After coming out of the operating room, Ye Yuncheng was kept in the recovery room for observation for a while. By the time he was brought back to the ward, the anesthesia had not fully worn off. He could open his eyes and look around, hold a simple conversation, but his mind had not completely cleared. He kept muttering a jumble of incoherent words, lacking all logic, impossible to make out.

Fang Zhuo sat beside him and managed to catch one sentence: “Has the stall been packed up? Where did I park the cart? Don’t buy anything that isn’t fresh.”

She felt a pang of tenderness, and at the same time found it too funny to hold back. She tugged the blanket he had kicked loose back up over him.

Getting no response, Ye Yuncheng produced another completely unrelated remark: “For the ones who want double chili — you said you’d charge extra, right?”

“Of course,” Fang Zhuo replied. “And besides the money? Should we throw in a free delivery to a relative?”

Ye Yuncheng thought hard but still couldn’t answer. He furrowed his brow and said, “I must be dreaming.”

Fang Zhuo carefully wiped his face and hands for him. When she judged the time was right, she asked the others to watch over him for a moment and stepped out.

Nobody had eaten lunch. Liu Qiaohong had even set aside his work and made a special trip in from the countryside to help her handle the medical fees.

Fang Zhuo bought a serving of liquid food, then ordered five bowls of stir-fried noodles and five cartons of breakfast milk.

She herself wasn’t particularly hungry, but if she didn’t eat, the others would certainly feel too awkward to eat either.

After paying, Fang Zhuo crouched nearby and recorded the receipts in the same format Ye Yuncheng used for his own accounts.

Fortunately, the thousand-odd yuan in small bills she had brought from home were tucked in a separate compartment of her backpack. The thief must have been in a panic and hadn’t searched carefully; in the end he had only taken the most conspicuous ten thousand yuan, leaving Fang Zhuo with at least a little cash in hand.

Calming down and thinking it through carefully, Fang Zhuo found herself feeling, in a strange way, that perhaps the loss of that ten thousand yuan was fate’s way of bringing about a clean break between her and Fang Yiming. That way she wouldn’t have to agonize over what to do with that money.

Besides, as the saying goes, money spent is trouble averted — as long as Ye Yuncheng could leave the hospital safely, she could think of it as Fang Yiming earning himself a little good karma on her behalf.

After consoling herself in this way, the tightness in her chest eased considerably. At least the mere thought of the word “money” no longer felt like a heart attack.

Fang Zhuo rolled up her sleeves, picked up the two heavy bags of lunch, and headed back to the ward. Walking in, she found only Yan Lie sitting by the bed.

She set the bags down on the bedside cabinet and asked quietly, “Where is everyone?”

Yan Lie put down his phone and said, “Too many people in the ward, no room to stand. Uncle Liu took Xiao Mu outside to watch cartoons, and the homeroom teacher just stepped out — didn’t say why.”

“Eat first.” Fang Zhuo handed him a lunchbox. “I’ll take the noodles to Uncle Liu.”

With Liu Qiaohong there, Xiao Mu seemed much calmer. His eyes no longer drifted and wandered, and he had stopped shuffling restlessly in place with small, purposeless steps.

The two of them sat in front of the television in the rest area, watching a muted episode of a cartoon. Xiao Mu was completely absorbed — eyes unblinking, expression rapt — and had already forgotten the unhappy events of the day.

Before long, a young family member of another patient picked up the remote from the rack and changed the channel to a sports broadcast.

Xiao Mu hadn’t seen the ending. He opened his mouth in disappointment, but didn’t dare say a word, and could only look at Liu Qiaohong with an aggrieved expression.

“It’s all right.” Liu Qiaohong patted his head. “Xiao Mu, be good.”

Fang Zhuo smiled slightly and walked over to hand out the lunchboxes to the two of them.

Xiao Mu hadn’t eaten anything since the previous evening. He had originally planned to set up the stall first and then roll himself a rice ball for breakfast — he had even decided what fillings to put in — but the shock of what had happened to Ye Yuncheng had driven all thought of hunger from his mind.

Now that he had finally calmed down, he still worried that the others might think him a big eater, and had been holding back, not daring to say a word. When Fang Zhuo placed the lunchbox in his hands, his whole face immediately brightened, every feature radiating joy.

Fang Zhuo was touched by his simple happiness, and felt herself lighten as well. She left the braised meat lunchbox with them, said goodbye, and headed back to the ward to eat.

Not long after, the homeroom teacher appeared in the doorway, crooking a finger to signal Fang Zhuo to come out.

The two of them moved to a quiet stairwell. The homeroom teacher pulled a thick stack of bills from her bag and pushed it directly into Fang Zhuo’s hands.

“Take this ten thousand yuan for now. There are a lot of expenses at the hospital. You’re a girl, and a high school senior on top of that — if it gets too hard to manage on your own, hire a nursing aide.”

Fang Zhuo refused without hesitation. “No.”

“Listen to your teacher. Write me an IOU, and pay me back when you’re earning money!” the homeroom teacher said sternly. “You don’t know what the real world is like — caring for a patient is not as simple as you think. Take it!”

Fang Zhuo shook her head. “I really am not that short of money. The serious illness subsidy Uncle Liu brought should cover the medical fees with some left over. My uncle has a bank card with all his savings — once he’s conscious I can ask him for the PIN and withdraw from it.”

The homeroom teacher bristled. “Don’t be so stubborn, child! Some things you can leave to adults—”

She was about to say more when her phone rang from inside her bag. She dug through it to find it, still lecturing without pause: “Students should focus on studying. Do you know how important Grade 12 is for you? Hold on — hello? Shouldn’t you be in class right now? You dare call me? Have you forgotten who I am?”

The person on the other end was speaking loudly, but Fang Zhuo was standing too far away to make out the words clearly.

The homeroom teacher listened, then lifted her left eyebrow — one up, one level — and slanted a glance toward Fang Zhuo. She nodded twice in reply, her expression unreadable, and said, “All right. I’m putting it on speaker — you tell Fang Zhuo yourself.”

Fang Zhuo stepped closer and heard Wei Xi’s characteristically bright voice come through the speaker.

“The money’s been found, Fang Zhuo! It’s really been found! Every single yuan!”

“Really?” Fang Zhuo could hardly believe it. “That fast?”

“Yes! Apparently the guy is a repeat offender — he stole the money and hid it in a suitcase, planning to take it out in the afternoon to pay off a debt. But before he could make his move, a group of guys pinned him down. He’s been taken to the police station for questioning now.” Wei Xi was so excited her words came tumbling out. “I wasn’t there myself so I can’t give you a proper account, but apparently it was absolute chaos and completely thrilling! Even the police officer who came out had gone red in the face from the excitement!”

Fang Zhuo and the homeroom teacher both sensed this was more complicated than it sounded. They almost felt a reflexive twinge of unease.

“Anyway, they’re sending a representative to bring you the money now — let them tell you themselves.” Wei Xi called out cheerfully, “Wait for me when you get back, Fang Zhuo! We’ve all saved your notes for you!”

The two words “wait” and “come back,” placed together, made something warm stir simply from hearing them.

In the first decade or so of Fang Zhuo’s life, she had almost never been on the receiving end of those words. They had been a luxury that rarely appeared even on the list of rewards she had ever received. Moved in the moment, she nodded in silence.

Realizing that didn’t count as an answer, she quickly spoke aloud: “Okay.”

The homeroom teacher took back the phone and said sharply, “All right, hang up. Get back to class! Anyone who skipped will have it noted by every subject teacher — one test paper as punishment each.”

Wei Xi’s head had been completely taken over by dopamine. Recklessly, she crowed, “One paper is nothing, Teacher! I’m telling you, right now I could write ten papers! I could—”

Her words cut off; someone had clearly clapped a hand over her mouth. The rest of the sentence vanished into the severed call.

The homeroom teacher laughed despite herself. “That child — always making such a racket.”

Another equally noisy person came charging out of the ward with a lunchbox, spotted Fang Zhuo, and called out at once, “Fang Zhuo! The money’s been found!”

The homeroom teacher shot him a look.

Seeing they already knew, Yan Lie grinned. “What did I tell you? I’m your good luck charm, aren’t I?”

If Fang Zhuo believed in such things, she would certainly have believed in Yan Lie’s luck — because every single time, things had turned out exactly as he predicted.

And she was greedy enough to hope this particular lucky star would shine on her a little longer.

After all, compared to eighteen years of her life, the time she had spent in good fortune was still somewhat brief. She was hopelessly addicted to this feeling — of luck, of being looked after.

Fang Zhuo curved her eyes and smiled, bright and radiant. “Thank you.”

That smile was luminous and dazzling.

Yan Lie had seen all kinds of her smiles — restrained ones, perfunctory ones. This was the first time he had seen her smile with such open, unguarded sincerity. His breath caught; he looked away, fixed his gaze on the slogan on the wall for a second, quickly wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then turned back. He couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from curving upward. “Why so serious about it? If you keep looking at me like that… I might get a little full of myself.”

He added with a laugh, “Though being sincere is one of your good qualities. I didn’t mean it as a criticism.”

Fang Zhuo slowly raised her gaze past him.

Yan Lie didn’t have time to turn around before his homeroom teacher’s bag came down on the back of his head — not hard, not soft, but squarely on target.

Insufferable! Does he think I’m invisible?

Yan Lie clutched his head with an exaggerated howl of pain. The homeroom teacher turned on her heel, chin in the air, and walked away.