In the corridor of the emergency department late at night, Ji Nanxing was curled up on a bench that smelled pungently of disinfectant. The screen of his mobile phone was lit with missed calls from the psychiatrist. The twenty-six-year-old surgeon had antidepressants in the pocket of her white coat, and her left wrist was wrapped with gauze that was bleeding. This was the third time she accidentally cut herself due to a stress reaction during the night shift.
The memory of being locked in the closet the night her mother ran away seventeen years ago is like poison ivy wrapped around her heart. As an adult, Ji Nanxing built a high wall and blocked out all goodwill with a scalpel-like coldness. Until the hospital's newly transferred director of cardiac surgery, Lu Chenzhou, saw her tremblingly swallowing pills in the dressing room. He was not panicked and didn't ask why. He just placed warm ginger tea on her desk with a note: "Microwave for three minutes to relieve the bitterness of the medicine."
This top doctor, who is called "Jade Faced Yama" by the whole hospital, will squat down silently to clean up the mess when she accidentally knocks over the equipment due to a seizure;
When the heavy rain in the rainy season triggered the worst panic attack, Ji Nanxing was shivering in the corner of the autopsy room. Lu Chenzhou wrapped her wet body in a white coat and put their foreheads together: "Count my breaths, once, twice..." An anti-anxiety lavender sachet hung on the second button of his shirt, and the cuffs were stained with the soothing soup she refused to take.
"What are you planning on?" She choked while holding his collar.
"Picture: Your eyelashes tremble every time you tell a lie." He wiped away the traces of water at the end of her eyes. "Picture is nine-year-old Xiao Nanxing who was trapped in the closet. Now there is someone who always keeps the door open."
