A beautiful, cool-headed doctor and a sharp-tongued lawyer who's prickly on the outside but gentle within
A scalpel can dissect the body, and the law can dissect human nature, but what can open two hearts that have sealed themselves away?
At two in the morning in the emergency room, criminal defense lawyer Tu Xingran fell in love at first sight with Leng Ting, the neurosurgeon on duty, while accompanying someone who needed treatment for an injury.
Three days later, she ended that brief relationship and began pursuing the woman whose eyes held nothing but scalpels.
Leng Ting was never short of admirers: talented doctors and business elites alike. Her reason for turning them all down was always the same, and perfectly rational: “My time belongs in the operating room, not to anyone.”
But Tu Xingran pursued her differently.
After Leng Ting finished a string of surgeries, Tu Xingran would bring her a late-night snack with its calories carefully calculated, along with a note: “Under Article 234 of the Criminal Law, deliberately starving yourself counts as indirect self-harm.”
After winning a major case, she would show up in the hospital parking lot at once. “The judge just found my client not guilty. Dr. Leng, when will you rule that I'm allowed to love you?”
Three hundred and sixty-five days passed: from their first meeting in the emergency room to waiting outside the operating room, from a lawyer's instinctive call for help during a late-night anxiety attack to a doctor beginning to look forward to the bottle of glucose water that always arrived at just the right time.
Leng Ting still maintained her perfect record of successful surgeries, but gradually realized that whenever she was with Tu Xingran, her heart rate fluctuated in ways medicine couldn't explain.
“If the law can't deliver justice, perhaps we can create it ourselves.”
“If medicine can't cure everything, at least we don't have to face failure alone.”
