For the past week, Mu Jing hadn’t seen Qu Hua. One of the downsides of marriage was that her former dormitory bed had been reassigned to someone else, leaving her with no choice but to lie on Qu Hua’s bed. The bedroom door remained locked, with the window open, allowing the outside breeze to drift in.
Mu Jing finally decided to bring her brother over. Once he became self-sufficient, she would let him leave—this would be an indirect way of showing filial piety to their parents. With her brother lying in the hospital, their parents were helpless to care for him despite their wishes. Among the three children in the family, her brother maintained the closest connection with their parents. His illness had completely scattered the family.
Thinking of her brother, she realized Fei Ni must have left him by now. Even if she wrote letters to the hospital, no one would receive them. If she wanted to bring him over, she would have to go back herself. Even if her brother hadn’t recovered his memory, being together would provide comfort to them both. She remembered how in the past, when boys from other compounds would try to chat her up, her brother would ambush them from behind with his slingshot and then run away. Their father had trained him well—his escape skills were even better than his fighting abilities. She had always believed he would take good care of himself.
She planned to bring her brother over after Grandmother’s surgery. Naturally, her brother would have to stay at the Qu family home, which meant she needed to be a dutiful daughter-in-law. Like the Qu family, she hoped the surgery would be successful. If it failed, the family wouldn’t be in any mood to welcome another dependent for some time.
Grandmother’s surgery was scheduled for a week later.
Before the surgery, Mu Jing hadn’t exchanged a single word with Qu Hua—he hadn’t even glanced her way. They hadn’t spoken for an entire week. While Mu Jing hoped Qu Hua would ignore her so she could focus on work, she didn’t want to offend him. She had no idea how she had offended him in the first place; she hadn’t resisted at all that time, yet he had left her in the room with her buttons undone, without saying a word. She even somewhat regretted marrying him—deciphering his thoughts was too difficult, and she couldn’t afford the cost of divorce.
The entire family waited outside the operating room. Qu Hua was performing the surgery, which was expected to take five hours at most but ended up lasting eight. During this time, an orderly brought them food boxes for their meal. Mu Jing urged her mother-in-law, “Please eat something,” though she had no appetite. Her anxiety matched that of the Qu family members.
Her father-in-law paced outside the operating room, making Mu Jing uneasy. Old Qu had initially opposed the surgery—the risks of such a major operation on an eighty-year-old were obvious. It was his mother who had insisted on trying, as conservative treatment was no longer effective. After the surgery was decided, he contacted specialists from various hospitals, asking if they could guarantee a hundred percent success rate. No one could promise this; considering the patient’s age and condition, they wouldn’t even guarantee a sixty percent success rate. Faced with a patient’s relative like Old Qu—a military man and devoted son—no one dared operate on the old lady. Who knew how he might react in anger if the surgery failed? No one wanted to take that risk.
Only Qu Hua was willing to perform this major surgery. When specialists more experienced than Qu Hua dared not do it, Old Qu felt even less confident. However, the old lady had already rejected conservative treatment, so Old Qu agreed to let his son perform the surgery. As the waiting time grew longer, his mood became increasingly agitated. While he certainly distrusted his son’s experience, he also didn’t believe the surgery would succeed. If his mother died on his son’s operating table, forget others—he wouldn’t be able to get over it.
Mu Jing’s mother-in-law urged Old Qu to rest, but he anxiously sighed, “You go ahead.” She didn’t press further, having no peace of mind to rest herself. She was also worried for her son—success would be wonderful, but if it failed… She looked at Mu Jing’s profile and thought of Yan Yan from years ago. After Yan Yan’s death, Qu Hua hadn’t dated anyone. When he married, she thought he would finally start a new life, but…
They waited so long that the hospital’s vice president invited them to rest. Mu Jing’s mother-in-law, a former nurse at the hospital, knew the president from before.
Mu Jing stood at the operating room entrance, waiting for her husband to emerge. Her mother-in-law urged her to sit, but she declined, standing there like a statue. Qu Hua’s rush to marry was largely to convince Grandmother to have the surgery. If the surgery failed, seeing her would be doubly painful for Qu Hua—not only did she resemble his former girlfriend, but seeing her might also remind him of his grandmother. Realizing this, Mu Jing couldn’t even manage a bitter smile. She discovered she was afraid of divorcing Qu Hua—more afraid than she had imagined.
When Qu Hua emerged from the operating room, he immediately noticed Mu Jing’s smile—he had never seen her smile like that before. While his parents waited for good news, his gaze fixed on Mu Jing’s face. When she turned away, he saw her profile.
Qu Hua’s parents were naturally delighted—Old Qu mainly for his mother, while his wife was happy for their son. Upon seeing his son, Old Qu’s first thought was that a tiger’s son was no dog—his son with a scalpel proved better than those experienced old doctors who had declined to operate. He offered his son many smiles today, though his son seemed indifferent. Qu Hua told his parents to go home and rest, but the filial Old Qu insisted on staying at the hospital. Qu Hua showed no appreciation for his father’s devotion, saying, “What can you do here? Your presence in the ward will only hinder our work.” As Old Qu was about to lose his temper, he noticed his son’s white coat soaked with sweat—how much effort it must have taken to get that wet. He decided not to argue with his son today. At this point, Mu Jing tactfully spoke up, asking her in-laws to go home and rest while she stayed.
The hospital leadership had arranged with the cafeteria to not only save food for the operating room staff but also to prepare some fresh dishes. Mu Jing stopped Qu Hua from heading to the cafeteria, waving the food box in her hand, “Change your clothes first, let’s eat in the restroom.”
They hadn’t spoken since their last uncomfortable parting. Someone had to end the awkwardness—if Qu Hua wouldn’t, she had to. She valued this marriage more than he did. She had been so eager to grab this lifeline that she forgot marrying someone of good background didn’t guarantee anything—marriage could still end in divorce. Whether she wanted to actively maintain or end this marriage, both were difficult. For Qu Hua, it was easy—he didn’t need to pay any price. She had been too hasty in wanting to benefit from marrying Qu Hua; now she realized her disadvantaged position was terrifying. Qu Hua could find excuses to divorce her anytime and easily place the blame on her. The reasons he might find could be fatal to her—it only depended on whether he designed to do so. Unless she got leverage over him, the initiative would always be in his hands.
She couldn’t divorce Qu Hua, especially with her brother coming. She needed this marriage even more now.
With Grandmother’s surgery complete, part of her usefulness was fulfilled.
Now she had to please him within certain limits, make him feel this marriage was worthwhile. She knew men’s spiritual devotion ultimately remained spiritual—the spiritual pillar and physical satisfaction could come from two different people.
It was summer, and the food wasn’t too cold. Mu Jing sat across from Qu Hua, watching him eat. She passed him water to drink. They were alone in the room.
Mu Jing didn’t eat at all, using her chopsticks only to serve Qu Hua. Even she felt her fawning was excessive, despising herself for it but seeing no alternative. Once her brother could care for himself, she could volunteer to support the Third Front development and leave Qu Hua—then these days would end. When Qu Hua asked why she wasn’t eating, Mu Jing said she wasn’t hungry and turned to look out the window. Her hair clung to her face; she too had been sweating—from anxiety. While others’ reasons for anxiety were speakable, hers were not.
Mu Jing poured Qu Hua another cup of water. Avoiding his eyes and staring at the cup, she said softly, “Come home tonight.” Her voice was so low only Qu Hua could hear.
This surprised Qu Hua. “I thought you didn’t want me to come back.”
“How could that be?” Mu Jing carefully chose her words, “But I can’t keep urging you to come home every day, that would seem…” She had an urgent physical need for him, though that was entirely normal for newlyweds.
She blushed at her fawning, but Qu Hua misunderstood. Her blush stirred something in him, and he locked the door to kiss her. His excitement infected Mu Jing, who sensed danger. His kiss was more aggressive than their last time in the bedroom, and Mu Jing felt more acutely than ever the sensitivity of a surgeon’s fingers. This version of Qu Hua was completely outside her experience—this was the restroom, and his colleagues could come looking for him at any moment. Qu Hua had performed surgery for eight hours, maintaining intense concentration the entire time, and hadn’t fully relaxed even after it ended. Nothing could help him relax more than what they were doing now. Only now could he temporarily forget the pressure.
Mu Jing had to remind him, “This is the hospital.”
“No one will come.”
But Mu Jing insisted, “Let’s go home?”
“I can’t go home today.” Qu Hua continued kissing her face.
“I’m yours, I won’t run away, why rush?”
Qu Hua never expected Mu Jing to say such things. He buttoned her up one by one, and Mu Jing let him. Her face grew redder but for reasons different from what Qu Hua imagined.
Mu Jing blushed mainly because she couldn’t believe she had said such things—she felt embarrassed at herself.
Mu Jing practically fled the hospital, her face still hot even outside.
While embarrassed, she also felt relieved. Once Grandmother recovered, she could bring her brother over.
The day after Grandmother’s surgery, Mu Jing woke before dawn to cook. She had congee simmering on the stove while she prepared filling for soup dumplings. When Orderly Xiao Qin came to the kitchen to cook, Mu Jing had already finished wrapping the buns. Xiao Qin was very young and called Mu Jing “Sister Jing.” Looking at her dumplings, he marveled silently—he could eat one of these small buns in a single bite; compared to these, his previous attempts were too crude.
Mu Jing told the young orderly, “I’ll make breakfast today.”
“Sister Jing, your buns look so good.”
“The congee smells good too, better than what I make.”
“Try some when it’s ready.”
“How could I?”
“Why not? How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
Even younger than her brother. Mu Jing thought of her brother again.
Xiao Qin called Old Qu “Commander,” his wife “Auntie,” and Qu Hua “Second Brother.” He got along well with the family.
When the buns were ready, Mu Jing picked out two soup dumplings for Xiao Qin to try first. Xiao Qin said he couldn’t.
Mu Jing told him, “No one will know if I don’t say anything.”
“Still, I shouldn’t.”
Mu Jing thought Xiao Qin was truly simple-hearted—her brother wouldn’t care about such things. She told Xiao Qin, “This is my first time making them. Try them and see how they are. If they’re not good, you can cook instead today.”
Given this task, Xiao Qin finally took a bite of the soup dumpling. It was his first time eating a bun so elegantly, taking just a small bite as the soup flowed out. He smiled sheepishly at Mu Jing and said, “It’s delicious.”
The orderly had previously only thought Mu Jing was beautiful, but her beauty had seemed distant. He hadn’t expected her to be so approachable.
At breakfast time, Mu Jing’s in-laws sat at the table, looking at the breakfast spread. Xiao Qin certainly didn’t have this kind of skill—the boy’s cooking was as straightforward as his personality.
“I thought I’d make some congee to take to Grandmother and Qu Hua this morning. My cooking isn’t very good, but please try some.” Mu Jing ladled bowls of congee for her in-laws and invited them to try her buns.