Chapter 69

The Meaning of Lightly Clenched Fists Is to Keep Part of Your Gentleness Reserved for One Person

Pei Zhen wore a blue shirt under a white coat, standing under the streetlamp like someone both tame and sincere. 

Hu Xiu’s faint fondness for Pei Zhen had gradually turned into heartache and unease— 

No one dislikes someone who likes them, and Pei Zhen wasn’t exactly troublesome. 

“You’re back…” 

“Yes, I arrived this morning, but I was called back for a night shift tonight. Early-year surgeries pile up.” 

“So…what kinds of surgeries?” Starting with work talk, skirting around the issue. 

“Wound repair, removal of accessory ears and warty nevi, and revision of botched rhinoplasties—though I’m just assisting on that last one, learning some new techniques from Director Chen.” He paused. “How have you been?” 

“Pretty good, getting into the swing of things.” He looked her up and down, as if trying to make up for the three months they’d missed. For a moment, they were out of topics, so Pei Zhen asked, “How’s it going with Diao Zhiyu?” 

He knew! Despite her efforts to keep her private life off social media, he had everything figured out. 

Under the light, she looked at his collar. This clean, gentle man, under the lamplight, smiled inadvertently—a little bit of disappointment escaping. 

She held back many questions—how he knew about her and Diao Zhiyu’s relationship, why he hadn’t contacted her at all during his three months in the U.S., what had transpired with his ex-girlfriend there… 

But instead, she smiled and pointed to Zhao Xiaorou, who had just gotten out of a car nearby: “I have plans. Gotta go. Catch you later.” 

The moment she turned away, Hu Xiu felt like laughing at the notion of love. Perhaps this was what happened after missed opportunities—a mature man’s quiet relinquishment and farewell to someone he once liked. Her response was just polite enough, giving that goodbye the vague and evasive ending it deserved. Whatever had happened in those three months no longer had anything to do with her. 

From today onward, the two of them were just friends—exchanging polite smiles in passing, having awkward pauses in conversation when their gazes accidentally met during work, and sometimes lingering on each other for a moment too long, secretly laughing at themselves for once caring so much. 

Just as she took a step forward, Pei Zhen suddenly called out behind her, and Zhao Xiaorou heard it too. 

He said to her, “Hu Xiu, I knew you’d break the three-month promise, but…we’re still friends, right?” 

On the way, Zhao Xiaorou cursed: “Hu Xiu, you’re done for. What he’s really saying is that he still has feelings for you, that he’s going to chase you, and whatever happened three months ago isn’t over.” 

“He let you wander freely for three months, but little did you know you were still in his fishpond. It’s terrifying, absolutely terrifying. Pei Zhen’s an old trickster, a clever one—you’re outmatched.” 

“What kind of interpretation is that—did your P.E. teacher teach you reading comprehension? He’s just asking if we’re still friends. In this hospital, we run into each other all the time. How could we not be friends?” 

But even as she said it, Hu Xiu could sense something off. In her rare conversations with Pei Zhen, his words always carried deeper meanings. Zhao Xiaorou, a seasoned reader of human nature, held her menu like it was a script: “Hu Xiu, as long as you’re still working at this hospital, he’s your colleague and superior. You two aren’t done. 

From the start, he never treated you as just a friend. Now he asks this—do you think it’s innocent? You think this is some kind of downgrade because he’s out of options? Look at his economic status.” 

Hu Xiu was starting to understand. Zhao Xiaorou wasn’t just her confidante but also a spectator watching her drama unfold, sipping tea and munching snacks behind the scenes, hoping for a few more classic moments. 

She seemed to remember something: “Didn’t you say on the phone that Ma Liang had gossip about Diao Zhiyu?” 

“It’s nothing much. Can’t take Ma Liang’s words seriously—he’s an idiot.” Zhao Xiaorou sliced into her food with a knife and fork: “But don’t let routine talk defeat you. That stuff about Diao Zhiyu being an unstable actor? Let me tell you, nobody is absolutely stable. 

Pei Zhen, Li Ai—none of them are truly steady men, even if they seem mature. Human nature is just like that.”

“Do you actually like Ma Liang, or are you just keeping him around for fun?”

“Let me ask you—what do you think of him?”

“He added me on WeChat and sometimes asks me questions about English. He got an internship offer from an agency before and asked me what it meant. Later, I heard he really went to work there. His English isn’t great, and I honestly worried he wouldn’t manage. But he does have a pretty sincere attitude.”

Zhao Xiaorou chuckled but didn’t look up. “You all think that me dating him is degrading myself, don’t you? I used to think so too. But he’s just—he feels like a weird anthropology specimen. I both look down on him and find him kind of intriguing.”

She paused, her tone shifting as if lost in thought. “He used to have a ton of porn apps on his phone, but the moment he steps out the door, he acts all proper. He’s not highly educated, and his comprehension isn’t the best, but he’s willing to try anything. He’s told me so many bizarre stories. Most of the emotional content in my recent vlogs comes from him.”

“You know, this has been the most carefree relationship I’ve had. I say whatever’s on my mind without bothering to pretend, and he takes it all in stride.”

At this point, Zhao Xiaorou seemed to recall something but hesitated to speak. A few days ago, she’d accidentally noticed Ma Liang browsing on a second-hand marketplace app. A guy who crashed at her place because he couldn’t afford rent—did he rely on selling second-hand goods to make ends meet?

Curiosity got the better of her. She coyly acted the part with Ma Liang—a rare performance with him. “Hey, darling, can I borrow your phone for a sec? I want to take a selfie.”

Ma Liang, engrossed in a variety show, handed her the phone without a second thought. Calmly, she opened the second-hand app and saw he was buying sports shoes. The title read: “90% new, local transaction.”

She wasn’t suspicious at first—until she opened his chat history. That’s when Zhao Xiaorou found herself plunged into a whole new world.

The buyer seemed to be a man, and his messages were extremely direct:

“Hi, are you there? Are the shoes size 42?” 

“Take a picture of your feet wearing them so I can confirm they fit you.” 

“Got it. Let’s meet on the 18th at 2 PM. Bring the shoes; I need to see you wear them in person.” 

“Received the shoes. They smell great. I love them.”

Zhao Xiaorou prided herself on having seen it all, but even she hadn’t anticipated this: someone close to her... had a habit of selling “worn shoes with original scent.”

Digging further, she realized Ma Liang had sold nearly every piece of clothing he owned, all clearly priced. Not every buyer had peculiar fetishes, but when he encountered one, he didn’t shy away—and even took the opportunity to charge extra. Just how much did he love money?

Suppressing her nausea, she returned the phone. “Ma Liang, how’s work going these days?”

“It’s okay, around 3,000 yuan a month. Since the pay’s so low, I get scolded at home, so I just couch-surf everywhere.”

It sounded pitiful. Zhao Xiaorou’s heart softened. “Didn’t you say you were looking for a new job? Let me introduce you to a local agency.”

Ma Liang turned to her earnestly, “Really? I’ve wanted to change jobs for a while. The scarf design work here is fine, but I don’t know a thing about design. I’d like to learn something new. By the way, what does ‘local agency’ mean? Do you think I’d qualify?”

She casually reached out to friends to see if there were any internships available. Ma Liang immediately made a résumé and sent it to Hu Xiu for revision. The final version came back looking quite professional, and Zhao Xiaorou felt a bit comforted.

Sure, Ma Liang wasn’t as handsome as Diao Zhiyu and was severely lacking in ability—anyone would look down on him. 

But late at night, watching him, glasses perched on his nose, earnestly editing his résumé, she felt a pang of tenderness. 

If she could bring a little warmth and kindness to a boy who’d never been able to climb out of his low point, then this relationship wouldn’t have been for nothing. 

When Ma Liang got the offer and spun her around in joy, she thought bitterly—Zhao Xiaorou, you’re not as terrible as people think.

Thanks to Ma Liang, she didn’t loathe herself quite so much anymore.

Work at the hospital became lively again with Pei Zhen’s return. It seemed that when a prominent figure returned, quiet lives were always stirred up. Gossip about him reached Hu Xiu quickly through her senior: “Xiao Hu, are you coming to Pei Zhen’s welcome-back party?”

“I’ll skip it. I’ve got a mountain of translation work to get through,” Hu Xiu replied decisively.

“It won’t take long—just an hour or two. Don’t be so serious about work. And hey, it’s just a colleague. There’s no need to draw such strict lines just because you’re in a relationship,” her senior typed at an astonishing speed.

Hu Xiu adjusted her glasses. “I’m really swamped. Next time, for sure.”

Her senior didn’t reply again. After work, five or six people gathered to head to the party together. Hu Xiu overheard them discussing Pei Zhen: apparently, his last surgery the previous night ended around 7 PM. She figured she’d stay late, and if she ran into him, she’d explain herself.

But 7 PM came and went, and she didn’t see Pei Zhen. She needed to deliver some materials to Dr. Jin, so she packed her bag and headed to his office. When she opened the door, Pei Zhen was sitting on the couch, sipping coffee after his surgery.

Dr. Jin’s beloved capsule coffee machine—a gift from an ex-girlfriend who, it seemed, had broken up with him—was the source of the brew.

Pei Zhen, visibly tired from surgery, had noticeable under-eye bags. When he saw Hu Xiu, his joy was apparent. 

Dr. Jin took the materials without a word, glanced at Pei Zhen on the couch, and understood everything. Turning away, he busied himself with the cabinet, leaving his back to the two of them. 

Pei Zhen stood up. “I’m treating everyone to dinner later. Will you come?” 

“I’ll pass. I’ve got plans tonight.” 

The eagerness in his eyes dimmed again. “Alright, then. We’ll find another time. Maybe we can meet for coffee at REGARD later? Does your group still hang out there?”

“Something happened... It’s hard for us to gather like we used to.”

Smart as he was, Pei Zhen didn’t press further. Dr. Jin remained silent as she packed up and changed before politely excusing herself. 

Her phone buzzed continuously. Pei Zhen, looking down, extended his hand before clenching it lightly and chuckling softly. “It’s getting late. I’ll ask you about what happened next time.” 

She bought a boxed meal and walked through the night breeze, taking the subway before emerging again. By the roadside, cherry blossoms were in full bloom. 

Hu Xiu had once been hurt by rejection and indifference. Compared to Pei Zhen, her reactions had always been much more obvious.

During adolescence, encountering rejection often makes one feel like the most heartbroken person in the world. Over time, however, that wholeheartedness turns into tentative probing—testing the waters by taking one step forward only after receiving some kind of response.

But she had made up her mind to play the villain to the end. The endless dramas that had cropped up recently had thoroughly worn her out.

On her phone, there was a message from Pei Zhen: 

“Relax. We’re just friends; there’s no need to guard yourself against me.” 

A mature man—he even knew exactly what she was guarding against.

This only made her more anxious.

Diao Zhiyu’s audition was in Hengdian, so Hu Xiu wouldn’t see him over the weekend. She herself had a conference to attend, so she got up early and took the bus to the venue.

Upon entering the auditorium at Jing’an Dragon Dream Mall, she saw Pei Zhen standing in the lobby, shaking hands and chatting with a professor. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, wearing the black shirt she had gifted him, exuding an aura of intelligence.

Reflecting on the materials she had prepared, she suddenly realized that she’d been rehearsing for “Mr. Bei.” But wasn’t this “Mr. Pei”?

Inside the interpreter’s booth, she heard Pei Zhen’s voice. His opening remarks were in English, and ironically, she had to translate them into Chinese. His three months in the U.S. seemed to have been fruitful—this unscripted segment, which wasn’t in the prepared materials, felt like a personal greeting directed at her.

Pei Zhen’s presentation was incredibly comprehensive, almost as if he had brought back the entire field of reconstructive surgery from the U.S.: PEEK material applications for skull reconstruction, 3D-printed prosthetic implants, stem cell cultivation for necrotic skin, and transplantation techniques.

For two full hours—120 minutes—Hu Xiu’s brain worked at full speed. During the mid-session break before the next doctor took the stage, she didn’t even have time for a sip of water.

Six hours later, when she finally emerged, she sat inside the interpreter’s booth for another half-hour to catch her breath. She saw Pei Zhen, who exhaled heavily, and said, 

“People like you, who study abroad and come back as star doctors, must be guarded against. You just say whatever comes to mind. I don’t even know if I translated half of it correctly—some parts left me completely lost.”

“Everything’s still fresh now that I’m back, so I shared it all. But you’ve grown capable of handling things on your own. What happened in these three months?” he asked.

Yawning incessantly, Hu Xiu replied, “Nothing much, just attended nearly thirty conferences...”

Pei Zhen raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, 

“Then, as an apology, let me treat you to a meal? I need to meet Li Ai anyway, so we won’t need to find another restaurant.”

“Meeting Li Ai?”

The car ride took only fifteen minutes, during which Hu Xiu fell into a deep sleep, slumped in the passenger seat, even drooling slightly behind her mask.

When the car stopped at Xinlianfang, they walked thirty meters to Li Ai’s café. Feeling refreshed from her nap, Hu Xiu thought the timing of the break was perfect.

As soon as they entered, Pei Zhen told Li Ai, 

“She was snoring in the passenger seat. Six hours of nonstop interpreting—she’s incredible.”

Li Ai smiled warmly. “She’s a quick learner.”

“Where’s Zhao Xiaorou? It’s rare not to see her here.” 

Li Ai’s smile faltered slightly as he picked up a menu. “What would you like to eat? I’ll prepare it.”

The twenty minutes it took to cook noodles were long enough for Pei Zhen to get the whole story about the falling-out. When he heard Ma Liang’s name, he squinted and asked, 

“Do you have a picture of him?”

Puzzled but obliging, Hu Xiu pulled up Ma Liang’s photo from her social media. Pei Zhen laughed for a second before asking, 

“Are you sure this is Zhao Xiaorou’s boyfriend? Does she really like him?”

“Maybe not to the extent of being head over heels, but they’re definitely together. Why, do you know him?”

“Out of respect for patient confidentiality, I can’t say much. But yes, he’s my patient,” Pei Zhen said, pointing to his nose and winking.

Hu Xiu’s jaw dropped. “It’s fake? It looks so natural!”

“I don’t usually remember patients well, but this one really stood out. He spent forever in my consultation room, begging me for discounts on implants and even asking if he could buy the materials himself to save costs. It was unforgettable.

“Plus, plastic surgery in public hospitals requires waiting in line, but he repeatedly came back asking to cut in, claiming it was an urgent matter. He was like a deity we had to politely usher out.”

The two leaned closer as they talked. Sensing this, Hu Xiu leaned back in her chair to maintain some distance. When their spaghetti arrived, Pei Zhen rubbed his hands together. 

“In the U.S., I often ate spaghetti, but I’d always think of the one on your menu. REGARD has a special place in my heart. That Christmas Eve was probably the happiest night I’ve had in years. After getting used to loneliness, being surrounded by friends was such a rare joy.”

Li Ai chimed in with a smile, “You’re welcome to come by anytime. After all, I’m used to solitude now, too.”

The three of them sat together at the table, but Hu Xiu remained quiet, simply listening to the two men discuss design. At one point, Li Ai grabbed the latest issue of AD from the bookshelf. Inside, there was a section analyzing the Italian style of Bulgari apartments worldwide, featuring photos unmistakably edited by Diao Zhiyu.

Flipping to the Shanghai model home, Li Ai suggested a similar aesthetic for Pei Zhen and enthusiastically discussed renovation ideas, his whole demeanor lighting up.

After some time, Li Ai excused himself, saying he had a basketball game to catch. With his schedule packed, he quickly departed, leaving only Hu Xiu and Pei Zhen, along with the café’s barista.

In the newfound quiet, a slight awkwardness lingered until Pei Zhen broke it. “The reason I came to see Li Ai is that there’s a vacant property I’ve left untouched for years. I’m thinking of giving it a fresh look—something that feels like my own. The place I’m living in now was designed by the previous owner, and honestly, I find it uninspiring.

“Looking back, it seems losing someone spurred him to take action—just like how I threw myself into research while in the U.S.”

“So, you couldn’t contact me for three months?”

“I don’t like long-distance conversations. They feel pointless, with the time difference and all. Diao Zhiyu was right there by your side, and anything I said or did felt futile.

“Besides, researchers are incredibly busy. Between city-hopping for conferences and days spent in the lab chatting with PhDs, I barely had time to think of you.”

Hearing this, Hu Xiu’s heart jolted, but she quickly masked it with a smile. 

“That’s a reason I can accept.”

“Do you know the meaning behind this gesture I often make?” Pei Zhen extended his hand and gently curled his fingers into a loose fist. 

“Doctors have a saying: To cure sometimes, to relieve often, to comfort always. It’s easy to hurt someone, but this gesture of lightly clenched fingers symbolizes holding back some gentleness, giving it to only one person at a time.”

External anxieties can often stir dormant unease within, quietly triggering a crisis.

As Hu Xiu gazed into Pei Zhen’s eyes, a sense of melancholy welled up inside her. She thought back to Diao Zhiyu’s acting lessons—lessons she had evidently mastered.

At least when she saw Pei Zhen say this, she saw through him—this gesture had never appeared before.

When people want to achieve a goal, whether sober or drunk, there will always be some improvisation, whether it comes from genuine feelings or false pretenses, acting is still acting.

And what he just said about not having time to think about her in America was surprisingly moving. Hu Xiu looked at the man in front of her and complicatedly asked, “Pei Zhen, did you ever like me?”

“Of course. To be honest, I still like you now.”

“Then, the person you met in America who called you Mr. Aurora, can you tell me about them?”