Zhou Zheng’s second uncle called him.

The situation had started when the city’s Disabled Persons’ Federation partnered with the municipal hospital to send a medical team down to the countryside for free clinic services, mainly to check on basic health conditions for elderly residents in the villages and townships. The medical team happened to be doing outreach in Hetang Village, and gave Zhou Zheng’s grandmother a geriatric health screening as well. Everything else came back fine, but the doctor recommended she get cataract surgery — and there happened to be a current welfare policy in place, with government subsidies covering half the surgical cost.

Both of Zhou Zheng’s grandmother’s eyes had clouded over; her vision had already started blurring a few years back, and now it grew hard for her to see once it got dark. But the old woman had feared hospitals her whole life — Zhou Zheng’s grandfather had suffered a severe cerebral thrombosis, and in his final two years had been in and out of hospitals constantly, eventually passing away in the ICU. This time, hearing the medical team explain how simple the eye surgery would be, and that it could be free of charge, something in her softened.

In truth, the old woman was getting on in years too, truly hoping to hold on for a few more years — if only to see with her own eyes Zhou Zheng settle down and start a family before she could rest easy.

Zhou Zheng went home for a visit and talked his grandmother through it. The old woman really couldn’t bear to let this several-thousand-yuan discount go to waste, and agreed to go through with the surgery.

Having convinced his grandmother, Zhou Zheng went ahead to the hospital in advance to get in line. The surgery date was set according to Zhou Zheng’s teaching schedule: Thursday for admission and check-up, Friday for the surgery, Saturday to be discharged and return to the countryside.

He’d told Lin Shuang about it ahead of time too: “I’ll be at the hospital for the next couple of days, probably tied up.”

Lin Shuang didn’t react much, gave him a thumbs up gesture, telling him to arrange things however he needed.

That Thursday, Shunzai drove Zhou Zheng’s second uncle and grandmother into the city. Zhou Zheng went to pick them up after class, and the family met up at the hospital.

Zhou Zheng’s grandmother, having lived her whole life in the countryside, disliked the bustle of the city most of all — the sight of the main roads made her dizzy, and she especially disliked hospitals, tugging at her collar and muttering constantly about the crowds to her son. His second aunt had gone to work at the factory that day and couldn’t come, so only Second Uncle Zhou accompanied her into the city. Zhou Zheng’s second uncle had been working at the village’s forestry operation these past few years, taking on odd carpentry jobs on the side — busy sometimes, free other times.

“Everything’s in this bag — the rural cooperative medical card and ID card are both in there, and I brought the certificate the village issued too,” Second Uncle said, handing the bag to Zhou Zheng. “Should I stay and help with the admission paperwork?”

“No need, nothing major to handle here at the hospital. Second Uncle, if you’ve got things to do, go on back.”

“Alright then, I’ll head back — still got work to do, I’ll wait at home for you all.”

The two of them — uncle and nephew — had a clear division of labor when it came to caring for the elderly. Zhou Zheng worked in the city and couldn’t look after her day-to-day, so his second uncle’s family handled her food, clothing, housing, and daily life, while any matters requiring money or extra effort fell to Zhou Zheng.

Zhou Zheng first helped his grandmother through the admission process, followed by a whole series of pre-admission checks — an EKG, blood pressure readings. His grandmother’s blood sugar was high, and the doctor prescribed medication to bring it under control first.

“Had I known it’d be like this, I wouldn’t have come, old woman that I am, no need to suffer through all this.”

Zhou Zheng poured water for his grandmother and helped her take her medicine, listening to the old woman grumble: “You all tricked me, saying it’d just be a few eye drops at the hospital and I’d be fine, so why am I being admitted, why all these tests, how did I even believe you all… when’s this whole thing going to be over so I can go home…”

“You haven’t been to the hospital in years, of course they need to run a few extra tests this time. Don’t worry, none of it costs anything anyway. Tomorrow you’ll be able to leave, Grandma, just be patient and stay a bit longer.”

“Really doesn’t cost anything?” Grandmother didn’t believe it, counting on her fingers. “We’ve done so many tests, how could it not cost a single cent.”

“Doesn’t cost anything,” Zhou Zheng said, lying through his teeth with a completely straight face. “Seniors over seventy get government subsidies, plus your rural co-op medical insurance covers the rest — isn’t that great? You just make the trip and stay two nights for free, and by tonight your eyes will be able to see clearly again.”

“As long as it doesn’t cost money, that’s fine. If it costs money I wouldn’t have come,” Zhou Zheng’s grandmother muttered, patting the hospital bed. “Your grandfather spent so much money those two years, and it didn’t even help in the end. This hospital place is really not somewhere you want to stay — I get dizzy the moment I walk in…”

Zhou Zheng listened to the old woman’s muttering, smiling and shaking his head.

Once all the checks were done and his grandmother settled into her room, Zhou Zheng went out to buy some food.

Halfway there, he found a moment to call Lin Shuang.

She was still at the milk tea shop at the time, hearing the noise of traffic through the phone, and asked him: “Are you outside? Why aren’t you at the hospital with her?”

“Just finished up,” Zhou Zheng answered. “I’m out getting some food.”

“What about you?” He walked along in the cold wind. “When are you heading back?”

“Soon, I’m about to leave — I’ve got a haircut appointment tonight,” she said. “You’ve come this far out, what are you going to eat?”

“There are a few porridge shops outside the hospital, the food’s decent. I’ll bring some back for my grandmother to try.” He asked her, “What are you eating?”

“Not planning to eat anything,” Lin Shuang said with a light laugh. “The hair salon has fruit and snacks for customers, decent enough. I’ll just make do there.”

He knew her eating habits well enough — if nothing was put right in front of her at night, she’d just skip the meal entirely, stomach empty.

“I’ll be staying overnight at the hospital tonight. Head home early once you’re done with your hair, be careful on the way.”

“Got it,” she said, then asked him, “Are you going to school tomorrow?”

“Not going. Surgery’s tomorrow, I’ve asked a colleague to cover my classes.”

Lin Shuang made a small “oh”: “Did you pack your overnight things? Clothes and everything?”

“Nothing much to bring, really — I’ll manage for a night or two.” He thought about it. “If I’m missing something, I’ll just head back home to grab it.”

“That works too.”

The two of them chatted about this and that for a while before hanging up. Lin Shuang went back to her game, and Nana asked her: “Boss, why haven’t you left yet today?”

With no one home, there didn’t seem to be much rush to go back.

The minor surgery was scheduled for Friday afternoon, taking roughly twenty minutes or so. Coming off the operating table, Zhou Zheng’s grandmother was in good spirits, even able to chat a bit. Shunzai and the second uncle and aunt were all there, sitting with her in the hospital room, talking for a while.

With people around to keep her company, Zhou Zheng went out and bought a pair of sunglasses and an eye patch, then swung by home once more, took a shower, changed his clothes, and grabbed his laptop.

Miao Cai knew about the situation and asked Lin Shuang: “You two are officially boyfriend and girlfriend now, and you’re not going to visit the hospital? Teacher Zhou doesn’t have parents — this grandmother is his closest family — shouldn’t you go pay some token respect at least?”

“I’ll skip it,” Lin Shuang said, frowning. “I’ve never had any contact with his family before, and he hasn’t asked me to come either.”

“Didn’t Teacher Zhou meet your mom and your stepdad though?” Miao Cai said. “Actually, not going in person is fine too — buy some fruit and health supplements, have Teacher Zhou bring it over for you, that counts as showing your thoughtfulness too.”

Lin Shuang considered it and reluctantly accepted the suggestion.

That evening, after wandering around the Fountain Plaza and heading home, Lin Shuang went into the bathroom before bed and noticed a few familiar-looking pieces of clothing stuffed in the laundry basket.

She reached out and touched them — the clothes were ice cold and damp. No telling when he’d come home to change out of them.

Feeling generous, Lin Shuang originally planned to toss the whole pile into the washing machine, but as she scooped the pieces up one by one, she caught a whiff of the scent still clinging to the fabric and froze mid-motion.

She put the clothes back into the laundry basket, patted her own hands, silently rolled her eyes at herself, and shuffled out of the bathroom in her slippers.

She pushed open the door to the room next door — the room was cold and empty, a discarded jacket draped over the chair, the computer nowhere to be seen on the desk.

She texted him: [You came home today?]

[Yeah.]

[When did you come back?]

[Around three or four in the afternoon.]

[Why didn’t you say anything to me.]

Lin Shuang frowned, feeling a bit put out.

Did he not even need to give his landlady a heads-up when he came through the door?

Zhou Zheng hadn’t told her because it had just been a spur-of-the-moment thing — a quick trip out of the hospital to grab some things, gone again within half an hour.

Zhou Zheng called Lin Shuang. She didn’t pick up the first call.

The second call took a while to be answered.

“What?” Phone on speaker, Lin Shuang frowned at it while playing her game.

The man’s voice on the line was warm, carrying an echo of empty space — probably a stairwell or a hallway: “Shuangshuang, are you home?”

“Mm-hm,” Lin Shuang tossed the sound back at him from her throat.

“Grandma had her surgery this afternoon, Shunzai and my second uncle and aunt all came by. I happened to have a moment free too, so I stepped out of the hospital to grab a few things and swung back home along the way.”

“Oh,” Lin Shuang said flatly. “The surgery went smoothly, I hope.”

“Minor procedure, went quite smoothly, done in just over ten minutes. The doctor prescribed some cephalosporin, we’re just monitoring things — she should be discharged by tomorrow afternoon.”

“You’re going back to the countryside with her tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll take her home, then come back Sunday.”

Another night alone.

“Okay.” Lin Shuang was about to hang up. “Nothing much going on my end either — go keep your grandmother company.”

Zhou Zheng didn’t want to hang up, kept chatting with her: “Grandma just fell asleep. Might’ve been nervous last night — her heart rate on the EKG kept coming back a bit fast, kept saying she couldn’t sleep. Today, after the surgery, she seems more relaxed — ate a bit in the evening and went to sleep early.”

Lin Shuang: “Already asleep?”

“Mm.”

She checked the time — not too late yet. Hesitant: “You… which hospital are you at?”

“City Second Hospital.”

Lin Shuang’s tone turned rather casual: “I noticed your laptop charging cable is still on the desk. You’re heading to the countryside tomorrow — won’t you need your computer these next couple days? Should I bring the cable over to the hospital for you?”

Zhou Zheng was caught off guard for a moment, then asked hesitantly: “You… would come?”

“I’ve got nothing to do at home anyway, just dropping something off.” She kept her tone stubborn. “Save you the trouble of running back and forth.”

She really did go downstairs, hailed a cab to the hospital, bought a bouquet of flowers at the hospital entrance, along with some fruit and a gift box, and headed up to the inpatient ward.

Zhou Zheng was waiting for her by the elevator.

The elevator doors opened, and the moment their eyes met, there was an indescribable, hard-to-place atmosphere between them.

Lin Shuang shot him a sideways glance and, with an air of casual indifference, shoved the things in her hands straight into Zhou Zheng’s arms.

“Seemed rude to come empty-handed. Bought a few things outside the hospital.”

Zhou Zheng’s dark eyes carried a smile, his gaze unusually soft, as he led her toward the hospital room: “Grandma’s still asleep. Come on.”

Lin Shuang followed behind him, treading lightly.

The hospital room was quiet, the door left ajar, the lights dim inside, the privacy curtain around the bed drawn tight. Zhou Zheng went in first, gently setting the things down, his eyes gesturing for Lin Shuang, still standing at the door, to come in.

“Really asleep?” Lin Shuang mouthed silently.

Zhou Zheng nodded.

She crept in carefully, edging close to the curtain, peeking through — an old woman with a full head of silver hair lay in the hospital bed, one eye covered with gauze, the other closed, her forehead lined with wrinkles, cheekbones sharp and weathered, but her complexion looked decent, every bit an ordinary countryside grandmother.

Lin Shuang pulled the curtain closed again, stepping back.

That counted as a proper visit, she figured.

Etiquette observed.

The room was a private single, Zhou Zheng’s fold-out cot pushed against the wall, the laptop screen on the bed still glowing with light, a chair set to the side with his jacket draped over it.

He moved the odds and ends off the chair onto the bed, clearing it for her to sit, then turned to peel an orange for her.

Lin Shuang leaned against the chair, accepting the half orange he handed her, and the two of them ate in quiet, peaceful silence, splitting it between them.

Once the orange was finished.

“I should get going.”

“Just like that?”

“Nothing else to do here.” Lin Shuang smiled, keeping her voice soft so as not to wake Zhou Zheng’s grandmother. “It’s getting late too.”

“Then let me walk you home.”

“No need,” she said, looking down at the tips of her shoes. “You stay and keep watch here. If something happens with the old lady and no one’s around, that’d be trouble.”

“It’s too late, not safe for you to go alone. Wait a moment.” He spoke softly, sending Shunzai a message. “Shunzai’s still out driving around this time of night, he’s not far off — I’ll have him come by to take you home.”

“That works too.”

Either way it would be a cab ride, might as well be with someone familiar, safer that way. Might as well wait a bit before heading out.

With someone asleep in the room, it really wasn’t easy to talk much. Lin Shuang didn’t quite know what to say either, lowering her lashes, quietly fidgeting with the decoration on her nails.

Zhou Zheng watched her.

These past few days, they hadn’t really had a proper moment together — hadn’t even seen each other in two days.

He genuinely missed her, a little.

Both of their hands rested on the empty chair between them, standing face to face, the hospital room dim, mingled with the smell of disinfectant, giving off a faint, dizzying sensation.

Zhou Zheng reached out, unable to help himself, brushing her hair, then stroking her smooth cheek.

Lin Shuang looked up, glanced at him, her eyes carrying that seductive, coy quality, wanting to speak yet holding back, like a tiny silver hook, scratching at his heart, lungs, liver, and spleen all at once, an unbearable itch.

Zhou Zheng’s eyes darkened slightly, and he reached out, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He genuinely only meant to hold her gently in his arms.

But the pleasant scent from his body washed over her, mingling with the sweet fragrance clinging to hers.

The scent was like a drop of ink falling into clear water, spreading out rapidly, unrestrained.

Lin Shuang wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, shifting a little uncomfortably in his embrace, cheek brushing against his shoulder.

Sparks crackled inside him, impatience rising, restless. He lowered his head directly, murmuring her name indistinctly, his lips trailing from beside her hair down to her cheek and then her lips.

Zhou Zheng caught her soft, fragrant lips, kissing and sucking gently.

The two of them stood right there by the curtain, still able to hear the old woman’s faintly snoring breath, along with footsteps out in the hallway, the murmur of conversation from nearby rooms.

The hospital room door hadn’t been fully closed — what if a nurse doing rounds happened to walk in?

But this kiss was so sweet.

Like biting into a juicy pear on a dry autumn day, moist, sweetly refreshing, soothing, smoothing away the roughness in one’s body.

The two of them kissed secretly, licking, nipping, sucking, chasing after each other without a sound, tender and passionate.

Lin Shuang clutched at his clothes, her face burning hot, heart pounding wildly, her legs going weak beneath her, threatening to give way.

Zhou Zheng caught her by the waist, holding her up.

There was a feeling to it like young lovers sneaking off to misbehave in the woods, hiding from the crowd.

Between the two of them, their combined age added up to several decades, yet here they were, for the first time, acting as reckless and heedless as impulsive high schoolers, oblivious to time or place.

Her eyes shimmered with a glimmering light, like shattered ice on a starlit sea, crisp and clear, tangled together with his deep, dark eyes, carrying a lingering, tantalizing feeling that left something unresolved.

Zhou Zheng cupped her cheeks, their lips pressed together, parting and rejoining, kiss after gentle kiss, lick after lick.

“Ah Zheng…” Grandmother’s groggy voice drifted out from behind the curtain. “Cough, what time is it…”

Lin Shuang heard the voice and her body jolted, clutching at Zhou Zheng’s clothes, nearly burying her head straight into his chest in mortification.

Zhou Zheng held her tight, clearing his throat: “Grandma, you calling me?”

Grandmother had a habit of waking up at night to use the bathroom — having gone to sleep early tonight, she yawned and pushed herself up on the bed to sit: “What time is it?”

“Past ten,” he said, steadying the person in his arms, his voice remaining calm despite a slight tremor.

“Raise the bed for me, I need to get up and use the toilet,” Grandmother said, pushing herself up on her own, then glancing toward the cabinet by the bed, letting out a small sound of surprise. “Where did these flowers come from? Quite pretty.”

“Don’t move, I’ll — I’ll help you up.”

The curtain was pulled back, and there was no escaping now for Lin Shuang.

Lin Shuang grabbed onto Zhou Zheng, refusing to let him move, eyes wide, her face a picture of unspeakable embarrassment.

“Might as well meet her now…” he mouthed silently, a smile in his eyes. “You’ll have to meet her sooner or later anyway.”