My Love, Seven Years Later

The night Lin Wan vanished in the rain seven years ago, clutching a box of dialysis fluid, the blue jacaranda tattoo on her collarbone gleamed coldly in the downpour. Chen Mo never saw the tears on her face. All he remembered was his mother tearing up his sketchbook, and the life-saving money that suddenly appeared in his account the next day. That money was like a scalpel, precisely cutting his lover out of his life.

Seven years later, the operating table gleamed beneath the surgical lights. Chen Mo's gloved hands were slick with sweat. Beneath the old scar on his patient's neck, blue-violet lines rose and fell with each breath. “Can you make it so no one recognizes me?” A hoarse voice, tinged with the smell of blood, struck him.

His scalpel hovered over the jagged scars from a horrific car accident, and the jacarandas in his memory suddenly burst into wild bloom. The girl his mother once scorned as “not good enough for the Chen family” now lay beneath his blade, begging for a complete rebirth. Could the hands that had created countless flawless masks cut through the truth that time had stitched shut?