5. A Promise Buried by Time

In the medical school library one afternoon, the towering bookshelves stood like silent walls, dividing the reading area into narrow aisles. Sunlight slanted through the high windows, leaving pale golden patches of light across the tabletops. Occasionally, the sound of pages turning could be heard, along with the faint tapping of a keyboard in the distance.

Yang Wen-Hua sat alone in a corner of the library. Several thick medical reference books lay spread across the table, and his laptop was still on, its screen filled with dense course materials. He had originally intended to put his head down and rest for a few minutes, but the fatigue that had accumulated over the past several days suddenly swept over him like a rising tide.

He rested his forehead on his arms, and his breathing gradually became steady. He did not know how much time had passed—his consciousness began to sink. The bookshelves, the lights, and the sound of the keyboard slowly faded away.

Another familiar voice, however, came from deep within his memory.

“Wen-Hua…”

It was a voice from many years ago, and it belonged to a memory he had always been unwilling to touch.

The afternoon sun beat fiercely down on the track at the high school. The cicadas called louder and louder across the campus. A group of high school students in athletic uniforms were running around the track, their footsteps landing in unison on the red track.

“Faster! Those in the back, keep up!” the physical education teacher called as he blew his whistle and ran alongside the group. The boys and girls were mixed together. Although they were all panting heavily, they still struggled to maintain their formation.

Within the group, Xie Ci-En’s pace was getting slower and slower. Her face was unusually pale, and a fine layer of cold sweat had appeared on her forehead. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying hard to regulate her breathing.

She knew that something had been increasingly wrong with her body lately.

Dizziness.

A tightness in her chest.

Weakness in her limbs.

Sometimes, even after walking only a short distance, she felt as though all the strength had been drained from her body.

But she did not tell the teacher, and she certainly did not tell her classmates, because she was afraid. She was afraid that everyone would look at her differently. Even more frightening was the answer she herself was unwilling to face.

“Ci-En?” A female classmate behind her noticed that something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

Xie Ci-En did not answer.

The next second, everything went black before her eyes. Her body suddenly lost its support.

“Thud!”

She collapsed onto the track. The girls behind her stopped abruptly, caught off guard, and nearly stepped on her. Several of them even collided with one another.

“Ci-En fainted!”

“Ci-En!”

“Stop! Everyone, stop!”

The orderly formation instantly dissolved into chaos, and several girls hurried over.

“Ci-En! Can you hear me?”

“She passed out!”

The physical education teacher quickly ran over and crouched down to check on her.

“Don’t crowd around her. Give her some air!” He looked up. “Take Ci-En to the nurse’s office first!”

Several girls hurriedly helped Xie Ci-En to her feet.

Just then, a boy stepped out from the crowd.

Yang Wen-Hua’s expression was more serious than usual. He bent down and looked at Xie Ci-En’s pale face. At that moment, a sudden sense of unease passed through his heart.

This was not the first time. This was not the first time she had fainted, nor was it the first time she had said she felt dizzy. He had actually noticed it long ago, but Ci-En had always told him not to tell anyone. And he had always chosen to believe her.

Looking back now, perhaps that had been the first mistake he ever made.

“Teacher.” Yang Wen-Hua stood up. “I’ll go with her.”

The physical education teacher looked at him.

“Do you know what’s been happening with her?”

Yang Wen-Hua nodded.

“Ci-En has been… feeling unwell quite often lately.” His voice was very quiet.

The teacher thought for a moment, then nodded.

“All right. You go with her, too.”

The door to the nurse’s office was hurriedly pushed open, and several girls helped Xie Ci-En inside.

“Miss Nurse!”

“Miss Nurse, Ci-En fainted!”

The nurse, who had been organizing the medicines, immediately turned around.

“Take it easy. Don’t panic.” She pointed toward the bed. “Help her over here and let her lean against the bed.”

Xie Ci-En was settled onto the bed. The nurse reached out and touched her forehead, her brows drawing together slightly.

“She has a fever.” The nurse picked up the blood pressure monitor. “I’ll check her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature first.”

Several girls stood beside the bed, watching anxiously.

Yang Wen-Hua stood at the doorway, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He remembered how, over the past few weeks, Xie Ci-En had told him again and again:

“Wen-Hua, I don’t know why, but I’ve been getting dizzy a lot lately.”

“Sometimes I don’t even have the strength to walk.”

“Please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

At the time, he had simply comforted her.

“Just get some rest. You’ll be fine.”

But now, he suddenly began to feel afraid.

What if it wasn’t a minor problem?

What if she was really sick?

“She has a fever.” The nurse’s voice brought him back to his senses.

“First, loosen her outer clothing and give her an ice pillow to help bring down her temperature.”

Two girls immediately stepped forward. Just then, one of them suddenly turned toward the doorway.

“Yang Wen-Hua, you should go outside for now!”

Yang Wen-Hua did not leave immediately.

“Let me finish talking to the nurse first.”

The nurse looked up at him.

“What is it?”

Yang Wen-Hua took a deep breath.

“Miss Nurse, Ci-En has often told me lately that she gets dizzy and feels unwell all over.”

The nurse’s expression immediately became serious.

“How long has this been going on?”

“For a while.”

“I understand.” The nurse nodded. “I’ll take care of her. You go back to class for now.”

Yang Wen-Hua remained where he was, his eyes fixed on Xie Ci-En lying unconscious on the bed. He desperately wanted to stay. He desperately wanted to know what was wrong with her.

But the nurse had already turned away to attend to her, so in the end, he could only slowly walk out.

When he reached the doorway, he looked back one last time.

That glance felt like a silent premonition.

In the white hospital room, sunlight streamed through the gap between the curtains. The smell of disinfectant filled the entire space.

Yang Wen-Hua stood beside the hospital bed.

Xie Ci-En’s face was so pale that almost no color remained in it. She looked at her mother, Xie Xue-Hong. Her mother sat beside the bed, gently stroking her daughter’s cheek with her fingers. The woman who was usually so strong now had nothing but exhaustion and fear in her eyes.

Xie Ci-En looked at her mother.

“Mom.”

Xie Xue-Hong forced a smile.

“Hmm?”

“What kind of illness do I have?”

Her mother’s hand stopped for a moment.

Xie Ci-En’s voice trembled slightly.

“Why is my body… getting weaker and weaker?”

Xie Xue-Hong’s lips moved, but she did not answer. She lowered her head and covered her mouth with her hand, afraid that if she spoke, she would burst into tears.

Seeing her mother’s reaction, Xie Ci-En suddenly understood something.

“Mom…”

Her voice became even softer.

“Is it very serious?”

Xie Xue-Hong suddenly raised her head.

“No, it isn’t.” She took her daughter’s hand. “Ci-En, don’t think too much about it.”

But tears were already welling up in her eyes.

Just then, Pastor Divid came to the bedside. He reached out and patted Xie Xue-Hong on the shoulder.

“Ci-En.”

Xie Ci-En turned her head.

Divid tried to put on a kind smile.

“Once your condition is a little more stable, your mother and I will take you back to Canada for treatment.” He paused. “You will get better.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Divid nodded.

Yet deep in his eyes was a heaviness he could not completely conceal.

Xie Ci-En saw it. She did not ask any more questions. She simply turned her face toward the window.

She knew that sometimes, when adults said, “You will definitely get better,” it did not mean they were truly certain.

But she still wanted to believe them.

Because she still had a promise.

A promise she had made to Yang Wen-Hua.

Several months later, one day, a large crowd of villagers gathered in front of the pastor’s residence. Men and women, young and old, stood along both sides of the road. Some carried flowers. Some carried fruit. Others simply stood silently among the crowd, their eyes filled with reluctance to see the family leave.

Pastor Divid and his family were about to leave. Yang Wen-Hua was also squeezed into the crowd, his eyes never leaving Xie Ci-En.

She stood beside the motorhome, looking thinner than he remembered. The wind lifted her long hair, yet she still tried to smile.

Xie Ci-En walked toward Yang Wen-Hua. Their eyes met.

At that moment, all the sounds around them seemed to fade away.

She reached out with both hands and took his hands.

“Wen-Hua.”

Yang Wen-Hua said nothing. He simply held her hands tightly in return.

“I will definitely come back.” Xie Ci-En looked at him. “Ten years from now, at the Life Bean Festival, will you wait for me?”

Yang Wen-Hua’s throat tightened.

He wanted to say, “I will.”

But those three words became so heavy in his chest that he could barely get them out.

In the end, he could only nod, his eyes already glistening with tears.

Xie Ci-En looked at him and suddenly smiled.

There was a trace of bitterness in that smile.

“Maybe by then…” She deliberately touched her hair. “I’ll have lost all my hair and all my teeth.”

Yang Wen-Hua finally could not hold back his laughter.

But as he laughed, tears began to fall.

Xie Ci-En reached out and wiped one away.

“Why are you crying?”

Yang Wen-Hua shook his head.

“I’m not.”

He turned his face away and secretly wiped his tears.

The next second, he suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms.

He said nothing.

He simply held her tightly.

Xie Ci-En froze for a moment, then slowly wrapped her arms around him.

She buried her face in his shoulder.

Neither of the two young people said a word.

Because some things, once spoken aloud, would feel like admitting to a terrifying possibility.

Maybe this time, they would leave without knowing when they would see each other again.

After a long while, Xie Ci-En slowly loosened her arms.

She looked at Yang Wen-Hua, her eyes filled with deep affection and determination.

“Work hard. Make your dreams come true.”

She reached out and gently tapped him on the chest.

“Taiwan’s Jobs.”

Yang Wen-Hua nodded, but the tears could no longer be held back.

Xie Ci-En rose onto her toes and gently kissed him on the cheek.

Yang Wen-Hua froze.

She did not give him time to react. She simply turned around and walked toward the motorhome.

“Ci-En!”

He finally called her name.

Xie Ci-En stopped, but she did not turn around.

She simply raised one hand and waved gently.

Then she climbed into the motorhome.

The door closed, and the motorhome slowly pulled away.

Yang Wen-Hua stood motionless among the crowd as the vehicle drove farther and farther away.

His hand was still raised in the air.

Only after the motorhome disappeared at the end of the road did he slowly lower his hand.

Tears blurred his vision, yet he continued staring in that direction.

As if, as long as he kept looking, she would still come back.

“Ding—”

The crisp sound of the class-ending bell rang through the medical school library.

Yang Wen-Hua suddenly raised his head.

There was no high school campus before him anymore.

No track.

No motorhome.

No Xie Ci-En.

There was only the quiet library and the medical reference books stacked on the table.

He sat there in a daze, only then realizing that the corners of his eyes were wet.

Lin Xiu-Ling had somehow already come to stand beside his table. She quietly watched him.

He had been sleeping so deeply just moments ago, yet his brows had remained slightly furrowed the entire time. Even in his dream, he seemed to have been enduring some kind of indescribable pain.

Lin Xiu-Ling did not wake him.

It was not until the bell rang that he suddenly woke up.

Their eyes met, and Yang Wen-Hua instinctively turned his face away.

He reached up and touched the corner of his eye.

“Damn it…”

He muttered under his breath and quickly reached around for a tissue.

Lin Xiu-Ling saw him. She said nothing. Instead, she took her own handkerchief from her pocket and held it out to him.

Yang Wen-Hua stared at the handkerchief and froze for a moment. Embarrassed, he shook his head.

“No need.”

Lin Xiu-Ling did not withdraw her hand. She looked at his eyes, then slowly pulled the handkerchief back and took a small stack of tissues from another pocket.

“Then use these.”

This time, Yang Wen-Hua did not refuse. He took the tissues, pulled out one, and gently wiped the corner of his eye.

“Sorry.” His voice was slightly hoarse. “I got some sand in my eye.”

Lin Xiu-Ling did not expose his excuse. She simply looked at him quietly.

But a question could not help surfacing in her mind.

Was the senior crying?

She did not know what he had dreamed about, nor did she know who had made him cry.

But this was the first time she had seen this normally calm, quiet, almost completely detached senior reveal such a vulnerable side of himself.

At that moment, she suddenly felt that Yang Wen-Hua seemed a little closer to her.

He was no longer simply that senior who seemed to stand high above everyone else.

He was an ordinary young man who could also feel sadness, and who could also miss someone.

Lin Xiu-Ling handed him the flash drive.

“Senior, are your eyes okay?”

Yang Wen-Hua took the flash drive. He did not look at her. He simply turned his face away.

“I’m fine.”

Lin Xiu-Ling nodded.

“My roommate, Su Ming-Zhu, said she wants a copy too.” She smiled somewhat shyly. “So…”

Yang Wen-Hua glanced at her and answered naturally.

“No problem.”

He lowered his head and placed the flash drive on the table.

“Make a copy if you need it.”

Lin Xiu-Ling was startled.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

His answer was still brief.

But Lin Xiu-Ling inexplicably felt a surge of happiness.

After a moment of silence, she suddenly gathered her courage.

“Senior.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you free later?”

Yang Wen-Hua stopped packing his books and looked up at her.

Lin Xiu-Ling gently pinched the edge of her clothes.

“I was thinking…” She bit her lip. “Maybe we could go have hot pot together.”

Yang Wen-Hua froze.

“Hot pot?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at her.

“Junior, how could I let you spend money?”

Lin Xiu-Ling smiled.

“You lent me your notes, and that saved me a lot of time organizing the important points.”

Her tone became serious.

“I should do something to thank you.”

Yang Wen-Hua was silent for several seconds. He had originally wanted to refuse.

But looking at the hopeful expression in her eyes, he simply could not bring himself to say no.

Besides, he suddenly remembered the girl in his dream.

The girl who had once held his hand and told him, “I will definitely come back ten years from now.”

There was a place in his heart that had long been occupied by a long wait.

And the girl standing before him now was smiling at him without the slightest ulterior motive.

For a moment, he did not know what to do.

Perhaps that was simply how life worked.

One person leaves.

Another person enters your life without you even realizing it.

He was not sure whether he was ready, nor was he sure whether he had the right to begin again.

But at least this time, he did not want to refuse.

Yang Wen-Hua nodded gently.

“All right.”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He deliberately added, “Just this once. Don’t make a habit of it.”

“Okay!”

Lin Xiu-Ling smiled like a child.

Yang Wen-Hua could not help smiling too. He began gathering the books from the table, one by one. He organized the notes, closed his laptop, and put it into his backpack. Finally, he gathered several reference books into his arms.

Lin Xiu-Ling picked up her own bag as well.

The two of them walked side by side toward the library exit.

The setting sun was already slanting through the windows.

Walking beside him, Lin Xiu-Ling secretly glanced at him.

Yang Wen-Hua did not notice.

His eyes were fixed on the distance.

The promise that had been buried for so many years still lay deep in his heart.

Ten years.

He had promised someone that he would wait for her to return.

But now, another girl had appeared beside him.

For the first time, he realized that some waits might never have an ending.

And some encounters might quietly change the course of a person’s life.

The two figures disappeared through the library entrance.

On the table, only the still-warm glow of the desk lamp remained, along with that youthful story from the past that no one knew about.

6. The Hot Pot Restaurant

Night fell.

The streets outside the campus lit up with neon signs, and the glass windows of the hot pot restaurant reflected the figures of passing pedestrians. Inside, the restaurant was bustling with activity. The bubbling sound of the hot pot, the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, and the overlapping laughter and conversation of the customers blended together into a warm and lively atmosphere.

Lin Xiu-Ling pushed open the door and led Yang Wen-Hua inside.

“This is the place.” She turned and smiled at him. “My roommate recommended it.”

A waiter came over to them.

“Two?”

“Yeah.” Lin Xiu-Ling nodded.

The waiter led them to a small square table against the wall in a corner.

They sat across from each other.

Before long, a split hot pot was brought to the table. Steam began rising from the pot as the spicy broth and the clear broth boiled separately. Fish, vegetables, tofu, mushrooms, and other ingredients were neatly arranged across the table.

Lin Xiu-Ling picked up her chopsticks and excitedly pointed at the ingredients.

“This hot pot restaurant just opened. My roommate, Su Ming-Zhu, highly recommended it.”

She looked at Yang Wen-Hua.

“The ingredients are really fresh!”

Yang Wen-Hua glanced at the table, then at the steaming pot.

“Oh.”

He suddenly smiled.

“In our Tsou village in Alishan, wild-vegetable hot pot is also very popular.”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Yang Wen-Hua picked up a piece of cabbage.

“There are lots of wild vegetables in the mountains. We pick them ourselves.”

Lin Xiu-Ling immediately looked envious. She deliberately imitated the tone of a television commercial and made an exaggerated gesture with her hand.

“Natural is the best!”

She laughed at her own joke.

“Of course!”

She rested her chin on her hand and looked at him.

“Alishan is a paradise on earth!”

She paused.

“I’m so jealous of you. Your hometown is right there.”

Yang Wen-Hua lowered his head and smiled.

“Ha…”

He picked up a spoon and gently stirred the broth.

“Actually, it’s not as romantic as you imagine.”

“Why not?”

“My family farms.”

He raised his head.

“We grow tea and coffee.”

His tone was calm, but there was a trace of fatigue that was difficult to notice.

“Life isn’t actually that easy.”

Lin Xiu-Ling was slightly taken aback.

She had originally imagined Alishan as a place of clouds and mist, tea plantations, forests, and tourists. In her imagination, it was a beautiful place far away from the city.

She had not expected that the Alishan Yang Wen-Hua spoke of was first and foremost a “home.”

And a home also meant responsibility.

“Oh?”

She tilted her head.

“I thought…”

She could not help laughing.

“You spent every day doing business with tourists, singing and dancing!”

Yang Wen-Hua froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“No way!”

He shook his head.

“That’s just what tourists see.”

He picked up a piece of tofu and placed it in his bowl.

“People who actually live in the mountains still have to work. Picking tea, taking care of the coffee plants, maintaining the land…”

He paused.

“There are a lot of things that simply have to be done.”

Lin Xiu-Ling listened quietly.

She suddenly felt that the man sitting before her had revealed another side of himself that she had never known.

At school, he was the student who was always ranked first, the “pastor” whom professors competed to recruit.

But when he returned home, he was simply his parents’ son, someone who had to help his family work.

Yang Wen-Hua suddenly seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right.”

“Hmm?”

“My older sister is twenty-four this year.”

Lin Xiu-Ling blinked.

“Your sister?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “She still hasn’t had a boyfriend.”

Lin Xiu-Ling could not help laughing.

“Why?”

“Because there’s always so much work at home.” He shrugged. “She doesn’t even have time to go out and make friends.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked at him.

She suddenly found it hard to believe.

“That’s completely different from what I imagined!”

She picked up her chopsticks.

“But never mind.”

She smiled as she put a slice of meat into the pot.

“Senior, let’s eat!”

“Okay.”

They both picked up their bowls and chopsticks.

Lin Xiu-Ling picked up a slice of lamb. The thin slice of meat dangled gently between her chopsticks. She placed it in the pot and swished it back and forth several times in the boiling broth.

“Done!”

She lifted the lamb out and blew on it twice.

Just as she was about to put it into her mouth, she suddenly noticed Yang Wen-Hua looking at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Yang Wen-Hua quickly lowered his head.

“I just think you take eating good food very seriously.”

Lin Xiu-Ling smiled.

“Of course I take hot pot seriously.”

She bit into the lamb.

“This is a major event in life.”

Yang Wen-Hua could not help laughing either. He dumped mushrooms, tofu, fish balls, and other ingredients into the pot all at once.

“Slow down. Don’t let the hot broth splash out.”

“I know.”

The two of them ate and talked.

The atmosphere gradually became natural. There was none of the distance between a senior and a junior in medical school, and none of the restraint they had felt in the library.

It was simply like two friends who had known each other for a long time.

Halfway through the meal, Lin Xiu-Ling suddenly said, “Actually, when I first came back to Taiwan, I had a really hard time adjusting.”

Yang Wen-Hua looked up.

“Aren’t you Taiwanese?”

“I am.” She smiled. “But I grew up in Shanghai.”

She picked up a piece of green vegetable.

“When I first came back, the first thing I fell in love with was Taiwanese food.”

“Food?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes lit up. “Night markets! I often went to the night market with my classmates and ate a little of everything.”

As she spoke, she gestured with her hands.

“Oyster omelets, stinky tofu, Taiwanese fried chicken, sausage wrapped in sticky rice…”

At this point, she could not help laughing.

“Back then, I thought, how could Taiwan use absolutely everything as food?”

Yang Wen-Hua laughed.

“And then?”

“The older men and women at the night markets would hear my Shanghai accent and ask…”

She deliberately imitated an elderly person’s voice.

“‘Missy, are you from the mainland?’”

Yang Wen-Hua burst out laughing.

“What did you say?”

Lin Xiu-Ling put down her chopsticks and straightened her back.

“I told them, ‘I’m a true Taiwanese!’”

She sounded completely confident.

“But they all shook their heads.”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“Not at all.”

The two of them laughed at the same time.

Lin Xiu-Ling shook her head with a smile.

“My parents are both from Tainan!”

She paused.

“It’s just that my parents went to Shanghai to do business, and I grew up there.”

Yang Wen-Hua nodded.

“So naturally, my accent and expressions are different.”

Lin Xiu-Ling pouted.

“It’s much better now.”

“After a little more time, your accent and expressions will be assimilated by your classmates.” Yang Wen-Hua smiled. “Those older men and women won’t mistake you for someone from the mainland anymore.”

Lin Xiu-Ling thought about it.

“You’re right!”

She suddenly sighed.

“But my Taiwanese is still pretty clumsy.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“My grandpa really can’t stand it.”

Yang Wen-Hua laughed.

“My Taiwanese isn’t very fluent either.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He spread his hands. “So I can’t teach you.”

Lin Xiu-Ling deliberately looked disappointed.

“I was hoping to find a free Taiwanese teacher.”

“Then you found the wrong person.”

The two of them laughed again.

Amid their laughter, a subtle sense of closeness gradually formed.

Lin Xiu-Ling looked at him.

She suddenly remembered what Yang Wen-Hua had been like the first time she saw him in the library.

Back then, Yang Wen-Hua was always alone. He sat in a corner, burying himself in his studies, as if he kept his distance from the entire world.

But now she realized that once someone crossed that distance, he was not actually difficult to get close to.

It was just that… he seemed accustomed to hiding himself.

She looked at him.

“But that’s okay.”

“Hmm?”

“Academically, Senior is qualified to be my private tutor.”

As soon as he heard that, Yang Wen-Hua smiled.

“Ha…”

He picked up his cup and took a sip of tea.

“Don’t flatter me.”

“Where did I flatter you?”

“Don’t you already know what everyone in the department calls me?”

Lin Xiu-Ling deliberately played dumb.

“What do they call you?”

Yang Wen-Hua looked at her.

“The pastor.”

For a second, silence fell between them.

Lin Xiu-Ling looked into his eyes.

She finally understood that this nickname might not simply be a joke to him.

There was awe in it.

Distance.

And even a little loneliness.

Because when someone is always placed in the position of “number one,” over time, other people may become afraid to truly approach him.

Lin Xiu-Ling suddenly put down her chopsticks.

She looked at him seriously.

“If you’re the pastor, then you’re the pastor.”

Yang Wen-Hua said nothing.

“That doesn’t affect the two of us being friends.”

She smiled.

There was no pity in that smile, nor any deliberate attempt to please him.

It was simply natural.

And honest.

Yang Wen-Hua stared at her.

For some reason, his chest suddenly felt as if something had gently struck it.

“Friends?”

He repeated the word quietly.

Lin Xiu-Ling nodded.

“Yeah. Is there a problem?”

Yang Wen-Hua did not answer.

He lowered his head and looked at the broth bubbling in the pot. Steam rose from it, blurring his vision.

At that moment, another face suddenly flashed through his mind.

Xie Ci-En.

The girl who had once held his hand and asked him, “Will you wait for me ten years from now?”

He had promised her that he would wait.

That promise had remained buried in his heart.

For all these years, he had hardly ever allowed himself to forget it.

But now, the girl sitting across from him had said without any hesitation, “That doesn’t affect the two of us being friends.”

For the first time, Yang Wen-Hua felt conflicted.

He did not want to betray that promise, but he also did not want to reject the sincerity before him.

He did not know whether he was truly waiting for a relationship, or waiting for a piece of youth that had already been frozen by time.

Lin Xiu-Ling did not notice his silence. She picked up a piece of tofu and placed it in his bowl.

“Senior.”

Yang Wen-Hua looked up.

“Hmm?”

“The tofu is ready.” She smiled. “Eat it.”

Yang Wen-Hua looked at the tofu in his bowl, then looked at her.

Finally, he smiled.

“Okay.”

He picked up his chopsticks.

“Thanks.”

Their chopsticks reached toward the steaming split hot pot again, while the broth continued to boil.

Outside the window, traffic moved through the streets and city lights glittered.

No one knew what kind of mark the two young people sitting at opposite sides of the hot pot table were about to leave on each other’s lives.

One was still holding on to a promise from the past.

The other, without realizing it, was quietly walking into his present.

And the story had only just begun.

7. One Year Later—Departure

A year later.

Night covered the women’s dormitory. Inside the room, the lights from the campus outside filtered through the window and cast a faint glow across the floor. Several medical textbooks, notebooks, and personal belongings that were about to be taken away were piled on the desk.

The closet door stood open.

A half-packed suitcase lay open on the bed.

Lin Xiu-Ling crouched beside the bed, folding her clothes one by one and placing them into the suitcase. She then pressed down the puffed-up edges of the clothes with her palm.

She stopped for a moment.

Looking at the neatly arranged clothes inside the suitcase, she suddenly felt something she could not quite put into words.

Tomorrow, she would leave Taipei.

She would leave the familiar campus and head to a place that was almost completely unfamiliar to her.

Rural healthcare.

Alishan.

And there was also someone familiar waiting there.

Yang Wen-Hua.

At the thought of his name, her hands stopped unconsciously.

She lowered her head and looked at her fingers.

“Xiu-Ling, what exactly are you looking forward to?”

She asked herself silently.

Over the past year, her relationship with Yang Wen-Hua had remained in an ambiguous place.

He would help her with her coursework. He would lend her his organized notes. When they occasionally ran into each other in the library, he would nod and smile at her.

Sometimes they would eat together.

But neither of them had ever truly crossed that line.

At least, she had not.

And she had been waiting.

Waiting for an opportunity that she did not know when it would come.

“Click!”

The door suddenly opened.

Su Ming-Zhu walked in.

She had a bag in one hand and a small paper box in the other.

“Nuonuo!”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked up.

“What’s up?”

Su Ming-Zhu walked over and directly shoved the paper box into her hands.

“Here.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked down.

“What is it?”

“The 4G memory card you asked for.”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s eyes immediately lit up.

She opened the paper box and took out the memory card, examining it carefully.

“Thanks!”

She smiled and put the memory card into her small bag.

Su Ming-Zhu did not smile, however. She looked around the room.

“I really don’t understand you!”

She picked up the clothes on the bed and tossed them into the suitcase.

“You could stay in Taipei, enjoy the good life, eat well, and enjoy the city. Instead, you insist on running off to some godforsaken rural area to suffer.”

Lin Xiu-Ling smiled as she folded the clothes again.

“You’re making it sound way worse than it is.”

“How am I exaggerating?”

Su Ming-Zhu folded her arms.

“Taipei has air conditioning, the subway, department stores, and tons of restaurants.”

She pointed at the suitcase.

“Just look at what you’re taking with you. You look like you’re preparing to flee a disaster.”

Lin Xiu-Ling could not help laughing.

“I want to experience it.”

She placed the last jacket into the suitcase.

“I want to experience what kind of working environment medical professionals actually face in rural areas with limited medical resources.”

Her tone gradually became serious.

“I want to know what a medical professional can really do when medical resources are insufficient, equipment is limited, and there aren’t enough people.”

Su Ming-Zhu looked at her without answering immediately.

After a while, she narrowed her eyes.

“Really?”

“What do you mean, really?”

“You really are doing this only for that?”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s hands stopped.

Su Ming-Zhu walked toward her step by step, a knowing smile appearing on her face.

“If you ask me…” She deliberately drew out her words. “Your motives aren’t that simple, are they?”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s heart suddenly jumped.

“Here you go again.”

“I heard…”

Su Ming-Zhu held up one finger.

“That pastor senior is now the leader of the Alishan team of the rural healthcare program.”

She stared at Lin Xiu-Ling.

“You’re going because of him, aren’t you?”

Lin Xiu-Ling froze completely.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

She lowered her head and pretended to adjust the suitcase zipper.

But the tips of her ears had quietly turned red.

“No…”

Su Ming-Zhu immediately laughed.

“See?”

“See what?”

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not!”

Lin Xiu-Ling reached up and touched her face.

That gesture only made Su Ming-Zhu laugh even harder.

“All right.” Lin Xiu-Ling finally surrendered.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together on her knees.

After a moment of silence, she spoke softly.

“Well… maybe you’re right.”

Her voice was very quiet.

“I really do want to work with Senior Wen-Hua.”

Su Ming-Zhu raised an eyebrow.

“Just work with him?”

Lin Xiu-Ling did not answer.

She looked at the floor, but a voice inside her was perfectly clear.

No.

She wanted to get closer to him—not because of his grades, not because he was the number-one student in medical school, and not simply because he had excellent surgical skills.

It was because, throughout the past year and more, she had always felt something toward him that she could not explain.

She had tried to interpret that feeling as admiration.

As respect.

As appreciation for an outstanding senior.

But the longer time passed, the less she could deceive herself.

She liked him.

She simply had never dared to say it aloud.

“I want to follow Senior Wen-Hua.” She finally raised her head. “I want to learn some surgical skills from him.”

Su Ming-Zhu looked at her and suddenly wore an expression that said she had known all along.

“Since you’re interested in the pastor…”

She walked over to Lin Xiu-Ling and patted her on the shoulder.

“Then get closer to him.”

Lin Xiu-Ling froze.

Su Ming-Zhu smiled.

“Take this opportunity and confess your feelings to him.”

“Confess?”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s heart suddenly began racing.

Yang Wen-Hua’s face appeared in her mind.

She saw him sitting in the library with his head lowered over his books.

She saw the shy smile he had given her the first time.

She also remembered the way he had quietly listened to her at the hot pot restaurant.

But soon, another image intruded into her mind.

It was a question she had never truly asked.

Is there already someone else in his heart?

Lin Xiu-Ling’s smile slowly faded.

“Oh…”

She lowered her head.

“I’m not sure.”

Su Ming-Zhu put aside her teasing expression.

“Not sure about what?”

“That he’ll accept me.”

The room suddenly became quiet.

Distant insects could be heard outside the window.

Lin Xiu-Ling’s fingers slowly tightened.

“I’m afraid…”

She paused.

“If I tell him, we won’t even be able to remain friends afterward.”

That was what she was truly afraid of.

Not rejection itself.

But the possibility that after being rejected, she would never be able to return to what they had now.

For now, at least, she could still stand beside him as his junior.

She could talk to him.

She could ask him about her studies.

She could occasionally eat with him.

She could see him smile.

But if she confessed her feelings…

Everything could change.

Su Ming-Zhu sat beside her. She did not immediately try to persuade her. Instead, she reached out and held her hand.

“Nuonuo.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked up.

“Love isn’t like an exam.”

“You can estimate the answer on a test ahead of time. But you can’t do that with love.”

Su Ming-Zhu looked at her.

“You’ll never know the other person’s answer.”

Lin Xiu-Ling remained silent.

“So…” Su Ming-Zhu gently squeezed her hand. “If you don’t give it a try, how will you know how he’ll react?”

She paused.

“Even if he rejects you, at least you’ll have an answer.”

“It’s better than keeping it buried in your heart for ten or twenty years and still wondering—”

Su Ming-Zhu imitated her voice.

“‘What if I had said it back then?’”

Lin Xiu-Ling stared at her.

Those words felt like a needle gently piercing her heart.

She suddenly remembered all the times she had hesitated during the past year.

Every time she wanted to get closer to Yang Wen-Hua, she told herself to wait.

Wait for a better opportunity.

Wait until he was in a good mood.

Wait until they knew each other better.

Wait until she felt more certain.

But now she finally realized—

Maybe there would never be a “perfect time.”

Because the things that truly mattered did not wait for people to be ready.

She took a deep breath, and a faint smile slowly appeared at the corners of her mouth.

“Min-Zhu.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for showing me the way.”

Su Ming-Zhu patted her on the shoulder.

“That’s more like it.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked down at her suitcase. It was almost completely packed.

She reached out and pulled the zipper closed.

“Click.”

The sound seemed to gently place a period at the end of this chapter of her youth.

But another story was preparing to begin.

Alishan.

The rural healthcare team.

Yang Wen-Hua.

And a secret she had hidden for a year, one she had never dared to speak aloud.

Lin Xiu-Ling looked out the window.

The distant city lights of Taipei glittered brightly.

This was the Taipei she knew.

Tomorrow, she would head into unfamiliar mountains and forests.

She did not know what she would encounter.

She did not know what kind of look Yang Wen-Hua would give her.

And she knew even less whether, after she finally found the courage to speak, what awaited her would be happiness or an embarrassing rejection.

But this time, she decided she would no longer run away.

She picked up her phone and looked down at the familiar name in her contacts.

“Yang Wen-Hua.”

Her finger stopped over the screen.

She did not call.

She simply smiled softly.

“See you tomorrow, Senior.”

Outside, the night had grown deep.

And the journey to Alishan had already quietly begun in her heart.

8. Alishan Township Health Center

Early in the morning, the clouds and mist had not yet completely cleared from Alishan. Mountain mist drifted slowly through the forest, while the distant mountains revealed only faint outlines. A few rays of sunlight broke through the clouds and fell across the weathered exterior walls of the Alishan Township Health Center.

The health center was not large. Several patients were already sitting in the hallway waiting to be seen. An elderly man wearing a traditional conical hat clutched a registration slip in his hand. A young mother held her child and gently patted the child’s back. In the corner, a middle-aged man was coughing incessantly.

The air carried a mixture of disinfectant, medicine, and the damp scent of the mountain forest.

Inside the director’s office, Director Li Ming-Li stood beside the desk, holding a map of the mobile medical service routes.

Yang Wen-Hua, Lin Xiu-Ling, Shen Zhi-Wei, and Zhang Mei-Hua stood around the desk.

Several winding mountain roads had been marked on the map in red ink.

Director Li slowly traced one of the routes with his finger.

“These villages all need mobile medical services today.”

He looked up.

“Especially the more remote villages in the mountains. Transportation is inconvenient, so go wherever you can.”

Yang Wen-Hua nodded.

He picked up the pen on the desk and studied the map for several seconds.

“Director Li.”

Everyone’s attention turned toward him.

“The four of us should split into two teams.”

He pointed to himself and then to Lin Xiu-Ling.

“Xiu-Ling and I will handle the mobile medical visits to the villages.”

Then he looked at Shen Zhi-Wei and Zhang Mei-Hua.

“Zhi-Wei and Mei-Hua, stay here and assist you.”

Shen Zhi-Wei immediately nodded.

“Sorry to trouble you, Senior Wen-Hua.”

Zhang Mei-Hua also smiled.

“Senior, be careful driving on those mountain roads.”

Director Li thought for a moment.

“That sounds good.”

He looked at Yang Wen-Hua.

“You’re a local, so you know every village around here.”

Yang Wen-Hua said nothing. He simply nodded.

That was his advantage, and it was also why he had chosen to return here.

The hospitals in the cities had the most advanced equipment and complete medical teams.

But Alishan was different.

Some elderly people had lived in the mountains their entire lives. They were not accustomed to going down the mountain, and they did not want to leave their land.

For them, a hospital was not a place they could simply reach because it was “convenient.”

He knew this place.

He knew every mountain road.

And he knew the people who lived in the mountains.

Director Li placed the car keys on the desk.

“You’ll take the government vehicle.”

His expression became more serious.

“Be careful driving on the mountain roads. It’s especially foggy in the afternoons lately. Don’t drive too fast around the curves.”

Yang Wen-Hua reached out and picked up the keys.

“I know.”

Director Li pointed to the list of medicines on the desk.

“Prepare as much medicine and necessary equipment as possible. If there’s an emergency patient who needs to be transferred, call me.”

He paused.

“I’ll send an ambulance over.”

Yang Wen-Hua lowered his eyes and glanced at the list.

“Director.”

He looked up.

“If I can handle the situation in time, I won’t transfer the patient.”

Director Li looked at him for a moment.

There was trust in his eyes, along with a trace of concern.

“All right.”

He smiled.

“I know what you’re capable of.”

But he quickly became serious again.

“Still, if you really can’t handle it, don’t push yourself too hard.”

Yang Wen-Hua did not answer immediately.

He knew what the director meant.

In rural healthcare, doctors often faced not the question of “Can this be treated?” but “Can it be treated in time?”

Mountain roads, distance, weather, equipment…

A problem at any one point could turn a condition that could originally have been handled into a dangerous situation.

He raised his head.

“I understand, Director.”

Director Li nodded.

“Go get ready.”

Yang Wen-Hua turned around and looked at Lin Xiu-Ling.

“Xiu-Ling.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s start moving the equipment and medicine.”

Lin Xiu-Ling immediately stood up.

“Okay.”

Zhang Mei-Hua also stood.

“Senior Wen-Hua, we’ll help too.”

Shen Zhi-Wei smiled.

“It’ll be faster if all four of us carry everything together.”

Yang Wen-Hua initially wanted to refuse.

“No need. You two stay here—”

“Senior.”

Zhang Mei-Hua had already reached the doorway.

“Stop arguing.”

Shen Zhi-Wei also laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

“You’re going to be driving around the mountains all day. Save your energy.”

Yang Wen-Hua froze for a moment, then smiled.

“All right.”

The four of them walked into the supply room together.

The supply room was packed with medical supplies.

Boxes of medicine, bandages, syringes, blood pressure monitors, stethoscopes, and basic emergency equipment were neatly arranged on the shelves in rows of boxes.

Lin Xiu-Ling held the checklist and checked each item one by one.

“Painkillers.”

“Got them.”

“Fever reducers.”

“Got them.”

“Antibiotics.”

Yang Wen-Hua opened a medicine box.

“Here.”

“Gauze?”

“Two boxes.”

“Blood pressure monitor?”

“One.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked up at him.

“Is one enough?”

Yang Wen-Hua thought for a moment.

“Bring another one.”

He turned around and picked up another blood pressure monitor.

“There are more elderly people in the mountains. We’d better have a spare.”

Lin Xiu-Ling nodded and marked a check on the list.

At that moment, she suddenly realized that everything she had learned in medical school became so concrete when faced with actual rural healthcare.

Every medicine and every piece of equipment might, at some point, become someone’s hope.

She watched Yang Wen-Hua’s busy back.

He said nothing unnecessary. He simply checked, sorted, and packed everything with practiced efficiency.

That focus reminded her of him in the university library.

But now he was no longer organizing notes.

He was preparing for a real medical mission.

“All set.”

Yang Wen-Hua sealed the last box of medicine.

“Take it out.”

The four of them lifted the equipment boxes in coordination.

Two carts were already waiting in the hallway.

Yang Wen-Hua and Shen Zhi-Wei each pushed one.

Lin Xiu-Ling and Zhang Mei-Hua walked along the sides, helping steady the stacked boxes.

“Careful!”

As they turned a corner, the top box almost slipped off.

Lin Xiu-Ling reacted quickly and reached out to steady it.

“Are you okay?”

Yang Wen-Hua immediately stopped.

“I’m fine.”

Lin Xiu-Ling smiled at him.

“I’m not that fragile.”

Yang Wen-Hua smiled too.

“I know.”

Those three short words somehow warmed Lin Xiu-Ling’s heart.

The four of them pushed the equipment all the way out through the entrance of the health center.

The cool mountain wind blew toward them.

The clouds and mist had already begun to clear.

In the parking lot, a white mobile medical van was parked there. Printed on its side were the words “Rural Mobile Medical Services.”

Yang Wen-Hua took out the keys and opened the rear compartment.

“I’ll get inside first.”

He opened the rear door, braced both hands against the door frame, and lightly jumped into the cargo area.

“Xiu-Ling, give me the medicine boxes first.”

“Okay.”

Lin Xiu-Ling lifted a box of medicine with both hands.

“Here.”

Yang Wen-Hua reached out and took it.

“Slowly.”

“I know.”

Shen Zhi-Wei and Zhang Mei-Hua also passed the boxes over one by one.

“Equipment box.”

“Got it.”

“Blood pressure monitor.”

“Here.”

“First-aid kit.”

“Okay.”

Yang Wen-Hua carefully secured every piece of equipment.

He even took out straps and fastened several of the heavier boxes inside the vehicle.

Lin Xiu-Ling stood outside and watched him.

“Senior.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you used to do this kind of mobile medical service a lot?”

Yang Wen-Hua did not turn around.

“I grew up watching the adults do it this way.”

He paused.

“Later, when I became a medical student, I would come along too.”

“So you know these roads really well?”

“Pretty much.”

He turned and looked at her.

“But mountain roads are different every time.”

“Why?”

“The weather is different.”

He pointed toward the mountain road still covered in a thin layer of mist.

“The patients’ conditions are different too.”

Lin Xiu-Ling looked at him.

She suddenly understood that the “road” he was talking about was not only a mountain road.

Medicine was also a road.

Sometimes you knew the destination, but you did not know what you would encounter along the way.

The two looked at each other for a moment.

Yang Wen-Hua looked away first.

“Let’s get in.”

Lin Xiu-Ling nodded.

“Okay.”

She turned and walked toward the passenger seat.

Yang Wen-Hua jumped down from the rear compartment and closed the door.

Shen Zhi-Wei walked over and patted him on the shoulder.

“Senior Wen-Hua, you’re going to have a tough time these next few days.”

Yang Wen-Hua smiled.

“Take care of things here.”

Zhang Mei-Hua waved at Lin Xiu-Ling.

“Xiu-Ling!”

Lin Xiu-Ling lowered the window.

“What?”

“It’s cold up in the mountains. Remember to wear your jacket.”

“I know!”

Zhang Mei-Hua winked at Yang Wen-Hua.

“Senior, take good care of our Xiu-Ling!”

Lin Xiu-Ling’s face immediately turned red.

“Mei-Hua!”

Zhang Mei-Hua burst out laughing, while Yang Wen-Hua was only slightly startled.

Then he smiled and nodded.

“Don’t worry.”

When he said those two words, even he did not notice that his voice carried an extra touch of natural tenderness.

Lin Xiu-Ling sat in the passenger seat and secretly glanced at him.

A subtle flutter stirred inside her heart.

She suddenly found herself looking forward to today’s mobile medical service, and to the days ahead.

But she did not know that this trip to Alishan would require her to face more than the hardships of rural healthcare.

She would also have to face the feelings she had hidden deep in her heart for a long time, feelings she had never dared to express.

Yang Wen-Hua started the engine, and the white van slowly pulled away from the health center.

In the rearview mirror, Shen Zhi-Wei and Zhang Mei-Hua were still standing at the entrance, waving.

Lin Xiu-Ling raised her hand as well.

It was not until they turned around a bend in the mountain road that their figures gradually disappeared.

Yang Wen-Hua focused on the road ahead, his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. The mountain road wound its way deep into the mist.

Lin Xiu-Ling looked out at the layers of mountains stretching into the distance.

She suddenly realized—

From today onward, the relationship between her and Yang Wen-Hua might truly change.

Because this time, she was no longer merely his junior.

She was his medical partner.

She was someone who would walk into the mountains with him, face patients with him, and face life and death with him.

As for the words she had kept hidden in her heart and never dared to say…

Perhaps she would not be able to keep them hidden much longer.