PDGUT - 55

An hour later, back in her studio, Yu Tian held her still-flushed face and stared at the live stream replay of herself and Yan Ming kissing. She was still overwhelmed with heat.

What had come over her?

How had she been so possessed to act so outrageously?

However, the unexpected surge in attention and traffic wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

Yu Tian’s social media account experienced a massive peak in views and engagement. The revenue from this evening’s live event—through platform shares and viewer donations—likely equaled what she would have earned in an entire year under normal circumstances.

She planned to use part of the money to redecorate her studio and temporarily rent a small apartment for her mother before her tenant moved out. As for the rest...

Yu Tian already had plans.

The young patient suffering from retinoblastoma, whom Yan Ming had helped by raising enough funds for surgery, still faced significant post-operative care costs. Additionally, the child’s parents had traveled all the way from a remote mountain village to Rong City to ensure their child received the best possible medical care, racking up considerable travel expenses.

Initially, Yu Tian had ventured into medical science communication to make up for her inability to practice medicine. Now, with this unexpected income, she wanted to put it toward meaningful causes.

While Yan Ming saved lives as a doctor, Yu Tian saw herself as an assistant—helping clear up medical misconceptions, bridging the gap between doctors and patients, and spreading awareness about patient assistance as a concept through the influence of social media.

Yu Tian felt like she had finally rediscovered some of the original purpose and motivation behind her entrepreneurial journey.

It didn’t matter that people slandered and insulted her; what mattered was whether she could truly do something for patients and the general public.

She quickly submitted a withdrawal request, and almost by the next morning, once the money hit her bank account, Yu Tian rushed excitedly to the hospital.

But even though Yan Ming wasn’t scheduled for outpatient duty or surgeries today, he wasn’t in his office.

Just as Yu Tian was about to call him, she ran into Qi Sihao, who looked unusually hurried.

“Where’s Yan Ming? Is there an emergency meeting?”

Qi Sihao paused, clearly not expecting to bump into Yu Tian.

Only then did Yu Tian notice the heaviness in Qi Sihao’s expression. Before she could ask, Qi Sihao grabbed her arm and briskly walked down the hallway.

“It’s Little Ling. She’s fading fast. Yan Ming went over.”

This caught Yu Tian off guard. When Little Ling was discharged, her condition no longer warranted further surgery. Her father had explicitly stated his intention to let her spend her final days peacefully at home rather than in the cold hospital environment. Why was she now being rushed to the hospital?

Moreover, although Little Ling initially suffered from retinoblastoma and later experienced recurrence, the most fatal issue was the metastasis of multiple malignant tumors. Even if resuscitation were needed, it wouldn’t fall under Yan Ming’s department—it should be handled by oncology specialists.

“It’s not resuscitation,” Qi Sihao said, his usual joking demeanor replaced by visible sorrow. “It’s to declare death. Little Ling and her father signed an organ donation agreement. She’s now nearing the ‘donation-ready’ state. The organ procurement team is on standby.”

Yu Tian understood what “donation-ready” meant.

So Yan Ming wasn’t there to save her but to say goodbye.

Yu Tian’s heart churned with indescribable emotions.

She knew how much Little Ling meant to Yan Ming and couldn’t help but recall the child’s resilient and optimistic face. This little girl had endured so much suffering throughout her short life. Fate had dealt her a cruel hand, and Yu Tian struggled to imagine the pain she must have endured. She also didn’t know how to comfort Little Ling’s father, who had given everything only to lose his child.

When Yu Tian and Qi Sihao arrived at the operating room, they found Yan Ming standing silently outside, his lips pressed tightly together. Unable to enter the operating room, he could only wait outside, his handsome face unable to mask his deep sadness and regret.

When Yan Ming turned around after hearing their footsteps, Yu Tian noticed his eyes were slightly red—evidence of his restrained grief and helplessness.

Every farewell was so difficult.

Yan Ming was probably second-guessing his earlier advice to the child and her family not to give up.

After a long yet fleeting wait, the operating room door finally opened. Little Ling’s father emerged, his back hunched, his rough and weathered hands wiping away tears. This man, who had never shed a tear despite life’s hardships, now wept like a child.

He looked up, his tear-filled eyes meeting Yan Ming’s, and staggered toward him.

Yu Tian heard his hoarse voice—

“Doctor Yan, my child has passed. She went peacefully. I fulfilled her last wish and donated all usable organs, including the cornea from her remaining eye. The doctors said that due to her ocular malignancy, the cornea couldn’t be transplanted but could be used for medical research and teaching. As for the other organs in her body, whatever can save lives will save lives. For those that can’t, allowing her to contribute to research is also a good thing.”

Little Ling’s father wiped his tears. “If Little Ling’s eyes can help you find better treatments for eye diseases, it will bring light to more people.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yan Ming’s voice was low and strained, almost instinctively apologizing.

He didn’t know why he said it. Was it because he hadn’t been able to return a healthy child to this father? Because he hadn’t stopped the disease from recurring? Or because his advice to keep fighting had prolonged the family’s suffering?

His heart was filled with regret and confusion.

The comfort Yu Tian had given him before, the renewed belief she instilled in him, now seemed fragile and inadequate in the face of true death.

“For the funeral expenses, if…”

“No need, no need,” Little Ling’s father interrupted, wiping his tears. “Doctor Yan, don’t apologize to me. What do you have to apologize for? It’s me and Little Ling who should thank you—for not giving up on our child, for giving her a few more years of life.”

This middle-aged man, weighed down by life’s burdens, pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it reverently to Yan Ming. “This is something Little Ling wrote a few days ago. She insisted I give it to you. She didn’t know she’d pass so soon… She wanted to give it to you in person, but now I have to do it for her.”

Yan Ming rarely lost composure. After years of practicing medicine, he had witnessed countless deaths and could usually maintain a calm and composed exterior no matter how heavy his heart felt.

But as he opened Little Ling’s letter and read her childish handwriting mixed with pinyin, seeing the simple yet profound words, Yan Ming could no longer stay composed.

“Dear Brother Yan Ming,

I’ve always wanted to tell you how grateful I am. Because of you, I grew up, learned to write, and didn’t die when I was two or three. Thanks to you, I got to eat so many delicious things, meet all of you, and celebrate such a wonderful birthday. I also got to celebrate four birthdays with Dad and eat four bowls of birthday noodles.

I’ll always remember the cotton candy, roasted chestnuts, radish cakes, cakes, candied haws, and mooncakes I ate. A couple of years ago, I even went to see the lantern festival. Dad took me to a night market, and we visited a flower shop and a pet store. I got to touch hamsters and kittens—I loved them—but because we’ve always lived in hospitals and rented apartments, we couldn’t bring them home. Still, Dad took me to the zoo several times…”

Like any child her age, Little Ling’s letter lacked strict timelines or logical structure. She wrote whatever came to mind, not adhering to perfect essay formats. Yet as Yan Ming read her scattered recollections of tasty treats and fun experiences, he was deeply moved. It felt as if Little Ling were still beside him, her remaining clear eye gazing at him innocently, recounting sweet moments from her life—just like any healthy child, her eyes free of illness’s shadow.

Yan Ming forced himself to continue reading as Little Ling recounted nearly every joyful and touching moment from the past few years.

Though battling illness had been the main theme of her life, these pale and painful moments spent on hospital beds were left unmentioned.

“Brother Yan Ming, you always told me not to give up the fight, not to stop treatment, to keep going, and to work hard. I want to tell you a secret: I never gave up until the very end.

When I was hospitalized, I overheard the nurses talking about organ donation. I’ve already asked Dad to sign me up. My body might be like a broken machine needing repairs, but many parts of me are still good.”

So, my organs will go to a new body and continue the fight on my behalf.

The ones that can’t be used for transplants can be used for your research, working towards finding new cures for diseases, fighting alongside you doctors.

Big Brother Yanming, I listened to your advice. I never gave up on treatment, and I never stopped fighting! Next time you see me, make sure to bring me a whole sheet of Wonder Woman stickers!

Can you help me remove my good cornea and give it to someone in need? Can you tell the doctors who will use it for research in the future not to give up on treating any patient, not to give up on finding a cure for any eye disease? Work together with my cornea to bring light to more and more people in the future, keep fighting, and never give up.

Thank you for not giving up on me, for letting me live a few more years, for letting me see the world, for giving me so many things I might not have had the chance to experience otherwise, for letting me meet new friends and spend more time with Dad.

Now I’m going to hibernate. I’ll hang up first. Goodbye!”

By the end of the letter, Yanming could no longer hold back his emotions.

He felt ashamed.

A patient like Xiaoling, despite enduring the torment of illness, still only saw sunshine and the bright side of life, while he was still indulging in self-pity, even questioning whether the decision to keep Xiaoling in treatment was correct. He had superficially judged the value of Xiaoling’s life using the values of ordinary people.

Yutian, who was next to Yanming, had also finished reading Xiaoling’s letter and was already sobbing uncontrollably.

“The important thing is not whether it’s worth it, but what you believe in,” Yutian looked at Yanming. “This is a line from ‘Wonder Woman.’ Perhaps for doctors, it’s the same. It’s not about judging worth, but about what doctors should believe in.”

A child who has just started elementary school can have the courage to face illness, can decisively decide to donate her organs before death, and is willing to let part of her body continue the fight in another form—so why should doctors feel lost?

Never giving up on any patient is unquestionably the right thing to do.

Yanming’s brief hesitation, occasional confusion, and sometimes unavoidable fatigue suddenly became clear because of this letter, like a forest clearing its fog after the sun comes out, regaining vitality and vigor.

“Doctor Yan, I’ve always wanted to thank you in person. I don’t have much education, so I can’t say anything fancy, but I want you to know that I am really grateful that you were willing to treat Xiaoling, allowing her to stay with me for four more years.”

Xiaoling’s father’s voice was choked with emotion, but his eyes were resolute and determined: “These past few years, because of this child, I’ve suffered a lot, running around for her medical expenses, sometimes not having enough to eat. You say you’ve never regretted it, never wavered—that’s impossible.”

“But if given another chance, even knowing the outcome would be the same, I’d still choose not to give up on Xiaoling’s treatment. Because if I had given up then, Xiaoling would have been gone, and I’d spend my whole life uneasy, living in regret, feeling sorry for the child, constantly wondering if she could have been saved if we had persisted a little longer?”

“Thanks to you, I didn’t give up on treatment and didn’t give up on the child, and was willing to operate on her. Now, after doing everything I could, I can’t keep the child, and I feel like dying, but I also know there’s nothing I can do about it now. I did everything I was supposed to, and I have no regrets or guilt. I won’t feel sorry for the child anymore. When I die and meet Xiaoling and her mother, I won’t feel ashamed.”

Xiaoling’s father shed tears repeatedly but still held onto Yanming’s hand and continued: “Now that the child is gone, she passed away peacefully, content that the extra years she lived made her happy. That’s enough, Doctor Yan. With those words from the child, I’m at peace.”

“Xiaoling was a sensible child. She wanted to donate her organs—it was her last wish, and I must fulfill it. To accompany her, I’ve also signed an organ donation consent form. Along the way, I’ve received a lot of care from Doctor Yan and the nurses at the hospital. I don’t have money or skills, so I can’t do much, but in this way, I can contribute something, hoping it will allow you all to save more patients and help more children detect their conditions early and undergo surgery sooner, rather than ending up like Xiaoling.”

Xiaoling’s father’s eyes welled up with tears again, and he thanked Yanming profusely before finally turning and leaving, staggering as he went.

This man had undoubtedly been beaten down by the heavy hammer of life, nearly unable to lift his head. Fatigue, pain, and poverty overwhelmed him, but both Yutian and Yanming knew that because he had never given up on treating his child, Xiaoling’s father had no regrets. Compared to giving up on Xiaoling early on, what he achieved now was a different kind of liberation.

Yutian tugged at Yanming’s sleeve: “See, you’ve never been wrong.”

“Not giving up on a patient isn’t necessarily a mistake for the family. Families like Xiaoling’s father endure a lot of hardship, but if he had given up on Xiaoling’s treatment back then, he would definitely regret it, feel guilty, and think that there might have been another possibility. He would always feel that the child died because he gave up. In that state of mind, could he truly start a new life and find peace?”

“But now, he did everything he could, never gave up on the child, and did what a father should do. So he won’t feel guilty or uneasy, and he won’t regret it. Therefore, he can truly say goodbye to the past, welcome a new beginning, let go of Xiaoling, look forward, and truly live well for the present and the future.”

“Although physically suffering, his heart found peace. Having no regrets—perhaps for many families of patients, this is another form of ‘treatment’?”

When a patient falls ill, people instinctively focus all their attention on the patient, considering their physical and mental well-being. However, few pay attention to the long-term caregivers of the patients.

In fact, caring for a sick person over the long term, both physically and mentally, is exhausting and easily leads to a high-pressure and negative emotional environment. Thus, even if the patient cannot be cured, being able to bring peace to the patient’s family and heal their battered hearts is already precious.

“So not giving up is a kind of strength. Even if it doesn’t lead to a good outcome, having tried means no regrets. After all, if you give up directly, then you have nothing.”

Yutian looked up at Yanming: “Look, Xiaoling didn’t give up; she’s continuing the fight in another way. So, Doctor Yan, you can’t give up either.”

Yutian said earnestly: “Because doctors not only bring strength to patients through their medical skills but also pass on their beliefs to patients.”

Sometimes, even small actions can change a lot. Patients may unknowingly be inspired by healthcare workers, but even as the smallest cog in the vast medical system, responsible for the smallest part, doing one’s best might mean that thousands of healthcare workers can come together as a force, saving patients while changing something.

The relationship between doctors and patients should never be adversarial, nor is it solely about doctors giving. Because often, the decisiveness and courage patients show in the face of illness, in turn, heal the occasional confusion in the doctor’s heart, doesn’t it?

“I’m going to keep running my social media account, even if there are rumors or attacks against me in the future. I’ll keep going.”

At this moment, Yutian made her decision.

She can no longer perform delicate surgeries or become a good surgeon, but using her social media platform, she can perhaps bring small changes to the entire healthcare system.

Xiaoling didn’t give up, and she herself had only injured her hand—how could she speak lightly of giving up? How could she retreat due to unfounded slander and rumors?

The reach and influence of science communication via social media is indeed limited, but one shouldn’t refrain from doing it just because the results seem minimal.

Because if you give up, if you don’t act, then you truly have nothing.

Yutian resolved to create a segment about organ donation.

China is a country with high demand for organs but low rates of organ donation. Under the influence of traditional beliefs, even if the patient themselves signs an organ donation consent form, the family may not cooperate. Not to mention, most ordinary people lack knowledge about organ donation and are completely unaware of its policies and procedures.

“If I can tell everyone the benefits of organ donation and educate them on the process, and if even one more person decides to sign an organ donation form after watching my video, it indirectly saves one or even multiple patients.”

“We can film and interview patients waiting for organs and those who have recovered after transplantation, using comparison to clearly show how organ donation can change lives.”

“Of course, leading by example, I will sign an organ donation consent form myself first.”

Yutian suddenly smiled: “I suddenly feel like there are so many topics I can cover, so much knowledge and ideas I want to share with others.”

Xiaoling’s departure brought sadness, but her bravery and resilience also conveyed strength in return.

Yutian solemnly entrusted Yanming to deliver the revenue from her social media traffic to the family of another young patient with retinoblastoma, like Xiaoling.

Even if some patients pass away, even if some cannot be cured, even if everyone else can feel disheartened, doctors cannot. Once you choose to practice medicine, once you embark on this path and choose this life, you must persevere to the end.

Even if many times effort leads to no result, you must grit your teeth and keep moving forward.

Thorny roads, uncertain futures, flickering hopes, complex diseases—humans have managed to thrive and multiply precisely because, in the face of such challenges, there are always those who vow to become healers, forsaking personal gain to pursue the greater good.

Yutian stared at her injured hand for the first time without feeling downcast, melancholic, or inferior.

Even with a severe illness like Xiaoling’s, death did not stop her indomitable spirit. How could she, with only an injured hand, wallow in self-pity?

Yutian wouldn’t give up on popularizing medical knowledge and concepts through her social media account, but similarly, she decided to pick up her professional future again.

After Yanming finished work, Yutian declared her significant decision to him—

“I’ve decided to go back to school.”

Yanming was understandably surprised: “What’s this about?”

Yutian extended her injured hand: “My dream was to become a surgeon like you, but with this hand, I’ll never be able to perform delicate surgeries. So I became very despondent and gave up on further studies, thinking my career was over before it began.”

“Though promoting medical science through social media leverages my medical school background and keeps me in the medical field, allowing me to donate income to impoverished patients, I still feel a sense of regret. I can’t help but envy people like Qisihao confidently wearing a white coat.”

Yutian took a deep breath: “I used to resent fate for being unfair. I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did I encounter someone like Zheng Tingfu and get my hand injured? But now I understand!”

“I think fate has been kind to me. Maybe injuring my hand was an opportunity. I can continue to delve deeply into the medical field without worrying about work pressure or patient conditions, focusing solely on research and academic studies.”

“I can continue my education and become a medical professor someday. Though I can’t be a surgeon, I can continuously nurture batches of surgeons who are even more excellent than I could ever be!”

Yutian’s eyes sparkled: “Compared to being a doctor, focusing purely on research allows more time to learn about cutting-edge academic achievements worldwide. What if I discover a new therapy in a certain field?”

“If I can’t be a doctor, I can be a teacher to doctors!”

Talking about this idea, Yutian’s excitement was palpable.

After a brief moment of surprise, Yanming quickly reacted, a smile and a hint of helplessness appearing on his face.

He pulled the excited Yutian closer, leaning close to her ear, and whispered: “You can not only be a teacher to doctors, nurturing future doctors, but also be a doctor’s girlfriend and eventually a doctor’s wife.”

Yanming was too close; Yutian’s first reaction was the warmth of his breath near her ear and his familiar, reassuring smell of disinfectant. Her ears heated up before she did.

How could he casually call her a doctor’s girlfriend or wife?

“We’re just boyfriend and girlfriend. I haven’t agreed to anything else. I’m still young, and I still have to continue studying!” Yutian avoided looking at Yanming, firmly stating her position. “I haven’t thought that far ahead about marriage and kids. The medical world still needs me.”

“Alright.” Facing Yutian’s protest, Yanming simply smiled and nodded. “You’re the shining new star of the future medical world. I can’t keep you to myself.”

Yanming gently patted Yutian’s head and slightly shifted his gaze: “I love you, but you’re free. As long as you turn around, I’ll be right here.”

He cleared his throat: “That overly sentimental line wasn’t mine. I read it somewhere, but the meaning is the same. You understand.”

Unable to resist, Yutian snuggled into Yanming’s arms and hugged him tightly.

“I know,” she whispered softly. “My sunflower.”

If she was Yanming’s sun, then Yanming would forever be her one and only sunflower.