Under the chair, Jian Chengzhong could be seen hugging his quivering body and muttering, “I will never ever do that again. Never…”

Jian Chengzhong recoiled further. “Stay away! I swear not to do that again, never ever again!”

Suddenly, like a man possessed, he crawled out from under the chair and rushed against a medical trolley, scattering the contents everywhere and sacring the nurses out of their wits. A noisy commotion ensued.

Stepping in front of Jang Jiusheng to protect her, Shi Jin instructed the nurses in the VIP ward, “Restrain the patient and take him back to his room. Give him a shot of sedative.”

Some of the medical personnel stepped forward and followed his instructions, restraining and removing the delusional patient who filled the corridor with bone-chilling screams.

“Sheng, I’d better go check out the situation.”

“Okay.”

To be on the safe side, Shi Jin walked her back to her room before leaving.

Jian Chengzhong’s room, located at the far end of the same floor, was like a warzone—chaotic with things scattered everywhere. He had been admitted that morning, and the hallucinogens injected into his body had not fully dissipated, making it very challenging to restrain his delusional rants.

Seeing Shi Jin, the medical personnel let out a collective sigh of relief. Flushing in panic, the junior nurse exclaimed, “Dr. Shi, this patient is not cooperative. We can’t proceed with the injection.”

This patient, the scion of a wealthy clan, had been injected with a huge dosage of anesthetics, which had endangered his life.

“Let me do this,” said Dr. Shi.

The nurse, clearly feeling thankful, handed the syringe to him.

Shi Jin put on some gloves, took the syringe from her, and tapped on it to release the air bubbles before stepping forward to place a gloved hand on the patient’s shoulder. Although held down by several people, the patient continued to thrash about violently, screaming.

“Stop writhing.” Looking at the syringe, Shi Jin said calmly: “You’re putting yourself in danger.”

The patient suddenly stopped struggling and, with dilated pupils, stared blankly at Shi Jin’s hand. Last night, in the dimly lit derelict warehouse in the western district, a man had asked him, “Jiang Jiusheng. Would you dare cross her again?”

A slim knife had appeared out of the blue, pressing against his left shoulder, its cold blade rubbing against his skin.

“Never. Never ever again,” Jian Chengzhong had vowed.

“Stay far away from her. Very dangerous.” The man had paused, playing with the blade in his hand. “Understand?”

The blade had been a surgical scalpel.

Other than that, Jian Chengzhong could remember neither the man’s appearance nor his voice, except for those beautiful gloved hands, which had sliced into his flesh and severed the tendon of his left arm in such a measured and elegant manner.

It had been a horrific scene that still did not make sense to him—like a nightmare… For Jian Chengzhong, whether he encountered a doctor with beautiful hands or Jiang Jiusheng, he reacted so violently that the neurosurgeon had recommended a transfer to the department of psychoanalysis.

That morning, Jian Chengzhong had been transferred to the department of psychoanalysis, then had switched rooms. The lead physician had recommended that, for a full recovery, he avoid the triggers of his agitation.

Having returned to her room, Jiang Jiusheng took a nap. She had a weird dream in which she found herself in a very dimly lit place where she could only hear voices.

Click.

It was the sound of the lighter striking, producing a flame. She saw a pair of elegant and flawless hands holding a cigarette; thin wisps of smoke exhaled from between lightly tinted lips, blurring the person’s profile. The smoker was a young man.

“Does it taste good?” asked a girl.

Shaking his head, the youth replied, “Bitter and acrid.”

“Let me try.”

Lying sprawled across his body, the girl tried to snatch at his cigarette. Laughing, he evaded her and hugged her. ” Sheng, don’t touch this. It’s not good for your health.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Blowing smoke from his mouth and reaching over to kiss her, he replied, “Didn’t you say that I look good when I smoke?”

She didn’t avoid him; rather, she settled into his arms. “Quit,” he said. “I don’t like the smell of cigarette smoke.”

“Okay,” he replied.

At that point, the dream ended abruptly. Jiang Jiusheng woke up soaked in perspiration and feeling a little shaken. She hadn’t been able to see the young man’s face, but those hands… They had looked a lot like Shi Jin’s. Humorlessly, Jiang Jiusheng wondered if this was a psychological projection of her obsession with his hands.

It was lunchtime, but the door to the office of cardiac surgeon Dr. Shi remained shut. Dr. Xiao, from the department of pediatrics, had been inside for almost 30 minutes. Xiao Yi, the medical assistant, hesitated for a few seconds and left silently on his own for lunch.

Having reviewed the test results, Shi Jin said, “I don’t recommend surgery.”

Xiao Linlin shifted her gaze away from Shi Jin’s face. “If we don’t operate, insufficient atrial blood oxygenation could cause death.”

“The patient is not even one year old, and a direct incision on his sternum would be too small.” Pushing the CT scans across the desk, he pointed to the shadow, saying, “This shows congestion in the pulmonary circulation. There is a very high possibility of heart failure on the table.”

Looking at Shi Jin, Xiao Linlin asked, “What are the chances if you were to be the lead surgeon?”

He leaned back in his seat. “Less than 5 percent,” he replied.

Unlike most surgeons, who usually specialized according to a specific category, Shi Jin was a surgeon who could operate just as competently outside of his own specialty of cardiothoracic surgery. When even he did not recommend surgery, it would mean that it was inoperable.

Xiao Linlin smiled politely and said, “I understand. Thank you for your advice, Dr. Shi.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, courteous but distant.

As usual, he was polite and sincere but always kept people at arm’s length in an inoffensive manner.

There were three raps on the door.

Tap—tap—tap—

Since the door was unlocked, it opened, and in popped Xu Qingbo, smiling and displaying a pair of cute dimples. “Lunchtime. You guys coming?”

Shi Jin did not respond.

Picking up her folder, Xiao Linlin stood and suggested in a tone that implied far less assertiveness than usual, “My treat. To thank Dr. Shi for his advice.” Then, turning to look at Xu Qingbo, she said, “Dr. Xu, won’t you please join us?”

Xu Qingbo, who was reputed to be a major player in the hospital rumor mill, accepted without hesitation. “A treat from a pretty woman! Of course I accept.”

That said—

“Apologies,” said Shi Jin. I don’t dine with company.”

While the other two froze. Shi Jin rose from his chair, stepped away from the desk, and started to spray antibacterial lotion on his desk and hands. Wiping the desk meticulously, he said to the pair, “Enjoy your meal.”

Xiao Linlin and Xu Qingbo were both speechless. What could they say? Shi Jin was a clean freak, after all. The atmosphere was embarrassing, to say the least.

At that moment, there was a light rap on the door.

Lifting his head, Shi Jin smiled. “Sheng, you’re here.”

Sheng… You’re here… His words were quite familiar and intimate.

The other two people in the room turned around.

Looking a little embarrassed, Jiang Jiusheng explained, “Sorry. I did not intend to eavesdrop.” She had heard the voices in the room as she had neared the office, but somehow, for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to tear herself away.

Shi Jin walked to the door. “That’s all right. Is anything the matter?” he asked gently.

“You treated me to breakfast last time, so I should repay the compliment,” said Jiang Jiusheng, regaining her composure. “My assistant made me some ribs, and they smell really good. I was going to ask if you’d like to try some.”

Shi Jin had already declared that he did not eat with company, so—

Shi Jin’s eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Can you wait for me? I need to wash my hands.”