"You actually came?"

"You're a cardiothoracic surgeon—coming here to do administrative work, isn't that a waste of talent?"

Julian glanced at Clara: "It's not a waste of talent."

Gu Ye looked at her, following his gaze, and smiled slightly.

"Alright, come with me, I'll take you to handle the paperwork."

Julian followed Gu Ye inside.

Clara stood at the entrance, holding the empty paper bag, watching his departing back.

His left leg still had a slight limp, but it was much better than before.

He walked more steadily, and faster too.

Only after entering the lobby did he stop.

He turned back to glance at her.

Through the glass door, he smiled at her.

Clara lowered her head, threw the paper bag into the trash can, and turned to walk into her studio.

But her heart was beating fast.

So fast that she couldn't control it.

Su Tang soon found out about Julian's resignation.

It was Julian who told Clara.

Su Tang had posted on her social media, with the caption: "Some people, for the sake of another, can give up everything. I lost."

He showed the phone to Clara; she opened Su Tang's post and saw the update.

"Some people, for the sake of another, can give up everything. I lost."

Below, there were comments asking what happened.

She replied: 【He resigned, because of her.】

Clara closed the phone and leaned against the wall.

Su Tang said she lost.

But what did she lose?

She never possessed him.

Just like Clara never possessed him.

They both lost to the same thing—his indifference.

Only now, his indifference had melted.

It had melted into a bowl of porridge, a bouquet of white roses, a simple "I miss you," and a decision to move from a cardiothoracic surgery department to a funeral service center.

He had put down the thing he loved most.

He chose to stand by her side.

Even if this "side" was an administrative office in a funeral home.

Even if this job had nothing to do with his profession.

He chose it.

Then, should she choose to try once more as well?

In the afternoon, Julian came to the studio to find Clara.

He stood at the door, not entering.

"Gu Ye said the administrative logistics workstation is on the first floor, and your studio is on the second floor. Can I come up to see you every day?"

"Come up if you want to."

"I won't disturb your work."

"I know."

"I'll just stand at the door and watch for a while."

Clara turned her head to look at him.

"Julian, why have you become so long-winded?"

He was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

"Maybe it's because I said too little in the past. Now I want to make up for it."

"Then keep making up for it; I have to work now."

"Okay."

He turned and walked away.

After two steps, he stopped again.

"Clara."

"What is it now?"

"I'll continue making

xiaolongbao

tomorrow. I'll get better and better at it."

"Got it."

Clara turned back to face her workbench.

Beside her was an elderly gentleman, lying there quietly.

She picked up an eyebrow pencil and began to trace his eyebrows.

One stroke, two strokes, three strokes.

Her hand was very steady.

But her lips were curved.

Because she knew there was someone downstairs.

He had resigned from his job in cardiothoracic surgery and came to her world.

Not to compensate her, not to move her.

But because he wanted to be there.

This thought made her feel that the Clara who had been dead for three years seemed to have come alive again.

Chapter 22

By the third week of Julian working at the service center, Clara noticed a problem.

He was too thin.

Back in Qiyan, although he was lean, he had a healthy complexion.

Now his cheekbones were protruding, there were forever dark circles under his eyes, and the white shirt hung loosely on him, as if draped over a hanger.

Clara asked him if he hadn't been eating well.

He said he had.

She asked him again if his leg was still hurting.

He said it didn't hurt anymore.

But that afternoon, when Clara went to the administrative office to pick up documents, she saw him sitting alone at his workstation, his left leg stretched out straight, his hand pressing hard against his knee.

His brows were tightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line—that expression was too familiar; he was enduring pain.

"Julian."

He looked up and took his hand off his knee.

"Why did you come down?"

"Is your leg hurting again?"

"It's nothing, just a bit sore from standing too long."

"You're lying. Your leg never recovered properly. You stand for administrative reception for most of the day; how could it not hurt?"

He didn't speak.

"Why don't you go for rehabilitation therapy?"

"I don't have time."

"No time? You get off work at five every day; you have plenty of time."

He lowered his head, his voice very soft: "The rehabilitation center is in Qiyan; Anhe doesn't have one."

Clara was stunned.

"You mean, you haven't done any rehab for months?"

"I did, at the beginning, I went back to Qiyan once a week. Later—"

"Later what?"

"Later, you started eating the breakfast I made. I was afraid that if I left, you wouldn't eat it anymore."

Clara stood there, looking at him.

There were bloodshot spots in his eyes, his complexion was poor, and he looked like a machine about to fall apart, still struggling to operate.

"Julian, are you sick?"

"You've asked that already."

"I asked, and you're still like this?"

"Clara, the reason I'm not doing rehab isn't because I don't have time. It's because I'm afraid that if I stop, I won't be able to catch up to you."

Clara's nose felt sore.

"You're going back to Qiyan for rehab tomorrow."

"I'm not going."

"Julian!"

"If you go with me, then I'll go."

"Why would I go with you? I'm not a doctor."

"You are my doctor," he said. "Only you can heal me."

On Saturday, Clara returned to Qiyan with Julian.

The rehabilitation hospital was next to the First Affiliated Hospital in Qiyan; he used to receive treatment here.

The therapist was a man in his forties named Wang, who was shocked when he saw Julian.

"Dr. Julian? How did you get this thin? Your leg—"

"It hurts a little."

"A little? You call this 'a little'?" Dr. Wang squatted down and pressed on his knee.

Julian's brows furrowed sharply, but he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

Dr. Wang looked up at Julian: "Dr. Julian, how long has your rehab training been interrupted?"

"A few months."

"A few months? Do you know that your muscles have already started to atrophy? If you don't train now, this leg will be ruined!"

Clara's heart tugged sharply.

Julian glanced at her and said to Dr. Wang: "It's fine, I'll start now."

"Start now? Do you think this is making up homework? The months you lost will require double the time to make up!"

Dr. Wang left in a huff to prepare the instruments.

Clara stood at the door, looking at Julian.

"Will your leg be ruined?"

"No. He was exaggerating."

"Julian, look at me."

He looked up at her.

"What exactly is wrong with your leg?"

He was silent for a while.

"The doctor said if I don't persist with rehab, I might end up with a permanent limp."

"A limp?"

"Mm."

"Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"If I said it, you would worry."

"Did I not worry just because you didn't say it? You were limping in front of me every day; did you think I couldn't see?"

Clara's voice was trembling.

"Julian, do you think that the more you sacrifice for me, the less I'll leave? What are you betting on with your leg? That I'll soften my heart? That I'll feel guilty?"

Chapter 23

Julian’s face went pale for a moment: "No."

"Then tell me, what is it?"

He lowered his head, his voice very soft.

"It's fear. I'm afraid that once I stop, you will realize that you don't actually need me. You can live very well on your own."

"When you were in Anhe, without me, you lived happier than before. When you smiled, it wasn't because I was by your side, but because you had left Qiyan—you had left me."

Clara's tears fell all at once.

"Julian, you really are an idiot."

"I know."

"You know, and you're still like this?"

"I can't help it." He looked up at her, his eyes red. "I can't help but be afraid. I wasn't afraid before because I didn't care. Now that I care, I'm afraid every single second."

Dr. Wang pushed the door open, carrying the equipment.

Clara stepped aside and watched Julian begin his rehabilitation.

He lay on the treatment bed while Dr. Wang pressed on his leg to perform stretches. His face was as pale as paper, his forehead covered in sweat, but he didn't make a sound.