She also felt that compared to before in the city, he seemed to like it here more—roasting by the fire, sunbathing in the sunroom, strolling in a small courtyard, raising fish, tending to flowers and plants. He was more enthusiastic than before, spending more time and effort fussing over things. He’d even run out into the ice and snow just to check on the fish and the flowers—not afraid of the cold at all.
Front foot had just repaired the leaves, back foot went to bury compost—ran around diligently.
No one urged him; he was the one always insisting on going.
Maybe he really liked it. On the way back, he even worried about the flowers growing on his balcony. Before leaving, he frequently went to check on them and water them, even made an automatic watering system, which could last one to two months.
He packed fewer clothes in his luggage just to make sure he could bring back that flower he brought from the hospital.
That flower was also giving face; a few days ago, it budded again. The branches and leaves grew increasingly lush, and the roots were firm—looked like it wouldn’t easily wither.
It had wilted for a while on the way home, but once placed in the sunroom and taken care of properly, it returned to its original state.
When Nan Zhi had nothing to do, she also liked sitting in the sunroom, looking at that flower—and at the person as tough as that flower—thinking about the difference between now and before.
Last year, she came back alone, tidying up that cold and deserted house and courtyard by herself. This year, she wasn’t alone—he was here too. In a day, he could roll out dozens of wheel tracks, as if he was everywhere, bringing vitality and liveliness, and none of that lonely feeling from before.
Back in the hometown, it was peaceful and quiet. Time also seemed to stretch longer. People could calmly finish their work—and also have a bit of fun along the way.
Back then, Nan Zhi liked to set up a table and computer in the sunroom to draw. Now that she and Song Qing were together, two desks stood side by side, facing the courtyard. When tired, they would go out for a walk, and return after running about.
The working area in the sunroom was covered with a carpet. Before entering, they had to change into slippers. Song Qing, in his wheelchair, had to wipe down the wheels before coming in.
He wiped them dozens of times a day and didn’t find it troublesome—still went back and forth like always.
Just like a cat, his nature was released.
The two people and two cats lived like this—steadily passed a few quiet and stable days. On the fifth day after returning home, Nan Zhi received a phone call from her parents’ side.
—
Tang Zhi had been very flustered recently—because she accidentally opened the village’s WeChat group and, in someone’s video, saw her daughter who had gone to watch an opera.
Her daughter was standing behind a young man in a wheelchair, both hands resting on the young man’s shoulders, laughing and chatting with him. That young man had a bit of good looks.
She really didn’t want to think in that direction, but still had no choice but to consider it.
Her daughter seemed to be in a relationship with that young man in a wheelchair.
She specifically asked around—her daughter had brought that young man home, eating and living together every day, often going out together too. More than one person had seen it.
She contacted her daughter’s uncle, and the uncle also said that one day, her daughter had brought that young man over, and he even helped fix their computer—got it done in just a few steps, looked very impressive.
A computer major?
She didn’t want to belittle anyone, but a person with disabled legs, no matter what profession he was in, was not a match for their daughter.
Their daughter was good-looking, fair and clean, very well-liked, and owned three properties—all registered under her name alone.
She only recently found out—turns out their daughter also had a lot of talent in painting. A long time ago, she was already a well-known big-name artist, had won many awards, and had tens of millions of fans online. She looked into it—if she wanted to, a single advertisement could earn her hundreds of thousands.
This thing about painting had actually been mentioned to her by the child’s grandma before, but she had resentment toward the grandma at the time and didn’t really pay attention to the messages she sent.
Only recently, after going through those again, did she see them. The child’s grandma had sent her a signed artwork.
She searched that artist’s name—and although she didn’t understand most of it—there were indeed tens of millions of fans who liked her.
Their daughter, while they hadn’t been paying attention, had grown up very well.
But the daughter hadn’t grown up under their care, and didn’t have deep feelings for them. So she couldn’t say anything harsh to stop her. After discussing for a long time with her husband, they finally decided to intervene. Otherwise, what would their daughter do for the rest of her life?
She would have to take care of that person for a lifetime.
She herself didn’t have good health—during her internship, she fainted several times.
At the hospital where her daughter went, there was a doctor who knew their family. She often contacted that doctor to ask around, her daughter had hypoglycemia.
Hypoglycemia is a condition where one can collapse at any time. She herself needs someone to take care of her, and then on top of that she’s dragging a burden—how is she supposed to live in the future?
She wasn’t close to her daughter, so it was hard to speak directly. They wanted to come up with a more tactful method. Actually, they had already considered it before, just wanted to wait until the daughter had settled down to bring it up. Now that they couldn’t wait anymore, it was just right to take care of it during the New Year holiday.
—
The call Nan Zhi received said that this year her parents and her siblings would all come back for the New Year. The break hadn’t started yet—they could only get home in a few days. The call was to let her mentally prepare in advance.
Nan Zhi really hadn’t thought about that—felt a bit caught off guard. Mainly she was worried that her family wouldn’t get along with Song Qing. Other things didn’t really matter.
Aside from her parents and siblings coming home for New Year, there was one more thing: her mom felt that her current situation wasn’t a long-term plan. Although she had a side job, it was ultimately unstable, so they wanted her to think of a way—to take a master in traditional Chinese medicine, and after completing the apprenticeship, to take the Assistant Physician Qualification Exam, and shift from nursing to TCM.
Everyone in the family was a doctor.
Being a doctor—the older you are, the more valuable. You can work until retirement. Even after retirement, you’re still in demand, with many hospitals eager to throw olive branches.
Her parents were like that. At their current age, their monthly salary was already twenty to thirty thousand, plus pensions and other benefits.
Also received a lot of respect, not losing out compared to being a teacher.
Nan Zhi actually admired her grandmother a lot. She also wanted to be like her grandma—still having many people coming to visit in her old age, always being asked for advice when others encountered something, when their children got promoted and couldn’t decide what to do, they’d come ask her.
She was like a beacon in the village. Sometimes even village officials would come chat with her grandma about family stuff and bring gifts every now and then.
Well-informed, knew many people, had broad horizons.
When her parents returned to the village, a whole wave of relatives would show up, holding their scans and lining up to get her parents to take a look.
In the hospital, you normally had to queue and couldn’t even get an appointment with them. But after returning to the village, a few words exchanged and the illness was checked.
When she was little, she didn’t really suffer grievances from adults—it was among kids that she got bullied a few times.
Then during holidays and New Year, she’d wait from dawn to dark. It was hard enough to say they were on holiday and could come home, but then the hospital would call them away again, or something else would happen and they couldn’t return—met less, separated more. She’d barely seen her parents.
Other “left-behind children” could at least reunite with family during holidays, she only got the gifts her parents sent.
Saying she had no resentment would be a lie. It was just that as she grew older and came into contact with fewer things, she started to understand her parents a bit more.
When she quit her job, her parents probably worried a lot. Even when she hadn’t yet thought about her career, they had already planned her future.
Her parents said they’d already contacted an old Chinese medicine doctor—he lived locally, in this very county. His son was also a Chinese medicine doctor. The old doctor was busy and couldn’t leave, but his son was coming back for ancestor worship. Their home was being demolished and had no place to stay—so it was just right for Nan Zhi to host him for a few days and discuss things in the meantime.
The house at home was big—hosting one person wasn’t a problem. After thinking it through for a while, Nan Zhi agreed.
According to her parents, the person was already about to get off the high-speed train and would arrive soon. They hoped she could go pick him up.
It took half an hour to get to the high-speed rail station, she had to leave now.
After tidying up briefly, Nan Zhi told Song Qing she was going to pick someone up and would bring back some coal along the way.
The two of them basically stayed home 24/7, rarely went out. Coal was used up quickly. They had just bought a small pile not long ago, and in a few days, it was already gone.
Song Qing was sitting at the computer, unable to focus on work. His mind was filled with what Nan Zhi had told him that morning—that her parents and family would be coming back for the New Year and staying here.
He couldn’t imagine what that situation would be like.
“Song Qing?” Nan Zhi noticed he was spacing out and called him once.
Only then did Song Qing come back to his senses and nod, indicating he understood.
Nan Zhi’s car was small—he alone would take up two seats, one for himself and one for the wheelchair. There wouldn’t be much space left for coal, let alone carrying another person. So Nan Zhi meant to tell him: this time, he couldn’t come along.
He expressed his understanding. After sending Nan Zhi off and closing the courtyard gate, he headed back to the sunroom.
The house at Nan Zhi’s place was slightly elevated, about the height of one step.
There was also one step from the courtyard to the sunroom, but on both sides were gentle slopes. It wasn’t clear if it was because the eaves on both sides happened to fall along that line, and stairs would collect water—while a slope could drain it—or for some other reason. Either way, both sides were sloped, but very small.
Just enough for his wheelchair to pass through. He had already been using a wheelchair for some time—his skills were decent, and each time he could go up and down smoothly.
But for some reason, when coming up that slope this time, he suddenly lost confidence. He practiced going up and down with the wheelchair again and again.
That slope—Nan Zhi said it had safety hazards. She had already ordered railings. Once delivered, they’d be installed, enclosing the slope. That way, even if he didn’t maneuver well going up or down, he wouldn’t fall off.
The railings had to be custom-made—wouldn’t arrive for at least five more days, but her parents would be coming home for the holidays in just two days.
Song Qing seemed to be possessed—each time he could go back and forth just fine, yet he kept practicing for a long time.
Only when the wheelchair’s battery started running low did he stop and go inside, still not working—just sat in front of the computer desk, zoning out.
He didn’t even know what he was thinking about. After a while, he went into the bedroom and changed out of his pajamas, putting on his regular clothes.
Nan Zhi hadn’t said who she was picking up, but it was probably one of her relatives.
After changing, Song Qing sat back down at the computer desk, but still couldn’t calm his mind enough to write code. He saved the current work, then tidied up the computer desk.
When the message had come in, the two of them had been sitting at the desks—one drawing, one coding. After all, it was the countryside—quite remote. Most food deliveries didn’t reach them. If they wanted to eat anything special, they had to go out and buy it themselves. Nan Zhi didn’t like going out much, so she bought lots of snacks to keep at home.
The desktop was littered with cookie wrappers and packaging boxes.
He cleaned everything into the trash can, wiped down the desk, tidied up the sofa, and only when there was nothing left to do did he stop—then went back to the courtyard and continued climbing up and down that slope.
Around 5:00 in the afternoon, he heard knocking at the door. Normally Nan Zhi wouldn’t knock—she’d just use her key to open it—so it had to be someone else.
Almost at the same time, a message popped up on his phone. It was from Nan Zhi, saying that she had missed the person she was picking up. That person had taken a taxi and was already headed straight to their place. He should be arriving at the door by now.
She had taken a detour to buy coal and wouldn’t be back for a while, asking him to help receive the guest. It was a friend of her parents.
Song Qing replied that he understood.
After replying, he controlled his wheelchair and went to open the door. Outside, as expected, was a stranger carrying a suitcase.
A man.
Wearing a suit and tie, with a wool overcoat on top. A scarf was wrapped around his neck, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses.
A handsome young man.
“Is this Nan Zhi’s house?” He looked like it was his first time here, unfamiliar with the area, and checked the house number several times.
Song Qing nodded, then opened the door fully to let him in.