The universities and colleges Lin Yuchan was now encountering would all be household names as “America’s top prestigious schools” in the twenty-first century. Any high school that has someone accepted would hang banners to publicize it.
In the nineteenth century, to her, these schools’ admission standards seemed relatively lenient—of course, that was because those who could attend university were all social elites, an extremely small privileged class to begin with, so competition wasn’t as fierce as it would become later.
She couldn’t help letting her thoughts drift. Her college entrance exam scores had been quite good!
If she could take American college entrance exams, might she also earn a “Seven Sisters” women’s college diploma?
Though it would be of no use to her.
Su Minguan laughed: “Why do you need to study? You should go directly to the lecture at those schools.”
Lin Yuchan’s imagination ran wild as she suddenly patted her belly.
“I want him or her to study here.”
Though she felt no sense of belonging to America, reality was what it was—what decent education could be had in the Qing dynasty now? Unless one was extraordinarily gifted, how could one stand out in that stagnant world?
Lin Yuchan had self-awareness, feeling she probably couldn’t be like a romance novel heroine and, in the blink of an eye, give birth to a genius who traded stocks at three, attended Harvard at five, and won Nobel prizes at ten.
She rambled on: “Study at university in America, at least through high school, then study abroad in Europe for a few years, then earn some money… return to the country with knowledge, only then having the ability to build a new society… best to meet a group of like-minded people abroad, so if arrested there’d be someone to bail you out… well, if you don’t want to return to the country there’s no helping it, must respect the child’s wishes… researching science here wouldn’t be bad either, ah, I’ve envied people good at science since childhood…”
Su Minguan watched her with a smile. She had an old mother thinking, wanting to compensate for everything she lacked in the next generation.
Each person had their circumstances. He had indeed studied, following the traditional Chinese path of cultivating gentlemen scholars—passing minor civil examinations probably wouldn’t be a problem. But what use were those antiquated classical texts? Pure waste of time. Most of his life’s accumulation came through difficult survival trials, learned through real lessons one by one.
As long as the seed was hardy enough, no matter what mud it fell into, it would eventually bloom.
But when he put himself in a father’s mindset, trying to plan for an unmet new life, he still said: “Better to stay here. China is already old. People living there are destined to lead lifeless days.”
“No,” Lin Yuchan seriously refuted this statement, “the real China hasn’t been born yet. This decrepit world will eventually fall, becoming its nourishment, its roots.”
Su Minguan smiled, offering no comment. Who knew from which radical revolutionary rhetoric she’d picked up this line?
But she seemed quite serious, pulling Su Minguan’s hand over and writing two characters stroke by stroke in his palm.
“You Hua.”
“Can be used for boys or girls,” she said excitedly, her eyes bright. “Our child will witness this new nation’s infancy and grow up breaking through the soil together with it.”
Su Minguan feigned disappointment: “Not calling it Mu Bai?”
She smiled softly: “Smooth in both official and vernacular speech, and not hard to pronounce in English. Give me some face.”
This rough material, who’d never received a traditional education, had grown up surrounded by names like Zihan and Yuxuan. Having this moment of inspiration to think up these two characters truly exhausted a lifetime’s literary talent.
He didn’t completely understand the meaning of these two characters, softly reading them once in vernacular, not the current naming style popular among Guangdong people.
“I’ll think about it more.”
He suddenly noticed something else: “A’Mei, look, what do these words mean? Is this obstetrics?”
California was a land of barbarous nouveau riche—though it had heaps of gold mines, it didn’t even have a proper university. No wonder locals didn’t know about obstetrics, keeping childbirth at home just like China.
But New England was different. In the New York Infirmary’s departmental guide, there was clearly an “Obstetrics and Gynecology” section.
These words were unfamiliar even to ordinary Americans. Su Minguan wasn’t sure, so he stopped a male doctor with mutton chop whiskers to inquire.
That doctor’s eyes lit up directly upon seeing Lin Yuchan on the bench.
“Speaks English? Excellent! Want your wife to give birth at the hospital?” He enthusiastically shook Su Minguan’s hand, saying in German-accented English, “From China—rare, rare! Even among American families, it’s extremely uncommon to see such enlightened gentlemen. They’d rather hire a bunch of underqualified 18th-century midwives to be cheerleaders at home, than pace anxiously around the yard themselves, than accept professional obstetric services… My students haven’t encountered new patients in half a week—if this continues, their skills will get rusty… Haha, rest assured, we’re not using your wife as a test subject. I have years of obstetric teaching and surgical experience…”
Su Minguan frowned slightly, half-reluctantly letting himself be invited into the office.
The wall displayed Professor Koehler’s resume. He read carefully, discovering he was indeed from prestigious European institutions and schools, with heaps of medals and decorations, having come to America recently for poverty relief and lecture tours.
“By the way, if you… that is… I want to know…” Professor Koehler suddenly remembered something, stammering as he asked Su Minguan.
Su Minguan opened his bag, showing a copy of their marriage certificate.
Professor Koehler saw the document signed by Hartford City Hall in Connecticut, uncertain, and ran out to consult the hospital’s legal advisor before returning with a beaming face.
“That’s good, then, let’s continue.”
Only married couples were qualified to register for hospital births. Otherwise, they could only secretly give birth at home. Though Professor Koehler was enthusiastic, he didn’t dare invite legal trouble for himself.
“Haven’t had prenatal checkups?—Don’t worry, this is a teaching hospital with social donations and government subsidies, won’t bankrupt you… May I examine your wife? Just to assess delivery difficulty… don’t mind, just small touches…”
Lin Yuchan had been left aside, only now being invited in by Professor Koehler.
She found it somewhat amusing. No wonder, in the relatively conservative nineteenth century, the nascent Western obstetrics became a male doctor’s world. Because they didn’t need to communicate with the one giving birth at all—they naturally communicated with their husbands throughout…
Undoubtedly, any decisions were also up to the husband.
Dr. Koehler carefully sought Su Minguan’s consent before giving Lin Yuchan a physical examination, feeling her belly and breaking into a smile.
“Ah, ah, very good, healthy size,” he turned his head, continuing to address Su Minguan, “Properly developed, looks like it will go smoothly. But if it doesn’t go smoothly, no problem. Fewer than ten doctors in all America have performed successful caesarean sections—that’s abdominal surgery—I’m one of them…”
Su Minguan’s face turned pale as he gripped Lin Yuchan’s hand tightly.
“A’Mei, this is a fraud. Let’s go.”
He thought himself quite worldly, but had never heard of cutting open bellies to deliver babies, like slaughtering pigs!
But Lin Yuchan stood motionless, listening with fascination.
“How do you prevent infection?” she suddenly asked.
“Uh…”
Dr. Koehler hadn’t expected the “patient” to speak up herself, and even test him. He looked confusedly at the man beside her, and seeing no objection, thought for a moment and said: “Uh, my practice is to disinfect and wash hands, though many doctors don’t like such trouble…”
“Of course, disinfection is necessary,” Lin Yuchan breathed a sigh of relief, smiling. “You’re doing it right.”
At this time, Western medicine’s “disinfection faction” and “traditional faction” were still fighting hotly. Lin Yuchan didn’t dare gamble with her life.
She suddenly noticed a stack of documents on the office desk, curiously moving closer to look.
“What’s this, recruiting volunteers?”
Professor Koehler looked somewhat disapprovingly at Su Minguan, his meaning being: how can you, as a husband, not manage things?
Still dutifully introducing to him: “Nothing much, just an academic research project about anodyne labor… that is, using chemical drugs to reduce pain during delivery… of course, it’s meaningless, I know—childbirth has always been painful since ancient times, this is God’s arrangement. But I’m still very curious… You know, Britain’s Queen Victoria used chloroform when delivering the little prince, which wasn’t entirely due to her feminine fragility… Of course, many husbands wouldn’t agree to let their wives undergo such experiments, we’re recruiting lower-class women with monetary subsidies… You don’t need to worry about these things.”
He was about to put the documents away.
Su Minguan was somewhat dazed by that string of medical terminology and hadn’t reacted yet, but Lin Yuchan’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if she’d become thirty pounds lighter.
“Wait, what did you say? Anesthetics can also be used for childbirth?”
How many more surprises did this magical nineteenth century hold for her?
She’d been unable to sleep for several days from fear of pain!
“Professor, professor, tell me! I have questions…”
The professor was completely fed up with this chattering little woman, saying politely: “Why don’t you rest outside while I discuss details with your husband…”
“I give birth, I decide,” she declared domineeringly. “He’s just accompanying me.”
Su Minguan suppressed a laugh, looking at her affectionately, very tactfully asking for opinions: “Should I wait outside?”
Professor Koehler: “…”
Su Minguan smiled again: “Please don’t mind. These terms are too profound—her English is better than mine, and she can understand.”
In recent years, due to career success and smooth interpersonal relations, sometimes he couldn’t find opportunities even when wanting to argue with people.
At this moment, long-dormant rebelliousness surfaced. Seeing the supposedly civilized and enlightened foreigner shocked speechless by her, Su Minguan felt refreshed, regaining some of that energy of opposing the whole world.
However, for such an important matter, how could he ignore it? The doctor still couldn’t be offended. He provided a way out, not embarrassing Professor Koehler.
Professor Koehler had to invite both of them to sit, having a student temporarily add another chair.