A twenty-eight-year-old, with a boundless future and unlimited potential—a genius orthopedic surgeon who could have contributed on the front lines for at least another forty years—saved a patient’s life, only to have his eyesight destroyed by an unreasonable medical troublemaker.

Because the incident caused such a stir, even Chris Bolton, who spent all day in the training room, heard about it online. A group of netizens cursed the medical troublemaker as inhuman, and in the end, the perpetrator was sentenced. But Emily Quinn's pair of gray eyes could never see again, not even able to perform consultations.

Now, Emily Quinn is only 16 years old. Even though he isn’t as lively or impulsive as other boys his age, he watches animated movies and serves water to guests at home. He seems like a well-mannered young man, completely different from the person in the news lying in a hospital bed with a gray, lifeless face.

Chris Bolton: Wow, this top-tier hospital’s ace orthopedic surgeon actually liked cartoons when he was young. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.

Emily Quinn noticed Chris Bolton watching him and turned to ask, “You don’t like this? Want to change the channel?”

Chris Bolton shook his head. “No need, this one’s pretty good.”

Honestly, “How to Train Your Dragon” was much better than he’d expected.

Emily Quinn said gently, “If you don’t like it, we can watch something else. I have the ‘Harry Potter’ DVDs at home.”

Dinner was personally prepared by Ms. Mia, all Russian dishes: stewed beef, baked potatoes with mushrooms, borscht, and Olivier salad.

Chris Bolton had a good appetite. After eating one dinner roll, he wanted another, but his uncle immediately tapped the back of his hand and mouthed, “Careful, you’ll get fat.” The boy could only awkwardly pull his hand back.

Ms. Mia glanced at Chris Bolton. “This kid’s a skater too? He looks good.”

Chris Bolton’s looks were considered attractive by both Eastern and Western standards, and in Ms. Mia’s eyes, his body proportions were excellent—perfectly fitting the “three longs and one short” standard: long neck, arms, and legs, with a small head. His lower body was at least 18-20 centimeters longer than his upper body. Even by the strictest ballet dancer selection criteria, he was top material.

Jack Bolton replied respectfully, “Yes, Chris Bolton is quite talented, but he gains weight easily. He puts on pounds as fast as rising dough, so we usually don’t let him have too many carbs, especially at night. Even a little extra will show up on the scale.”

Grandma Mia let out an “oh” and immediately pushed the Olivier salad plate in front of Chris Bolton.

“Here, if you’re still hungry, fill up with this.”

Liam Sullivan explained from the side, “Olivier salad isn’t high in calories. Ms. Mia used to be the principal dancer at the Yekaterinburg Ballet. She ate this to keep her figure.”

Jack Bolton also comforted his nephew, “It’s okay, tomorrow during the day, uncle will stew some pig’s feet for you, all right? Just hold back a bit tonight.”

Chris Bolton sadly stuffed a mouthful of salad into his mouth, thinking this really felt like being back in trainee days. Is someone with an easy-to-gain-weight body only fit to eat salad?

Emily Quinn buried his head and ate beef. He ate quietly but incredibly fast, finishing four dinner rolls in no time.

Chris Bolton watched with envy. Ever since he decided to start body management at age twelve, he’d never eaten so freely again.

Ms. Mia seemed very familiar with Jack Bolton and Liam Sullivan. While they chatted, Chris Bolton learned that after coming to China, this lady had choreographed programs for the provincial team’s single skaters. Whether it was competition-legal routines or exhibition performances, she could do them all perfectly.

However, because her choreography style was elegant and her personality strict, very few skaters could impress her. Over the years, only Jack Bolton, Liam Sullivan, and a girl from the ladies’ singles had received her programs.

When it was time to leave, Ms. Mia patted heads and shoulders, telling Jack Bolton and Liam Sullivan to keep working hard. At his grandmother’s request, Emily Quinn personally saw the guests out. Noticing he wasn’t wearing much, Chris Bolton waved at him downstairs.

“Mr. Quinn, you’re not dressed warmly. You can see us off here, go back inside.”

Emily Quinn was taken aback. He hadn’t expected this kid to be so friendly, already calling him “哥” (brother). He couldn’t help but curl his lips into a smile and glanced outside.

“It’s snowing. Wait for me a second.”

The young man turned and dashed upstairs, soon returning with two umbrellas. After Jack Bolton finished thanking him and turned away with his nephew, Chris Bolton felt something stuffed into his hand.

He looked down and saw a purple-wrapped candy in his palm, not sure when it had appeared. When he looked back, he saw Emily Quinn holding a finger to his lips. Even through the snowy night and the lights, there was a hint of a smile in those gray eyes.

Emily Quinn stood in place, watching the three figures disappear at the edge of his vision, still not thinking to go back inside until the ringing of his phone startled him.

He answered the call.

“Old Foster, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much, just feeling annoyed. Didn’t I sign up to donate my whole body for organ transplants after I die? I mentioned it to my family when I went home this time, and now my grandma’s still at home crying.”

“If anyone wanted to take something from me while I was alive, I’d fight them to the death. But once I’m dead, there’s no point letting these things go into the crematorium. Might as well donate them—maybe they’ll save someone’s life. If she keeps making a fuss, I might have to come hide out at your place.”