Chapter 21: 21. “My Ji, what’s making you so sad?” Part 2

Ji Xiruan knew she didn’t like to be disturbed when she was focused on work, so she shooed the other doctor away. “Go on, leave her alone. She’s going to be the future golden hand of general surgery!”

After saying that, she glanced again at Ji Qingyou, who was organizing her records, and stared for a moment before looking away.

Ji Qingyou was the most hardworking colleague she had ever met.

Ji Xiruan often wondered if using the word “best” to describe Ji Qingyou was an oversimplification. There was always a debate in this field between talent and diligence. But Ji Xiruan had always scoffed at the talent-first arguments.

She valued Ji Qingyou’s diligence and determination more than talent.

When on night shift, she was always organizing medical records and materials. Before every surgery, no matter her role—even if it was just holding the laparoscope as a second assistant, even for a simple appendectomy—she would prepare everything to perfection, knowing the patient’s specific condition by heart, including details no one else noticed. She never missed any opportunity to learn in the operating room. Whenever an emergency surgery needed an extra person, the professors would always call for Ji Qingyou because she was always free and ready. Even when a family member was emotional and angry, she would just listen quietly, let it pass, and never let it affect her or make her feel sorry for herself.

People said she was cold and detached, that she didn’t talk or smile, and was always frowning at her colleagues. She never argued back. Why? One reason was that she was too lazy to explain herself. Another was that she preferred to spend her energy catching up on her own shortcomings rather than defending herself against trivial accusations.

Ji Xiruan often felt that someone as strict with herself as Ji Qingyou must have a very tiring life. But she also felt that Ji Qingyou was exactly the type of person best suited to be a doctor.

In some ways, the saying “There are no tears in surgery” rang true.

A few simple jokes could dispel the tension of the repetitive, high-stress workday. Ji Qingyou knew these were just jokes from the others, and she never liked to be the only serious one in such a relaxed atmosphere.

But she couldn’t deny it.

Working in this hospital brought her immense pressure. It wasn’t just from the well-intentioned but trust-laden teasing from colleagues in her own department, but also from the neurosurgery and obstetrics colleagues.

No matter how much she pretended not to care.

She was always the granddaughter of Qin Qinglian and Yan Li, famous experts in domestic neurosurgery, the daughter of Qin Bailan, the head of the hospital’s neurosurgery department, and the sister of Qin Shuangchi, the youngest associate chief in obstetrics and gynecology. Many people had an unspoken expectation that she would become the next Qin Bailan or Qin Shuangchi in general surgery. Many were also waiting to see her fail. It seemed that the third generation of a medical family not being outstanding was what they wanted to see.

Actually, whether it was expectation or waiting for her to fail, it wouldn’t bring any real benefit to the hospital staff. At most, it would become fodder for their gossip.

If she did well, they would praise Qin Qinglian and Yan Li for having another excellent granddaughter, Qin Bailan for having a good daughter, and Qin Shuangchi for having a good sister, throwing in a compliment for her. If she didn’t do well, they would at most say it was a shame and wait for next time.

But for Ji Qingyou herself.

A single misstep would plunge her into an abyss visible to everyone.

She knew Qin Shuangchi had faced similar pressure at the beginning. She knew Qin Shuangchi had still performed excellently under that pressure, meeting everyone’s expectations.

She also knew that the choice she made at eighteen was not as simple as she had initially imagined. It would even place her on a lonely and terrifying peak.

But back when she recited the oath at enrollment—”The health of the people is my supreme concern”—she had already solidified this choice. She spent ten years studying and practicing, hoping to live up to all the prefixes before the name Ji Qingyou.

She had no way back, no room for tears.

She could only pile on the work, give herself up to it, and keep moving forward.

~ ~ ~

After finishing the surgical records, Ji Qingyou received a new inpatient transferred through the hospital system. She went to the ward, reading the patient’s file as she walked.

The outpatient transfer notes had already outlined the main symptoms:

Bed 17, Female, 28 years old. No history of chronic alcoholism or hepatitis. Ultrasound revealed a solid space-occupying lesion in the liver. CT scan shows a density shadow in the right lobe of the liver…

Seeing the patient was 28 years old, Ji Qingyou felt a sudden, unexplained tremble in her fingertips. She knew this sudden telepathic feeling was baseless, but she still let her eyes go back to the name she had just skimmed over.

The moment she saw the name, her gaze uncontrollably flickered.

She quickly walked to the ward, to Bed 17. When she saw the woman sitting on the bed, her back to her, her fingers gripping the medical file involuntarily loosened. The obscured name was revealed:

Li Nanli.

Seeing her, Li Nanli was also very surprised, followed by a look of relief slowly rising in her eyes. “Dr. Ji, long time no see.”

Ji Qingyou approached, pursed her lips, and gave a slight nod, acting as usual, as if she wasn’t surprised, as if she wasn’t upset for her.

“I’m your attending physician.”

Li Nanli seemed amused by her formal statement. As she cooperated with the physical exam, she kept talking about recent years, asking if she was doing well. Ji Qingyou responded occasionally, but her attention remained focused on Li Nanli’s physical condition.

After the exam, Li Nanli put down her rolled-up hospital gown and tilted her head to look at her. “Ji Qingyou, why do you look more nervous than me? It’s so cold out, but you’ve got sweat on your forehead.”

Ji Qingyou lowered her eyes, tightly gripping the watch on her wrist, rubbing the strap with her fingers. “It’s not a serious problem. Our hospital does hundreds of these surgeries every year…”

“Will you be doing my surgery?” Li Nanli interrupted her cheerfully.

Ji Qingyou silently looked up, staring at her sallow complexion and deeply sunken eye sockets for several seconds before nodding. “The lead surgeon is Dr. Ding, who saw you in the outpatient clinic… but if nothing unexpected happens, I should be participating in your surgery.”

“Wow!” Li Nanli laughed out loud. “This feels amazing. To think my high school classmate will be my surgeon. I’m so lucky!”

And she was describing this situation as being lucky.

Ji Qingyou barely pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile, even agreeing.

“Of course. You’ve always been pretty lucky.”

Leaving the ward, Ji Qingyou acted as usual, organizing Li Nanli’s and other admissions’ records, taking three calls from family members, completing two discharge summaries. Before leaving work, she checked all her patients’ orders and went to the ward to chat with Li Nanli for a few more minutes.

The day passed like any other.

Even though her high school deskmate was hospitalized with liver cancer, it didn’t seem to stir up any emotions, nor change her life in any other way.

Li Nanli was just one of her inpatients.

After work, passing the nurse’s station, a nurse chatted with her, casually asking, “Dr. Ji, I heard new Bed 17 is your high school deskmate. She was telling me a lot about your high school days. Said you were a top student even then…”

She paused, lowered her eyes, and just said, “Mm.”

Someone tried to comfort her. “It’s okay. Her condition isn’t too serious, and she’s young. She’ll recover fast after surgery. Don’t worry too much, Dr. Ji.”

Ji Qingyou pursed her lips. “I know.”

But as she turned away, she heard someone mutter quietly.

“Dr. Ji is really something. Even with her high school classmate hospitalized for liver cancer, she didn’t even flinch. The patient said they used to be pretty close.”

“Hey, maybe she’s just not showing it.”

“True. And what else can she do? She can’t just cry in front of everyone. She’s been a doctor for years; she knows the drill. Besides, her classmate is pretty optimistic, so she can’t be the one to break down.”

“See? As the saying goes, surgeons don’t need tears.”

“This is where Dr. Ji’s advantage shows, right? No tears means no sadness, and it won’t affect the patient’s treatment. I mean, if it were me, if my new patient was my high school deskmate, and for such a big surgery, I’d cry the moment our eyes met. Life is so unpredictable. In our line of work, we can’t avoid these things…”

The discussion behind her faded into a faint, buzzing sound. But it didn’t disappear completely. Even after Ji Qingyou left the hospital, the buzzing seemed to linger, echoing in her mind hundreds of times, turning into sharp, fragmented knives that sawed painfully at her head.

Soon, it was invaded by the noisy chatter on the subway. She got off the train, feeling so suffocated she could barely breathe. She stopped on the boulevard, bathed in the sunset.

She sat down on a roadside bench, slightly hunched over, her fingers rubbing the strap of her watch. She stared at her own shoes, quietly zoning out. The setting sun spilled over her, and she sat alone, unable to stop herself from imagining she was trapped in a vortex she couldn’t escape, desperately trying to swim towards the edge.

Until someone sat down beside her, bringing a warm, fragrant breeze that completely enveloped her. It didn’t try to pull her out of the vortex; instead, it wrapped around her, shielding her from its erosion.

She recognized Yu Qinjiu just by her scent.

Yu Qinjiu was very quiet. She didn’t say anything, just waited for her to speak. When someone walked by with a dog, and the little white dog circled her legs, she bent down slightly, gently stroking its fur, speaking in a very soft voice.

“What do you like to eat? Wontons? Or soup dumplings?”

She talked softly to the dog. When its owner led it away, she still sat beside Ji Qingyou, quietly, like a beautiful butterfly that had landed just for her, radiating a warm, gentle heat in the sunset, the color of a pomelo.

After a long time.

Ji Qingyou finally looked up at her.

The cold winter dusk wind blew, softening her full, sculpted profile. Her dark, tea-colored hair seemed a little lighter, swirling around the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye.

She smiled at her, her eyes curving. She didn’t ask why she was sitting there and not going home. For a moment, the wind blew, seeping the warmth and brightness from her into Ji Qingyou’s body.

Ji Qingyou parted her lips, but found her throat unexpectedly dry, unable to utter a single word.

Yu Qinjiu slowly and gently raised her fingers, tucking the wind-blown strand of Ji Qingyou’s hair behind her ear. Then she gently pried open the fingers tightly gripping her watch strap. Seeing the horrific red marks her own nails had left on her skin.

She paused for a few seconds. Using her slightly warm fingers, she gently traced the red marks. Then she looked up, her voice as soft as a hazy breeze.

“My Ji, what’s making you so sad?”