Chapter 8

The door of the operating room slammed shut. Yuki Terajima sat down on the waiting bench and leaned her back against the cold wall to maintain her sitting posture. She felt exhausted and powerless.

She opened her phone and saw several missed calls. It was exactly three o'clock in the afternoon. The afternoon lawsuit might have already started. She sighed and replied briefly to a text message. It was expected that Kunimitsu Tezuka, who was defending in court at that time, would see that it was already evening.

The weather was not good that day. The one or two pale rays of sunlight were now hidden in the thick gray clouds, and the sky was filled with haze.

Keigo Atobe stood by the window with his hands folded. He had already changed out of his tennis suit in the locker room. The black Armani suit wrapped around his slender figure, and the dim light in the corridor outlined his handsome silhouette.

He looked at the woman behind him in the reflection of the glass window. Her body wrapped in a windbreaker looked weak, like an exquisite porcelain cup that would fall to pieces if he was not careful.

Even for the difficult Batista operation, Yuushi Oshima, the first assistant, never thought that this unplanned operation would last so long.

The difficulty of Batista operation lies not only in the precise requirements of myocardial resection, but also in the fact that the dead myocardium must be removed in a state of cardiac arrest and the heart must be re-beating. The requirements for the team members of the operation are also almost strict. Fortunately, the Batista team of the University of Tokyo Hospital, from the chief surgeon to the nurses who deliver the equipment, are all elites selected from their respective teams. They have experienced many difficult and tense operations, with a success rate of more than 90%.

However, even so, unpredictable things still happen.

From the sudden onset of Seiichi Terajima to the lateness of Takaya Kishimoto, they were all unexpected. Even if it did not disrupt the operation, Yuushi Oshima had a vague feeling of uneasiness.

This feeling of uneasiness came from the surgeon beside him, Takashi Kishimoto. Although most of his face was covered by a hat and a mask, and his expression could not be seen, and his hands were as orderly as before, he could still feel the stiffness and tension in his body.

This was really incredible for a famous doctor who had successfully completed many difficult operations.

The operation was silent, with only the whispers between the doctors and the sound of the transmission equipment.

"The heart stopped beating, and the diseased myocardium was removed."

Takashi Kishimoto said in a low voice, and took the shiny small blade.

Suddenly, his fingers began to tremble involuntarily, and he trembled and clasped his right wrist tightly with his left hand, as if trying to control the direction of the knife.

"Teacher?" Oshimoto looked up in horror. He could not see the expression on the other person's face, but his eyes were already filled with uncontrollable panic.

"Dr. Kishimoto!" The others noticed the abnormality and let out a low cry of disbelief.

Finally, Kishimoto Takashi could no longer control his arm. The bright and slender blade slipped out of his hand, leaving a thin wound on the bright red heart. In an instant, a bright red liquid as glittering as amber gushed out.

"Doctor Oshimoto, there is bleeding on the surface of the left ventricle, and the patient's blood pressure is abnormal!" The anesthesiologist stared at the data on the instrument and spoke in a hurry.

A commotion.

"Stop the bleeding immediately!" Oshimoto glanced at the trembling Kishimoto in horror and signaled the pathologist to take him away. "Doctor Kishimoto is no longer suitable for continuing the operation. Take him down to rest."

"Yes!"

"I will be the surgeon for the next operation. Please cooperate with me." Oshimoto Yuuji stood in the position that had just been vacated, looking down at the heart that no longer beat. It was a bloody mess under the light. He calmed down and sweat dripped from his palms.

"Yes!" "

Nurse Asano, give me the tissue scissors."

"Yes!"

The lights in the operating room were bright but not dazzling, quietly casting the vaguely flickering figures around the operating table.

"What's going on?"

Takashi Kishimoto was also helped out of the operating room by the pathologist. Even though he fainted, he still caused a commotion and panic outside the operating room.

A passing nurse noticed the situation and hurried over to help carry him away. Her high heels hit the smooth floor and made a rapid "thump thump" sound.

Terashima Yuuki stood up from the bench as if startled, and grabbed the pathologist who was about to turn back to the operating room.

"Dr. Kishimoto is unwell and can't continue the operation. Now Dr. Oshitari will take over as the chief surgeon."

"So, how is the patient?"

"Please calm down. We... will do our best." The pathologist seemed a little unable to look directly at her aggressive expression. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly flashed into the operating room.

"What kind of answer is that!" Terashima Yuuki almost stepped forward, but the cold door closed, building an insurmountable barrier.

"It won't help even if you go in."

Someone held her shoulders down, and Atobe Keigo stood behind her and looked at her coldly. His deep and calm eyes gradually cooled down her rare emotional impulse.

"You won't understand." She took a long breath, and as if she was running out of strength, she took her hand off the door handle.

Atobe frowned, he was a little uncomfortable with the fragility of this woman.

There was a glass roof above the operating room for insiders to observe the surgical process. It was not open to family members unless in special circumstances, but Atobe Keigo easily broke this exception.

"It's true that Oshitari Yuushi is a genius, but Dean Sato, doesn't the Tokyo University Hospital have a senior surgeon who is more experienced and skilled than him?" Atobe Keigo stood on the observation stand and looked coldly at the busy figures in front of the operating table, his cold eyes inadvertently fell on the fifty-year-old man behind him. 

"Doctors need to go through several disinfection procedures before the operation, which takes a lot of time. The patient's current condition won't last that long." Dean Sato, who rushed over after hearing the news, stared at the glass. The shock from the sudden accident had not yet faded from his face. "Yushi has been following Dr. Kishimoto in clinical research and practice. He has experienced more than 20 Batista operations so far. It is the best option for him to replace the main surgeon in an emergency." 

"Then tell me, what is the chance of success of the operation, huh?" 

Atobe raised his eyebrows and gave a chilling saber-like look. Sato Nobuhiko's facial expression froze, and he choked for a while without saying anything, but just surrendered his eyes to the lonely woman standing solemnly in front of the bright glass. She stared at the operating table with a pale face, and did not say a word for a long time. She only bit her thin lips with her delicate teeth, and blood oozed out. 

"I should go see Dr. Kishimoto." After a while, Sato Nobuhiko said something and turned away. 

Atobe Keigo knew that this was a gamble. 

"Perhaps I shouldn't have brought you here." 

The Ice King said suddenly, quietly gazing at the thin back of the woman. 

"The wound has been sutured." Oshitari Yuushi removed his hands from the bright red, burning heart. His gloved fingertips and palms were all cool and sweat-soaked. He raised his head and glanced at the people on the observation platform above. Because of the sweat on his forehead, a layer of mist covered his glasses. "Start the pacemaker system." The 

data on the cold instrument was jumping, without any substance. 

Nearly a minute seemed as long as a century. 

"Let's go. It will put pressure on the doctor here."

Atobe frowned and reached out to grab her wrist, but she stubbornly broke free.

The gorgeous man with purple hair narrowed his eyes and wanted to say something, but he saw the people in the operating room below in chaos.

"The heart has not restarted." The voice of nurse Rima Asano, the only female member of the team, trembled uncontrollably.

"Increase the current and inject the cardiotonic."

As if hearing the footsteps of the god of death, the white operating room was in chaos in an instant.

Atobe stared at the chaotic crowd through the glass, and suddenly stepped forward to grab Terajima Yuki's arm. His words were short but unquestionable: "Don't look, let's go."

"Yada!" She suddenly burst into a choked cry, and waved her arms vigorously to try to get rid of his shackles, but he held her wrist tightly and leaned back.

She fell on the cold floor of the hospital, supported the ground with one hand, and looked back at the operating room that was already filled with panic.

The boy lying on the operating table, his heart stopped beating, and his body gradually became cold.

Hades wielded his reaper sickle to obtain the sacrifice of life, and his black wings descended with a roar.

Terajima Yuuki knelt down dejectedly, her eyes lost focus, and she moved the corners of her lips twitchingly, and tears fell unconsciously, moistening the tip of her dry lips. The salty taste spread between her lips, teeth and throat, and the sadness was reversed.

Atobe Keigo looked at her silently, maintaining the posture of holding her arm just now. The woman looked sad, without crying and lingering, but with an indifferent and unfocused look, which was sad and thrilling.

He squatted down, knelt on one knee, and forcefully turned her head to snuggle into his arms.

"Don't look, do you hear me?" He said, "I told you not to look!"

At that moment, her body twitched violently, and Armani's black suit was wet.

The cold data line of the electrocardiogram was like a calm river flowing slowly. Yuushi Oshita raised his head and looked at the sad woman crying on the ground opposite him. He slowly lowered his head, using his glasses and hair to cover the inexplicable sadness in his eyes, and raised his sexy and lazy voice: "Sew it up."

The killing wind passed through the corridors of the hospital, chanting intermittently, extending to the vast and boundless sky, leading the dead into heaven.

She cried in her dream, and her tears fell into her heart, as if a piece of soft flesh was cut off, and the pain was like a fish without sea water.

The dream was as dark as a desert, and the boy's stubborn and pale face could not see his expression clearly. He

only lingered in front of her eyes for a while, and then disappeared suddenly.

She woke up from the nightmare and opened her eyes, but it was the glaring white in the ward, and the taste of soda water made her feel sour.

"Awake?" A warm hand covered her forehead. In the dim light, she could see the man with light blond hair and rimless glasses. His cold and calm voice made her feel relieved.

"When did you come?"

"I came after the court." Tezuka Kunimitsu looked at her with a complicated expression and pulled his hand away from her forehead. "You haven't eaten anything yet. I'll ask the nurse to get some."

"I'm not hungry." She said lightly, weak and looking from the ceiling to the window. The night seemed to fall suddenly. The cold air that arrived in the afternoon was not reduced but increased in momentum at night. Even through the glass, she could vaguely feel the whistling of the north wind in the night.

"Eat a little, otherwise your stomach will hurt." Tezuka frowned and opened the door to go out.

Hey, Tezuka, I don't feel any pain except my heart.

Lying on her back on the bed, she closed her eyes sadly. The light crystal liquid slowly slid down her eyelashes and melted into the white sheets and quilt corners, making the dense texture mottled.

She slowly opened her eyes. The clock opposite pointed to nine o'clock in the evening. The snow-like ward was silent, and the chill of late autumn penetrated into her bones.

Terajima Yuki struggled to sit up, leaned against the head of the bed, hugged her knees, and shivered her delicate body.

Or maybe, even her heart was a little numb.

She rested her head on her arms and sneered softly.

After all, she was the only one left in this world.

Tezuka Kunimitsu came back with a disposable lunch box, looked at the shivering pale woman, his slender fingers paused on the door handle for a moment, closed the door and walked over.

"I made some white porridge in the restaurant to warm your stomach." Put the lunch box on the bedside table, open the lid, and the faint fragrance of porridge filled the air. The heat blurred the cold lenses, and Tezuka Kunimitsu sighed with disappointment.

It was almost dusk when he arrived. The body of Seiichi Terajima was already cold. The pale and sunless boy, no one knew what kind of mood and vision he had when he passed away. Was he really looking forward to the sunshine of life, or was he longing for the kingdom of death? 

"For so many years, I have always had this dream." Suddenly, the woman on the bed said slowly, her eyes flowing like a river on the milky white quilt, "I always worry that maybe one day, he will just die like this." 

"Yuki..." Tezuka paused, the young man who was always calm and unmoved hesitated for a moment and did not speak. 

"Now this dream has finally woken up, without any signs, suddenly, so straightforward." She ignored him, raised the corner of her lips in self-mockery, and continued to talk to herself, "It was the same fifteen years ago. My mother went to the hospital and did not wake up. Then I had Seiichi by my side, such a small baby, with poor health and congenital diseases. Now, even this child has left me." 

The woman sighed faintly, tears fell, and her voice became blurred. 

"I don't have to think of those unpleasant past events when I see him, I don't have to worry about whether his condition worsens every day, I don't have to work so hard every day to make money to pay for the surgery... I should feel relieved, right? But, Tezuka, why..." 

Tezuka Kunimitsu leaned over and hugged her body. She cried in his arms, and sadness surged like a tide in the dark night. In this world, she was finally alone.