Xun Yuming opened the passenger door carefully and lifted Abby out of the driver's seat, setting her down with both hands as if she were something fragile that needed steady placement. Only after making sure her feet were firmly on the ground did he straighten up. He didn't look at Zhuang Yi when he spoke.
"I'm leaving."
The words were short, almost abrupt, as though any extra syllable might betray something else beneath them.
"Wait."
Zhuang Yi stepped forward at once. He did not raise his voice, yet the single word carried weight. He closed the distance between them in two unhurried strides and stopped just within arm's reach. "What did you want from me?"
Xun Yuming's fingers tightened around the folder in his hand. The paper inside crinkled faintly under the pressure. For a moment, he seemed about to speak, but nothing came out. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"You don't look well," Zhuang Yi said after a brief pause. His gaze moved across Xun Yuming's face, the pale skin, the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the dryness at the corners of his mouth. "If you walk down the mountain like this, you'll faint before you reach the main road."
Before Xun Yuming could react, Zhuang Yi had already taken hold of his wrist. The grip was firm but not rough. He pulled him back toward the car, opened the rear door, and guided him inside with a quiet decisiveness that allowed no room for argument. Then he shut the door, circled to the driver's seat, and started the engine.
The atmosphere inside the car thickened almost instantly.
Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the faint rustle of Abby shifting in her seat.
After a while, Abby let out a dramatic sigh, folding her small hands over her lap like someone far older than her years. "This is really hard for me."
The tension cracked in an instant.
Despite himself, Xun Yuming's lips curved. He reached into his pocket and placed another sugar tablet into her palm. Abby's mood lifted immediately, and she leaned back contentedly, as though she had just successfully mediated a complex negotiation.
When the car rolled to a stop in front of the villa once more, Cong Huan was still standing outside, engaged in animated conversation with the elderly neighbor across the low fence. The moment she saw Xun Yuming step out of the vehicle, her expression flared with renewed indignation.
"You again?!" Her eyebrows shot upward as though ready for battle.
Zhuang Yi understood the situation almost at once. He stepped forward before either of them could escalate matters further.
"Cong Huan," he said calmly, "this is Dr. Xun. He's my friend."
The shift in her expression was immediate and dramatic.
"…What?"
Her gaze darted between the two men, disbelief overtaking anger. "Dr. Xun? The Dr. Xun you were planning to introduce to my dad?"
"That one," Zhuang Yi confirmed with a small nod. "We were classmates in college. He skipped grades when he was young, so he looks younger than he actually is."
Cong Huan froze for a heartbeat, then visibly deflated. She wiped her palms against the sides of her dress and stepped forward awkwardly, extending her hand.
"I… I'm really sorry, Dr. Xun. I misunderstood. I thought you were… well, never mind. It was my mistake."
Xun Yuming did not take her hand.
"My schedule is booked a year in advance," he said evenly, his gaze sliding away. "Even if a god came down, he would still have to wait in line. You should consider someone else."
Her face reddened.
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. My dad has been asking about you for a long time…"
She turned helplessly toward Zhuang Yi, who gave a subtle shrug that conveyed: This is beyond my control.
After a moment of quiet stalemate, Zhuang Yi spoke again. "You should head back for now. I need to speak with Dr. Xun. We can discuss your father's appointment in a few days."
Cong Huan stuck out her tongue in embarrassment, waved at Abby, and retreated toward the garage.
Inside the house, the air felt cooler and calmer.
Zhuang Yi set Abby down and walked toward the kitchen, speaking over his shoulder. "Cong Huan is my student. She comes here to feed the cats when I'm busy. She has a temper, but she means well. A few days ago, two university students kept showing up here under the excuse of academic consultation. She assumed…"
He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.
He poured a glass of orange juice and placed it gently in front of Xun Yuming. "Shall we eat outside?"
Xun Yuming set the folder on the table without touching the juice. "I have something to ask you. It won't take long."
Zhuang Yi glanced toward Abby, who was rummaging through a drawer for her small cloak. "Here? She's hungry. Let's talk over dinner."
He gathered a thermos, a cup, and a lunchbox from the counter, items clearly prepared for Qin Xueyan and handed Abby into Xun Yuming's arms.
"Hold her for a moment."
As they stepped outside again, Xun Yuming spoke quietly, almost to himself. "Wake-up times are uncertain. Maybe tomorrow morning. Maybe later. Aunt Qin…"
"I'm not in a hurry."
At the red light, Zhuang Yi's eyes met his in the rearview mirror. The reflection was brief but steady.
"You don't need to take all of this onto yourself," he said. "I trust your ability. No matter what happens, it won't be your fault."
For two seconds, Xun Yuming held that reflected gaze. Then he turned his face toward the window, where the late afternoon light bled into gold.
"I shouldn't have operated on her."
They entered the coastal tunnel. The car was swallowed by shadow, and for a moment, neither man's expression was visible.
"Why?" Zhuang Yi's voice was low. "Because I was your boyfriend eight years ago?"
Doctors do not operate on close relatives or those with whom they share emotional entanglement. It is a principle meant to preserve objectivity.
But principles assume the presence of ongoing feeling.
"It's not only that," Xun Yuming replied after a pause. "I've been at the hospital for two months. Three patients have already died. If something happens again…"
"You've reversed cause and effect."
They emerged from the tunnel into the open stretch of coastal highway. The setting sun had sunk halfway into the sea, its colors melting across the horizon in layers of orange, rose, violet, and fading blue. The water reflected the sky like a shattered mirror of light.
"It's not because of you that those patients didn't wake," Zhuang Yi continued, eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. "It's because of you that patients who had no chance at all dared to try."
His voice remained calm.
"They signed the consent forms. They accepted the risks. They were not afraid of failure. Why are you?"
The car came to a stop beside the shoreline.
They chose an open-air restaurant overlooking the water. Soft LED lights wound around the railings, their glow mingling with the darkening sky. The sea breeze carried salt and faint music from somewhere down the boardwalk.
They sat.
Xun Yuming did not open the menu.
"My psychological evaluation results are out," he said directly, his fingers resting flat against the table to steady himself. "Why didn't you pass me?"
The question had been building inside him since he first saw the word Unqualified.
"I told you," he added, voice tightening, "I don't drink excessively."
Zhuang Yi unfolded his napkin with deliberate care and laid it across his lap.
"I never said you were an alcoholic."
He lifted his fork slowly.
"You're the one who keeps insisting that you aren't. That insistence is what interests me."
Color crept up Xun Yuming's neck.
"Why would I feel guilty? I didn't do anything wrong."
"Exactly." Zhuang Yi's tone did not sharpen; if anything, it grew steadier. "If you did nothing wrong, why the guilt?"
He steadied a piece of salmon without letting it slip from the fork.
"That's what concerns me."
"I'm not guilty." The denial came too quickly.
He turned his head toward the darkening sea, lashes lowered. "By saying I'm unqualified, you're questioning my mental state. That's the same as questioning my responsibility toward my patients. You're questioning my professional ethics."
His voice thinned slightly.
"You've gone too far."
For someone like him: reserved, restrained , to say such words, the line had clearly been crossed.
Zhuang Yi met his gaze without retreating.
"I assessed you objectively. That is my job. If you believe I failed you because of personal history, then you are the one questioning my professional ethics."
The silence that followed was heavier than the argument itself.
Xun Yuming stood abruptly. The Italian rice in front of him had long gone cold.
"I'm leaving."
Zhuang Yi wiped his hands, accepted a small black box from the waiter, and rose as well.
"I'll drive you."
"No need." The refusal came sharp, then softened. "If you're going back to the hospital, I'll take a taxi."
Zhuang Yi did not argue.
"Abby hasn't finished eating," he said instead. "Wait for her."
The sea wind moved between them, cool and persistent.
Neither of them sat back down.