"By the way, have you heard? Ji Yuzhe's scheduled for surgery in three months."
Jiang Yunyi's voice cut through the hum of the break room vending machine.
Feng Suyin stopped breathing.
Her hand froze around her coffee cup. The ceramic was warm—had been warm a minute ago. Now it felt like nothing.
"Is his condition that serious?"
The words came out before she could stop them. She regretted not paying attention to Ji Yuzhe in her past life. They weren't close. She barely knew him beyond the surface—his quiet competence in the OR, the way he always nodded at her in the hallway, the occasional conversations about difficult cases.
But sometimes, late at night when she couldn't sleep, she wondered.
How could someone like him love someone like her?
He'd done things for her. Dangerous things. Things that cost him. And she hadn't even noticed until after she woke up in this new life, with all the memories crashing down on her at once.
Guilt sat heavy in her throat. Hot. Thick. She could barely swallow around it.
Everything he did, he did for her. Willingly. That almost made it worse. Because if he'd done it unwillingly, she could tell herself it wasn't her fault. But he'd chosen her. Chosen to sacrifice. Chosen to end up blind and broken while she walked around alive, breathing, remembering.
"Yes." Jiang Yunyi stirred her coffee. The spoon clinked against the ceramic. "It's necessary for his recovery. His blindness came from a blood clot in his brain. The surgery should remove it. Hopefully restore his sight."
A blood clot. In his brain.
Feng Suyin's stomach turned.
Because of her. All of it. Because she'd been too blind herself to see what was happening. Because she'd trusted the wrong people. Because Ji Yuzhe had stepped into the line of fire for her and she hadn't even thanked him properly.
The guilt hit first. A punch right below her ribs.
Then sorrow. Heavy. Spreading through her chest like cold water.
Then regret—hot and sharp behind her ribs, so intense she almost doubled over.
She set her cup down. Her hands were shaking. Not much. Just enough for the coffee to ripple.
"Do you know who's performing the surgery?"
Her voice came out thin. Barely above a whisper. She hated how small she sounded.
Jiang Yunyi hesitated. Just a second. Her hand paused mid-stir. Then she kept moving the spoon, round and round.
"Dr. Zhang. From Central Hospital." She leaned in slightly. The fluorescent light caught the dark circles under her eyes. "They say he's one of the best neurosurgeons in the country. He asked Ji Yuzhe to become his apprentice in return."
"Apprentice?"
Feng Suyin blinked. The word didn't make sense at first.
Ji Yuzhe was talented. Everyone in the medical community knew that. He'd published papers. Performed surgeries that other doctors wouldn't touch. He had pride. A lot of it.
The idea of him becoming someone's apprentice—of setting aside that pride, of admitting he needed help—made her chest ache. A dull, throbbing pain right behind her sternum.
"Did he agree?"
Jiang Yunyi shrugged. Her shoulders went up and down like the movement cost her something.
"Probably. The other neurosurgeons refused to pick up his case." She paused. Her voice dropped. "Too complex."
Too complex.
Feng Suyin stared at her coffee. The steam had stopped rising minutes ago. The cup was going cold in her hands. The ceramic felt different now. Less like warmth and more like something solid she could hold onto while the room tilted around her.
If she'd been more attentive in her past life. More understanding. If she'd seen what was right in front of her instead of chasing approval from people who would never love her.
Maybe things wouldn't have taken such a devastating turn for him.
Across the table, Jiang Yunyi was watching her.
Not speaking. Just watching. Her head tilted slightly to the left. Her coffee cup sat untouched in front of her, going cold just like Feng Suyin's.
Feng Suyin knew that look. Yunyi was putting things together. The slight furrow between her brows. The way her lips pressed together like she was deciding whether to speak.
Ji Yuzhe had feelings for her. Had always had feelings for her. Everyone saw it. Everyone except Feng Suyin, apparently.
It was almost funny. The way she'd been blind to something so obvious while chasing after a man who would eventually destroy her.
"Dr. Zhang," Feng Suyin said finally. Her voice steadier now. "Do you think he can save Ji Yuzhe's sight?"
Jiang Yunyi's eyes widened. Surprise flickered across her face—there and gone in a second.
She wasn't sure what had changed between Feng Suyin and Ji Yuzhe. Feng Suyin could see the question forming in Yunyi's mind. But Yunyi didn't ask. She just seemed glad—genuinely glad—that her friend was finally showing concern.
"I believe in Dr. Zhang's skills." Yunyi's voice was gentle but firm. No hesitation. "He's performed miracles in the operating room before. I've seen his work. If anyone can help Ji Yuzhe regain his sight, it's him."
Feng Suyin nodded. Her jaw was tight. Her throat was tight. She could feel the muscles in her neck straining.
"I hope everything turns out well for him."
Jiang Yunyi reached across the table. The space between them was small—just two feet of scuffed plastic surface. Her fingers landed on Feng Suyin's arm. Warm. Solid. Present.
"It will." Yunyi squeezed once. "Ji Yuzhe wouldn't agree to the surgery if he didn't think Dr. Zhang could do it."
She paused. Her hand withdrew. She leaned back in her chair. The cheap plastic creaked under her weight.
"So." Her voice shifted. Lighter. Brighter. Forced like a smile painted over a bruise. "How's the wedding preparation with Ji Hanjun?"
The warmth drained out of Feng Suyin's face.
She felt it go. The blood pulling back from her cheeks. The way her lips pressed together into a thin line. The way her fingers went cold around the coffee cup.
"It's going smoothly." She made herself smile. Her face obeyed even though her heart didn't. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
Jiang Yunyi stared at her friend.
The silence stretched between them. Three seconds. Five. The vending machine hummed. A cart squeaked down the hallway outside.
Jiang Yunyi was noticing everything. The strain behind the forced smile. The way Feng Suyin used to talk about Ji Hanjun—with adoration, with light in her eyes, with a breathlessness that made Yunyi roll her eyes affectionately.
That was gone.
Completely gone.
Yunyi had never thought it was love anyway. The families pushed them together. The engagement was a transaction dressed up in white lace and catering orders.
And now Feng Suyin looked like she was walking to her own execution.
"You can still back out, you know."
Feng Suyin's smile froze. Cracks at the edges.
"If you're having second thoughts—" Yunyi leaned forward again. Her voice dropped low enough that the vending machine almost drowned her out. "—it's not too late to reconsider."
"Are you saying that from experience?"
Jiang Yunyi shrugged. Didn't deny it. Her face did something complicated—pain and recognition and something softer underneath.
"Marrying someone you don't love?" She shook her head slowly. "It'll only bring you misery. Slow at first. Quiet. You'll tell yourself it's fine. Then one day you wake up and it's everywhere. In your chest. In your throat. In the way you can't look at them across the dinner table."
She held Feng Suyin's gaze.
"Better to end things now than regret them later. Trust me." A pause. "Just think about it. You still have time before it's too late."
Feng Suyin looked down at her cold coffee.
The wedding. The engagement. Ji Hanjun's smile that never quite reached his eyes.
She knew she had to end it. Eventually. But she needed him to be the one who called it off. Needed him to shoulder the guilt. Needed him to look like the villain in front of both their families.
Because if she ended it?
Ji Hanjun wouldn't take that well.
He had a temper. A mean one. It flared without warning underneath that gentle facade. She'd seen it. Not directed at her—not yet. But she'd seen him break a glass against the wall during an argument with his father. Seen him throw his phone across the room when a deal fell through. Seen him smile while his voice went flat and cold and dangerous.
She wasn't naive. She knew what he was capable of.
The coffee cup was empty now. She was still holding it. Her fingers were white at the knuckles.
"I'll think about it," she said.
Jiang Yunyi didn't look convinced.
But she nodded anyway. Leaned back. Picked up her cold coffee. Took a sip like it wasn't terrible.
The vending machine hummed on.