Chapter 111: Endure It

Feng Erqiu had just finished treating a patient when someone burst in urgently, demanding that Doctor Zhao prepare a stretcher for immediate transport. The construction site had collapsed, burying someone beneath the rubble, and her heart skipped a beat. She paid the three-yuan consultation fee and hurried home.

Upon reaching their dwelling, Chunni was nowhere in sight. The sight sent her mother into a frenzy. Cradling little Er Ya in her arms, Feng Erqiu rushed to the site. A tight crowd blocked the entrance; she could not push her way through. Snippets of anxious whispers reached her ears—Lu Gong’s wife from the research institute had been buried alive.

She did not know the woman was Shen Qingyi. When the rescuers confirmed it was not her daughter, relief flooded her. Turning back with Er Ya, she tried to steady her racing heart.

Only after some time did she spot her eldest daughter returning. Chunni’s lips were pressed tight, her eyes swollen and red as though she had been crying for hours.

“Chunni, what’s wrong?” Feng Erqiu asked, rising with Er Ya still clutched to her chest.

“Sheng Aunt nearly died,” Chunni managed, voice trembling.

Feng Erqiu’s arms tightened around the child. “An’an’s father is surnamed Lu?”

Chunni nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Yes.”

“What… what is she like now?” Although she had met Shen Qingyi only once, Feng Erqiu did not hesitate to hand over ten yuan without a second thought. She told her daughter it was for medicine. In truth, she knew it was merely a polite excuse. In all her life she had met few truly kind souls; how could this be happening?

Chunni glanced at her mother’s worried face and quickly added, “An’an’s father dug her out and sent her to the health clinic.”

Feng Erqiu exhaled, relief washing over her. “That’s good, that’s good.”

Chunni noticed her sister no longer wept in her mother’s arms and asked softly, “Is sister’s illness better?”

Feng Erqiu nodded. “Yes.”

“I’ll boil medicine for her. Later I’ll buy a bag of powder at the supply cooperative.”

The doctor had diagnosed stomach distension and severe malnutrition; a change in feeding was required. Three yuan for the visit left seven. A single bag of milk powder cost four yuan—more than enough.

Chunni brightened at once. “Sister can drink milk powder now, no more crying. It’s wonderful!”

Before she finished speaking, Liu Yong returned. He stripped off his soiled work clothes and tossed them onto a nearby chair. “Milk powder? What’s wrong with Er Ya?”

“Sister doesn’t feel well,” Chunni whispered.

She knew better than to mention the money in front of her father.

“A daughter, what’s so precious? Most families start porridge by six months. She’s the only one who spits it back up.” Liu Yong spoke with open impatience.

Feng Erqiu kept her expression carefully blank. “Er Ya has always been undernourished and has a delicate stomach.”

Liu Yong’s voice turned sharp. “It’s because you can’t keep up with nursing. Who’s to blame if you can’t?”

Feng Erqiu’s heart turned to ice. How could he suggest her own child’s needs mattered less than his wife’s milk? And now she was pregnant again against her will.

If there had been any other way, she would never have married this man.

Seeing she would not reply, Liu Yong raised his voice. “Stop wearing that long face all day. Go cook.”

He shot a glance at Chunni. “Don’t go to the construction site anymore. These people have nothing to do and love stirring up trouble.”

He had not noticed Er Ya today, but he knew she sometimes slipped away to watch the work.

Chunni nodded. “I understand.”

Feng Erqiu made no move. Chunni reached for her sister, but her hand paused at the packet of medicine lying on the table.

“Where did this medicine come from? Who is it for?” Liu Yong demanded, eyes wide.

Er Ya’s medicine could not be hidden. Feng Erqiu saw no point in lying. “It’s for Er Ya. She’s ill.”

Liu Yong’s brow furrowed. “Wasting money again? Don’t come here a few days and start acting like city folk, running to the health station for every little thing. If you keep this up, you won’t get the eight-yuan monthly allowance either.”

He picked Er Ya up. “Hurry and cook. I’m starving after a full day of work. Come home and there’s not even a hot meal.”

Feng Erqiu ignored him. She carried the medicine to the stove, boiled it until it was ready, then reclaimed Er Ya from his arms.

Liu Yong glared. “You didn’t cook?”

“Yes. If you’re hungry, cook for yourself.”

Liu Yong stood, face flushing dark with fury. “What do you mean? Believe me, I’ll—”

Feng Erqiu met his glare. “Liu Yong, if you have the courage, hit me. Dare to try and I’ll report you to the leaders. I’ve already given up on this marriage. You think anyone would want to bear sons under your stingy, mean-spirited ways.”

Chunni quickly pushed him back. “Don’t bully Mama. The medicine money for sister came from Aunt Shen. She bought the shoe pads Mama made.”

Liu Yong waved her off. “What nonsense? Every woman in the village can make shoe pads. They’re worth a few coins. How could that pay for medicine?”

Muttering to himself, he stalked toward the kitchen. If the story were true, this Shen woman must be mad.

Shen Qingyi lay in the hospital bed, every inch of her body aching as though crushed by heavy stones. Her throat felt raw, the inside lined with grit. She tried to shift and a strong hand steadied her back, drawing her gently against a warm chest. Even with her eyes closed she recognized the familiar scent.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, his voice broke through, strained yet overflowing with emotion. “Doctor Zhao… Doctor Zhao…”

Doctor Zhao had already settled beside her, lifting the oxygen mask. “Can you still speak?”

Shen Qingyi tried. After several long moments a hoarse whisper emerged. “Can.”

She paused, then managed a single word. “Water.”

Doctor Zhao continued listening without moving. Lu Yan’s voice suddenly rang out. “She wants water. Did you hear that?”

Doctor Zhao sighed and nodded. “I heard. She won’t die from thirst.”

Shen Qingyi looked at Lu Yan. He held her with such careful tenderness that the once-elegant lines of his face now showed exhaustion and worry.

A jolt pierced her heart. She called softly, “Lu Yan…”

He lowered his head at once. “Does it hurt? Don’t talk. I’ll get you water right now.”

He eased her back against the pillows.

Doctor Zhao glanced at him. “I told you to let me examine her first.”

If it had been anyone else he would have exploded, but who had called him a national-treasure genius brain? The memory of how calmly and scientifically Lu Yan had saved her in ten minutes kept her silent. She endured it.

He finished the check and watched Lu Yan return with a cup of tea. Lu Yan helped her lean against his chest once more and passed the cup to her lips.

Shen Qingyi drank half the cup in one swallow.

“I said you’re not supposed to drink—then what?” Doctor Zhao asked suddenly.

He had never been one to follow medical advice. She wondered whether he would dare to risk his wife’s health for a cup of tea.

Lu Yan set the cup aside. “If you truly cannot drink, you should have stopped me sooner.”

Relief eased the ache in Shen Qingyi’s throat. She looked around. “An’an?”