That night, after breaking up with Tan Zhengjun, Zong Chi went to his usual bar with Chen Xiangyang, but only had one drink before deciding to head back to the hotel.
As he was leaving, Zong Chi refused Chen Xiangyang’s offer of a ride, saying he’d rather walk back to sober up.
Chen Xiangyang cursed, “One drink and you think you’ll sober up? And you’re walking back yourself? If you get kidnapped and your old man comes looking for you, I don’t have the ransom to bail you out.”
He wasn’t exaggerating.
Back in college, when Zong Chi flew back to see his girlfriend, his father was in the middle of an acquisition scandal.
A round of mid-level layoffs had triggered an employee’s suicide, and the family came looking for revenge—
Zong Chi was tailed right out of the airport.
That kidnapping case was solved in less than 24 hours, but Zong Chi suffered a lot because of his father’s status.
For the next two years, his mother arranged bodyguards for all his outings.
On the way back to the hotel, Zong Chi naturally didn’t walk as he wished—
Chen Xiangyang ended up driving him.
In the darkness of the back seat, the tinted glass cut off the outside world—half light, half shadow.
This trip had started in Shanghai and would end in Shanghai.
According to the plan, he’d fly to Singapore tomorrow.
While waiting at a red light, rain started to patter on the windshield.
The driver flicked on the wipers and chatted with Mr. Zong in the back, “It’s raining.”
Zong Chi responded, then asked about their plans for the evening, and whether Chen Xiangyang would return to S City.
Chen Xiangyang was still meeting friends at the bar.
The driver guessed he’d probably go back by himself. Mr. Chen wouldn’t be returning—he had a client meeting tomorrow.
Then the topic shifted to Chen Xiangyang moving the S City headquarters studio to a new building, with a formal housewarming banquet planned, inviting many business partners and clients.
Zong Chi was an original shareholder behind Chen Xiangyang, and the driver had known Mr. Zong for years, so he asked politely, “Will you be attending, Mr. Zong? I heard from Mr. Chen that your mother is from S City.”
Zong Chi gave a noncommittal hum, but said he wouldn’t be going.
The driver didn’t press further.
As the car moved forward slowly, Zong Chi found a pack of cigarettes in Chen Xiangyang’s backseat armrest.
He’d quit for nearly five years.
Back then, he and that person had argued countless times over his smoking.
He Dongli wasn’t possessive—on the contrary, she was indifferent to most things.
The only thing she couldn’t stand was his smoking.
Back in school, he’d flicked away his cigarette butt right in her class’s cleaning zone.
When he confessed to her, he promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll quit smoking for good. I’ll definitely outlive you. I won’t be like your dad, leaving your mom all alone.”
He’d known her for sixteen years, officially dated for seven.
He could count the number of times He Dongli cried on one hand.
During that kidnapping, Zong Chi insisted He Dongli stitch him up.
“I’m not afraid, so why are you?”
“Why did you come back? If something happens to you, what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you mean, what are you supposed to do? Aren’t you always indifferent? Didn’t you say breaking up won’t kill anyone?”
“I mean, if your parents come after me, what am I supposed to do?”
“Hey, do you even have a heart? Look at me, and you’re only worried about yourself.”
That time, He Dongli cried.
She cried so hard it was ugly, smearing tears with her fingers, not knowing if her hands were dirty or if she’d crawled out of some ash pile.
Her eyelids to the corners of her eyes were black.
“Zong Chi, I don’t want anything to happen to you. If something does, how am I supposed to make it up to your parents? It scares me when you’re like this.”
“This has nothing to do with you. If I didn’t come back this time, I’d come back next time anyway. Just tell me, are we still breaking up?”
The medical student He Dongli, eyes ringed in black, looked at her injured not-quite-ex-boyfriend with the soft compassion of a healer.
“Don’t do this, your mom’s still outside.”
“He Dongli, could you act a little more like you like me?”
“What does someone who likes you even look like?”
“At the very least, like my mom—always arguing with my dad, watching him like a hawk around other women, always threatening to drag him back if he steps out of line.”
At the very least, like Zong Chi, who would fly halfway across the world just to see her for a moment.
When He Dongli was disinfecting and cleaning his wound, she said matter-of-factly, “I can’t afford to toss seven or eighty thousand yuan on a plane ticket.”
Zong Chi laughed and cursed, “No money, but you’ve got skills.”
He insisted on having his girlfriend stitch the wound between his brows.
Zong’s Mother scolded him for fooling around.
The victim’s stubborn demand: It’s my face, I’m willing.
I trust her skills.
If she botches it, even better—she’ll owe me for life.
As it turned out, He Dongli really was born to be a surgeon.
By the time they broke up, less than a year later, there was no trace left of the scar between his brows.
Before leaving, Tan Zhengjun never told Zong Chi the patient’s private matters.
First, it would violate his professional ethics; second, it meant nothing to Zong Chi.
All these years, Tan had always known He Dongli’s name.
The reason the Zong Family and Tan Family reconnected was because Zong Chi had once called Tan Zhengjun for help.
Back then, Zong Chi had stayed in China alone for high school, insisting on it against his family’s wishes.
The Zong Family moved between Singapore and Zurich, and gradually lost touch with those back home.
Zong’s Mother still sent gifts to the Tan Family on holidays, but the relationship faded.
Over time, the Tan Family no longer dared to reach out to the Zong Family.
Three years ago, during a business flight layover, Tan Zhengjun ran into Zong Chi.
He was there on behalf of his father for a vote.
The two chatted, recalling their childhood New Year reunions.
Tan Zhengjun praised Zong Chi, “You’re so different now. Who’d believe the kid who used to argue with his dad loud enough to drown out the firecrackers is now so dutiful?”
Zong Chi kept his composure and played along.
Tan Zhengjun had heard a bit about him.
In the wealthy circles, it was always about romance—if the father was like that, so would the son.
Zong Chi couldn’t let go of a little girlfriend, even when the breakup was amicable, he made such a fuss.
The girl’s mother only cared about getting Zong Jingzhou to fetch her daughter back.
So Zong Jingzhou flew back in person, grabbed the brat, and finally settled the whole love drama.
That day, before the flight, Zong Chi asked Tan Zhengjun what he was doing these days.
When he heard the profession and the hospital, he was momentarily dazed, then said, “What a coincidence.”
He mentioned a name—
He Dongli—and said that someday she and Second Brother might—
Not long after landing, he called Tan Zhengjun, asking for nothing but, “If there’s a chance, please look out for her.”
As a fellow man, Tan Zhengjun only asked, “If you can’t let go, why not go find her?”
Zong Chi: “…………..I’m not going to.”
“But you’re still willing to help her out?”
“She and I, after everything, she got nothing out of it. Even the shares from Chen Xiangyang’s side that were meant for her, she didn’t want. Fine, I’m not helping her—I’m just settling what I owe her. Best if we’re even, nothing owed.”
When He Dongli officially graduated and started at S University Affiliated Hospital No. 1, her achievements were clear for all to see.
When Tan Zhengjun privately spoke with Zhao Teacher, he told him not to mention his name—he was only fulfilling a request.
After all these years, this was the first time Tan Zhengjun got a call from He Dongli.
Coincidentally, Zong Chi had just returned to the country for work and, on the other hand, was asked by his mother to attend the Tan Family’s baby celebration.
Tan Zhengjun specially called He Dongli over to do a surgery together.
Even though she wore no makeup that day, her calm and meticulous nature, evenly proportioned but not overly slender figure, and healthy physique all made her a textbook surgeon.
When Tan Zhengjun was in residency, one of the senior sisters rotating with him was the Director’s last disciple.
At the time, a rumor popped up from somewhere, and the Director’s Wife personally met the girl.
The senior sister, cool-headed, retorted to the Director’s Wife—a line that’s since become a motto among the women in the OR: “You have to believe, compared to being the Director’s Wife, I’d rather replace her as the Director’s Lady.”
After the surgery that day, Tan Zhengjun joked about Zong Chi’s ex, “He Dongli has the looks to be the Director’s Wife, but even more, she has the skills to be the Director.”
No wonder Zong Chi couldn’t forget her all these years.
Tan Zhengjun refused to reveal the patient’s privacy to Zong Chi.
As an older brother who’d been through it, he advised, “After you eliminate a wrong answer, can you really pick the right one? Zong Chi, high-level spiritual love has no rivals.”
Back when they were prepping for exams, He Dongli once tutored Zong Chi and said something similar: “If you don’t understand C, what will you do when it’s not C next time?”
He took two intermittent drags from the cigarette, never inhaling deep, and finally stubbed it out in the ashtray.
After so long without smoking, he was out of practice—maybe even a little disgusted by it.
The car stopped, the driver got out to open the door for Mr. Zong.
As he got out, he absentmindedly took Chen Xiangyang’s pack of cigarettes with him.
That night, he had a messy dream.
In his dream, that Pink Rabbit sprang to life and stomped on his chest.
Blaming him for taking her away—she was supposed to be a gift for Senior Brother Tan’s daughter.
The thief wasn’t bothered.
He was just about to ask her in person—who was the surgery for?
You don’t have any relatives in the countryside, and no friend close enough for you to go through all that trouble—begging the boss, colleagues, and even assisting in person.
The rabbit’s mouth couldn’t move, but she did speak, saying her favorite line: “That’s my business.”
Zong Chi didn’t care and pressed on, “Boyfriend, right?”
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