3 Chapter 3

◎”She doesn’t really need friends.”◎

Sweltering summer heat. Crowded streets, congested traffic. The tall parasol trees lining the road were lush and green. Dappled light and shadows swayed. The constant chirping of cicadas filled the air.

“Ji Qingyou.”

Yu Qinjiu called her name, smiling a little too hard, her eyelashes wet with tears. Her translucent skin seemed almost transparent in the sunlight. Her lighter-colored pupils looked like dissolving whirlpools.

“Remember to clasp your hands together when you make a wish.”

In that summer, filled with the sound of cicadas, Yu Qinjiu’s right hand stayed buried in her coat pocket. The pocket was bulging slightly, but she never took her hand out.

Finally.

She was still smiling, speaking word by word.

“If you ever run into me, don’t pretend you don’t know me.”

–

The moment she opened her eyes, Ji Qingyou’s heart was pounding. Accompanied by the faint, distant horn of a ferry on the river, it felt unreal, like years had passed.

That was probably the last time they saw each other.

It felt somewhat ethereal in the dream, filled with memories that had been shredded by a dull blade.

Ji Qingyou took a few seconds to compose herself. She found she had fallen asleep in the study again. She took off her headphones, stood up from the armchair, and pulled open the curtains.

The sky wasn’t fully light yet. The snow had stopped, but the thick layer of snow on the ground was pure and white, as if the whole world had been sprinkled with salt.

Snow must have a smell.

She thought so, but she couldn’t guess what it was.

The time was six fifty-five. She’d wash up at seven.

The alarm she’d set hadn’t gone off yet.

It felt like she had unexpectedly gained an extra five minutes. Instead of using the time to review her notes like she usually did, she stood by the window, letting her mind go blank.

Reality and memory mingled. She wondered if she had really met Yu Qinjiu last night.

This feeling made her uneasy. She turned around and saw the neatly folded scarf on her desk. She walked over and lightly touched it with her fingers. The scarf was completely dry and even carried a faint scent of laundry products.

The light fragrance of sea salt and grapefruit, a scent that often lingered around her.

She rubbed the fabric with her fingers, thinking of last night’s Yu Qinjiu. She seemed similar to the Yu Qinjiu in her dreams, yet not quite.

Before they parted, the snow had let up.

Yu Qinjiu and Ji Qingyou finished their “birthday rice ball sandwich” together and took the same taxi home.

The car was exceptionally quiet. Ten years without seeing each other had indeed made their conversation difficult to start. Even the driver, usually one of the most talkative professions, seemed frozen into an ice sculpture.

Yu Qinjiu kept her hand in her pocket, which bulged slightly. Finally, Ji Qingyou arrived home first. Yu Qinjiu smiled and said goodbye, waving at her from inside the car.

Her fair palm had faint red marks on it.

Like they had been pressed by the edge of something hard.

Ji Qingyou noticed this detail, but couldn’t figure out what it meant. At least she hadn’t said “thank you” to Yu Qinjiu last night, and Yu Qinjiu hadn’t said “you’re welcome.”

It was better than she had expected.

“…Moon river, wider than a mile…”

A melody drifted out, a rich, lingering female voice marking the start of a new day. Every morning, this song, used as her alarm, would be stopped at the end of the first line.

But today, for some reason, Ji Qingyou waited another beat.

She listened to the entire second line before stopping the alarm.

The hospital was, as usual, busy to the point that her feet barely touched the ground. Even lunchtime was squeezed to almost nothing. But that didn’t stop Ji Xiruan from holding a tea party in the cafeteria. All the gossip was covered, from the new resident doctor to the department director who was planning to retire, remarry, and have a third child, finally landing on a topic Ji Qingyou had heard so often at the dinner table that she was sick of it:

Why did she choose to study medicine?

Many years ago, when being a doctor was still an idealistic profession for most, this question at least had some reason to be asked.

But now, the answers were mostly the same.

Someone in the family was a doctor. The job seemed to fit their interests. They could save lives. Or there was no reason at all—they just made a stupid choice when picking a college major and now they were on a path of no return.

So when Ji Xiruan asked the question again, Ji Qingyou sped up her eating. But this time, she seemed to hear a different answer.

“I loved watching medical dramas when I was a kid. I thought all the female doctors were so cool. Wearing white coats, leading a group of people on rounds—it was so awesome, they walked with such confidence. So later, when my mom and dad told me studying medicine would make me smarter, I just decided on the spot.”

It was surprisingly sincere, even including her thought process.

Ji Qingyou looked up and saw that it was Tao Xingzi, whom she had met yesterday.

Probably noticing Ji Qingyou’s gaze, Tao Xingzi smiled sheepishly.

Ji Xiruan laughed so hard she nearly dropped her chopsticks. “Well, she’s not wrong. Who here hasn’t watched a few medical dramas?”

“Still think it’s cool?” other residents teased.

Tao Xingzi stole a glance at Ji Qingyou. After thinking for a moment, she said, “Saving lives. How could that not be incredibly cool?”

Then, as if trying to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted, she asked, “What about you, Dr. Ji? Why did you study medicine?”

“If you’re asking about this Dr. Ji here,” Ji Xiruan said, attempting to steal a chicken drumstick from Ji Qingyou’s plate, “it’s purely because when I was picking my college major, I was so stubborn I ended up studying medicine. As for this Dr. Ji…”

“Of course it’s because she was born a medical robot, with several billion gigabytes of medical data in her brain. It would be a waste not to make her study medicine.”

Ji Qingyou gave her a flat stare. Ji Xiruan grinned and put the drumstick back on her plate. “Want it?”

Ji Qingyou frowned slightly. “You eat it.”

Satisfied with her victory over the “robot,” Ji Xiruan slid her own side dish over. “Here, you eat this. I haven’t touched it.”

The side dish also contained a chicken drumstick.

Ji Qingyou was used to Ji Xiruan’s antics. She had her own, but she still had to take someone else’s.

As Ji Qingyou’s frown slowly relaxed, a light laugh came from across the table. She looked up and saw Tao Xingzi again.

Tao Xingzi waved her hand. “I just thought it was nice how close you and Dr. Ji are. Even your lunchtime squabbling is fun to watch.”

Ji Xiruan chuckled. “It’s nothing, really. We’ve known each other for years. We’ve been classmates since undergrad. We’re pretty familiar.”

“So why does Dr. Ji really study medicine?” Tao Xingzi clearly didn’t believe Ji Xiruan’s robot theory.

Ji Xiruan squinted, tilting her head to look at Ji Qingyou. “Should I tell her?”

Ji Qingyou glanced at her. The meaning was clear: Say whatever you want.

“Oh, Little Tao, didn’t you rotate through our department during your internship? Haven’t you heard?” Ji Xiruan put on a show of sighing dramatically, acting as Ji Qingyou’s mouthpiece. “It’s actually because her family is a medical dynasty. Her maternal grandparents are famous neurosurgery experts. Her mother and sister are both still at our hospital. Her mother is Director Qin in Neurosurgery, who’s retiring in a few years. Her sister is Dr. Qin Shuangchi in Obstetrics and Gynecology, the hospital’s youngest associate chief physician.”

There was nothing to hide. The whole hospital knew about it, so Ji Qingyou didn’t bother stopping Ji Xiruan. She just stood up, picked up her tray, and nodded slightly.

“Take your time.”

“Damn!” Ji Xiruan exclaimed. “You’re done already? You’ve been sitting down for less than five minutes!”

Ji Qingyou didn’t answer. She emptied the food scraps from her tray into the trash, then placed the tray neatly in the designated spot.

As she walked out, a breeze lifted the stray hairs by her temples. Her pale neck was held straight. Her steps were quick.

A steady, even quickness, as if this fast pace was just second nature to her.

Whether it was eating, walking, or any other daily routine.

Tao Xingzi watched Ji Qingyou’s retreating figure in astonishment. After she had walked away, Tao Xingzi couldn’t help but wonder: What would it be like to have the director of the same hospital’s Neurosurgery Department and the youngest associate chief in Obstetrics and Gynecology as your mother and sister?

If it were her…

She would either choose not to be a doctor at all, or she would be just like Ji Qingyou.

Make herself look like she didn’t care at all.

–

As she left the cafeteria, Ji Qingyou ran into a few colleagues from the Emergency Department who were coming to eat. Someone asked about her health, whether she was better today.

She nodded lightly, saying she was much better.

A male colleague handed her a piece of candy, saying she should make sure to supplement her sugar intake. She looked down. Strawberry flavor again.

The female colleague beside him reminded him, “Dr. Ji never eats sweets. Anyone who’s worked with her knows that.”

“Really?” The male colleague scratched his head. “But Dr. Ji, you should still eat some. Otherwise, you’ll end up back on a glucose drip. That’s not a good thing.”

Ji Qingyou pursed her lips. Eventually, she took the candy and said, “Thank you.”

The male colleague said, “You’re welcome.” Before leaving, he asked, seemingly offhandedly, “Dr. Ji, is your friend not coming today?”

Ji Qingyou stopped in her tracks. Her cold, clear gaze flickered around for a moment before she answered.

“No.”

“Haha.” The male colleague let out a dry laugh, unable to hide the disappointment in his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “I thought she was pretty.”

Ji Qingyou stared at him expressionlessly. Her eyes seemed to hold an unfathomable abyss.

“She is pretty.”

A spark of hope lit up in the male colleague’s eyes. He rubbed his hands together. “Well then, can you…”

“No.” Ji Qingyou’s answer was crisp. She looked at the piled snow outside the hallway.

Someone had built a tall snowman in the open space. Even in a hospital, there were still people who could find pleasure in life.

Her gaze lingered for a moment. “She wouldn’t like a doctor.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, hey…” The male colleague looked a bit embarrassed. “I just thought she seemed really cheerful. I wanted to be friends with her. I mean, even Dr. Qian seemed to like her, right?”

With that, he nudged the female colleague’s arm to cover his awkwardness.

The female colleague chimed in, “It’s true. Even Dr. Qian didn’t seem annoyed. She followed him around, asking all kinds of questions, repeating the same things over and over again. Normally, Dr. Qian would have been scowling by then, but yesterday, he didn’t seem to mind at all.”

Ji Qingyou wasn’t surprised. After all, she had seen Qian Li say goodbye to Yu Qinjiu yesterday. Strange things happened all the time in this world, but when it came to Yu Qinjiu, it wasn’t strange at all.

She looked at the hopeful male colleague, handed the lollipop back to him, and said a rare, lengthy sentence.

“Sorry. I still can’t take your candy.”

“She doesn’t really need friends.”

–

That day, Ji Qingyou got off work on time.

It was starting to snow again. She planned to just walk through it, but someone opened an umbrella beside her, blocking the falling snow.

“Getting snowed on will make you catch a cold.”

Ji Qingyou found herself sheltered under Qian Li’s umbrella. She pursed her lips and said, “Thank you.”

Qian Li grunted in acknowledgment, his words equally concise. “Going to the subway station?”

Ji Qingyou nodded.

The snow on the road was thick, crunching underfoot. Qian Li glanced at her again. The walk was a bit long, so he made small talk. “Nice scarf.”

Ji Qingyou looked down at the thick fleece scarf wrapped around her neck. She could almost still smell the scent and feel the touch of Yu Qinjiu putting it on her last night.

She had held the scarf in her arms yesterday and forgotten to return it. Maybe because she kept holding it, Yu Qinjiu didn’t bring up the scarf again either.

Yu Qinjiu’s scarf had somehow become hers.

She didn’t know when they would meet again. After ten years apart, the two of them hadn’t even thought to exchange contact information.

Ji Qingyou adjusted the knot on her scarf. She heard Qian Li say again, “The person who brought you to the hospital yesterday was kind of strange.”

Ji Qingyou’s fingers twitched. “Strange how?”

Qian Li squinted. He had only brought up the topic because the walk was awkwardly silent, with the two of them acting like mutes. But when Ji Qingyou asked him, he found it hard to describe.

He had been busy last night. He could only remember a few details.

That slender, delicate woman, covered in snow, had carried the unconscious Ji Qingyou in. She was shivering from the cold herself, but instead of following his advice to go get some hot water at the end of the hallway, she had followed him around asking questions.

“She’s not in good health. She’s prone to allergies. Seafood, mango, wheat… those are all things she’s allergic to. Is she having an allergic reaction again?”

“Are you sure it’s hypoglycemia? She looks like she’s having trouble breathing.”

“She has no known drug allergies, but can you double-check?”

Questions like these were common in the ER, and Qian Li usually answered them. But after answering a few, she would just throw out another similar or repeated question.

He should have been annoyed. But he wasn’t.

Because when he went back in to check on Ji Qingyou, he saw the woman sitting by her bedside. The curls on the side of her face fell, covering her expression.

It made her look like a wilting flower, as if she could be crushed in the next second.

But what exactly was missing?

“She’ll be fine after the glucose drip,” Qian Li had said.

The woman looked up in a panic. The rims of her eyes were slightly red, as if she had been crying, yet not quite. She didn’t talk as much as before.

She just nodded slightly and said a soft “Thank you, doctor.” Then she looked at the unconscious Ji Qingyou on the bed, her expression once again hidden by her soft, long hair.

For a moment, Qian Li thought he had seen things. The woman’s eyes weren’t actually red.

And nothing was missing. It was all an illusion.

A snowflake drifted in with the wind, landing on Ji Qingyou’s scarf.

Qian Li was surprised to see that Ji Qingyou was wearing a bright, plaid scarf. It wasn’t a color one would expect to see on Ji Qingyou.

Ji Qingyou was looking at him intently, her dark pupils reflecting the swirling snowflakes.

Qian Li was caught off guard. He shook his head with a smile and answered Ji Qingyou’s question. “At first, I thought I was dealing with another difficult family member. I was a bit annoyed, but I figured since it was a family member of yours, I’d just put up with it. Later, when I went into the ward to check on you, I saw her looking at you. She looked like she was crying, but also like she wasn’t. I’m not sure.”

Ji Qingyou lowered her eyes and said nothing.

Qian Li, as if he had just remembered, asked, “What is she to you?”

For a moment, Ji Qingyou couldn’t answer.

She buried her chin deeper into the scarf. A snowflake landed on her lowered lashes.

“Friend. I’ve known her for twenty-four years. We grew up together.”

She was the first friend I ever had. The best friend I ever had.

“No wonder…” Qian Li nodded and dropped the subject.

The snowflake on her lashes melted, leaving a trace of cold water. Ji Qingyou stepped into a particularly thick pile of snow.

It felt like she was sinking into some terrifying hole, making her heart skip a beat. She hesitated for a few seconds before finishing the sentence.

“But we haven’t seen each other in ten years.”