly leaving.

How infuriating—why couldn’t she have just stayed seated and watched calmly, why did she have to flee like some kind of thief.

She wasn’t afraid of even the bloodiest patients—why should she be afraid of him?

Yipin couldn’t explain it to herself.

Back home, she asked Erjing, “Did that dog make it?”

“Miraculously, yes, saved. The culprits have been caught too—two vicious, senseless young men, already charged with animal cruelty.”

“Will she ever trust humans again?”

“Quite the opposite—she’s incredibly affectionate with us now.”

“Strange.”

“It’s just a dog’s nature to be that lovable.”

“Foolish creature.” Yipin sighed.

“Yes, sis, much like most women.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Erjing admitted it. “I still want to fall in love.”

“Wishing you luck.”

“You too, sis.”

That night, Yipin lay with her hands cushioning her head, staring at the ceiling for a long while before finally falling asleep.