Song Qing had known long ago that, without that rain squeezing in through the window crack, that pot of flowers would not have turned green again.
But he couldn’t pray for the same kind of rain to fall on him. Such a fortunate thing would not descend upon his head. He could only pray that he, like that pot of flowers, would encounter life at death’s door, withered wood seeing spring again.
Relying on his own strength.
He didn’t expect the flower’s luck to be good—and he, too, was miraculously pitied once by the heavens.
Song Qing was pushed all the way to the hospital’s flower garden parking lot, next to a small-sized car.
The person behind him pressed the car key. The headlights flashed a few times, and the heart Song Qing had been carrying all the way finally relaxed a little.
She indeed intended to take him away.
They were already here—there was no reason to just let him see and then leave him behind.
—
Nan Zhi pushed the wheelchair to the side of the passenger seat and opened the car door, revealing the not-so-large interior space and the seat.
Parking in the city was too troublesome. Every time she drove, she usually couldn’t reach the destination. She would need to drive another stretch of road to find a suitable parking space, then walk to whatever shop or mall to eat.
She didn’t like that. When buying the car, she had thought—get a smaller one. Any small crevice would be enough to park in. No need for advanced skill to squeeze into narrow parking spots. Coming and going to various places alone, she didn’t want to drive something too big and wasteful. So, the car wasn’t a gasoline sedan—it was considered an electric car.
A four-seater, mint green in color, delicate and compact—just right for one person to drive.
Nan Zhi fixed the wheelchair in place. Song Qing, on his own initiative, moved to sit on the passenger seat. However, there was a height difference between the wheelchair and the car seat. Because it was small, most of the components were under the car, so the base was high, and the seat was further inward. There was no place to leverage his strength. It was also a single-door opening; the entrance space wasn’t large. He tried a few times but couldn’t get up.
Not only that, the lever under the seat that adjusts the height and forward-backward position got caught on the bandage on his leg, almost pulling the bandage off.
Although it was discovered in time and he didn’t force himself up, and the bandage didn’t fall off—after struggling a few times, Nan Zhi clearly saw a few spots of red seeping out from the top of the bandage.
It had only been just over a week in the hospital. Actually, it wasn’t yet time for discharge. The doctor knew he had no money to pay, and since she was a nurse and could take good care of him, they gave special permission.
A little over a week—the wound hadn’t healed yet. The stitched area could easily be torn again from movement.
It wasn’t just that his leg was amputated. It was a car accident, a heavy impact—his whole body was basically injured. When changing clothes, Nan Zhi had seen it. The skin exposed under the T-shirt had many bruises. There were also scrapes around the neck. Not being able to get up seemed only natural.
Nan Zhi felt that he was gasping heavily. His forehead had sweat, and his face and neck had gone pale. She didn’t know if it was from pain or being blown by cold wind.
“I’ll rest a bit… I’ll be quick…”
Song Qing suddenly paused. He saw the person behind him pull the wheelchair back slightly, then, after clearing the space, walk around to the front. She bent down slightly and reached out with both hands—like holding a child—and hugged him.
Warm touch and embrace instantly wrapped around him, making his breath break off. His whole body went still—didn’t move, didn’t speak.
A force came from the point of contact. He felt himself rising slightly, lifted by that strength. At the same time, because of that strength, the two of them pressed closer.
Song Qing lifted his head, trying to stay a bit farther from her.
Because he remembered many people had said he was poor and sour-smelling, that he had a kind of stink on him.
He didn’t know if it was true, but keeping some distance wasn’t wrong.
He didn’t want to be disliked.
Perhaps because he had raised his head, he clearly saw his own worn-out shirt and the other party’s clean, white sweatshirt momentarily tangled together—forming an extremely stark contrast.
Song Qing had never felt inferior, because he had books and a future path in his heart. He knew all the suffering he had endured was to live a better life in the future.
His teacher was the same as him—wore T-shirts that cost a little over ten yuan, and even when they were torn and old, was reluctant to replace them. Shoes worn out? Still wore them anyway.
Near the end of class, a student once said they had so many clothes they couldn’t finish wearing them and had thrown away a lot. The teacher directly said to him, if you don’t want them, you can give them to me. Later on, the teacher really wore the clothes that student had worn before, and openly, straightforwardly came to class wearing them.
No one disrespected him, and no one said he carried the stench of poverty.
So those external things actually didn’t matter. The teacher wasn’t gossiped about because he was strong enough. He had won many awards, brought out many outstanding students. During holidays and New Year, a huge crowd of people would come bringing gifts and greetings, hoping he’d look after their kids a bit—all of them were kicked out by him.
The only difference between him and the teacher was that he was very weak, had no achievements for now. As long as he could be like the teacher, it would be fine.
With enough things inside the heart, he had never felt discouraged—but this strong impact still made his fingertips tremble a little, and without realizing it, he lowered his head.
Nan Zhi discovered he wasn’t considered heavy—of course, not light either. After all, he was a grown man, and not amputated from the root of the leg. One leg was amputated below the knee.
It was said that after the car accident, he was still conscious. The driver, on the other hand, was terrified and tried to escape—in panic, ended up running over him a second time.
At that time, he saw the car coming, and out of survival instinct, shifted to one side. One leg was slightly bent, so when he was run over, one was crushed at the thigh, the other at the calf.
Fearing it would be difficult for him to wear a prosthetic in the future, the doctor tried to preserve as much of the remaining part as possible. One amputation was just a little below the thigh root, the other just a little below the knee.
He must’ve been quite tall before. The remaining leg was long and slender, so not light. Nan Zhi found it a bit difficult to hold him. She felt this person was slipping downward—maybe afraid of falling. From the large glass wall of the nearby hospital building, Nan Zhi saw that he wanted to move upward, but since he had no leverage, that remaining leg stuck out from his mid-length shorts, hanging helplessly in the air. His lower leg unconsciously curled upward—a bit cute.
The word “cute” seemed a bit inappropriate for describing a grown man, but she did indeed feel he was cute.
Nan Zhi truly couldn’t hold him up anymore. She had no choice but to move her hands downward and supported—his butt.
Song Qing’s entire body stiffened.
Nan Zhi: Quite perky.
With a place to exert force, she held him a bit more smoothly. After some effort, she placed him on the passenger seat. The wheelchair was then pushed to the other side and placed in the back seat.
After arranging everything, she also got into the car, sat in the driver’s seat, and didn’t drive toward home, but instead went to a nearby snack shop, planning to eat something first.
She got off work early, and dinner hadn’t been eaten until now.
Considering the person behind, she didn’t plan to order anything spicy. Two bowls of wontons from Sha County would be enough.
Nan Zhi held the steering wheel, driving steadily. On the passenger seat, Song Qing was looking at the delicate pendant hanging from her rearview mirror.
It was a small fragrance pouch in guofeng style, with an ear of wheat attached below, embroidery on top, and a little bell on the side—very pretty.
On the dashboard, there were also some miscellaneous cute little ornaments. In the very center was a crystal ball—whenever the car passed over a speed bump, the crystal flakes inside would gently shake, and snowflakes floated around.
When the car was temporarily parked and she was idle and bored, she would casually twist the crystal ball. Music would play inside the car.
The entire interior was the same as the exterior—a mint ice cream green hue. Even the steering wheel had a clean, pretty cover. Naturally, so did the seats.
He was like an outsider—dressed in a pile of worn-out, picked-up clothes, completely incompatible with this car.
Song Qing gathered the drooping parts of his clothes, trying his best to occupy as little space as possible. During the process, he kept checking under himself, afraid he’d dropped something.
He even flipped the bandage, worried that with all his earlier movement, the wound might’ve split open, bleeding out some bright red liquid that would dirty the clean and vivid car seat.
As he was still feeling around under his leg, he was suddenly caught off guard by the voice coming from the front.
“Song Qing…”
It wasn’t calling him—more like murmuring, saying the name softly.
“‘Qing’ [青] this character really suits you.”
This sentence was said to him, only he didn’t know how to respond, so he simply nodded.
“You’re completely different from what I imagined.”
When saying this sentence, Song Qing keenly noticed that she was smiling, as if he was more satisfying to her than she had expected.
He also didn’t know how to respond to that, just stared at her in a daze.
Nan Zhi didn’t wait for him to respond either. Compared to a conversation, she seemed more like she was talking to herself.
As soon as the red light turned green, she turned her head and continued driving forward. Very soon, they arrived at the front of a Sha County shop she really liked.
While unfastening her seatbelt, she told the person in the backseat, “The wonton skin here is thin, and the filling is generous. Add vinegar and sha sauce—it’s really delicious.” [Sha sauce or shacha sauce (沙茶酱) is a savory Chinese condiment with a slightly spicy and umami flavor.]
You could tell, she was sincerely sharing it with him. The corners of her eyes curved as she smiled—very genuine and pretty.
She was a very typical, glamorous city person, yet she didn’t dislike him at all. There wasn’t any of the usual disdain he saw in other people’s eyes—not even much pity.
Maybe it was because she had already carried him once just now—this time, as soon as Song Qing moved to the side of the car door, he was picked up by her again, still in that same position as before. Once again, she supported—his butt. Song Qing, stiff all over, was placed into the wheelchair by her.
Compared to the cautiousness of the first time, this time was clearly much more practiced, and also much faster. Before he could pay attention to anything, he had already been set down in the wheelchair.
Such a short time—it shouldn’t be enough to become annoying.
This might be the only life-saving straw handed to him. He wanted to grasp it—didn’t want to be disliked because of some carelessness or mistake of his own, and then be abandoned.
Even though it was just a brief encounter, he didn’t know what kind of personality the girl pushing his wheelchair liked. He could only try his best to be flawless—minimize his presence, speak only when he should, move only when he should, not do anything that would make people dislike him.
He suddenly froze—he felt a hand reach past his collar and touch the area near his neck, pulling out a strand of short hair.
It was his.
She flicked the hair away. Maybe she thought there’d be more, so she naturally pressed down his collar and looked inside again, then picked out another stray hair and tossed it.
She really didn’t dislike him—this wasn’t the first time she had taken the initiative to get close to him.
Song Qing gripped the wheelchair armrests tightly, and was pushed by the person behind him to the entrance of a small restaurant.
It wasn’t mealtime—there weren’t many people. Nan Zhi first ordered what she wanted: a bowl of wontons. Then she turned back and asked him what he wanted to eat.
Song Qing looked at the row of menu items, hesitating between the cheapest vegetable noodles and the most filling rice.
The noodles were five yuan, the egg fried rice was eight yuan.
“I’ll have vegetable noodles.”
It was already nighttime—after eating and washing up, he could go to bed. He didn’t need food that would keep him full for long.
Nan Zhi was briefly stunned, then quickly smiled and added, “Also one serving of steamed dumplings, two cans of pork rib soup, two chicken legs, two lion’s head meatballs.” [Lion’s head (狮子头): a type of large Chinese meatball made with minced pork.]
Aside from the steamed dumplings, everything came in pairs—clearly meant to include him. Song Qing reminded her, “One bowl of noodles is enough for me.”
Nan Zhi didn’t agree. “You’re in recovery—during recovery, you need to eat more so your injury heals faster. Heal faster, good people said, and then they can assign you to do work.”
Of course, she wasn’t that malicious—letting a disabled person go do labor. She was just fooling him.
But he seemed to believe it and nodded.
Nan Zhi found it amusing and continued, “You have to eat everything. No wasting. Otherwise, I’ll meddle in the middle and stop you from seeing the good-hearted person.”
What she said was “meddle in the middle” to block him from seeing the good-hearted person—not to speak ill of him or to tell the good-hearted person not to help him.
Song Qing nodded, “Okay.”
Nan Zhi blinked. On one hand, she felt like she was being a bad person; on the other hand, she couldn’t help but bully him more.
“The good-hearted person is very busy lately, so they left you with me for now. During this time, you have to listen to me. Otherwise, I’ll still meddle and stop you from seeing the good-hearted person.”
Song Qing: “Mm.”
He agreed far too easily.
Nan Zhi didn’t forget to add, “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do.”
Song Qing continued to nod, “Mm.”
Nan Zhi: “……”
She inexplicably felt even more like a bad person, like she was bullying someone who wouldn’t fight back. There was a sense of guilt.
But she also felt she was clever—she hadn’t said from the start that she was the one funding him, so now there was lots of room for development.
He cared about the good-hearted person—wasn’t that just perfect? She had seized his weakness and could only make him listen to her.
Nan Zhi looked at the person quietly sitting across from her, and from the inside out, she felt—
The sudden decision to take him in seemed to have added a trace of joy to her dull and tedious life.