Seeing Yin Zhongtian push open the door, I smiled, lowering the tea cup I’d raised to touch his cup. “Senior brother, I hope you’ll take care of Zhongtian in the future and pass on some valuable experience… I’ll be eternally grateful.”
Yin Zhongtian entered and asked blankly, “Oh? What experience?”
The person grinding his teeth forced out four words, “Human relationships.”
Seeing Ye Zhengchen’s suppressed anger awakened feelings dormant for many years in me.
I smiled, sipped my tea, and realized my heart was not dead; no one could make it race like he did. After finishing the tense banquet, I curled up by the car door and slept. Occasionally waking, I’d find Ye Zhengchen’s gaze in the rearview mirror—vast and silent. Closing my eyes, his gaze lingered in my dreams.
For some, forgetting takes three years, but remembering only three seconds. You can hate and be annoyed for years, yet three seconds of laughter is enough to change everything.
When bringing Yin Zhongtian back to Nanzhou, I accompanied him to meet our parents, then went home with him. As I washed his clothes in the bathroom, I listened to him chat with Uncle Yin and Aunt Yin. I glanced at the empty doorframe, feeling a melancholic foam spreading in my hands.
After washing the clothes and hanging them on the balcony, I told Yin Zhongtian softly, “I have a night shift, I’m leaving now. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
“Eat dinner before you go,” Aunt Yin said.
“No, I need to go to the hospital to see my dad.”
Yin Zhongtian sees me to the elevator, and when it hasn’t arrived, he moves closer to me. I suppress my instinctive reaction and remain still.
His hand rests on my shoulder. “You and that Ye Canmou seem to have a good relationship.”
“Not bad,” I reply, adding, “Haven’t seen each other for many years.”
“Why is he helping you?”
I dislike this question, feeling it’s a bit worldly-wise and suspicious. “Maybe remembering old ties.”
The elevator arrives, and I quickly step in. “Rest well, don’t overthink. The person is fine, that’s what matters most!”
Yin Zhongtian stops me. “When there’s a chance, let’s invite Ye Canmou for a meal.”
“Huh?” I don’t understand.
“We should thank him! Besides, relationships need more communication.”
As the elevator doors close, I give a bitter smile. If Yin Zhongtian knew how well I’ve been communicating with Ye Zhengchen these past few days, I wonder what he’d think.
Author’s note: People are afraid of comparisons! Ye hasn’t returned, and the girl thinks Yin is quite nice. But when Ye appears, it’s like heaven and earth!
Ye: Stepmother, how long are you going to torture me? Biological Mother Xin Xin (pondering): Soon, we’ll break up. Ye: And then? Biological Mother Xin Xin: Soon, we’ll get married. Ye: Really?
Biological Mother Xin Xin: That depends on how much I can stir things up.
P.S. What do you all think of Yin Zhongtian?
Broken Engagement Tossing and turning in the duty room until midnight, two figures linger in my mind. Yin Zhongtian’s dejection evokes sympathy, while Ye Zhengchen’s imposing manner fills me with unease. They seem to compete in my thoughts, leaving me in disarray.
I finally give up on sleep, throw on my white coat, and walk into the duty room. Sitting at the computer, I open foreign medical websites, searching for new developments and anti-cancer drugs. Domestic websites are often misleading; I’ve been tricked before and now exercise caution.
I come across a post by an American expert on lymphoma with unique insights and decide to consult him. While logging into my email, I find a new unread message titled: [Latest Lymphoma Treatment Case History]. I open it quickly. The message contains no text, signature, or sender information, leaving me guessing about its origin. I urgently open the attached document.
The document summarizes several successful lymphoma treatment cases, complete with red annotations and expert opinions. I read carefully from beginning to end.
The document is clear and logical, reflecting the author’s professionalism and rigor.
It’s him. Only he could write something so in-depth, only he would understand what I need most, and only he would send an unsigned email—believing I would recognize it.
At the last page, in bold red letters: “It took me twenty-four hours to compile this treatment plan. Thank you!”
Seeing this, I envision that lovable yet infuriating smile, that focused figure working through the night at the computer.
Laughing silently, my eyes ache.
Twenty-four hours… how did he manage that in these three days? I remember the exhaustion on his face yesterday.
The phone beside me rings, showing Ye Zhengchen’s number. I glance at the document on the computer, my heart softens, and I answer.
“Not asleep yet?” he asks.
“Mm. Just received your email.”
“I know,” he says, his voice especially magnetic. “I set a read receipt.”
His breathing varies: sometimes light, sometimes heavy. I don’t want to speak, just want to listen.
“I’m going back to Beijing tomorrow.”
He’s leaving? Didn’t he want me to give him a “month”?
A wave of melancholy washes over me. “Oh.”
“I really can’t bear to leave you,” he says with a deliberate sigh. “But our commander said if I don’t go back, he’ll send people to find me in Nanzhou.”
Melancholy transforms into a helpless laugh. With a subordinate like Ye Zhengchen, his commander must have worried himself gray-haired.
“Why aren’t you talking? Will you miss me?” When I remain silent, he adds, “Then I won’t go…”
Like smooth Belgian chocolate, sweet and lingering, my eyebrows reveal a satisfied smile. “Who would miss you? But Zhongtian wants to treat you to a meal. Since you have no time, forget it.”
“Treat me to a meal? Your fiancé is quite tactful.”
“In a government office, those who aren’t tactful can’t survive,” I respond, speaking from Yin Zhongtian’s perspective.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to be sycophantic.”
The sarcasm in Ye Zhengchen’s tone makes me uncomfortable. Not everyone can be like him, born into a prominent family, displaying their personality and confronting reality head-on.
Yin Zhongtian, born into an ordinary family, has his own ideals and ambitions. Unable to change the environment in the municipal government, he adapted instead, meticulously climbing through diligence. Reaching his current position was challenging, but he unexpectedly lost everything.
“He is not like that,” I say, my tone clearly displeased. “Ye Zhengchen, don’t look down on him.”
Zhongtian wants to thank you, and if you don’t accept it, so be it.”
For my passionate defense, Ye Zhengchen snorted disdainfully. “I really don’t understand what you see in him.”
I returned his snort. “No matter how useless Zhongtian is, he’s still better than some beastly men.”
His breathing was amplified by the microphone, whooshing.
“You woman…” came a voice from the phone: “How can you burn the bridge after crossing it?”
I wanted to burn the bridge, but this steel and concrete structure was beyond my reach!
Someone knocked on the office door, shouting: “Doctor, doctor!”
“A patient is calling me, I’ll talk to you later.” Without waiting for a response, I hung up and ran to see the patient.
From that day on, Ye Zhengchen had no more news or phone calls. My father recovered and was discharged. My work returned to its original track, desperately trying to save hopeless patients every day. But after work, my life never returned to its normal course; I would drag my tired body and mind to see Yin Zhongtian every day.
“I saw a house today with a layout similar to our previous one, in almost the same location, just a bit expensive,” I said, hoping to divert his attention. “It’s my fault. I was in such a hurry back then, selling our house at a low price to go to Beijing to smooth things over. Now, finding a suitable place is so difficult.”
