By now, Grandmother had regained some consciousness and called her Mu Jing.
While watching over her, Mu Jing read a professional book since constant attention wasn’t needed. Outside her field, she only subscribed to one national newspaper to keep up with current affairs. She read nothing else except hospital signs and shop signs—all life-related text. Qu Hua had someone bring in a record player and some opera records, occasionally playing one and letting Grandmother rest the rest of the time. At lunch, after feeding Grandmother porridge, she quickly ate two buns herself.
At dinner time, the Qu family had food delivered. Mu Jing had told them early on she would stay overnight in the ward. One look at the food told her it was prepared by her mother-in-law—too much food, likely including Qu Hua’s portion. Mu Jing said she would stay with Grandmother. While Grandmother could eat little, the rest was plentiful. After a few hasty bites, she told Grandmother, “I’ll take this to Qu Hua. He’s just finished surgery, and the cafeteria might not have anything left.” She had heard Dr. Zhao offer to cover his shift, but perhaps he had already gone home. Grandmother said she couldn’t eat grapes now, telling Mu Jing to keep half for herself and take half to Qu Hua.
Just outside the ward, she met Dr. Zhao, who thoughtfully told her that Qu Hua had performed several surgeries today and was resting in the on-call room. He was on night duty, and if Mu Jing went too late, Senior Qu might be called away—staying awake all night during duty was common in their department.
“Why is he on night duty after performing surgery all day?”
“Technically, Senior shouldn’t take so many night shifts, but he requests them himself, and both leadership and patients are happy to oblige.” In Dr. Zhao’s memory, before marriage, his senior had no hobbies except surgery. While others saw surgery as work or helping people, Senior Qu treated it as a hobby. With no family obligations, he practically lived at the hospital. Qu Hua was famous not only for his excellent technique but also for his incredible stamina—he could stand in the operating room all day and still work a night shift. This reputation made him increasingly busy, often being called for emergency consultations.
“Sister-in-law, bringing Senior dinner?”
“I’m here with Grandmother. The family sent food, and I thought he hadn’t eaten after surgery.”
“Staying tonight to care for the old lady?”
Mu Jing nodded.
“No wonder…” No wonder Senior Qu wouldn’t switch shifts with him. He wanted to make a joke but, looking at Mu Jing’s face—which matched his senior’s so perfectly—found it too dignified for jesting. He swallowed his words.
“Would you like some too?”
“I won’t disturb you two. Sister-in-law, you’d better hurry.”
When Mu Jing reached the on-call room, Qu Hua stood smoking. Though his stamina exceeded most people’s, after a day of surgery, he needed a couple of cigarettes to relax. Hearing hesitant knocking, he knew it was Mu Jing without turning—hospital staff wouldn’t knock so uncertainly. He extinguished his cigarette on a tin lid, opened the window to clear the smoke, and said “Come in.”
Qu Hua asked, “You’re not going home tonight?”
“I told Mom and Dad I’d stay to care for Grandmother.” Mu Jing set out the food for Qu Hua, “Eat up, I’ll head back now.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Seems like you haven’t touched anything.” Qu Hua found his lunchbox, took out chopsticks, wiped them, and handed them to Mu Jing. “Have a few more bites. I’ll go see Grandmother with you after.”
Mu Jing took the chopsticks, ate a few bites, and then told Qu Hua, “I’ll wash these grapes for you.”
When Mu Jing returned with the washed grapes, Qu Hua was gone. Half his meal remained uneaten, with a hasty note saying he’d been called for a consultation. The writing was so rushed it probably took just a second.
Mu Jing packed up the remaining food—he likely wouldn’t return soon.
About two hours later, Mu Jing saw Qu Hua through the ward window. She opened the door, whispering, “Grandmother’s asleep. Did you eat?”
Qu Hua checked on Grandmother and whispered back, “Yes, get some rest.”
Mu Jing walked him to the door, “You should rest too.”
Qu Hua didn’t agree—experience told him that whenever someone suggested he rest, something was about to happen. Sure enough, a voice called “Dr. Qu” from afar. The orthopedics chief, Dr. Xu, requested a consultation. The young doctor describing the patient’s condition made it sound extremely serious. Qu Hua nodded to Mu Jing and left without a word, walking so quickly that the requesting doctor had to jog to keep up.
Mu Jing stood outside the ward until Qu Hua’s figure disappeared.
Early the next morning, Grandmother asked if Qu Hua had visited last night. Mu Jing said he had. After feeding Grandmother porridge, Grandmother urged her to take some snacks to share with Qu Hua in the on-call room. Mu Jing had no choice but to go.
She knocked as softly as before. After a while with no response, she thought no one was there and was about to leave when she heard the door open.
Surgery had lasted until five in the morning. The doctor sharing Qu Hua’s on-call room had collapsed asleep in the operating room after finishing. Qu Hua had returned to the on-call room and barely slept when he heard knocking. Being on call meant light sleep; he hadn’t even removed his shoes before lying down and getting up to open the door for Mu Jing.
Mu Jing could tell from his eyes he hadn’t rested well. “Grandmother asked me to bring you some snacks and porridge. Wash your hands and eat.”
Since Grandmother had specifically sent her, Mu Jing couldn’t leave too soon. Seeing yesterday’s washed grapes untouched, she said, “Let me wash them again.”
Mu Jing washed the grapes meticulously, one by one, despite having washed them yesterday. When she returned with them, Qu Hua had finished breakfast.
“Help yourself, I’ll go back to Grandmother.”
“After all that work washing them, have some before you go.”
Qu Hua held a grape to Mu Jing’s lips. She lowered her head saying, “I can manage.”
“Let someone else watch tonight—go home and rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Can you bear leaving me alone in our bedroom tonight?”
“I’m not leaving forever. Grandmother’s condition is more important.” Though others could watch over Grandmother too.
“You have a point.” Qu Hua fed Mu Jing another grape. “How’s work going?” He sensed she disliked her job—otherwise, even if the school didn’t need her, she wouldn’t necessarily take leave to play the dutiful daughter-in-law if she enjoyed her work.
Mu Jing lowered her head silently. Nothing bad had happened recently, but if she claimed things were going well, what excuse would she have later to transfer?
“Is something wrong?”
“Seeing how successful your career is, while my work hasn’t progressed in years… To outsiders, my field and current work might sound similar, but I can’t apply what I studied. Unlike you… I feel unworthy of you in this regard.”
Qu Hua fed her another grape. “So how do you plan to become worthy?” He couldn’t tell if Mu Jing truly felt unworthy or was pretending, but he knew she wanted to change jobs.
Mu Jing picked a grape herself. Qu Hua probably still didn’t believe her. Perhaps lies only convinced others when you believed them yourself. She peeled a large grape and put it in his mouth, smiling, “Help me think of ways.”
“I have no solutions because I think you’re more than worthy.”
Surprised by his response, Mu Jing lowered her head and picked another grape. Qu Hua took it from her hand and ate it himself.
With so many grapes, he insisted on taking hers. She picked another, but before she could lift it from the plate, he grabbed her hand and took it. As she started to speak, he put it in her mouth. After he stole several more, her competitive spirit rose, and she quickly grabbed one for herself. Unable to take it from her hand, he tried to take it from her mouth.
Unprepared this time, she remained passive, merely accepting his kiss.
She wondered how he never seemed tired. Hearing footsteps outside, she pushed him away, saying, “Someone’s coming.”
When the door opened, they had just separated. Qu Hua sat casually eating grapes while Mu Jing hurriedly stood up, “Enjoy your meal, I’m leaving.”
Walking out, Mu Jing unconsciously touched her face, finding it warm. That moment of intimacy had been unexpected—different from sharing a bed at night. Married couples generally shared a bed, but intimacy wasn’t universal among them.
Unable to make sense of it, Mu Jing stopped trying. Once Grandmother could leave the hospital, she could bring her brother over.
Dr. Chen, who shared the on-call room with Qu Hua, had just returned from sleeping in the operating room. Squinting, he saw Qu Hua’s new wife leave blushing, “Did I interrupt something?”
“No.” Qu Hua gestured at the grapes, offering them to Dr. Chen.
“These don’t help with fatigue. Got any cigarettes?”
Qu Hua took out his cigarette box and tossed Chen two. Chen tucked one behind his ear and lit the other, using Qu Hua’s match since he’d just taken out a cigarette himself. Qu Hua exhaled deeply—grapes didn’t help with fatigue but could control cigarette cravings. If not for Mu Jing’s presence, he’d have smoked earlier.
Chen took a drag and sighed to Qu Hua, “Couldn’t manage without these cigarettes. After surgery, I almost asked the cardiology team to check me out before they left.” He finished one cigarette and lit the one from behind his ear. “Today after ward rounds, I can go home.” As soon as Chen finished speaking, Qu Hua gave him an expressionless look. Chen almost slapped himself—every time he said this, work immediately appeared, either for him or for the man beside him.
Before Chen could slap himself, someone knocked, saying Room 10 had an emergency. Qu Hua extinguished his cigarette and left directly, tossing his cigarette box to Chen on the way out.
The box still had several cigarettes. Chen lit another one.
He marveled that even after marriage, little Qu remained so generous—rare indeed.
With no family obligations and so many surgeries each month, Qu Hua had money but nowhere to spend it. The cafeteria offered limited choices for good food, leaving cigarettes as his only real expense. In this regard, Chen couldn’t compare to Qu Hua—his wife nearly took all his night shift pay, and if not for her mercy, he’d be reduced to rolling his cigarettes.
As a long-time smoker, Chen told his wife that Qu Hua’s secret to performing surgery all day was his superior cigarettes—they were more effective. He used this to ask his wife for more pocket money to buy good cigarettes.
Since his wife discussed this theory with the thoracic surgery department, he couldn’t even get poor-quality cigarettes anymore. He cursed the thoracic surgery staff who smoked while telling patients their lung problems were caused by smoking and advising them to quit. His complaints felt good but were useless—now he could only smoke when young Qu’s wife wasn’t around to stop him.
Dr. Chen sighed, worried about Qu Hua. After so many consecutive surgeries, morning rounds, and afternoon clinic duty, even someone made of iron couldn’t handle it without good cigarettes.
During rounds, Qu Hua maintained a strictly professional attitude, barely glancing at Mu Jing in the ward. After rounds finished, he deliberately fell back to smile at her, and Mu Jing instinctively smiled back.
Mu Jing spent a week caring for patients at the hospital. At mealtimes, Grandmother always urged her to eat with Qu Hua. His mealtimes were irregular; sometimes when Mu Jing waited too long and thought of leaving, his officemates would say, “He’ll be back soon.”
Everyone in Qu Hua’s department knew she was his wife, and they ate together at mealtimes. At home, the wardrobe still held only his clothes, with Mu Jing’s trunk set aside. Qu Hua had pushed his clothes to one side, leaving most of the space for her. Though he couldn’t see Mu Jing at home, he saw her often at the hospital.
After a week, Grandmother’s spirit improved greatly, and Mu Jing returned to work at school. Her increased interaction with Qu Hua, though not advancing their emotional connection, had made physical contact more natural—mainly initiated by him.
The night Mu Jing returned home to sleep, Qu Hua was on hospital duty. She didn’t particularly wish for his return, but on the night he did come to stay with her, she notably didn’t need medicine to sleep—physical exhaustion left her thinking only of rest. She didn’t quite understand Qu Hua’s thoughts, but since her in-laws were satisfied with her, his thoughts weren’t critically important.
The night Qu Hua returned, Mu Jing sat reading at her desk after dinner. Having spent days at the hospital, she knew how he spent his nights and had more casual topics for conversation, no longer needing to show concern with the same few recycled phrases. She asked about his night shifts, how many surgeries he performed, the different cases, and consultations, and how many hours he could rest.
Qu Hua also asked about her work; they weren’t entirely without conversation.
Their talk continued in bed, with Mu Jing telling Qu Hua to rest early. This suggestion wasn’t entirely without consideration for him. But she didn’t know that while Qu Hua needed intense concentration for surgery at the hospital, requiring relaxation after long periods of focus, though their intimate activity also required concentration, for him it was the best form of relaxation.
Mu Jing fell asleep more easily than the previous two nights, though much later. She told Qu Hua, “Any more, and how will you have the energy to work tomorrow?” Perhaps because she had told similar lies too often before, he doubted her concern and became even more vigorous.
That night she dreamed of childhood—getting lost while playing with her brother. When it grew completely dark and they couldn’t find a home, her usually mischievous brother, who had hit his head while playing, cried wanting to go home, but she didn’t know where home was. She bandaged his head while comforting him, telling him not to cry. Waking, she found herself clutching Qu Hua too tightly and instinctively apologized.
“Nothing to apologize for—you’d only need to apologize if you were holding someone else.”
Surprised by his words, Mu Jing was momentarily speechless.
Looking in the mirror that morning, Mu Jing found tear tracks on her face. She might have said things she shouldn’t have at night but didn’t ask Qu Hua—asking would only confirm it.
Another night, Qu Hua brought Mu Jing an art album, its origin unclear.
Mu Jing hesitantly opened it, finding Renoir’s young girl paintings.
She asked, “Where did you get this?”
“Long ago, borrowed from a classmate and never returned.” Later, when he tried to return it, they wouldn’t take it back, so he bought it.
Mu Jing was surprised by his candor. He had voluntarily given her leverage, though it meant little to him—he could later explain he viewed it critically. But at least in this moment, he was genuine with her. Perhaps his earlier questions about Renoir were genuine attempts at discussion, and she had misunderstood. His attentiveness on the train might have been because he thought she was someone he could converse with. But now she felt no fondness for Renoir, especially his young girl paintings—an artist could keep painting young girls, but people couldn’t remain young girls forever. She truly disliked Renoir. The album in her bag had been for her brother; he had misunderstood everything. She wasn’t Renoir’s subject, nor did she like the people he painted.
Flipping through the images, Mu Jing asked, “Showing me this—do you think I’m old?” Her tone resembled a jealous wife, envying younger, more beautiful women. She closed the album, still smiling, “I don’t like these.”
“What do you like then?”
“I prefer people at work—I’d rather see him paint female tractor drivers.”
She caught Qu Hua’s flash of disappointment and smiled self-mockingly. So Qu Hua liked such young girls—why else keep this art for so long? No wonder he disapproved of her eager pleasing of his parents—it went completely against his preferences. She even felt some pity for Qu Hua, having married someone so different from his ideal. But she couldn’t understand what caused his misunderstanding—just because of the album in her bag? He had heard her cursing and even guessed her hometown from it. He had overestimated her potential.
She reopened the album, found a gentle, tender young girl, and smiled at Qu Hua, “You like girls like this?” That’s why he kept asking, keeping this album at home all these years.
“You seem very disapproving.”
“If you like it, I can try to understand. But I can never become like this.” She completely understood men liking such girls, but she couldn’t pretend to be one. She was neither young nor possessed such bright qualities. At most, she could act virtuous—she couldn’t play the young girl role, couldn’t even approach it.
“Didn’t you say the other day you’d try to become what I like?”
Qu Hua looked her up and down as if holding deep expectations.
Mu Jing laughed, “Don’t you find it ridiculous for someone my age to pretend to be a young girl? Before others could mock me, I’d laugh at myself.” Ten years ago, she might have managed a convincing act, but now, even with willingness, she lacked the ability.
“I don’t have such preferences—I prefer peers I can communicate with. Your biggest problem is you’re too tense as if always expecting someone to harm you.” Qu Hua’s fingers pressed her shoulders. “See? You’re too tense, especially with me. As if I’m your enemy and you’re close to me just to find leverage. Around you, I always feel like I’m not a good person.”
Mu Jing feigned surprise: “How could you think that?”
Qu Hua turned to kiss her face. “Relax a bit.”
Mu Jing might have wanted to relax, but his urging made her tenser. She couldn’t control her body—her defenses were ingrained. Qu Hua asked her to close her eyes and continued kissing her. They moved from desk to bed, his kisses making her face tingle until she almost laughed, but the laughter seemed inappropriate, so she clenched her teeth, though a smile line appeared. He just kept kissing her.
When a non-first-love couple becomes intimate, they retain shadows of previous relationships. Mu Jing couldn’t tell whether this time or last was closer to Qu Hua’s interactions with his former girlfriend. When Mu Jing finally relaxed, Qu Hua asked, “Did you miss me yesterday when I wasn’t home?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I bet you missed me terribly.”
Mu Jing half-jokingly asked, “If I were your ideal wife, how should I respond?”
Qu Hua silenced her mouth. Mu Jing understood—his ideal wife would shyly remain silent, silence being consent.