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The surgery went very smoothly.

When He Xu woke up from anesthesia, his first reaction was not pain, but thirst.

My throat felt as dry as if it were stuffed with cotton, my tongue was pressed against my palate, and even the act of swallowing carried a faint, sour, pulling sensation.

He turned his head and saw Jiang Yanbai sitting on a chair by the bed, a magazine half-open on his lap, his head slightly tilted, his breathing steady—he was asleep.

He Xu did not wake him.

He lay quietly for a while, staring at the soft, warm light on the ceiling, feeling the subtle foreign object sensation in his throat.

It was much lighter than last time, as if only a thin layer of gauze had been applied to the surface of the vocal cords.

Jiang Yanbai woke up when the nurse came in to change his dressing.

He saw He Xu staring at the ceiling with his eyes open. He paused for a moment, then sat up straight, his voice slightly hoarse from just waking up: "...When did you wake up?"

He Xu opened his mouth, but only a faint breath escaped his throat.

So he gave up on language and raised his hand to make a "for a while" gesture.

Jiang Yanbai understood and handed him the phone from the bedside table.

He Xu took it and typed two words: "It doesn't hurt."

Jiang Yanbai visibly relaxed a bit.

He leaned back in his chair, his voice returning to its usual casual tone: "The doctor said I can be discharged after a day of observation."

He Xu nodded, put his phone next to his pillow, and closed his eyes again.

The day I spent in the hospital was much shorter and quieter than the last time.

There were no recurring fevers, no sudden bursts of intense pain—only a slow, steady sense of recovery, like a gentle tide washing over his body.

The next morning, when Dr. Chen came to check on him, he examined his vocal cords, nodded, and said something that completely put his mind at ease:

"[British] You are recovering very well. Faster than expected. You can be discharged, but you must remain completely silent for the next five days before you can gradually begin to speak again, and avoid any strenuous exercise during this time."

He Xu nodded in agreement, packed his small backpack, and walked out of the ward with much lighter steps than when he was discharged last time.

-

After returning to my lodgings, life entered a subtle, rhythmic period of stillness.

For the first five days, He Xu returned to a state of silence.

He would use his phone to type or gesture to tell Marco what he wanted, and Marco always understood him perfectly and provided excellent service.

On the contrary, when Jiang Yanbai sometimes pretended not to understand his gestures, He Xu would look at him with a dangerous gaze until he surrendered—or rather, pretended to be stupid to a certain limit.

On the sixth day, He Xu began to try to speak.

On the first day, he only said a few words: "water," "good," and "hmm."

The voice was softer than usual, but he could feel that his vocal cords were working normally, without any stuttering, harshness, or the rough feeling of being sanded.

It's better than last time.

It was so good that He Xu felt that the matter was truly over.

On the seventh day, he began light physical training.

Push-ups, planks, core training—no jumping, no high-intensity cardio, just the most basic strength exercises.

Jiang Yanbai would sometimes lean against the door frame and watch him work, watch for a while, make a few comments, and then walk away with his coffee.

He Xu ignored him.

In his spare time, he spends most of it on movie scripts.

After the contract was signed, John Carter had his assistant send the complete script to his email address—a thick stack of PDF files, nearly 120 pages long.

He Xu printed it out, bound it into a book, and every afternoon he would sit on the living room floor and turn the pages one by one from beginning to end.

The script was entirely in English, which significantly slowed down his reading time.

When he first read the whole story, it took him more than two days, looking up words he couldn't understand as he read, and marking his own scenes.

The movie is titled "The Piece," which literally translates to "This Piece," but He Xu felt that "Sacrificial Piece" would be more fitting.

The story is very much like a classic Hollywood movie: fictional, fast-paced, and a little bit juvenile.

The story begins with the kidnapping of the wife of Marcus Hale, a veteran CIA counterterrorism agent in Los Angeles.

During his investigation, Hale discovered that the kidnapping was linked to covert operations by the U.S. military and foreign intelligence agencies.

His trusted young colleague, Langdon Waugh, voluntarily assists in the investigation, but Hale gradually discovers that Langdon's true identity is that of a foreign spy who has been lurking for many years—and that the person who has been masked and chasing him is none other than Langdon himself.

In the final showdown at the warehouse, Langdon's identity was exposed. He left behind clues about his wife's hiding place before taking his own life.

Hale rescues his wife, only to discover that he is merely a pawn in a much larger game.

After finishing the last page, he closed the script, leaned back on the sofa armrest, and stared at the ceiling in silence for a long time.

Then he looked down and flipped back to the first page, carefully counting all the scenes that contained "Landon"—the name of the character he played.

After counting, he took a deep breath, picked up his phone, and sent Jiang Yanbai a message: "You told me it was 'supporting role in an action movie'?"

Jiang Yanbai replied quickly, with an innocent expression: "What's wrong?"

"He has his own storyline, and it runs almost throughout the entire film—you call that a 'supporting character'?"

I said 'major supporting characters.' You weren't listening carefully."

He Xu stared at the line of text for three seconds, then typed: "Emiko told me 'small venue,' but it turned out to be 5,000 people. John told me 'supporting role in an action movie,' but the character's screen time is almost as much as the lead—is this how people in the entertainment industry talk?"

Jiang Yanbai replied with a smiley face: "(ಡωಡ) This is called 'lowering expectations and creating surprises,' you should be used to it."

He Xu did not reply.

He Xu opened the script again and read Landon Vo's storyline once more.

Landon Vo, officially translated as Landon Vo, is a third-generation Vietnamese-American whose father was a Vietnam War refugee.

At the age of twenty, he was recruited by an Asian intelligence agency. On the surface, he was a new CIA agent, but in reality, he was a spy planted in the CIA.

He was a man of few words, with exceptional observational skills, and his talent for firearms and hand-to-hand combat far exceeded the numbers listed on his resume.

He was assigned to Marcus Hale's team, originally just a pawn for surveillance, but in the daily work together, he developed feelings for the old agent that shouldn't have been there—a warmth that was close to that of a father and son, and also close to that of a master and apprentice.

In short, He Xu summarized this role in three words.

Complex.

Both righteous and wicked.

It is definitely challenging.