Dr. Chai was a man who no longer worked in the figure skating community but had treated several outstanding figure skaters in the country.

Before Zhang Jue’s surgery began, his former patient Zhang Junbao secretly asked him: “Can Zhang Jue’s foot recover enough for him to skate again? We don’t care how long it takes, we just want to know if he can fully recover.”

Following Zhang Junbao, the national figure skating team’s head coach also asked him the same question.

After all, Zhang Jue was a genius who could break records in international competitions even when injured. The kid had clearly finished the competition cleanly, but still stood on the ice covering his eyes and crying, showing how reluctant he was to leave the rink. As long as there was any possibility, no one wanted to give up on him.

At that time, Dr. Chai replied: “From a doctor’s perspective, competitive sports are inherently demanding. Zhang Jue’s right ankle anterior talofibular ligament and right knee anterior cruciate ligament… As a right-handed skater, he lands on his right foot, right? Then he uses his right foot for flip jumps (F) and lutz jumps (Lz) as well.”

“Unless he can suddenly switch his body orientation and start landing on his left foot.”

To put it simply, if Zhang Jue’s two injured ligaments were on his left leg, not only Dr. Chai but also the coaches would feel relieved. But since they were on his right leg, which bore most of the technical pressure, everyone was worried.

Dr. Chai didn’t definitively end Zhang Jue’s athletic career, but continuing as a figure skater would be too taxing for him, especially since he was still growing. This time, he had to undergo surgery and would need at least three months to recover. Who knew how tall and heavy he would be three months later, and whether he would need new skates again.

They lived in reality, and all these factors had to be considered. After all, Zhang Jue wasn’t the protagonist of some fictional story with special advantages. No matter how talented, he had to bow to reality at times.

Although there were people like Martin, who continued to compete despite spinal injuries, Zhang Junbao, who was like a father to Zhang Jue, would never allow him to continue if it meant worsening his injuries and affecting his future life.

Don’t be fooled by Zhang Junbao’s support for Zhang Jue competing with painkillers at the World Championships. The night before the free skate, this muscular man cried under the covers for half the night and then got up at dawn to ask Shen Liu for two hot eggs to put on his eyes so Zhang Jue wouldn’t notice anything.

Watching Zhang Junbao leave the office, Dr. Chai tidied up his documents, the wisdom reflected on his broad forehead.

Generally, whether there would be lasting aftereffects and to what extent one could recover depended on the patient’s own recovery ability. That’s why young people healed faster than older ones after surgery.

Zhang Jue’s recovery ability was among the best Dr. Chai had encountered. His commitment to training and scientific diet made his physical condition better than 90% of people.

As a doctor, Dr. Chai would do his best in any surgery. The extent of the recovery, however, depended on the patient.

On the day of the surgery, Zhang Jue lay on the gurney being pushed into the operating room. Zhang Junbao stood at the door, trying to comfort him: “Don’t be nervous. It’s just a minimally invasive surgery. It won’t hurt, don’t be afraid.”

Uncle, your voice is shaking. Clearly, you’re more nervous than I am.

Zhang Jue responded: “I’m not afraid. Shen, keep an eye on my uncle. He tends to look for alcohol when he’s nervous. Don’t let him drink.”

With a bang, the operating room door closed, leaving Zhang Jue’s admonition of “no drinking” echoing in the corridor.

Shen Liu rummaged through Zhang Junbao’s backpack and pulled out two cans of pineapple beer.

Zhang Junbao said: “Come on, sir, pineapple beer doesn’t count as alcohol!”

Shen Liu smiled: “Little Jue and Guan Lin are close. You know how Guan Lin has a nose for this. If little Jue calls him to check on you and smells alcohol, Yan Jie is still in Beijing.”

In other words, those who could deal with you weren’t far, so better be careful.

Dr. Chai found Zhang Jue’s nonchalant attitude amusing. He had seen easygoing patients, but Zhang Junbao back then and Zhang Jue now were the most laid-back. He thought he would never forget this Zhang family.

Because the surgery used local anesthesia, Zhang Jue remained conscious. The operating room was filled with cheerful music, the kind played in supermarkets during New Year. Zhang Jue recognized one song as “Busy with Whip and Horse” played on a flute.

As he listened, he also heard Dr. Chai scolding his assistant.

“What’s wrong with you? Your hands are like feet. Can you handle this or not? If not, step aside!”

The assistant, feeling wronged, still did his best to assist. After all, no man likes to be told he can’t do something. Seeing him like this reminded Zhang Jue of Qin Xuejun, who was now assisting a famous orthopedic surgeon.

Of course, Zhang Jue knew operating rooms could play music from his previous appendix surgery. So, when Dr. Chai finished scolding his assistant, Zhang Jue joined the conversation.

“Doctor, since I can’t walk after the surgery anyway, can I use this opportunity to get my foreskin removed in your hospital’s urology department?”

Dr. Chai replied offhandedly: “Doing such a minor procedure here is like using a cannon to kill a mosquito. Our urology department mainly handles kidney and bladder cancer. Once you can walk, go to Xiyuan and see Director Wang. My son had his procedure done by him. He’s available on Wednesday and Friday mornings, and Thursday afternoons.”

The assistant added: “I also had mine done by Director Wang, but isn’t he attending the China Kidney Conference now?”

The anesthetist chimed in: “Dr. Kong is good too. My niece had her procedure done by him.”

The assistant was puzzled: “Niece?”

The anesthetist looked helpless: “Oh, he started wearing skirts last year, so I call him my niece now.”

Everyone sweated.

Amidst the cheerful music of Long Piao Piao’s “Good Luck and Wealth,” Zhang Jue learned many hospital secrets. When the folk music “Golden Snake Dance” ended, Zhang Jue was wheeled out of the operating room.

Zhang Junbao eagerly came up, only to see his nephew cheerfully telling him to remember to take him to Xiyuan Hospital to see Dr. Kong in the urology department after he was discharged to get his foreskin removed.

Zhang Junbao: ?

Since the World Championships ended, Zhang Jue had practically disappeared. He turned down all commercial invitations to focus on recovery. Those who knew understood he was hospitalized; those who didn’t thought he was busy getting married to Saori.

Yes, to his friends, no matter what he went through, his Twitter feed seemed forever dominated by his increasingly chubby hamster.

To put it romantically, the only non-blood-related female who occupied Zhang Jue’s gaze once he left the ice rink was Saori.

Today: “Saori’s Dad” tweeted: “The night I first met Saori, I stood outside the pet shop window eating corn while all the other hamsters were having dinner in their cages. Only Saori turned and stared at me. In that instant, I knew I had to bring this cutie home. So today, we ate boiled corn together again…”

Attached were nine beautiful photos of Saori.

Zhang Zi saw her sister commenting with her small account.

Kei-chan: She wasn’t looking at you, she was looking at the corn in your hand.

A bunch of people liked the comment below.

Zhuang Zi also liked it with her alternate account. She knew that 90% of the accounts that liked it belonged to figure skaters, whose combined gold medals could fill a room.

Was this person’s injury really okay?

“Hm? It refreshed.”

Zhuang Zi clicked on the new update and twitched her mouth.

“Successfully broke the whack-a-mole record? What on earth?”

If you count carefully, it had been a month since Tama-chan’s surgery. But now he was out of the hospital playing whack-a-mole? Was he doing it in a wheelchair?

Indeed, Zhang Jue, who had been in a close relationship with a wheelchair for almost three months, was playing in a wheelchair.

At that moment, he was sitting next to a fountain in a park, with a small hamster cage on his lap. Saori was inside, half-awake and nibbling on hamster food. Qin Xuejun ran over with two drinks and handed him one.

“Here, hot milk.”

“Thanks.”

Zhang Jue took it and looked at the cup in his hand: “Are you drinking coffee?”

Qin Xuejun sat by the fountain and nodded: “Yes, sometimes coffee is my lifeline for writing papers.”

This is the sad part of being a medical student. Not only do they have to write graduation theses, but even after starting work, they can’t escape papers for promotions and salary increases. They have to keep learning their whole lives.

Since everyone was sitting, Zhang Jue discreetly glanced at the top of Qin Xuejun’s head and noticed his hair was still thick. He couldn’t help but ask: “What do you use to wash your hair?”

He wanted to find out this guy’s hair care secret to share with Shen and Coach Song.

Qin Xuejun mentioned a cheap anti-dandruff shampoo, the same one Zhang Jue used. Zhang Jue immediately understood. Although Qin Xuejun seemed like he had an edge in life, his real advantage was his thick hair.

Knowing this shampoo brand, Shen and Coach Song might be envious enough to want to hit him.

Qin Xuejun wasn’t always lucky, though. Once, when he made a little kid cry while setting a bone, the kid’s dad punched him, leaving a bruise at the corner of his eye. Only then was he allowed a day off. Given that most of his friends were stuck in the training abyss, only injured Zhang Jue was available to accompany him.

So, Qin Xuejun, who didn’t really want a day off and usually stayed home reading, went out for a stroll with Zhang Jue, who was almost going moldy from doing exercises in the hospital.

Although Ms. Zhang loved her eldest son, she couldn’t stay by his side all the time. Once she confirmed that both of Zhang Jue’s surgeries went well, she packed up and left.

When Zhang Jue recovered enough to walk, he had to go back to school.

The two young men chatted casually by the fountain.

“You’ll be taking the college entrance exam next year, right?”

Zhang Jue nodded: “Yes, in June or July next year. After this semester, I’ll be in my final year of high school.”

Thinking about it, Zhang Jue sighed inwardly.

If he hadn’t quit, he would undoubtedly be preparing for the Winter Olympics in February next year. Preparing for the Olympics required starting six months in advance, including high-altitude training, which would consume his entire first semester of senior year.

Even though Zhang Jue considered himself smart, if he didn’t focus on studying in his final year and put all his energy into the Olympics, he might only achieve a basic entry into a 985 university. With some luck, he might return to his alma mater, the Agricultural University.

After all, he wasn’t a super genius. Despite having experienced the college entrance exam once before, he couldn’t even remember the essay topic from his last exam. Clearly, fate didn’t plan to give him any special advantages.

But if he quit figure skating and focused entirely on studying, he might become Qin Xuejun’s junior at university.

Life always requires choices, but his injuries had made the choice for him.

So he asked: “Does Shuimu University have an agriculture major?”

Qin Xuejun thought for a moment and replied confidently: “No, only Peking University does.”

Zhang Jue’s face fell.

Qin Xuejun quickly added: “But our biology and chemistry majors are excellent. Aren’t you good at those subjects?”

Zhang Jue replied: “No thanks, I won’t jump into the biochemistry and materials science pit.”

 

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