The chief surgeon had almost given up. But he had stepped forward, in front of the live broadcast cameras, saved the situation, and perfectly completed the surgery.
"Uh... ah..."
Li Ang responded sluggishly. He slowly put down his phone only after the call ended.
Memories surged into his mind—those minute, trivial fragments of recollection churning to the surface.
He remembered his name and origins:
the loneliness of long hours studying by the window,
the nervousness of entering the examination hall,
the hesitation when applying to university,
the feeling—three-parts solemnity, three-parts nervousness, three-parts excitement, and one-part confusion—when he took the Hippocratic Oath.
He thought of all the little moments in his life, the happy and the unhappy, all the things that had made him who he was.
Li Ang raised his hand and gently touched the light stubble on his chin. In the phone screen's reflection, he saw himself, a few years older now.
