Chapter 39: Freedom

She let Feng Miwan pull her out of the break room.

“Slow down…”

Xiong Yibai was pulled along by her, passing through the restaurant’s back door and running across the night streets.

The evening breeze brushed against her cheeks, tousling her long hair.

She watched Feng Miwan’s flying ponytail and vibrant back ahead of her, and a long-lost sense of freedom—breaking away from the established tracks—quietly took root.

Feng Miwan pulled her all the way until they stopped on the scenic riverside path across from the restaurant.

The lights here were dim and hazy, with swaying tree shadows; the clamor from the restaurant on the opposite shore felt cut off in another world.

Both of them were slightly out of breath.

Feng Miwan let go of her hand, her eyes sparkling extraordinarily as she looked at Xiong Yibai. “How was it? I performed pretty well, right?”

Xiong Yibai straightened her slightly disheveled hair and glasses, looking at Feng Miwan. “More than pretty well—you could win an Oscar. Especially that last part where you cried and ran off.”

“Of course!” Feng Miwan proudly straightened her back, then leaned in closer with a mischievous glint. “Hey, were you holding back laughter super hard just now? I saw your shoulders shaking!”

Xiong Yibai gently pushed her away, saying in mock annoyance, “You’re one to talk? You almost made me break character.”

But the laughter in her eyes betrayed her.

“That sleazy old uncle deserved exactly that treatment!”

Feng Miwan huffed, then asked with a hint of worry, “But… did my little stunt affect your job? Will that Director Wang give you a hard time?”

Xiong Yibai didn’t answer right away. Instead, she quietly pulled out her phone, unlocked it, opened an encrypted photo album, and handed it to Feng Miwan.

The screen showed screenshots of chat logs, the sender unmistakably “Director Wang.”

The content started with “caring about work,” progressed to “let’s grab dinner tonight and chat,” and escalated to the more blatant “Little Bear, you know the deputy chief physician promotion spots are tight this time. I have high hopes for you, but it depends on your ‘performance’ too.” The timeline spanned months.

“This isn’t the first time.”

“I always thought that as long as I clearly refused and drew a firm line, he’d back off eventually. I didn’t want to make a big fuss and disrupt the work rhythm and relationships I’d built.”

“But later, I really had no choice, so I wrote an anonymous complaint letter and submitted it, hoping the hospital would handle something like this. Who knew it vanished after submission—no follow-up call, nothing. The matter just fizzled out.”

Feng Miwan read those messages full of innuendo and threats, and her anger flared up again. She clenched her fists tight. “That old bastard! So disgusting! And you put up with him for so long? If it were me, I’d definitely…”

She took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to punch someone.

“I’d definitely find a chance to tear him a new one, then slap my resignation right in his face! A dump like that isn’t worth staying in—it’s filthy!”

Xiong Yibai listened to Feng Miwan’s righteous indignation, and something in her heart was gently touched.

Yeah, if it were Feng Miwan, she’d do exactly that.

She was like a free wind, unbound by anything, bold in love and hate, daring to fight injustice head-on.

And herself?

She was always trapped in so-called “rules,” “decorum,” and “stability,” proceeding cautiously step by step.

Even stubbornly clinging to the line she’d drawn herself, enduring discomfort rather than easily upsetting the balance.

After venting, Feng Miwan looked at Xiong Yibai, her tone softening. “Yibai, I know… you’re not like me.”

“You’re used to thinking everything through, liking a stable, orderly life without trouble. You figure enduring it might make it pass.”

Xiong Yibai looked up at her, surprised that Feng Miwan would say something like that.

Feng Miwan continued, her gaze intense. “But Yibai, some troubles don’t vanish just because you endure them. Compromising with people like that only makes them think you’re an easy target—they’ll get worse!”

“Stability isn’t bought with swallowed anger. Sometimes, breaking a rule isn’t so scary.”

“Like on the racetrack—sometimes you know that corner is dangerous, but if you’re too scared to floor it and charge through, you’ll never overtake. You’ll just eat dust trailing behind forever.”

Her words were like a key, gently prying open the tightly shut door in Xiong Yibai’s heart.

Xiong Yibai looked at Feng Miwan before her. The evening breeze lifted her hair tips, river lights danced in her eyes, and she seemed to glow all over.

Xiong Yibai finally realized what it was about her that drew her in.

It was this freedom and courage she herself lacked;

This blazing vitality that charged forward fearlessly on the track or in life, daring to smash through any obstacle;

This sharpness that seemed impulsive and direct on the surface but could pierce straight to the locks in her heart at key moments.

Feng Miwan embodied the version of herself she subconsciously yearned for but never dared to become.

“I get it.”

Xiong Yibai suddenly said softly. Those three words were light, yet carried the weight of resolve.

She lowered her head, her fingers flying across the phone screen.

Just then, a new message popped up from Director Wang: “Doctor Xiong, why’d you leave early tonight? About the promotion, I think we need to communicate more properly.”

Xiong Yibai’s eyes turned cold. She didn’t open it to reply but screenshotted it directly.

Then, she bundled this new message with all the previously saved chat logs into a compressed file.

This time, she didn’t send it to the hospital’s possibly black-hole disciplinary email.

Her fingertip hovered over a contact for a moment, then she hit send.

The file transfer success notification appeared.

With that done, she pocketed her phone and looked up at Feng Miwan, who’d been watching her intently. A relieved, shallow smile crossed her face. “All set.”

Feng Miwan blinked, a bit caught off guard. “Huh? That’s it… done? So simple?”

Xiong Yibai nodded. The river breeze stirred her long hair, and her eyes shone clearer and more resolute than before. “It’s always been simple. I just refused to take that step before.”

She’d been trapped in the cage she’d built for herself too long. Feng Miwan’s unreasonable wind had blown open the door, revealing the vast world outside.

Though Feng Miwan didn’t know exactly what she’d done, she could sense something had changed in Xiong Yibai.

She grinned wide. “That’s more like it! Come on, to celebrate your historic step, I’ll take you to have some fun! I know there’s a night market up ahead along the river—tons of cool spots!”

With that, she reached out again, wanting to grab Xiong Yibai’s hand and run off.