The phone vibrated on the break room table at the nurses' station.Yuyan, still in her white coat, was reviewing some charts when she saw his name appear on the screen.Her heart quickened—not from the urgency of work, but from life's unexpected turns.
— I'm going to the hospital this afternoon.— I'd like to see you, if you can.
She read it twice. Then a third time.The words were simple, yet they carried a delicacy that didn't belong in a notification.
She took a deep breath, adjusted the badge in her pocket, and replied with only:— I'll be here.
The hours that followed felt longer than an entire shift.Each step through the corridors carried the expectation of seeing him appear—with that serene gait, the eyes that listened more than they spoke, and the calm that, somehow, always disarmed her.
When she finally saw him cross the main lobby, time itself seemed to slow.He wore a faint smile—subtle, almost imperceptible, yet enough to remind her that some gestures needed no words to exist.
Xiaoqing, who had an eye trained to read even her friend's silences, noticed at once.— That's the face of someone who just got invisible flowers… — she murmured, raising a playful eyebrow.
The hours dragged on. Between consultations, checking medications, and brief pauses for tea, Yuyan felt time weigh differently—every minute seemed to prepare for the instant he would arrive.
When the clock neared four, the door to the main corridor opened.And there he was.
Wen walked with his usual composure, but his eyes sought her immediately, as if they knew exactly where to find her.Xiaoqing nudged Yuyan with her elbow.— Guess who's here… — she whispered with a smile.
Wen stopped before them, greeted them with a discreet gesture, and said in a calm tone:— Do you have a moment now? I thought we could have a coffee together.
Xiaoqing grinned wide, pretending to be surprised.— Well, imagine that, almost as if it were rehearsed. What a coincidence… — She paused dramatically and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.— What a pity, I just remembered I have something urgent to take care of in the ward.
Yuyan's eyes widened.— Xiaoqing…
— Relax, it's quick — she said, giving her friend a nearly imperceptible wink.— Enjoy the coffee.
And before Yuyan could protest, Xiaoqing was already walking down the hall, leaving behind only the light sound of her steps and a mischievous smile in the air.
Wen adjusted his glasses, turning his calm gaze back to Yuyan.— Shall we?
Yuyan nodded slowly. And suddenly, the hospital corridors—always so full of rush and noise—seemed to quiet themselves, just so the two of them could walk side by side toward the coffee.
The hospital café was almost empty at that hour. A few cups clinked in the distance, and the smell of freshly ground beans mingled with the faint aroma of warmed bread. Yuyan sat by the window, and Wen settled across from her, placing his cane calmly at the side of the table.
— I don't want to take too much of your time — he said, adjusting his glasses. — I know you're busy. I just thought a quick coffee would be enough to see how you're doing.
Yuyan lowered her eyes to the cup.— I'm fine… just tired. A full shift, as always.
— I can imagine — Wen replied with a serene half-smile. — But even so, you still manage to bring calm to everyone here.
She felt her cheeks warm, quickly looking away. For a moment, the silence was comfortable—filled only with the steam rising from their cups.
Then Wen leaned forward slightly.— I'd like to make an invitation. Next Saturday, I plan to cook dinner at my place. — He paused, watching her. — Nothing formal, don't worry. I just thought it would be good to have some time outside of here.
Yuyan raised her eyes, surprised.— A dinner…?
— Yes. And I don't want you to feel pressured. — His voice was low, almost confiding. — You can bring Nurse Xiaoqing as well. I'm sure she'd enjoy it.
A smile appeared on her lips, unbidden.— And Professor Lin? — she ventured, remembering their friendship.
— Of course. — Wen nodded naturally. — I thought of him too. It will be a simple dinner, but I'd like all of you to come.
Yuyan lightly pressed the rim of her cup between her fingers, trying to steady the unexpected feeling his words had stirred. It wasn't just an invitation to a meal—there was something of home in it, of sharing, of opening an intimate space.
— I'll tell Xiaoqing. I think she'll like the idea.
— Good. — His gaze rested on her with quiet calm. — Then it's settled.
The coffee ended quickly, just as he had promised. Few words, yet enough to leave Yuyan's heart unsettled for the rest of her shift.
When the clock finally marked the end of the day, she and Xiaoqing walked out together through the hospital gates. The night air was crisp, streetlights flickering on one by one, reflecting off the damp asphalt.
Xiaoqing stretched her arms with a sigh.— Finally free. If anyone calls me back, I'm running away.
Yuyan let out a soft laugh, though her expression still carried something different. The friend didn't take long to notice.
— You're hiding something from me — she pointed, narrowing her eyes. — Spill it.
Yuyan hesitated for a moment before speaking.— He… invited us to dinner at his place. On Saturday.
Xiaoqing stopped in her tracks, eyes widening.— Wait… dinner at his place? — she repeated, savoring each word. — That's practically… I don't know… a whole episode of a romance drama!
— It's not like that… — Yuyan tried to object, blushing. — He said to bring you too. And Professor Lin.
Xiaoqing crossed her arms, feigning seriousness.— Oh, so I'm the official third wheel. All right. — She broke into a grin, then winked. — But admit it, you got nervous.
Yuyan lowered her gaze, unable to deny it.
The November evening carried a chill through the windows, making the light curtains sway gently. Inside the room, the air seemed warmed by the bedside lamp and by Xiaoqing's presence, as she scattered clothes over the bed like a last-minute stylist.
— I still can't believe this — she murmured, holding up two hangers. — You, Lin Yuyan, going to dinner at Professor Wen's place. This is basically… a national holiday.
Yuyan smiled shyly, adjusting the loose ribbon that tied part of her hair. Her fingers trembled a little more than she wished.— It's nothing like that. It's just… a simple dinner.
— "Simple"? — Xiaoqing raised her eyebrows theatrically. — That man doesn't know the meaning of simple. I bet even his kitchen kettle quotes philosophy.
Yuyan let out a soft laugh, trying to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. Her eyes lingered on the cream-colored dress hanging in the wardrobe: long sleeves, soft fabric, a modest cut at the waist. It had no sparkle, but there was a quiet sobriety in it—almost as if it had been made for that night.
— This one — Xiaoqing said firmly, pulling the dress and holding it against her friend's body. — Perfect. Elegant, delicate, without looking forced. And best of all: no scarf.
— No scarf? But it's cold…
Xiaoqing smiled mischievously.— Exactly. I have a feeling someone else will take care of that for you.
Yuyan turned her gaze aside, embarrassed. She slipped into the cream fabric carefully, as if she might tear the silence around her. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn't see luxury—she saw calm. And maybe that was what mattered most.
— Is it… too much? — she asked, uncertain.
— No. Just enough to be remembered. — Xiaoqing adjusted her shoulders, then turned to the mirror herself, checking the wine-colored coat she had chosen. — I'll go with this one. Perfect contrast: you, moonlight; me, warm wine.
The two laughed together.
Soon after, Yuyan was fastening simple low heels, while Xiaoqing tied her hair into a practical bun. Beneath it all, there was a sense that time was moving too quickly—and at the same time, suspended.
From the kitchen, Lin Meilan's voice echoed gently:— You're going to be late.
— We're coming down! — Xiaoqing called back brightly.
Yuyan picked up her small bag, took a deep breath, and for a moment, kept her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes caught her reflection once more: cream dress, light coat, cheeks flushed from the cold.
Xiaoqing leaned a shoulder against hers and murmured, almost seriously:— Relax. Tonight isn't about the hospital, or diagnoses. It's about you. About being seen.
Yuyan nodded slowly. And as the two stepped out, the chill of November swept into the hallway, as though announcing that fate was already waiting outside.
The building rose with modern lines of glass and concrete, reflecting the lights of a city beginning to glow beneath November's cold. Yuyan and Xiaoqing crossed the illuminated lobby, its solemn silence broken only by the echo of their footsteps.
The elevator climbed unhurriedly to the top floor. When the doors opened, Wen was already waiting at the entrance of his apartment. He wore a dark linen shirt and sober trousers, but it was the quiet ease with which he held the door open that revealed the essence of the moment.
— Welcome — he said softly, stepping aside to let them in.
Xiaoqing was the first to cross the threshold, her eyes widening discreetly.— Wow… — she whispered, turning her gaze as if she were walking through a gallery.
The apartment was spacious, lit by panoramic windows that revealed the autumn sky and the scattered lights of distant buildings. Pale walls contrasted with furniture of clean lines, yet warmth touched every corner: books stacked on wooden shelves, vases with modest plants, paintings in soft tones.
— This feels more like a refuge than a home — Xiaoqing murmured with a smile. — Professor, do you really live like this every day?
Wen adjusted his glasses, almost shy.— I just try to keep it in order.
He led them down a hallway, briefly showing the living room, the glassed-in balcony overlooking the river, and a small music room where a black piano rested, its edges worn.
— So… make yourselves comfortable. I'll start the dinner.
Xiaoqing made a move to follow him into the kitchen, but Wen's tone was firm and kind:— You're my guests. Tonight, you only need to relax.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Wen opened the door and welcomed Lin, his colleague from the department. He wore a dark blazer, his demeanor as light and sociable as ever.
— Good evening. I brought wine — he said, raising the bottle casually.
After greeting the two women warmly, Lin noticed Wen already arranging ingredients on the kitchen counter. So he turned to them:— Come, I'll show you his study. If you haven't seen it yet, it's the most impressive part.
The study was at the end of the hallway, silent, with shelves lined from floor to ceiling. The space breathed concentration: biochemistry volumes mingled with works of literature, papers neatly filed in leather folders, and on a side shelf, golden and silver medals gleamed under the soft light of a lamp. There were also framed academic awards, certificates from international conferences, and a discreet photo of him in an auditorium, holding a certificate while the audience applauded.
Yuyan stepped closer slowly, her eyes lingering on each detail. She lightly touched the edge of a frame with her fingertips, almost in silent reverence.
— He never talks about this — Lin remarked with a half-smile. — But he's carried the name of our university across the whole world.
Xiaoqing, with her hands tucked into the pockets of her wine-colored coat, laughed softly.— Now it makes sense. It's not that he's too serious… it's that he has more titles than episodes of a Chinese drama.
Lin chuckled in agreement.— True. Deep down he tries to hide it, but that air of a "monk of science" doesn't fool anyone.
Yuyan lowered her eyes with a timid smile. In the silence, she felt herself drawing closer to understanding a side of Wen he never showed—yet lived quietly in every medal, every carefully aligned book.
The aroma began to spread through the room like a promise: ginger, golden garlic, the delicate base of miso, and the freshness of herbs chopped moments before. Wen worked silently in the kitchen, but every gesture seemed part of a ritual: stirring the pot, tasting the broth, setting the table with pale dishes, each plate aligned with precision.
— I don't know what looks better… — Xiaoqing said, leaning on the edge of the counter — …the professor cooking like some kind of master of ceremonies, or the smell that's making me starve.
Wen only gave a faint smile, serving rice into individual bowls.— It's simple. But I hope you'll like it.
Minutes later, the four of them gathered at the table. The lights were soft, glowing over the pale wood, and outside the November night blew cold wind against the glass. Inside, however, there was a quiet warmth—from the steam of the food and from the company.
The bowls steamed with a thick udon soup, fresh mushrooms and scallions, alongside small plates of grilled fish and sautéed vegetables.
Xiaoqing widened her eyes, already reaching for her chopsticks.— This is simple? Professor Wen, if you ever get tired of biochemistry, you could open a restaurant.
Yuyan smiled faintly, picking up her chopsticks with care.— It's… beautiful.
Wen watched her reaction more than he listened to her words. There was something in the way Yuyan arranged her chopsticks, in the attentive silence before the first taste, that felt familiar—as if she was listening even to the flavor.
Lin raised the glass of wine he had brought.— A toast — he said, in his always calm tone. — To good food and good company.
The glasses and cups touched lightly.
For the first few minutes, the dinner passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of broth being sipped and chopsticks tapping porcelain.
— It's wonderful — Yuyan said at last, her voice low but sincere.
— I agree — Xiaoqing added, already at ease. — And look, I don't usually compliment professors' cooking.
They all laughed softly. Wen only inclined his head in thanks.
Then Lin, always curious yet discreet, turned to Xiaoqing.— And you, Nurse Xiaoqing… I've noticed you like to talk more than Yuyan. — He smiled faintly. — How long have you been working at the hospital?
— Three years — she replied, tucking her hair back. — Pediatrics. Between ginger candies hidden in my pocket and stories made up to convince kids to take their IVs.
Lin laughed heartily.— So you're the famous storyteller. I've heard your name more than once in the halls.
— Ah, I hope in good contexts. — She winked. — If anyone said I bribed a kid with candy, that part's true.
The table laughed again. Beside her, Yuyan shook her head, unable to hide her shy smile.
Lin raised his glass once more, now toward Xiaoqing.— Then I think I'll want to hear one of those stories someday.
— Only if there's chrysanthemum tea with it — she shot back playfully.
Wen observed everything in silence, but a trace of quiet satisfaction lingered in his eyes. Perhaps this was what he had wanted that night: not just to cook, but to create a space where November's cold stayed outside, and inside there was only warmth.
The bowls were already empty, and a satisfied silence wrapped around the table. The steam of the soup had given way to the soft fragrance of tea, now served in small cups.
Yuyan kept her hands around the warm porcelain, as if it were an anchor to hide the faint blush on her cheeks. Wen, across from her, simply watched in silence—his eyes lingering on her longer than he usually allowed. When Yuyan, distracted, raised her gaze, the meeting was inevitable: a second too long, deep, enough to make the world around them seem to dissolve.
Xiaoqing noticed. And smiled mischievously before leaning toward Lin.— Do you see that? — she whispered, but just loud enough to tease. — If this keeps up, I'll feel like an extra in a romance drama.
Lin chuckled softly, resting his elbow on the table.— It's not just your impression. And I must admit… I never imagined Wen like this.
— Like how? — she asked, feigning innocence.— Looking at someone as if they were more important than every calculation he's ever done.
Xiaoqing blinked, satisfied with the answer.— So I'm not the only one who noticed.
Meanwhile, Wen stood, breaking the silence only with the sound of his blazer shifting. He walked into the next room and pulled back the piano cover, revealing the dark shine of the instrument.— May I play something? — he asked softly.
Xiaoqing nearly clapped her hands.— Of course! Finally, we'll discover another one of the professor's secret talents.
But Wen wasn't looking at her. His eyes were fixed on Yuyan, as if the question were meant only for her.
Yuyan nodded slowly, a timid smile on her lips.
The sound began softly, piano notes filling the room with delicacy. It was River Flows in You by Yiruma — music that seemed to hold all the pauses and unspoken feelings of that night.
Yuyan felt her chest tighten. Each note fell over her like a gaze, a gesture that needed no translation. When, by instinct, her eyes met Wen's again, he did not look away. He played, but it seemed as though every chord was a silent dialogue between them.
On the other side, Xiaoqing leaned toward Lin, whispering:— If he hasn't noticed yet, I'll draw him a sign myself.
Lin smiled, glancing between Wen and Yuyan.— I think he has noticed. He just doesn't know what to do with it.
— And her? — Xiaoqing pressed.
— She already knows. She just doesn't have the courage to admit it.
Xiaoqing stayed quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then she laughed lightly.— You understand people more than you seem to.
— It's because I observe in silence too — Lin replied. — Just not as much as Wen.
The music ended. The echo of the last notes lingered in the air, unwilling to fade. Wen stood, but said nothing. He simply walked to the balcony and slid open the glass door.— The sky is clear. Come see.
The cold breeze rushed in immediately. Xiaoqing pulled her wine-colored coat tighter around her shoulders; Lin instinctively drew closer, offering quiet presence without saying a word.
Yuyan stepped to the edge of the balcony, feeling the wind against her face. The city sparkled below, and the high moon seemed to keep them company. Wen stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel the quiet warmth of his presence.
For a moment, there was only the two of them. Yuyan turned her face slowly and found his gaze. It was a look that spoke more than any sentence: no rush, no demand — only recognition.
The cold wind made her shiver. Without hesitation, Wen removed the dark scarf around his neck and draped it gently over her shoulders.— It's cold.
Yuyan held the fabric with both hands, as if trying to keep the entire gesture inside her chest.— Thank you…
He only smiled faintly. A smile that wasn't of courtesy — but of tenderness.
Behind them, Xiaoqing and Lin exchanged knowing looks.— They're going to give me trouble — she murmured.— The good kind of trouble — he replied calmly.
And for a moment, the night felt entirely theirs — every silence, every glance, every shared breath beneath the November sky.
When the wine glasses had emptied, the clock had already slipped past eleven. Outside, November's night grew colder, the high moon lighting the rooftops.
Reclining on the sofa, Xiaoqing sighed.— Well, I think it's time we go, before I get too attached to your couch.
— I'll call a car — Wen said without hesitation.
— Oh, no need, we can… — Yuyan began, but he interrupted gently:— It's late. And it's cold. I want to make sure you get home safely.
There was no room for refusal. Yuyan only nodded, lowering her eyes, while Wen reached for his phone and placed the request.
While they waited, the four remained in the living room. The yellow glow of the lamp wrapped everything in soft shadow, and the piano in the background seemed to still hold the echo of the music.
Lin and Xiaoqing sat side by side, speaking in low voices. Curious, he asked:— So… when did you and Yuyan meet?
— College. — Xiaoqing smiled, answering easily. — And ever since, I decided she needed someone to remind her you can't live only on silence.
Lin watched her for a moment, amused.— And is it working?
— More or less — she replied with a wink. — But tonight… I don't think I'll have to try so hard.
She tilted her chin ever so slightly. Lin followed the gesture.
Across the room, Yuyan stood near the balcony, Wen's scarf still around her shoulders. Wen stood close, silent, his gaze unmoving from her.
Feeling the soft weight of his attention, Yuyan lifted her eyes. The two of them met — a long, full instant that needed no words.
— See? — Xiaoqing murmured quietly to Lin. — I told you.
Lin inclined his head, agreeing.— It's happening.
Wen's phone vibrated, breaking the silence. He confirmed the ride.— The car is here.
Xiaoqing stood first, still smiling. Lin rose with her. Wen approached Yuyan, adjusted the scarf on her shoulders with care, and said softly:— Good night.
She replied almost in a whisper, though her eyes shone with something new:— Good night.
As they walked down the hall toward the elevator, Xiaoqing turned discreetly to Yuyan and, with a mischievous smile, murmured just for her:— You know this is only the beginning, right?
Yuyan didn't answer. She only clutched the scarf against her chest, still feeling the warmth of his hands in the fabric.
The elevator descended in silence to the lobby, and soon the four stood before the black car waiting at the curb. The driver opened the rear door; Xiaoqing and Yuyan stepped in first, with Wen and Lin following.
Inside, the car was warm, in contrast to the November wind outside. The city lights swept quickly past the windows, reflecting on the glass like strokes of golden ink.
Xiaoqing, always the first to break the silence, leaned slightly toward Lin.— So, professor, confess: have you ever seen Wen cook for anyone other than himself?
Lin smiled.— No. And I'll treasure this moment as a relic. I think it was the first time he turned spices into poetry.
Xiaoqing let out a short laugh.— I knew it! So it wasn't just my impression.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the seat, Yuyan kept her hands folded in her lap, the scarf still draped around her shoulders. Wen, beside her, said nothing — but every time the car passed through a lit street, the reflection revealed his eyes fixed on her, as if the world outside were nothing more than background scenery.
At one point, Yuyan dared to lift her eyes. Wen's gaze met hers immediately. Neither looked away. They simply remained like that, in a silent dialogue, as the car moved forward.
— You two are awfully quiet back there — Lin remarked with mild irony, without looking directly.
Xiaoqing chuckled, complicit.— It's the kind of silence that's full of things. I can recognize it from far away.
Yuyan blushed, lowering her gaze. Wen merely cleared his throat, but the faint smile on his lips betrayed that he didn't mind being discovered.
The ride was brief, yet every minute seemed suspended. When the car finally stopped in front of Yuyan's building, the silence between her and Wen was so laden with meaning that even Xiaoqing chose not to tease anymore.
Lin was the first to speak, opening the door.— We've arrived.
Xiaoqing stepped out beside him, but before closing the door she cast one last provocative glance at Yuyan, as if to say, "don't ruin this moment."
Now only the two of them remained in the back seat. Wen leaned slightly toward her, his voice low:— Thank you for coming tonight.
Yuyan pressed the scarf against her chest.— I should be the one thanking you… it was a… beautiful evening.
He watched her for a moment longer, as if wanting to keep that instant. Then he stepped out of the car and held the door open for her.
At the entrance of the building, before going up, Yuyan turned back to him. The moon shone high above them, and for a moment it felt as if everything around had stopped.— Good night, Wen Zhaonan.
He simply nodded, but his gaze spoke more than any words.— Good night, Lin Yuyan.
And as she crossed the lobby, she could still feel that gaze following her — steady, silent, like a secret kept between the moon and the scarf upon her shoulders.