Chapter 47 Boundaries
"Honestly, you don't... have a crush on me, do you?"
There were only two people in the office. As Wen Bairan's words fell, Ding Benxuan's eyes clearly panicked.
"Ra-Ran Sister, I, I actually..."
He stammered, the skin around his ears beneath his cap visibly reddening.
Wen Bairan didn't notice his expression; out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door handle that had been pushed down from the outside pause for a moment, as if hesitating whether to push the door open.
The next moment, the handle returned to its original position.
The figure outside the door quickly hurried away in the direction they had come from.
Startled by the click of the door lock, Ding Benxuan quickly jumped back from the desk, standing to the side with his hands behind his back, with a guilty look.
After waiting a while and seeing no one enter, he finally relaxed.
"Xiao Ding."
"Yeah."
He turned around and saw Wen Bairan push aside the lunchbox on the desk. The relaxed expression she had during their casual conversation over coffee earlier was gone, replaced by a cool and detached demeanor.
She opened the documents without even looking up. "You may leave now. I have work to do."
Usually quiet and gentle, her voice now turned cold, carrying a somewhat authoritative tone.
Ding Benxuan was slightly taken aback and instinctively obeyed without thinking. "Oh, okay."
After quickly packing up his belongings, he glanced at Wen Bairan, who was focused on her work, before leaving the office. She was completely absorbed, unaware of his complicated expression.
/
P&t was positioned as a biotech company primarily serving cancer patients. Apart from proton and heavy ion therapy, which was still in the development stage, their top priority was naturally how to assist ordinary cancer patients and meet their urgent needs.
The materials Wen Bairan had collected all morning were quite detailed, but as she reviewed them, she felt something was still missing.
Glancing at the time in the lower right corner of her computer, she decided to step out.
People often fall into mental blocks in confined environments; a change of scenery might bring different perspectives.
Coincidentally, the director of the oncology department at Shen Da Medical was available today. She decided to visit him, hoping for some unexpected insights.
The oncology department at Shen Da Medical was among the top in Shenjiang, and even nationwide.
Director Liu and his team were well-respected among patients for their extensive diagnostic and treatment experience, superb surgical skills, and comprehensive follow-up radiation and chemotherapy plans.
Wen Bairan knew Director Liu through Li Yuan.
Director Liu was the first doctor to treat Li Yuan after his diagnosis in China.
Director Liu once said that Li Yuan was the most fearless patient he had ever met.
Wen Bairan never quite understood what he meant by "fearless." Was it toward death?
Director Liu was forty-five years old, in the prime of his career as a surgeon—experienced, energetic, capable of handling various emergencies during surgery, with steady hands and a calm mind. Every year, he saved countless families and lives.
Beyond that, he was one of the few doctors Wen Bairan had met who also cared about the families' emotional well-being.
During the time when Li Yuan's days were numbered, Zhou Lin seemed like the one who was dying.
Back then, Director Liu would take time to counsel him, explaining the progression of brain tumors. Fear often stems from ignorance; once reason accepts the unchangeable facts, emotions naturally detach over time.
It wasn’t just Zhou Lin; Director Liu gave equal attention to all patients who came seeking help.
His specialist clinic on Wednesday mornings only had twenty slots, but it often lasted until the afternoon.
Director Liu gave up his time to drink water, use the restroom, and eat lunch, striving to provide every patient with more professional analysis. Beyond his white coat, his patience and warmth made his comfort all the more effective.
"My patients aren’t just from Shenjiang; they come from all over the country. It’s a bit embarrassing to say, but my appointments are hard to get. Some of them find it very difficult making the trip. I do my best to treat those I can help. What I fear most are the cases where nothing can be done—they come full of hope and leave full of disappointment. Their expressions and the way they walk away..."
In his office, Director Liu took off his glasses and heaved a deep sigh.
Wen Bairan fell silent along with him.
Knowing that her company’s main focus was serving cancer patients, though the specific technology couldn’t be applied immediately and they were currently in a difficult position, he thought for a moment and actually proposed a new idea.
They went to the oncology ward, where Director Liu pointed to a mother in room 312 and said, "Her daughter has brain cancer."
"Just like Li Yuan."
Wen Bairan paused and looked into the room.
In the three-bed room, a girl lay on the bed nearest the window. She was eighteen or nineteen, emaciated with deep-set eyes.
It was a sunny day outside—there was sunlight, clouds, and leaves rustling in the wind. She gazed at the sky framed by the square window, a hint of longing in her eyes.
Wen Bairan felt a pang in her heart as she looked at the girl, then shifted her gaze to the plainly dressed middle-aged woman by the bed.
The mother was as thin as her daughter on the bed. She was peeling an apple that had almost no flesh left, her wrist, covered in medicated patches, moving stiffly as she mechanically repeated the peeling motion. Her lifeless eyes alone were suffocating to behold.
"This girl comes from a divorced home. Her mother raised her alone by working odd jobs to put her through college. She was only a sophomore when she was diagnosed with stage III glioma. The mother and daughter traveled all over the country, but everyone said there was no hope. The girl has given up, but her mother refuses to. They eventually made their way to me." Director Liu said quietly, "Her condition was worse than Li Yuan’s when she arrived. She told me she knew she couldn’t be cured but just wanted to give her mother some comfort. I advised them to go home and spend their final time together, but her mother knelt right there in the outpatient clinic. I couldn’t bear it, so I admitted her."
Wen Bairan watched intently as the mother, who had peeled the apple down to its core, finally snapped out of her daze when there was nothing left to peel. She glanced reflexively at her daughter, then picked up another apple and began peeling it.
Her state was somewhat peculiar, seemingly meeting the criteria for mechanical behavior.
Director Liu said, "Often, it’s not the patients who struggle to accept their illness—it’s the family members. For various emotional reasons, including social pressure and life’s burdens, they find themselves trapped in a vicious cycle of misunderstanding, whether they choose to accept or give up."
A mother who has struggled alone, facing the reality that her only daughter—a life just beginning to bloom—is withering away, would naturally do everything in her power to hold on. But from another perspective, the one suffering is the daughter on the hospital bed. Is it truly worth persisting for almost non-existent hope?
At this moment, the mother and daughter in the ward were undoubtedly enduring an unimaginable emotional storm.
What could those outside the ward do for them?
//
Returning from Shen Da Medical, Wen Bairan had some ideas. She immediately went back to her office to jot them down, preparing to start drafting the plan the next day.
She worked until the entire company had left for the day. Someone knocked on her office door.
Wen Bairan continued typing without stopping. "Come in."
Outside the door, Ding Benxuan, backpack slung over his shoulder, poked his head in. Seeing she showed no signs of leaving, he reminded her, "Sis, it’s ten o’clock. Aren’t you going home yet?"
The rapid typing in the office paused.
Wen Bairan looked up from her screen. "It’s ten o’clock?"
She'd gotten back from Shenzhen U's med school at 4 PM; had six hours really flown by that fast?
"Yeah," Ding Benxuan said, coming in and shutting the door.
The night was chilly, and he'd thrown a denim jacket over his T-shirt. The deep blue color, even in the darkness, somehow didn't look dark at all, instead giving off a youthful, energetic vibe. His school-issued baseball cap hung from the strap of his backpack, swinging back and forth behind him.
His Martin boots thudded rhythmically against the floor.
"Are you still working on the proposal for the new product?"
He came around the desk and took a peek at her screen. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Wen Bairan said no. She was almost done. It was just a preliminary idea, and the specifics would be finalized at tomorrow’s product meeting.
Ding Benxuan let out an "oh" and straightened up, stepped aside.
Noticing he wasn't making a move to leave, Wen Bairan asked if there was something else.
"Nothing, really. It’s just that everyone else has left the office, and I was worried it might not be safe for you to head out alone later. Figured I'd wait and walk you out," he said with a shrug.
Wen Bairan remembered he lived on campus. At this hour, wouldn’t the dormitory be closed?
"You don’t have to wait for me. You should head back, or you'll be locked out of your dorm."
"Sis, you remember I live in the dorms?" For some reason, Ding Benxuan seemed quite pleased to hear this. His eyes—which usually looked noble and captivating—now sparkled with the eager brightness of a puppy wagging its tail.
Grinning, he crouched down next to the desk, propped his chin on his fist. His handsome face was fixed right on her: "It’s fine, I’m willing to wait for you! However late it is, I don't mind. Worst comes to worst, I can just crash here at the office."
"......"
Wen Bairan was momentarily thrown by his eager look. She paused, feeling a little helpless.
If he was even talking about sleeping at the office, he clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer.
Fortunately, there wasn’t much left to do on her computer.
She saved her work, planning to finish up at home, then shut down and stood up.
Ding Benxuan’s intense gaze lifted with her. "Sis?"
Wen Bairan put on her jacket, tugging her hair out from under her collar, and said with a sigh, "Let’s go, college kid. The company doesn't have a bed for you to crash in."
After gathering her things and picking up her bag, she stepped around the desk.
The person behind her sprang up eagerly. "Yes, ma’am!"
Sure enough, the office was dark and empty; everyone was gone.
/
As they passed Mr. Song’s office, Wen Bairan suddenly asked, "When did Mr. Song leave?"
Ding Benxuan answered, "Pretty early, I think. Mr. Xiang mentioned they had a client entertainment today."
Wen Bairan thoughtfully withdrew her gaze. "Oh."
They waited for the elevator in the hallway, Wen Bairan replying to messages on her phone.
Ding Benxuan stood slightly behind and to her left, his gaze unconsciously drifting back to her.
Today she wore a lead-gray pantsuit. She'd even worn pants instead of a skirt. The matching suit pants encased her legs, making them look long and straight, while black patent-leather heels gave her steps a slight sway. Though not a single part of her was exposed, her graceful silhouette still invited involuntary fantasies.
Unlike the traditional image of a female superior—either charmingly alluring or assertively imposing—Wen Bairan’s calm demeanor was detached like the wind, brushing past lightly yet carrying the scent of spring.
This kind of gentle sensuality, conveyed without a single word or action, always made his heart race.
As he watched, his breath caught a little.
"Did you have something to say?" Wen Bairan asked suddenly.
Ding Benxuan jumped. "......"
How did she know he was looking at her?
She's sharp.
Ding. The elevator arrived.
Wen Bairan shot him a sidelong glance. "Let’s go down first."
The hallway was unlit, and his boyish shyness was perfectly hidden in the darkness.
She stepped into the elevator first.
Worried his nervous excitement would be on full display in the bright cabin, Ding Benxuan hesitated a moment before following.
The elevator doors closed, and it began its silent descent.
Wen Bairan continued handling work matters on her phone.
Ding Benxuan took a few stealthy deep breaths, waiting for the restless heat to fade from his face before mustering the courage to ask, "By the way, Mr. Song took you home after last week’s gathering."
A certain page on Wen Bairan’s phone lingered on the screen for a moment before she casually swiped away. "Mhm."
No cracks in her composure.
Ding Benxuan paused, then asked again, "So, you and Mr. Song... you two......"
He remembered last Friday vividly—Mr. Song suddenly appearing, and, without a word, just swept Wen Bairan away. He had no idea where they went afterward.
Although Mr. Qiao repeatedly denied any intimate relationship between them, a drunken Mr. Xiang had laughed meaningfully with bleary eyes, as if hinting at something. But what stuck with him most was the look in Mr. Song’s eyes when he glanced his way.
A disdainful once-over.
Ding Benxuan had been in two relationships before, neither lasting long. In both, he'd been pursued, and he was the one who ended them.
These experiences might not have taught him that liking someone meant wanting to possess them, but he was still a man. He knew well the irritation and territorial warning when another guy was moving in on what he considered his.
Was Wen Bairan part of Mr. Song’s territory?
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts and didn’t notice the elevator had already reached the first floor.
Wen Bairan stepped out first. This time, she didn’t wait for him—he only followed once he'd snapped out of it.
The lobby was bright, and the light from the entrance canopy spilled outside.
The deep autumn night wind rustled the red-tipped leaves of the koelreuteria trees, making them flutter like colorful confetti.
Wen Bairan had called a car, and it pulled up shortly after.
Before getting in, she stood next to Ding Benxuan by the roadside. Feeling cold, she tightened her collar, looked up at him, and said, "There’s nothing going on between President Song and me. He’s my former boss—well, technically still is. And one more thing—"
Ding Benxuan turned to her and paused.
Seeing her shivering from the cold, he started to take off his jacket to give to her, but she stopped him by pressing his hand down.
He looked at her, puzzled. "Ran Jie?"
Ding Benxuan really did have a striking face—his youth gave him a kind of privilege, radiating sunshine and handsomeness.
She admitted she tended to be more easily drawn in by such a strong and positive energy, and he did make her feel relaxed, but Wen Bairan still had to tell him.
"I didn’t get to finish what I was saying at noon."
"Whether you really like me or not, don’t go down this path."
Ding Benxuan jolted slightly. "Why? Is it because of my age? I—"
"No particular reason."
She didn’t want to make the conversation too serious, afraid it might unintentionally deepen his stubborn perspective. She couldn’t help but smile. "The company doesn’t allow office romances. Even if it did, I wouldn’t agree."
The approaching car headlights slowly came to a stop. Silhouetted against the backlight, she looked almost unreal, like something out of a dream.
Ding Benxuan’s throat tightened. His eyes darkened with determination as he stubbornly draped his jacket over her shoulders, leaving himself in just a short-sleeved shirt.
Wen Bairan really wanted to ask if he wasn’t cold.
But the chill of late autumn seemed incapable of eroding the fervor of youth.
He leaned in slightly, fastening the denim jacket collar near her chin.
Ding Benxuan grinned. "Let’s wait and see."
…