Chapter 7 — The Last Gift Is Goodbye

He smiled softly.

"Wait until your hand heals before continuing."

Surgery day. Before the anesthesia took effect, I lay on the operating table, looking at the shadowless light on the ceiling. The last thought that flashed through my brain was not fear. It was that afternoon three years ago. In Co Hoai Tham's office. He pressed my left hand on the piano lid, then slowly closed it. I still remember the sound of bones breaking. I also remember the image of Giang Uyen Thanh standing at the door, smiling and saying—

"If your hand can't play anymore, keeping it is just a waste of effort."

Then I lost consciousness. Eight and a half hours passed. When I woke up, my left arm was bandaged with thick gauze and a brace, fixed in front of my chest. Dr. Keller stood by the bed.

"The surgery went very smoothly. The ligament correction and nerve decompression both achieved the expected results."

"When can I start rehabilitation?"

"Two weeks after surgery, the stitches will be removed for evaluation. If there are no problems, the third week begins."

I closed my eyes. Plus three to six months of recovery. At the fastest, after half a year, I can pick up the piano again. When the nurse walked in, in her hand was a bouquet of white lilies.

"Miss Lam, someone sent you flowers."

On the card was written a line: "Whether it's 55% or 60%, you will be that number of success." No signature. But I know who it is. Two weeks in Zurich felt like another world. There was no Co Hoai Tham, no Giang Uyen Thanh, no Chu Ngoc Lan's screams. There was only the hospital room, snow falling outside the window, and Dr. Keller came to visit every day. The day the stitches were removed, I saw my left hand for the first time. On three fingers are three regular scalpel cuts, which have healed. The curvature of the joints is not exactly the same as before, but — it can be folded now. I tried moving my middle finger. There is a feeling of pain and resistance. But it was able to move. Keller said: "Very good, as expected. Next week start training the system." That same afternoon, Vuong Van called.

"Miss Lin, the surveillance CD has arrived."

My heart was pounding.

"Have you seen it?"

"Who is in the picture?"

"Jiang Uyen Thanh."

I tightened the railing of the hospital bed.

"She was wearing a staff uniform, wearing a mask, and loitered outside her dressing room for more than six minutes.

After she left to prepare for the field, she went into the locker room and touched the water bottle on her table. From entering to exiting is one minute and forty seconds."

"Can you see your face clearly?"

"The mask covered half of her face, but before entering the room she made a move to raise her head, her forehead and eyes were very clear. I asked an expert to evaluate the image for a preliminary comparison, the similarity is 93%."

"Enough to file a case?"

"Domestic conviction needs to be over 95%. But this video combined with the medical examination report when she quit that year — if the pre-match blood sample is still available —"

"Still. The anti-doping records of the tournament organizers in Vienna hold blood samples for five years."

"Then you need to submit a request to retest that blood sample to see if it contains drug ingredients that cause muscle spasms. If the blood sample is positive, plus surveillance images, it is enough to establish a domestic criminal case."

"Help me apply."

"Okay. Tham Dien's side has arranged a lawyer in Vienna to assist."

It's Tham Dien again. People What is this guy planning anyway? Recovery training enters week eight. My left hand can now complete basic five-finger exercises. The speed wasn't right, the hand strength wasn't up to par, but — the moment my fingertips touched the keys, I almost burst into tears. It's been three years. Three years without touching the piano. The rehabilitation center in Switzerland has a music therapy room, inside which is a Steinway grand piano. The therapist said I could exercise for twenty minutes every day, no more than that. The first day, I only played the C major scale. Go up, go down. Fingertips are clumsy like a child learning to play the piano for the first time. But the sound that comes out is correct. Every note is precise.