And there just happened to be an opportunity to "remold" her into what he considered "decent" in his eyes.

Julian looked at her: "If you change jobs, you won’t have to suffer the grievances you face at the funeral home."

Clara took a deep breath, suppressing the bitterness and anger in her heart.

"Julian, I bathe, groom, and apply makeup to the deceased every day, helping them finish their final journey with dignity."

"I make a living with my own skills. I am honest, have a clear conscience, and have never felt inferior—let alone aggrieved."

"I am not changing this job."

With that, she picked up her laptop and walked toward the room.

Julian did not enter.

Clara lay on the bed, her back turned to the empty side of the double bed, and it took a long time for her to fall asleep.

At two in the morning, her phone vibrated.

She answered the call groggily, and the director’s urgent voice came through.

"Clara, there’s been a multi-vehicle pileup on the viaduct. The casualties on-site are severe, and we need to send people to assist with the recovery of remains. Can you come?"

"I'll be there immediately."

Clara woke up instantly, hung up the phone, and rushed out the door.

The accident scene was in shambles, the air filled with the scent of blood and dust.

Clara and her colleagues wove through the ruins and wreckage, carefully recovering the remains, doing their best to ensure that these victims who had met with such accidents could retain their final shred of dignity.

She worked from late at night until noon the next day without a drop of water.

The high-intensity work exhausted all her physical strength; her vision gradually went black, and the sounds around her became muffled.

The next second, she lost consciousness and collapsed heavily at the scene.

When she woke up again, Clara was lying in a hospital bed.

Stephanie, wearing a white coat, was standing by her bed, looking down at her.

"Senior’s surgery hasn't finished yet, so he asked me to come and check on you."

Clara moved her dry, hoarse lips: "Thank you."

Stephanie paused, her tone meaningful.

"There are some things that Senior won't say, but I want to say them for him."

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

"You are not worthy of Senior. He is the youngest associate chief physician of cardiac surgery in our hospital."

"He needs someone who can stand by his side and give him peace of mind, while you only add to his troubles and bring him bad luck."

Clara looked at her righteous indignation and spoke coldly.

"In what capacity are you saying these things to me?"

As soon as she finished speaking, Stephanie’s eyes turned red instantly, as if she had suffered a great grievance.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Just then, the ward door was pushed open, and Julian walked in.

He glanced at Stephanie’s red-rimmed eyes: "What happened?"

Stephanie took half a step back: "It’s all my fault. I spoke without thinking and upset Clara."

Julian’s gaze fell on Clara, carrying a reproach.

"Clara, Stephanie took time out of her schedule to take care of you. Why are you giving her a hard time?"

"Do you know how many patients in urgent need of treatment she could have helped at the hospital in the time she wasted just now?"

Clara looked at him, her heart turning completely cold.

"She was the one who called me bad luck first. But one of us guards life, and the other guards death; both are doing things with a clear conscience."

"Why is she an angel, and I am the bad luck?"

Chapter 5

The ward fell into silence for a moment.

Julian’s brow furrowed, and before he could speak, Stephanie stepped out from behind him.

Her eyes were still red, and her voice was low and timid.

"Clara, I misspoke just now; please don't take it to heart."

She turned to Julian, continuing to urge him softly: "Senior, please don't be angry anymore. Clara just woke up and is still very weak. You two should have a good talk."

Stephanie turned and left, the hem of her white coat fluttering at the door before she vanished.

Clara and Julian were the only ones left in the room.

Julian looked exhausted, his tone filled with utter helplessness.

"Clara, how did you become like this?"

"Do you know how many surgeries I performed today? I stood from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, not even having time to drink a single drop of water."

"I finally finished, only to rush over to take care of you. Can't you make things a little easier for me?"

Clara listened quietly, feeling icy cold inside.

Julian kept talking about how he had rushed over, but now that he was standing in front of her, there wasn't a single word asking if she was in pain or if she was okay.

Instead, his first instinct was to protect Stephanie and defend her.

He didn't wait for her to reply, continuing: "Stephanie came to see you out of kindness, and now you’re giving her a hard time. What exactly are you trying to do?"

"When did I give her a hard time?" Clara asked softly in return: "She was the one who said I wasn't worthy of you and that I was full of bad luck and a burden to you. I just refuted her a few times—how did that become me bullying her?"

Julian’s brows locked tight: "Stephanie just has a straightforward personality and was speaking off the cuff; she didn't mean anything by it."

Listening to these words, Clara suddenly let out a small laugh.

So, when others wantonly smear and belittle her, it’s called "straightforward," but when she defends herself, it’s "bullying."

His fairness was always reserved for outsiders.

Clara lay on the bed with her back to him and closed her eyes, unwilling to say another word.

Seeing her silence, Julian didn't say anything more.

"I have more surgeries to do; I’ll come to see you after work."

Clara ignored him. After the IV drip finished, she processed her discharge paperwork and went home.

Not long after she arrived, her phone rang. It was her senior, Gregory.

"Clara, I invited you to the Peace Funeral Center half a year ago. It’s better suited for your career development. You always said it was too far and you needed to think about it. I’ve asked you three times now—are you still considering?"

Clara held her phone, her fingertips tightening slightly, but she didn't answer immediately.

The funeral service center where her senior worked was in the north, three thousand kilometers away from Rivertown.

She had read the introduction; it was very different from the Rivertown Funeral Home.

The Peace Funeral Center was located in the downtown area, accessible directly by subway and bus, with the bus stop sign clearly reading "Peace Funeral Service Center."

Everyone there respected the profession of a mortician, and on weekends, schools would even organize educational tours to visit the boundary between life and death.

Thinking of this, she gave her answer: "I won't consider it anymore; I am willing to come to Peace."

A voice of excitement came from the other end of the line from Gregory.

"Really?"

His voice was bright, as if a great weight had finally been lifted.

"Then I’ll start preparing for your hiring immediately. I’ll arrange everything for your office and apartment!"

Hanging up the phone, Clara clutched it in her palm.

Something that had been hanging in her heart for so long finally landed, like a person who had been drifting at sea for three years and finally spotted a piece of land.

Although it was still far away, she at least knew the direction.

In the evening, when Julian returned from work, he asked her: "Why did you discharge yourself early?"

Clara sat on the sofa holding a water glass: "It wasn't anything serious, so I just discharged."

Julian took a manila envelope from his briefcase and placed it on the table in front of her.

"The application form for the nursing position—I got it back for you. I’ve already filled in all the information; you just need to sign."

Clara looked at the document on the table, not reaching out to take it.

"Understood."

Julian glanced at her, a faint upward curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.

He likely thought she was finally being obedient, and turned to walk toward the study.

Clara watched his retreating back, then looked at the application form before her.

She had no intention of signing it. Her phone already contained the second path that belonged solely to her.

She had never once thought of following the life path Julian had planned for her.

Chapter 6

Early the next morning, Clara went to the funeral home.

Not to work, but to resign.

She placed her resignation letter on the director’s desk.