In Jing City, everyone knows Gu Xingcheng, the youngest and most authoritative chief of neurosurgery.
His handsome looks are the least noteworthy of his many virtues. With his deft hands, he can set even the tiniest nerves right.
Tens of thousands of people across the country are waiting for him to save their lives. Even his own wife can never get a moment with him.
On the day Xu Zhixia went into labor, she stared in terror at herself, soaked in amniotic fluid, unable to get through to her husband.
Alone, she endured the unbearable pain and, clinging to her last will to survive, took a taxi to the hospital.
It wasn't until the baby was a month old that she finally got a call from Gu Xingcheng:
"I'm busy. What do you need?"
"The baby..."
"I can't take care of the baby. Too many people are waiting for me to save them. A patient's family is calling. Talk later."
Xu Zhixia gave a bitter smile as she looked at the call record, which showed a conversation lasting just ten seconds. From the bed beside hers came the sound of a couple playfully flirting.
A tear fell onto her daughter's face. Speaking to the phone, which had long since disconnected, she murmured:
"Honey, our daughter is so cute. She weighs five jin and six liang, and she's as white as a porcelain doll."
When their daughter was three, she was diagnosed with congenital autism.
Panic-stricken, Xu Zhixia scooped up the child and rushed into Gu Xingcheng's consulting room.
A female doctor sat at the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard.
Gu Xingcheng wore an expression of warmth Xu Zhixia had never seen before. His hands were said to be wasted on anything other than a scalpel, yet he was peeling an apple with practiced ease.
