The three chapters contain a total of 8951 words, with a fixed 4000 words. Yesterday's chapter had an extra 2000 words, and the boss's gift added another 2000 words.
I'm too exhausted to type anymore.
Lynn leaned against the windowsill, watching Strange stand there, seemingly organizing his thoughts or preparing himself mentally.
His fingers were still trembling slightly, but the resentment that had been brewing into anger was gone. Instead, something quieter was slowly settling in his eyes.
"Don't rush to answer me."
Lynn spoke first before he could, her tone neither cold nor impatient, "I'm not in a hurry, and neither Master The Ancient One. Think clearly about what you really want, and be able to face yourself honestly before you tell me your answer."
Strange was about to say something when Lynn didn't give him the chance.
He snapped his the Snap. Soft, five-colored light emanated from Strange, intertwining and coiling into a semi-transparent cocoon of light that gently enveloped his body, like an invisible hand supporting his back and steadily carrying him out of the room.
Strange's feet landed lightly on the wooden floor of the corridor, the cocoon of light vanished, and the door closed silently in front of him.
Lynn looked at the closed door and shook his head slightly. He picked up his phone, which was still lit up on the windowsill, and sent a video call request to Natasha. It was answered almost instantly when it rang.
The screen lit up, revealing Natasha leaning back on the sofa.
She changed her posture, curling her legs up and resting them on the sofa armrest, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.
She glanced at the background behind Lynn —it was still that hotel room—and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Is something wrong with you? Do you need me to send a few people over to help? Fighting might not be of much help, but we can handle everyday little things. Tony's been really free lately, constantly asking when you're coming back."
"No problem."
Lynn leaned against the windowsill, holding her phone at a comfortable angle. "It was just a minor issue. It's resolved."
Natasha looked into his eyes and didn't press for details. She knew Lynn too well; asking for more information was pointless, and he wouldn't hide anything from her. So she simply changed the subject, answering Lynn's earlier question about where to go next in a more relaxed tone.
"I'll go to China again. I want to try that hot pot I had in Chongqing last time. And Chengdu's skewers, Kunming's rice noodles, Dali's roasted rice cakes, and all kinds of soups in Luoyang —I want to try all the food there. This time, I don't want mild spicy, I want it normal spicy. I think I'm ready."
Lynn laughed. "Are you sure? Last time with Mild Spicy, you almost pinched my arm until it left a mark."
"Last time it was too sudden, we weren't prepared. This time it's a battle for revenge!"
Lynn smiled and shook her head.
Natasha placed her coffee cup on the sofa armrest and began counting the places she wanted to go on her fingers.
Lynn leaned against the windowsill, listening to her voice coming from the other side of the screen, occasionally interjecting with a sarcastic remark, and sometimes just listening quietly. Kathmandu outside the window had completely fallen into the night, with only the occasional bark of a dog and the sound of a tricycle bell in the distance.
Half an hour later, Lynn yawned. "I'm sleepy."
"Then go to bed early. We'll have to outsmart each other tomorrow."
"Outwit and outmaneuver? My opponent has lost the will to fight."
Lynn leaned closer to the screen, squinting her eyes. "Goodnight. I want to hear you say one more thing."
Natasha looked at the face on the screen, so close that the composition was completely distorted, and a slight smile appeared on her lips. "Goodnight. Come back soon."
After hanging up the video call, Lynn placed his phone on the bedside table and turned off the light. He lay in the darkness staring at the old chandelier on the ceiling for a moment, then closed his eyes.
The next day at noon, Lynn did not see Strange in the restaurant when she went downstairs.
He sat down by the window, ordered a topa, and ate while flipping through the magazines on the table.
After finishing their meal, they ordered another cup of milk tea, but Strange still didn't appear.
He went to the front desk and asked the old lady who was knitting. The old lady placed the knitting needles on her lap and pointed with her chin towards the stairs. "He didn't come down today. He stayed in his room. I went up to bring him tea once, and he sat on the edge of the bed staring out the window, not saying a word."
Do you deliver food?
I delivered one this morning, but it hasn't been used much.
Lynn nodded and didn't ask any more questions. He put the money for the meal on the counter, pushed open the door, and walked out of the hotel.
The afternoon sun in Kathmandu was shining brightly, casting golden dappled light on the cobblestone streets of Thamel.
He sat for a while on the temple steps in Durbar Square, watching several children chase a goat from one end of the square to the other.
As evening fell, I slowly walked back to the hotel along the same route, and bought two roasted corns from a small stall along the way.
He gave Raj another ear of corn, Raj squatted at the alley entrance, his mouth full of crumbs, and mumbled, "How's your friend? He looks terrible."
"I'm still thinking about it," Lynn said.
What are you thinking about?
"I wonder who he really is."
Raj tilted his head, clearly finding the answer difficult to understand. But he didn't press the matter; he simply tossed the leftover corncob to the stray dog at the alley entrance, dusted off the crumbs, and ran off laughing.
That night, Lynn didn't video chat with Natasha again. He put his phone on silent on the bedside table, sat on the chair by the window, flipped through the old book, and occasionally looked up at the outline of the distant snow-capped mountains in the night.
He was waiting. He believed that the Strange in the original timeline would come to his senses; the neurosurgeon who knelt and begged in the movie, and then spent several days reflecting on himself after being rejected, had finally found the right answer.
Lynn made his point clear this time, so he shouldn't disappoint.
The knocking came at almost the same time as yesterday. Lynn closed his book and got up to open the door.
The Strange outside the door was a completely different person from before.
He changed into clean clothes, his hair was neatly combed, his stubble was cleanly shaved, and the dark blue shirt that was once so wrinkled it was unbearable to look at was now perfectly ironed, and his cuffs were fastened meticulously. But these were not the most important things.
Most importantly, his eyes were no longer empty, nor filled with resentment and bitterness.
"Have you thought it through?" Lynn smiled and stepped aside to let the doorway open. "Come in and talk."
Strange entered the room. His steps were no longer as heavy and hurried as before; each step was steady and deliberate.
Lynn poured him a cup of tea and gestured for him to sit on another chair by the window. The tea was a pale gold color, and the steam filled the room with a faint aroma of spices. Strange took the teacup, held it with both hands, looked down at the tea swirling slightly on the surface for a moment, and then looked up at Lynn.
Today I'm in my room, trying to refute every single thing you said yesterday.
"I'm trying to find a loophole, to find a reason to prove you're wrong and I'm right. I'm a surgeon; I've spent twenty years training my brain to find the optimal solution in the shortest amount of time. But today, I've thought about it all day and I can't find anything. I can't refute you. What you said is true. I'm selective about my patients, only taking on stable but challenging cases. Those that are too simple, have no academic value, or can't be published in journals, I pass them all on to my colleagues. I enjoy standing in the operating room, with everyone looking up to me. Everyone has to listen to me. I'm the best, no one can replace me... That's what I thought back then, and that's what I did."
He looked down at his hands, which were still trembling slightly, and a bitter smile appeared on his lips.
"I've been saving lives. But you're right, I've never truly revered life. I've just been proving myself the best through the people lying on the operating table. I'm afraid of failure, not of letting my patients down, but of losing those titles. I came to Kathmandu solely to heal my hand. But today I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, trying to imagine what I would be like if my hand really did heal. I would still go back to New York, put on that white coat again, and continue being that arrogant, self-important neurosurgeon I used to be. And then one day, I would fall again because of the same arrogance. Maybe not my hand, maybe something worse. The ending won't change."
He looked up at Lynn. "So now all I want to know is who I am if I let go of all that arrogance, pride, and self-importance. My goal is still to heal my hand, but not just to pick up a scalpel again. I just don't want to waste the rest of my life."
Lynn looked at him, and the smile on her lips slowly deepened.
"I accept your reasoning. I'll take you back tomorrow. You can tell Master The Ancient One yourself."