Song Qing placed the fish into the steam oven, then took two small bowls, preparing to steam egg custard.
Ever since that time he said he wanted to eat egg custard, Nan Zhi had ordered him to steam two bowls every day — one bowl each for the two of them, eat until they wanted to throw up.
Actually, it had only been a few days, just one meal a day, not enough to get sick of it. Even Nan Zhi hadn’t.
It could be seen — she also missed her childhood, also liked this. She had a habit when eating: the more she didn’t like it, the earlier she’d eat it; the more she liked it, the more she’d save it for last.
She would always leave the egg custard for last, and also other things she liked.
Clearly it was eaten last, but she scraped it clean.
The ones she didn’t like, she would usually leave some at the bottom, or some vegetable leaves scattered around, still stuck on the edges of the bowl. The things she liked, she’d pick until not a trace remained.
Her preferences were actually easy to figure out.
Song Qing had finished cracking one egg into a bowl. When cracking the second, he hesitated slightly.
She didn’t like him anymore, so naturally wouldn’t be willing to let him eat something good.
But if this morning really was an accident—
If there was one bowl less, Nan Zhi would definitely give him hers, fiercely ordering him to eat it, or else she’d get mad.
Previously, Nan Zhi asked him to make two bowls, but he felt he had already tasted it and there was no need, so he didn’t make it. She did exactly that.
Afterward, she was very angry, saying she also wanted to eat egg custard, but because of him, didn’t get to.
Song Qing thought it over and over, and still made two bowls. Nan Zhi wouldn’t get angry over one missing egg, but would be gloomy because she didn’t get to eat it.
Song Qing also steamed shrimp and soup baby cabbage.
Nan Zhi had been staring at these ingredients the most — after watching them, she couldn’t help but go buy vegetables: shrimp and baby cabbage.
There were already vegetables at home. If she still bought them, that meant she especially wanted to eat them — meant to add them in and cook ahead of schedule.
Song Qing didn’t make too much, because the day before yesterday they had also bought vegetables. The ones that spoil easily needed to be cooked first, or they’d go bad.
Nan Zhi had wanted to eat that earlier, but now didn’t want to anymore. But it didn’t matter — he wasn’t picky. As long as he ate, it was fine.
Song Qing took out the somewhat wilted oyster mushrooms, blanched them, and later would dip them with the shrimp. Finally, it was three bowls of rice: one for Nan Zhi, two for him.
His appetite was much bigger than Nan Zhi’s.
Song Qing put everything into the steam oven, set the time, and went to mix the dipping sauce.
Around 5:20, Nan Zhi finished handing over with her colleague and slipped away right away — otherwise she’d get caught to do overtime.
She wasn’t considered an official nurse yet, very easily caught to help this one or assist that one. If her teacher saw her, she’d be pulled along. Occasionally, her teacher couldn’t keep up either, and she herself felt embarrassed, so she could only stay.
Now she’d gotten smarter — no one could stop her from getting off work. Without waiting for anyone to call, she had already taken off her nurse uniform. In the break room, others were still slowly changing clothes, but she had already locked her locker and was grabbing her bag to leave.
Her teacher didn’t even catch up to her and curiously asked, “Someone chasing you from behind? Running so fast?”
Nan Zhi didn’t hide it: “Rushing home to eat.”
—Going home to eat?
Even she herself was stunned for a moment.
So strange, these words.
Also couldn’t explain what kind of feeling it was — only knew that, in the past, those few words absolutely didn’t match her.
Not even a little related. But don’t know from when it started, every time after work she’d mutter: hurry, hurry, need to go home to eat.
Before, even when driving, she wasn’t in a rush. Now, even waiting at a traffic light, she wished she could fly back.
Didn’t mess around anymore either. Before, she would lie on the bed and search nearby food spots, sleep a bit, and if she had energy afterward, she’d go out for a meal. Of course, most of the time she couldn’t get up.
She bookmarked a lot of food places, but honestly didn’t go to many — only once in a while could she summon the energy to eat out.
Now, she still couldn’t describe the strange feeling in her heart — only knew that those four words were something she looked forward to, something warm, something like being needed, being thought of.
Song Qing would wait for her to eat together. No matter how many times she told him: eat first, no matter how she threatened him, scolded him — he’d agree verbally, but in reality still wait for her.
He wouldn’t move his chopsticks until she got home.
Maybe afraid he’d go hungry. Also possible that she’d bullied him deliberately in the morning, now eager to get back and see how he reacted. Anyway, today she was also filled with the urge to return home, hurriedly grabbed the delivery and dashed back.
As soon as she opened the door, she tossed the package to the floor, startling the cats that had jumped off him. Before they could come over, she had already shut the door. While changing shoes, she said, “Quick, give me a hug, it’s so cold outside, I’m freezing to death.”
Song Qing, hearing the sounds of her coming home, had his finger on the insulated LCD panel on the table, just halfway through adjusting the temperature, when he was already lifted out of the wheelchair by her.
There was no force pulling it sideways, so the wheelchair tilted slightly then righted itself, swayed a bit, then quickly steadied.
Song Qing was in her arms, one arm threading through from under her elbow, continuing to adjust the temperature. Once it reached the just-right setting, he stopped and had time to observe Nan Zhi.
She hadn’t even hung up her bag before coming to hug him — bringing with her all the wind and frost and cold from outside. Didn’t know if she was really cold, or if she wanted to make up for that hug from this morning.
Hugging him both tightly and for a long time, pressing him against the wall.
It was the posture of someone who planned to hold for a long time — pinning him between herself and the wall, using her whole body strength, not just her arms. It saved effort and let her hug longer.
Of course, after what happened this morning, he wasn’t as confident as before.
One thing could be confirmed though — this morning really might have been an accident.
Nan Zhi didn’t dislike him.
She came home and only hugged him, didn’t hug the cats, even though she was using him for warmth. Pushed by her sudden rush, the wheelchair tilted to one side — before it could fall—
Nan Zhi buried her head deep into the collar of Song Qing’s hoodie, smelling the natural clean scent on his body, and the food smells from cooking. She felt at ease.
So nice.
Someone at home had made food, and was even waiting to eat with me.
Nan Zhi placed her hand behind his back, using his warm body temperature to thaw her hands that had gone stiff from the cold during the car ride and while carrying packages. Her body also leaned into his embrace, soaking up his warmth.
His body temperature leaned high. He wasn’t afraid of the cold in winter. Whether at home or out, he always wore less than her, yet his body was warmer.
She, on her side, felt like she was in an ice cellar, shivering from the cold. On his side, it was like being in spring. As if they weren’t even in the same weather.
Nan Zhi hugged him for a long time before her body started to warm up.
Even so, she didn’t let go. Kept hugging. When she felt he was slipping downward, she adjusted him upward — in the process accidentally touched his leg.
Nan Zhi paused for a moment, then lowered her head, looking toward that spot.
Wrapped inside the sweatpants, couldn’t see the situation, but pressed into the corner of the wall, the pants also drooped, outlining a bulging, gauze-wrapped arc.
Nan Zhi’s hand touched it, lightly pressed a few times, then asked: “Still hurts?”
Song Qing shook his head. “Doesn’t hurt.”
It was a bit itchy — because the pressure from her fingers was too light.
That soft, slight strength gave him the illusion that he was some kind of fragile porcelain piece, needing Nan Zhi to handle with extreme care.
Nan Zhi was slightly reassured. If it didn’t hurt, that meant just now she hadn’t accidentally hurt him.
Her expression relaxed. “Today we’re taking out the stitches.”
Paused a moment, then asked: “We can go to the hospital, or we can do it at home — I can remove them for you. Which do you choose?”
Stitch removal is usually done by a doctor, occasionally by a senior nurse. Her teacher had done it before. She had followed right behind her teacher and had removed stitches once or twice herself — not experienced, but doing it was no problem.
Nan Zhi reminded him: “At home carries risk. I’m still a newbie.”
Song Qing still, without the slightest hesitation, replied firmly: “At home.”
Nan Zhi blinked a few times, then after a moment nodded and said: “Okay.”
He trusted her this much — then she absolutely couldn’t let him down.
“Let’s eat first. Later don’t forget to remind me to remove the stitches.”
Song Qing nodded.
Nan Zhi just so happened to also be at the limit of her strength — hugging for too long. So she simply placed him back into the wheelchair. This time she didn’t sit across from him, but sat on the same side, like they were already very familiar. Naturally, she opened the insulation cover, and saw inside — it was all things she liked to eat.
Just the day before yesterday, she’d still been watching videos of boiled shrimp and soup baby cabbage. Last night she had even bought ingredients, but didn’t bring it up — after all, she wasn’t the one cooking.
Her grandma had long ago told her: if someone else is cooking, just focus on eating, don’t talk nonsense.
She followed that advice, but she really had been craving that taste — was planning to bring it up tonight. Song Qing had already made it ahead of time.
Coincidence, or did he know how to read minds?
How could he, every time, just right on the dot, know what she wanted to eat, and then make it?
Whatever the case, Nan Zhi’s mood today was +1 +1 +1 +1 — especially seeing that he had steamed two bowls of egg custard — another +1, her mood was off the charts.
After she washed her hands, she couldn’t wait and came over, brought out the egg custards, one bowl for each, then happily ate this meal.
Every single dish suited her taste. She nearly ate herself to the point of bursting.
After the meal, she tidied the dishes. Afraid she’d forget again to take out his stitches, she told him to go change clothes first.
He was currently wearing a thick fleece-lined sweatshirt and sweatpants. The long leg was still okay, but the short one wasn’t — the pants couldn’t be rolled that high, so he had to change into those earlier five-point shorts, more convenient.
Nan Zhi also went to prepare — disinfected her hands, put on gloves, brought over the medical box, checked if there was enough iodine, and at the same time searched online for stitch-removal steps.
Afraid of messing up Song Qing’s stitches.
Actually, by this stage, there basically wouldn’t be any big problems.
Nan Zhi was fully prepared, and Song Qing had also changed clothes, sitting quietly on the bed, waiting.
Bright red bedsheets, bright red quilt cover and pillows, even embroidered with dragon and phoenix, and there were also characters on the quilt surface.
“Bainian Haohe (百年好合).” \[Literal meaning: “Hundred years of harmony.” A traditional Chinese blessing for a happy marriage.]
Someone who didn’t know might really think she was marrying a bride — the bride at this moment was just quietly sitting by the bed, waiting for her to “lift the bridal veil.”
Nan Zhi gathered her thoughts, moved a small stool and sat down, and while she was doing that, he had already unwrapped the gauze himself — on both sides — but for some reason, he only unwrapped halfway, loosely covering the wound.
—
At first, Song Qing only trusted Nan Zhi, and it was convenient to be at home, saving the round-trip. Most importantly, Nan Zhi’s hospital was one of the top in the city; small counties and towns nearby all came here for treatment. If he ran into someone from the same village, the lie from before would be exposed — so it was better to stay at home.
But when he was halfway through unwrapping the gauze and about to take it off completely, he caught sight of the stitched wound from the gap, and couldn’t help but cover it back again.
It might scare Nan Zhi.
Didn’t know why, just didn’t want Nan Zhi to see. Afraid she’d think it was ugly, feel disgusted.
But Nan Zhi, with an expression as usual, took off the gauze and let the wound be exposed.
“If you don’t dare to look, then lie down. Just trust me.”
Nan Zhi thought he was afraid to look — but actually, he was afraid to let her look.
But she had already seen it, and her expression didn’t change at all, no unusual reaction, like she’d seen it many times before.
Actually, that made sense — she was a nurse. This kind of wound, even if not hundreds, she must’ve seen dozens.
Song Qing relaxed, obediently lay down.
Not that he was scared — just wanted to follow what she said.