…
The three of them worked until eight at night. There were still some cheap medicinal herbs left, but they really couldn’t move them in time, so they simply gave up on them. The warehouse was in the basement, and the rainwater on the ground surface was streaming down the steps in waves. Besides their family moving Chinese medicine, other families were also busy moving this and that.
The three wrapped their feet tightly in plastic film and waded out through the pouring rain. Sun Youping said this water was too dirty, especially what flowed into the basement—rats, bacteria, all kinds of things.
Because the rain was too heavy, there was no way to drive, and both cars were stuffed full of Chinese medicine. The three wrapped themselves in raincoats and supported each other against the storm as they walked back. When they got to the clinic, they were all urged to shower. Sun Jingcheng went to the side to call Zhou Yu—three calls, none went through.
Mother Sun urged him again to shower. He called Sun Jingfei, wanting her to help go check on the house. Sun Jingfei said the neighborhood had suddenly lost power. He didn’t say anything more, hung up, wrapped his raincoat tight, and prepared to go back.
With such heavy rain outside, Mother Sun scolded him for being willful! Sun Youping drank his ginger soup and waved his hand, telling him to go. Second Brother had also called home, instructing Second Sister-in-law to lock the doors and windows—he’d take a taxi back when the rain stopped. He lived far away—at least six or seven kilometers from the clinic.
Sun Youping made tea. Father and son sat facing each other. Just drinking, with nothing to say. Before, when Big Brother was around, he was good at lightening the atmosphere, always able to make their father happy. But the more he racked his brains searching for conversation, the less he had to say.
In the end, it was Sun Youping who generously found conversation, chatting about Lin Jing’s surgery, telling him to rest assured—the surgery wasn’t major, and Uncle had found an experienced doctor.
He nodded, was silent for a while, then chatted with his father about wanting to get a vasectomy. Sun Youping didn’t object, saying a vasectomy was fine too. He lifted the teapot to pour tea for his father. Sun Youping moved his cup and asked how the restaurant business was going.
Zhou Yu had broken out in a sweat. She was taking a shower in the evening when the power suddenly went out. She finished washing in the dark and came out, lying on the bed not daring to go anywhere. Outside the window, the storm was like an open faucet—whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Her phone was ringing on the sofa outside, but she didn’t dare go out.
She hadn’t been timid before—she’d even been quite bold. It was probably after her father’s death, when she frequently saw him appear, that she began to feel fear.
Fear of what exactly?
When Sun Jingcheng waded through the water to return, Zhou Yu had completely wrapped herself in the blanket. Her hair was wet, her body was sticky, and the sheets had large sweat stains.
Sun Jingcheng took off his pants to wash. On the way back, there was a section where the rainwater reached his calves—he’d literally waded through it to get back.
Zhou Yu sat on the toilet lid holding an aromatherapy candle, watching him wash. As Sun Jingcheng washed, he said, “When I just came up, I saw property management piling sandbags at the garage entrance.”
“Did you ask them when the power would come back?” Zhou Yu chatted with him.
“They said probably tomorrow.”
“When will the rain stop?”
“Probably in the second half of the night. Storms never last long.”
Zhou Yu didn’t ask anymore.
After Sun Jingcheng finished washing, he felt her forehead—the fever had broken. He got dressed and went to cook noodles for her. When he came back, he’d brought meat sauce from the clinic—just cook plain noodles and pour a spoonful over them.
Zhou Yu followed him back and forth with the candle. He found it funny and pulled her into his arms to wait for the water to boil together, to add the noodles together, and after cooking, to sit and eat together.
After eating, he carefully dried her hair bit by bit, then changed the sheets and lay down with her, casually saying, “This is really nice!”
“What’s really nice?”
“Being able to be with you is really nice!” Sun Jingcheng said contentedly. “Back then I wasn’t thinking about anything, I only had one thought—I must come back. Otherwise what if an evil dragon came down and snatched you away?”
Zhou Yu pinched him. “If there really was an evil dragon, it would snatch you first.”
Sun Jingcheng laughed heartily, half-seriously saying, “I’d rather it snatch me first. While it’s eating me, you run quickly, run as far as you can…” He imagined that scene, slowly getting into character. “Run far, far away, then forget me, find someone better than me to marry. Have two more kids, live a noisy, happy lifetime.” As he spoke, tears welled up in his eyes.
“Why find someone better than you?”
“Only if you find someone better can you forget me, dummy.”
“Makes sense.” Zhou Yu agreed.
“Little heartless thing.” Sun Jingcheng couldn’t be bothered with her. “I’m still alive.”
Zhou Yu interlaced her ten fingers with his, saying nothing.
“The beneficiary of my insurance is you. If something really happens to me, all the assets under my name—you keep them.” Sun Jingcheng thought of how Big Brother had left without a word, and also thought of a friend who suddenly passed away, whose creditors took IOUs and contracts to sue his wife…
“After you get the money, go enjoy yourself. Don’t be like Eldest Sister-in-law—acting fine during the day, secretly crying at night.” Sun Jingcheng said slowly, “Mom said the other day that Eldest Sister-in-law has cried in her sleep several times at night, scaring Yuyan.”
Zhou Yu didn’t respond the whole time, listening to him ramble on, feeling incomparably peaceful and secure in her heart. Only after he’d finished his complete instructions did she slowly respond, “Got it. After getting all your inheritance, I’ll go enjoy myself and keep a young pretty boy like Timothée Chalamet.”
Sun Jingcheng felt uncomfortable and sat up asking, “Who’s Timothée Chalamet?”
Zhou Yu searched for pictures to show him—what a healing, fresh young man!
Sun Jingcheng lay back down, saying the opposite of what he meant, “Not bad. A spirited young fellow.”
Zhou Yu laughed heartily, hugged him and said, “But I still prefer old cured meat.”
Sun Jingcheng pretended to viciously bite her nose, hugging her tightly without saying a word.