Chapter 2 — The Familiar Eyes
865 Words
Morning came with a sharp white light.
The hospital looked too clean, too quiet,
like a world made of glass.
Su Wan stood in the hallway, holding a folder to her chest.
The snow outside still hadn’t stopped.
Through the tall windows, she could see flakes drifting down,
soft and endless, just like in her dream.
Her colleagues were talking about new patients,
the sound of their voices thin and distant.
She barely heard them.
Last night’s dream — that voice, that sword, that man —
still clung to her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake off.
Her heart skipped every time she thought of that name.
Shen Yu.
The morning meeting started.
Doctors filled the conference room, their white coats blending with the walls.
The air smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant.
Su Wan took a seat near the end of the table,
trying to focus on the case reports flashing on the projector.
And then—
A man’s voice came from the doorway.
“Good morning, everyone.”
She froze.
That voice—
steady, low, familiar.
When she looked up,
a tall man in a clean white coat was walking toward the front.
His steps were calm, his expression unreadable.
The light behind him turned his figure into a blur of silver and shadow.
“This is Dr. Shen Yu,” the department head announced.
“He’ll be joining us as the new Chief of Cardiac Surgery.”
For a heartbeat, everything around her went silent.
Shen Yu.
The name echoed inside her,
colliding with the image from her dream —
black armor, falling snow, those same calm, deep eyes.
She tried to breathe normally,
but her chest felt tight,
as if someone was pressing down on it with invisible hands.
Shen Yu began to speak, his tone professional, composed.
Yet every word felt like an echo from another time,
a language only her soul understood.
Their eyes met once — only once —
but that moment stretched,
longer than a breath,
longer than reason.
Her pulse stumbled.
He looked away first.
---
After the meeting,
she gathered her notes with hands that refused to stay steady.
The folder almost slipped from her grasp.
When she looked up again, Shen Yu was standing right in front of her.
“Dr. Su, right?” His tone was polite, distant.
“I reviewed the files from last night’s surgery. Good work.”
His voice sounded exactly the same as in her dream.
Her throat went dry.
“Thank you, Dr. Shen.”
His eyes flicked to her hands.
“You’re trembling,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
She forced a smile, pulling her hand back.
But he didn’t look convinced.
For one brief second,
the way he looked at her — calm, searching, almost tender —
made her heart twist painfully.
It was the same gaze from the snow,
the same helpless silence before her death.
He spoke again, snapping her out of it.
“I’d like you to assist me in surgery this afternoon. You’re familiar with the patient’s case.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Yes, I am.”
“Good. See you in the OR.”
He left.
His footsteps echoed down the hall,
steady, rhythmic — like a heartbeat.
---
That afternoon,
the operating room was bright as daylight.
Machines hummed softly, gloves snapped into place,
the air filled with the faint scent of steel and alcohol.
Su Wan stood opposite him,
both of them masked and focused.
The patient’s chest was open beneath the sterile drapes,
and time slowed to a different rhythm —
the rhythm of life and death.
Their teamwork was flawless.
Every movement felt natural,
as if they had done this together a thousand times before.
He didn’t need to tell her what to do.
She knew, somehow, before he even asked.
For a moment,
she caught herself staring at his eyes over the mask.
Cold, calm, and yet strangely familiar —
as if they had shared a lifetime inside that single glance.
“Dr. Su,” he said suddenly, “hold the clamp a bit higher.”
She obeyed, fingers steady,
but her heart felt anything but steady.
---
When the surgery ended,
the patient was stable.
Everyone sighed in relief.
Shen Yu removed his gloves and looked at her again.
“Good work,” he said.
His tone was simple, but his eyes lingered on her for a second too long.
And that single second was enough.
Enough to bring back the dream,
the sword, the falling snow, the sound of her name breaking in the wind.
She turned away, pretending to tidy the instruments.
But even as she did,
she knew she wouldn’t be able to forget those eyes.
---
That night, she dreamed again.
Snow fell quietly over an empty courtyard.
Chains dragged across the ground.
A man in black armor stood at a distance,
his eyes filled with grief.
This time, he spoke.
Only one word.
“Why?”
The wind blew it away before she could answer.
She woke with tears on her face.
Outside her window, snow was still falling,
the same white silence wrapping around
- Writer
