Nan Zhi didn’t show it on the surface, but inside her heart bloomed with joy. Right now, only one internet gif could express her thoughts.
That one of a little person being pierced through the heart by a blue arrow, then bleeding blue nosebleed, covering their nosebleed and face, with little blue hearts popping out all around.
Nan Zhi forcefully pressed down the excitement in her heart, and said as calmly as possible: “I saw your classmate today, she wanted to come see you, but didn’t know you’d already been discharged and missed you. Do you usually not keep in touch with your classmates?”
Song Qing was stunned, then shook his head after a moment.
The relationships with classmates in university were as plain as water. He’d muted all the group chats, rarely looked at the messages, he didn’t even know why they had come to see him back then.
Maybe it was thinking about the classmate connection, or maybe simply thinking he was pitiful.
“They helped pay your medical fees. Not only them, your teachers also chipped in, and even the police and traffic police who brought you in.”
When he got into the car accident, that immoral driver fled. It was the crowd of bystanders who made the calls — 110, 120, and called over the traffic police too.
The ones who escorted him all the way to the hospital were also them, they were the ones who contacted Song Qing’s relatives, and didn’t leave until someone took over to care for him.
Because it was his teachers and classmates who came first, plus during the background check on Song Qing, they couldn’t help but learn of his past. Maybe also because they pitied someone so young, couldn’t bear it, so paid part of the money first.
They were also the ones who knocked again and again on the doors of his relatives, raised a bit more money, and even dragged his uncle and aunt over along the way.
Country people, didn’t study much, and when they heard about dodging guardian responsibilities, charges like child abandonment, they got so scared they forked out a bit.
Later on, maybe because more and more relatives came, giving advice to the couple, they became unwilling to give more, ran away several times, got called back then ran again. Later they started acting rough, saying things like “only life is there, no money,” then nothing could be done — had to think of other ways.
So they went to the neighborhood committee, village officials, and all sorts, scraped together bit by bit — still had just over ten thousand left.
Nan Zhi told him all these various details, including the attending doctor and nurses in the hospital who donated money for him.
She specially mentioned those two girls named Yue Yue and Ruo Ruo.
Especially the girl Yue Yue who took photos.
She could feel it — someone who took photos so seriously and earnestly couldn’t have just been kindly helping him. Actually, there were some little thoughts of her own in it — she liked him.
When he was surrounded and blocked by a few male classmates, the photos at first were very blurry and shaky — showed that the girl was very nervous. But still she took a whole bunch in a flurry, later on the photos almost formed a sequence like a string, fast-forwarded it could become an animation.
Maybe she didn’t want to miss any detail, afraid he wouldn’t be able to report it and file the case after the fact.
A girl like this, such wholehearted sincerity — Nan Zhi didn’t want him to miss it, so she told him all of it in one breath. Aside from not saying that the girl liked him, everything else was spilled out.
As for the affection part, better let her say it herself. But everything she had done for Song Qing — Nan Zhi hoped Song Qing would know.
Song Qing listened in silence to her talking, from beginning to end, not missing a single detail.
“Song Qing,” Nan Zhi said while talking, her tone becoming solemn, “There are many people who believe in you, who acknowledge you. You mustn’t let down their expectations.”
Song Qing furrowed his brows, the confusion in his eyes growing thicker and thicker, doubt and puzzlement taking up a large part, like he couldn’t figure out why.
Nan Zhi didn’t wait for him to ask, and directly replied: “Because you’re worth it. You shook them. You were so outstanding that in their lives you left a deeply vivid stroke of color.”
This was her genuine feeling — and she thought others felt the same too.
To speak truthfully, a person graduating university at seventeen years old was already enough to shake others. On top of that, he carried so many burdens and shackles behind him — just how decisive, how clear his goals must be to pull that off.
“Have you never realized it? In other people’s eyes, you shine and glow, burning like the sun.”
Song Qing was stunned.
Glowing and shining, like the sun, scorching hot…
These words were far too unfamiliar to him. On the contrary, he often felt like he was a little dog at others’ beck and call, a live-in nanny whose eating and drinking were under strict control, a rat in the gutter, merely struggling to live on by sneaking scraps.
“Don’t think of yourself like that.” Nan Zhi, who often sank into inferiority herself, instantly saw through the self-mocking emotion in his eyes. She stood up, deliberately walked around the table, and hugged him tightly.
“You have to believe in yourself. Believe in me,” Nan Zhi spoke honestly, “I’m the kind of person who never lies about things like this.”
She really did love to make things up normally, but about this matter, she was serious.
Song Qing’s head was pressed down by her, deeply buried into her embrace. When the hand at the back of his head moved away, only then did he get a chance to lift his head and look at her. After a long while, he closed his eyes and continued sinking into this warm hug.
“Mn.”
—I believe you.
Nan Zhi was satisfied, then asked him again, “By the way, what do you like to eat?”
She was three years older than this person who hovered between being a youth and a teenager. As the big sister, she had to take care of him more.
Understanding his preferences and starting from there was absolutely necessary.
“Is there something you especially, especially want to eat?”
Song Qing shook his head, “No.”
Being full was already enough to satisfy him. He had no other needs.
“Then what do you usually want to eat?”
Song Qing was still about to shake his head, when Nan Zhi stretched out one finger and pointed at him — a warning for him to answer carefully.
Song Qing looked at that finger, and the person above his head, hesitated for a moment, then replied.
“I want to eat a bowl of egg custard.”
This person was different. When he lived in other people’s homes, others wished he could grow up drinking dew, not eat a single grain of rice, not use a single bit of resources. But she was the exact opposite.
Wished for him to eat more, fed him desperately — often when his mouth still had food in it, a bite of meat would suddenly be shoved in with chopsticks. Fruits, snacks, drinks — she’d stuff them in whenever she had the chance.
She even took care of what he wore and used.
She wouldn’t mind the household being short one egg, so he could make a small request.
“I especially want to eat egg custard.”
When kids are small, most children’s breakfasts should be egg custard — because kids’ stomachs are delicate and can’t handle food that’s too hard.
When Song Qing was little, his breakfast was often egg custard too. Even back when money was tight, and his dad drove a car but was constantly owed payment, sometimes the family was so poor they couldn’t even keep the pot boiling — even then, his dad would try to supplement his nutrition.
After he went to live with his uncle and aunt, the uncle and aunt treated their own kids the same way — every day would instruct him to make egg custard for their pair of children. Of course, there was none for him.
He saw with his own eyes the food he liked being served at the table for years, but there was never a portion for him.
By the time he was in high school, on his birthday, he rarely spent his own money to buy a few eggs, wanting to make a big bowl of egg custard, and also fry two eggs.
But just in the time he went to the bathroom, when he came back, the egg custard and eggs were all eaten by those two kids, and what was left was a pile of pots and bowls waiting for him to wash.
After that kind of thing happened, from then on, he never again put in effort to make anything. Anyway, Heaven wouldn’t let him have his way.
He had specially chosen a time when that family wasn’t home, and yet, the food he was about to eat still got intercepted by others — what else could he say?
“That’s all?” Such a small request. “Anything else?”
So it turns out he liked to eat egg custard.
There were lots of eggs at home. When buying them, they were bundled — three large boards, Nan Zhi actually couldn’t finish them all, but she was too embarrassed to tell the seller she only wanted one tray.
It was great that he liked eating them.
Song Qing shook his head, “No more.”
Nan Zhi paused, “Do you also like eating eggs?”
Normally, if someone liked a dish made from something, they’d also like the ingredient itself.
Among the few things she was allowed to eat when she was little, egg custard was one of Nan Zhi’s favorites. She also liked eating eggs, egg pancakes, fried eggs, soft-boiled eggs — she still loved them even now.
Thinking of herself, she thought of him.
Before Song Qing could even answer, she had already let go of him, rolled up her sleeves, and went into the kitchen.
Song Qing followed behind her. When his wheelchair got stuck at the kitchen doorway, she already drove him out. He could only watch her through the glass kitchen door from outside as she moved inside, took out four or five eggs in one go from the fridge, and even rummaged in the cabinets for a super big bowl, cracked all the eggs into it, and poured in water to stir.
She added salt and chicken bouillon, then after adding, she even dug out the peeled shrimp he had prepared ahead of time for cooking for her tomorrow from the fridge — and tossed in a big handful.
Cooking like this was not okay —
This sentence only stayed in Song Qing’s mind, he didn’t say it aloud. He just watched her shove the bowl into the steaming oven and press the “steam egg” button.
That steam oven of hers was very high-tech — options for steaming spare ribs, steamed fish, etc., were all included.
Song Qing saw her close the door and instinctively backed up, thinking she would come out. But she didn’t. She cracked a few more eggs, heated the pan and oil, and stir-fried a dish that was only eggs, no extra ingredients.
Only at the very end, when she was plating, did she sprinkle in a bit of chopped scallion.
Her cooking wasn’t very good — some parts were overcooked and burnt, some were still tender and moist — but she was meticulous. She picked out all the slightly burnt bits — and fed them to the cat.
Song Qing: “……”
He had always had a clear self-positioning, was very self-aware, and knew that in her home, she was definitely ranked first, the cat she raised was second, and he was at the very end.
But looking at it now, the order in Nan Zhi’s heart didn’t seem to be like that. (T/N: The cats are just extras)
He might have moved up a few ranks.
After picking out all the not-so-good bits, Nan Zhi pushed the full plate of eggs in front of him, ordering him to finish it all. As for the rest, he could leave it for now — eat it as a late-night snack.
She didn’t make him eat more rice, told him to wait for the egg custard.
Egg custard took a long time, at least twenty minutes. But since Nan Zhi had made a large bowl, when she took it out and poked it with chopsticks, it wasn’t cooked at the bottom. So she added another twenty minutes of steaming — and by the time it was done, it was overcooked.
There was a layer of honeycomb-like holes on top.
Nan Zhi wanted to pour it out and redo it, but Song Qing didn’t let her — because what he liked was exactly this kind of egg custard.
Back then when they made egg custard, it was always together with breakfast — porridge on the bottom, a bun and leftover rice on top, and the custard steamed along with it. About thirty minutes or so. When taken out, the egg custard always turned out like this.
What he missed was exactly this kind.
Song Qing snatched it from her hands, laid the spoon flat, and scooped the very top layer from the surface — one bite down, and it was just like in his memory.
Only by eating it this way was the temperature just right — not too hot.
The taste also wasn’t much different.
After so many years, he finally ate egg custard again.