The Anesthetist’s Arcane Gift

Chapter 6: A Heart Caught in Time

In the days that followed that fleeting encounter, Qi Bo found himself adrift, his heart tethered to a memory he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t even stepped into the realm of first love, yet he was already ensnared by a longing so deep it felt like the fabled lovesickness of old tales. Each morning, he wandered, almost instinctively, to the spot where she had once parked her sleek, black Dongfeng SUV—a vehicle that seemed to carry the weight of mystery, perhaps even a hint of military allure. He stood there, lost in thought, hoping against hope to catch a glimpse of her again.

He didn’t know if he’d muster the courage to approach her if that black SUV ever reappeared. Would he dare to say hello, to ask for her name, her contact, or even a chance to know her? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but it didn’t stop him from returning to that same spot every morning, lingering in the quiet dawn, yearning for just one more glance. Even a fleeting moment would be enough to soothe the ache in his chest.

Regret shadowed him like a persistent companion. If only he hadn’t been so timid back then, so paralyzed by his own hesitations. If he had boldly asked for her contact, even if she had turned him down, he wouldn’t be haunted by this lingering “what if.” And if she had shared it, perhaps he could have heard her voice again, seen her smile, or maybe—just maybe—woven her into the fabric of his life.

But he had let that moment slip through his fingers.

Life, he realized, was a tapestry of missed chances, but this one—this beautiful, fleeting miss—carved itself into his heart with a bittersweet permanence.

What weighed heavier on Qi Bo was the realization that since meeting her, no other woman could capture his heart. He had never truly loved, yet this unfulfilled longing seemed to have claimed him entirely. It was love, he knew—a love that had never begun, yet had already ended in silence.

Perhaps it would never return.

Time flowed relentlessly forward, and years slipped by like pages in a book. Qi Bo transformed from a wide-eyed college freshman into a certified anesthesiologist, his age climbing from nineteen to twenty-four. At nineteen, he had still been a boy, brimming with youthful dreams. Now, at twenty-four, he was a man, shaped by time and responsibility.

Yet, her memory lingered. Whenever he passed the spot where her SUV had once stood, he would pause, his gaze drifting into the distance. He no longer held onto the hope of seeing her again. If she had been fifteen back then, she would be twenty now—perhaps in love, perhaps even married. The thought twisted something inside him, but he accepted it. His feelings, this quiet lovesickness, would eventually fade into the recesses of his heart, a cherished secret he would never share.

Only when he could finally let her go would he learn to love again, to open his heart to someone new. But that beautiful, incomplete chapter of his life would remain forever unfulfilled.

Unless, by some miracle, he saw her again.

“Qi Bo?” Sun Xiaomei’s voice broke through his reverie. She had called him once already, but he was lost in thought, his expression distant and melancholic. Had her words stirred some hidden wound?

“Oh… I’m twenty-four now. It’s my zodiac year,” Qi Bo replied, snapping back to the present with a faint smile, hoping to mask the storm of emotions within.

Sun Xiaomei opened her mouth to ask more—about his family, perhaps—but Dr. Cao’s voice cut through the air, summoning her for another surgery. A young female patient, a college student, lay on the operating table, her vulnerability stark under the sterile lights. Sun Xiaomei was tasked with preparing her, a routine procedure that required precision and care.

Noticing Qi Bo’s unfamiliarity with certain tools, Sun Xiaomei beckoned him over, intending to guide him through the process. But as he approached, the patient’s eyes widened in panic, her hands instinctively shielding herself, her face flushed with embarrassment. It was a reaction Qi Bo had seen before, a reminder of the delicate trust patients placed in their doctors.

With a sigh, Sun Xiaomei took over, her movements swift but gentle as she prepared the patient. “Just administer the anesthesia,” she instructed Qi Bo, her tone brisk but not unkind. The young woman, still trembling, had watched another patient’s procedure earlier and feared the same vulnerability. But as Qi Bo carefully injected the anesthetic, her eyes fluttered, and she slipped into a peaceful slumber, her hands relaxing at her sides.

In the operating room, patients were at their most exposed, entrusting their care to those who stood watch over them. It was a responsibility Qi Bo carried with solemn respect.

After assisting Dr. Cao with the surgery, Qi Bo stepped out to the restroom outside the operating room. He needed a moment to himself, not for any physical necessity but to quiet the whirlwind in his mind. The weight of the day—the patients, the procedures, the fleeting memories of her—pressed heavily on him.

In the privacy of the stall, his thoughts wandered, not to the clinical details of his work but to the emotions that still tethered him to that girl from years ago. Her image flickered in his mind—her silhouette against the morning light, the curve of her smile he had only imagined. He wondered if he was clinging to a dream that no longer existed, a ghost of a moment that had shaped him more than he cared to admit.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts. It was time to move forward, to let go of this unrequited longing. Perhaps it was time to open his heart, to seek connection, to find someone who could fill the spaces she had left behind. Holding onto a memory was no way to live.

As he gathered himself, a voice broke the silence outside the stall. “All done. When’s your car coming?” It was Lin Ruoying, the first patient he had anesthetized that day. Her voice was sharp, tinged with frustration.

Qi Bo froze, his heart racing. Had he wandered into the wrong restroom? Then he remembered—the restroom outside the gynecological ward was unisex, marked for both men and women. He hadn’t made a mistake, but the timing felt precarious.

“The car just left? I told you to come earlier!” Lin Ruoying’s voice carried through the door as she spoke into her phone. Qi Bo stayed still, not wanting to interrupt or risk an awkward encounter.

“The surgery went fine. Not much discomfort. The doctors and nurses were kind, but the anesthesiologist was a guy. I was out cold, so I don’t know what happened, but it’s just… awkward, you know?” Lin Ruoying’s tone softened, laced with vulnerability.

Qi Bo’s breath caught. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. His role was to ensure her safety, her comfort, yet he understood how the presence of a male doctor in such an intimate setting could unsettle someone.

“Why do you say it’s no big deal? It matters to me! I only want you to be close to me like that,” she said, her voice rising with a mix of frustration and affection. After a pause, she added, “Fine, just hurry up. I asked you to come with me, but you were too busy. Now I’m done, and you’re still not here!”

The conversation ended, and the restroom fell silent. Qi Bo waited, listening for the sound of the door closing. When he was sure she had left, he stepped out cautiously, his mind still processing her words. He hadn’t meant to overhear, but her vulnerability struck a chord. It reminded him of his own—a heart caught in time, yearning for something just out of reach.

As he emerged, he nearly stumbled. Lin Ruoying was still there, adjusting her clothing, her back to him. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and for a moment, Qi Bo stood frozen, caught between the past he couldn’t let go and the present he had to face.