Nan Zhi had never gone to see, nor told anyone—Grandma had already passed away more than a year, and she still couldn’t come out of it.
As long as she closed her eyes, it was her face. Whether asleep or awake, she would uncontrollably think, guilt and regret.
Because when something happened to Grandma, she was just resting in the next room, and she heard the noise of tables and chairs moving, but thought it was just like usual, the sound of Grandma driving away cats and dogs—didn’t take it seriously, and still slept sweetly.
When she woke up in the afternoon and didn’t find Grandma, she went to the next room and only then saw her lying on the ground, the back of her head against the floor, the whole part in contact with the ground was a patch of bluish purple.
That fall almost took her life. Although after being sent to the hospital she survived, but because it wasn’t timely enough, the doctor said, high probability that she’d never wake up again.
It was because she didn’t go out to check when she heard the sound, that made Grandma lie on the bed from then on, in a coma unable to wake.
Every day she thinks, if only she had run out every time she heard a noise, how great that would’ve been.
If only she hadn’t been greedy for sleep that day, how great that would’ve been.
She was used to Grandma’s giving toward her, but in truth, the care she gave back to Grandma wasn’t enough at all.
With such a big sound, how could she not go out to check.
Actually, in the beginning, she was a little uneasy, went out a few times, found that every time it was Grandma driving away cats and dogs—the noise was from cats and dogs crashing into things, and later on she just stopped going.
Only once or twice, just that one or two times…
After the accident, others blamed her, hinted things at her, saying how even with such a free summer vacation she couldn’t even watch over an old lady—she never refuted it, because she thought they were right.
Summer vacation had nothing to do, how could she not even watch over a person?
Grandma lay on the hospital bed for two years, and she too was tormented by inner demons for almost two years.
Those two years she went through a lot. She originally planned to become a doctor like her parents, didn’t get in, but was unwilling to give up, so turned to become a nurse instead.
It just so happened to make it easier to care for Grandma—but at the beginning the studies were heavy, and she seemed to have hit some kind of obstacle—like there was a wall in her brain. This wall was a straight one, which caused her to be unable to go around it whether speaking, writing, or doing anything.
As if she didn’t know how to adapt—her grades and learning ability always couldn’t keep up, could only spend more time. When she finally got through it and could intern at the hospital Grandma was in, Grandma was already gone—barely got to enjoy any of her company or care.
But before she died, she was still thinking of her. She unexpectedly woke up for a few days, finished the property transfer and all kinds of paperwork before finally passing away. Before going, she touched her head and said she had never blamed her.
But the more it was like this, the heavier the shackle on her became. It wasn’t given by Grandma—it was herself, bound by heavy guilt and remorse. And on top of that, she didn’t do the test well—while the older sister who was raised by the parents since young did get in—like Heaven was forcing her to see clearly that she wasn’t as good.
The period of time she stayed at her parents’ home, there was no healing at all. On the contrary, it became even clearer that she wasn’t liked, wasn’t welcomed—just an outsider.
The mountain pressing on her seemed to gain another invisible layer. She could always sense herself sinking. Every day she had no strength, listless, just barely getting through colleagues and patients at work—once home, all she did was sleep, sleep straight through.
That’s also why the house had piles of express deliveries but nothing had been opened. Even washing a cup made her tired.
Nan Zhi squatted in front of the low glass case. In her mind, she couldn’t help thinking of Song Qing.
He was deep in imprisonment, had suffered so many blows, but there was always light in his eyes—still unwilling to stay down, deludedly trying to struggle and stand up again.
His full-to-the-brim will to live shocked her.
The character “Qing” [青] really suited him.
Flowers also needed personal space to grow. Nan Zhi soon withdrew her gaze, turned and lay down on the bed, playing with the cat teaser stick she brought up from downstairs, thinking—
When Song Qing rises again, may she also pull herself back up.
—
In the living room on the first floor, Song Qing was looking around.
This apartment was very big, it had two floors, both sides made into lofts, the middle part didn’t have one, it was a “凹” shaped structure [凹: the character means “concave”, so the apartment is shaped like a U with open center space]. Nan Zhi lived in the left loft, he was in the living room below on the right side.
Below the left loft was the kitchen, connected to the laundry room and the balcony for drying clothes.
The right-side living room also had a balcony and large, large pieces of glass. The scenery outside was very beautiful.
The location was also very good, at a corner, one side facing east, one side facing west—in other words, from morning to evening there would be sunlight.
It was the first time he had seen such a house—or rather, the first time he had seen such a good orientation in real life, and had even moved in.
Maybe precisely because it was so good, he paused in place, not knowing what to do.
He raised his head again, looked at the living room he was about to live in.
Nan Zhi said it was a grievance for him to settle here, but actually this was already the best house he had ever lived in.
It was not like how Nan Zhi said it was a living room, more like an office and temporary resting study room—it was independent, surrounded on all four sides by glass partitions. Bed, desk, cabinets were all there—to say it was an individual bedroom wouldn’t be wrong.
The middle of the “凹”, the place without a loft, was more like the real living room.
It also had a balcony and sofa, the TV was also there.
Song Qing hesitated for a moment, lowered his body, temporarily placed his canvas bag on the table, then took out a change of clothes from inside.
He planned to take a bath first. Although Nan Zhi said he didn’t have any smell, and the bamboo charcoal scent on him was very nice, he hadn’t bathed for two days in the hospital, and had been living next to the toilet. Even though there was a window for ventilation, he still worried. It was Nan Zhi who was kind-hearted, saw that he cared about this, and purposely comforted him.
Song Qing held a T-shirt and shorts in his hand, was just about to go, then backed out again, changing into the cleanest, most proper, and most new-looking clothes he had.
Later he would wear this to go to bed. That sofa bed was soft and clean white—worn clothes would dirty it.
Song Qing chose a long-sleeved top, pants also long, after feeling it was about right, he pushed the wheelchair toward the washroom.
She had said, everything in the house, as long as he could see it, he could use it. She had emphasized this several times, again and again repeating it. Although when saying these words her mood seemed a bit off, the words carried true sincerity.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have said it again and again, changing wording and saying it multiple times.
Song Qing’s wheelchair stopped in front of the washbasin. After simply washing up, he entered the bathroom, set the handbrake of the wheelchair, and used the handrail to get onto the chair Nan Zhi had prepared for him in advance.
The chair was big, with a backrest—for him, it was equivalent to having support to push and lean on, a little easier to get on.
He had seen it—her house had plastic stools. When unpacking deliveries, she had used a short plastic stool. There were two or three, folded and placed in a corner. Actually, moving one of those over would’ve been more than enough. But she didn’t—instead, she took the trouble to carry over this one, which was bulky, heavy, needed more effort to move—the dining chair.
She really was very meticulous.
Song Qing sat on that chair, feeling the soft touch beneath him, reached out and touched it—the leather wrapped cushion, if soaked during bathing, would be such a pity.
Song Qing hesitated a moment, then backed out again. Went back and forth twice, jumping on and off—it hurt so much his brows furrowed. There was no one else here, so he didn’t need to pretend. Song Qing lowered his head and rubbed the area around his collarbone.
He had been in a car accident, hit with great force, had many small fractures all over his body. But the doctor said he was young, the bones would heal, so they didn’t treat it further—but also told him not to move too much. Climbing up and down like this actually counted as large movement.
Song Qing closed his eyes, took a moment to recover, then released the wheelchair’s handbrake, returned to the living room, lifted the curtain under the stairs, and took out the plastic stool from inside.
Beside the stool were the deliveries she had kicked in earlier—big and small, over a dozen. Some already opened, like boxes of plastic wrap, small flowerpots, and so on, were also left there, all squeezed into the corner together.
Just now when she left, she had told him not to touch them—wait until he got better.
Song Qing looked at his own body. Today, he had done several large movements—bending over, getting up, going on and off the wheelchair. Later, he still had to bathe and scrub himself. He really didn’t have extra strength left to do anything else, but by tomorrow it should be more or less fine.
Song Qing put down the curtain, carried the plastic stool, turned the wheelchair and headed toward the bathroom. Not long after, the stool was placed by him into the deepest part of the shower area.
He himself also followed in, sat on the small plastic stool and undressed himself. After taking off his clothes, he placed them on the chair outside.
The bathroom was dry-wet separated, enclosed by glass—while showering, it wouldn’t get the outside wet.
Song Qing closed the door. The wet area door was clear and transparent, and his gaze easily passed through, seeing his own reflection on the glass door outside.
Not particularly strong—there was still some malnutrition.
He lifted his chin, exposing the scrapes around his neck. In truth, his collarbones, arms, chest—all were green-purple bruises and contusions. Even on his ears, and also along the jawbone—just that the parts exposed to the outside healed faster, already scabbed over into long and thin crusts. After some time, when those crusts came off, it would be considered fully healed.
Song Qing’s gaze landed on his leg. He had never paid attention to this part before, and had never thought it would be gone, so had never looked at it properly. Only after losing it did he realize he didn’t even remember what it looked like. He only knew that the current appearance was short and ugly.
After removing the gauze, it would only be scarier. On the third day after getting injured, he had secretly untied it himself. Blood had stuck to the gauze. One pull was painful. When he lifted one corner, beneath were criss-crossing stitches—line after line. Even someone who never cared about appearance would find it shocking.
Song Qing looked at the half leg and white gauze reflected on the glass door. After taking a deep breath, he slightly shifted his direction, turned his back to that glass door, and took out the small basin he had placed earlier. After filling it with warm water, he soaked the towel and began to wipe his body.
He had wounds on his leg and couldn’t shower directly. It would get the gauze wet.
—
In the loft facing east on the second floor, Nan Zhi couldn’t sleep and was playing with her phone. As she played, she suddenly thought of Song Qing.
She didn’t know what he was doing—downstairs had been quiet for quite a while.
Nan Zhi thought for a bit, put on a windbreaker, and went downstairs from the loft, planning to see what Song Qing was up to.
When looking for him, she inexplicably thought of the past—a little kitten she had once rescued. Malnourished, injured, just over a month old, always liked to curl into corners.
She would take a shower, and worry, then go out to look for it. Blow-dry her hair, still not at ease, go out again to look. Even just brushing her teeth, she would feel like the kitten might have gone missing, or got stuck in some corner and died—so she’d search again and again. Only seeing it safe would she feel reassured.
Now she had the same feeling. Song Qing’s leg wasn’t good, everything he did was inconvenient. What if he fell while doing something? Hit something? Or knocked the back of his head—what would she do?
Back then, she had already tried her best for that kitten. Bought goat milk powder, 300–500-yuan cat food—honestly speaking, even she didn’t eat food that expensive. Afraid it wouldn’t drink well, she used circulating thermostatic water. She even brought it to the vet, spent a lot of money, and in the end, it still died from ascites.
Nan Zhi grew more and more worried for Song Qing, clicking down the stairs. She checked each room—from the big living room to the small one.
While searching, she was thinking—
Raising a person was no less worrisome than raising a cat.