Qin Ying was squatting in the yard picking vegetables, with fresh beans in the bamboo basket.
Hearing the noise, she looked up in panic, her muddy fingertips still pinching half a bean - it was still the same pair of slightly tanned hands, with thick knuckles from years of labor and dirt embedded in the cracks of her nails that could not be washed off.
These hands were now tearing the beans with brute force, completely lacking the lightness and precision they once had when holding the scalpel.
Wei Zhuolan's breathing stopped suddenly.
He staggered forward two steps, and the crisp sound of his leather shoes crushing dead leaves startled Qin Ying so much that she knocked over the bamboo basket.
The falling beans hit the tip of his shiny shoes, but the girl in front of him shrank towards the wall like a frightened rabbit, her fingers twisting the corners of her clothes still trembling slightly.
The face that overlapped with the memory was now filled with confusion and fear.
He was completely different from the person standing in front of him and talking to him.
Once upon a time, these eyes would shine brightly when discussing medical literature and would reflect the cold white light of the shadowless lamp in the operating room. But now, they are covered with a layer of turbid mist, and no trace of Qin Ying's sharpness can be found.
"This is impossible..."
Wei Zhuolan's voice caught in his throat. Reaching out to grab her wrist, Qin Ying screamed and pulled her hand back, hitting an overturned bamboo stool beside her, causing a loud explosion in the silent courtyard.
Memories suddenly flooded back - not long ago, it was these hands wearing medical gloves, bearing the pressure, racing against time in the operating room to save Fu Hanzhou's life, and every movement was made with reassuring confidence.
Fu Hanzhou stared at Wei Zhuolan's swaying back, and his heart suddenly sank.
Today he asked everyone who had ever had contact with Qin Ying, but all he got was a blank shake of the head.
At this moment, the old locust tree in the yard rustled in the wind, and a few dead leaves fell on Qin Ying's shoulders, but she was unaware of it. She was just picking up the beans on the ground in a panic. The hand that had drawn the perfect surgical diagram was now digging the soil in a mess.
Wei Zhuolan suddenly turned around, his gold-rimmed glasses hanging askew on his nose, revealing his bloodshot eyes:
"What's going on? What did you do to her?!"
His voice was as shattered as torn silk, and he violently kicked over the bamboo stool at his feet. The stool legs hit the bluestone slabs with a sound that startled the sparrows in the locust tree.
"I should have taken her away from the beginning! I told you long ago that you couldn't protect her at all!"
Fu Hanzhou was shocked and took a half step back, his lower back hitting the stone table in the yard.
Looking at Wei Zhuolan's out-of-control appearance, he felt a sense of absurd resonance in his heart - it turned out that there were still people in this world who remembered the dazzling Qin Ying.
But as soon as this resonance arose, it was crushed by the accusations of the other party. They obviously wanted to protect her, but now they have become enemies in the pain of losing her.
"You think I don't want to protect her?!"
Fu Hanzhou's growl mixed with Wei Zhuolan's roar.
The latter suddenly pounced on him and grabbed his collar. This usually elegant man now exuded a beastly nature. The collar of his straight Mao suit had burst open, and his white shirt was torn into wrinkles.
"If she dies..."
He leaned close to Fu Hanzhou's ear, his breath burning hot:
"I will bury you with me."
"Can the Propaganda Department's pen rival the gun?"
Fu Hanzhou sneered and grabbed the other person's wrist with his backhand.
Wei Zhuolan suddenly exerted force and pushed him against the locust tree. The rough texture of the bark hurt Fu Hanzhou's back.
"She's such a dazzling person, she shouldn't be trapped here!"
His voice was choked and his eyes were red:
"If it weren't for you...she might have had other choices..."
Wei Zhuolan's voice disappeared in the draft. He loosened his grip on Fu Hanzhou's collar and slumped down on the stone table in the yard.
His eyebrows drooped weakly, and his gold-rimmed glasses hung crookedly on the bridge of his nose, revealing the moisture in his eyes.
Fu Hanzhou stared at his trembling shoulders, his back teeth aching from biting them.
The shadow of the locust tree cut the two people into broken spots of light. In the distance, the model operas playing on the neighbor's radio sounded particularly harsh in this dead silent yard.
"Wei Zhuolan," Fu Hanzhou suddenly said, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper scraping against wood. "Tell me—" He reached for the burning dragon and phoenix pendant in his pocket, the jade texture rubbing against his palm painfully. "Why are you the only one who remembers her?"
Wei Zhuolan's head shot up, his pupils shrinking behind his glasses. His shocked gaze met Fu Hanzhou's, and he suddenly realized the terrifying truth behind his words.
"What's the meaning?"
"Only you and I remember Qin Ying, who can perform surgery and play the violin..."
Fu Hanzhou's voice was low and dejected.
"Everyone else... forgot?"
Wei Zhuolan's voice trembled, and his fingers tightly pinched the fabric of his cuffs.
A gust of wind blew by, rolling up the dead leaves in the yard. Fu Hanzhou saw his Adam's apple rolling and his lips moving, but no sound came out.
At the same time, Qin Ying suddenly sat up from the hospital bed.
The monitor issued a shrill alarm, but she stared at the palm of her hand - it seemed that the burning heat of the dragon and phoenix still lingered there.
It was pouring rain outside the window. She vaguely heard someone calling her name in the wind, mixed with Fu Hanzhou's roar, Wei Zhuolan's sobs, and the dazzling white light of the operating room's shadowless lamp.
"Doctor Qin! You finally woke up..."
The nurse pushed the door open and said:
"We were terrified during the four days you were in a coma!"
She opened her mouth and said, Four days?
She touched her chest tremblingly, but it was empty - the jade pendant was gone, and the man who said he would take her to see the moon had also become an absurd dream.
My eyes were sore and swollen, and memories came flooding back:
The smell of ink from the publishing house, the smell of tobacco on Fu Hanzhou's military uniform, Wei Zhuolan's paranoid and obscure eyes...
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