32. Light in the Crack

The orthopedic ward is on the seventh floor of the inpatient department of the Third Municipal Hospital.

The smell of disinfectant was so strong it was almost suffocating, mingling with the scent of food, flowers, and an indescribable air of weakness. Ding Xiaojuan sat upright in the armchair beside her mother-in-law's bed, her laptop open on her lap, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The screen was filled with dense contract terms, but her gaze would occasionally drift from the screen back to the bed.

The mother-in-law was asleep. With the pain pump in place, her brow had relaxed, but her face remained pale, and dark blue veins and adhesive bandages clung to the back of her hand outside the blanket. A hip fracture—whether conservative treatment or surgery would depend on the final consultation after the head doctor's rounds tomorrow. Gao Sheng had just been called back to the company by an urgent call to handle some pressing matters. Before leaving, he gave her repeated instructions, his eyes bloodshot, filled with lingering guilt.

Ding Xiaojuan saved the document, closed her laptop, and let out a soft sigh. Switching from high-intensity work mode to caregiver mode and back again left her feeling utterly exhausted, almost like a split personality. But she dared not relax. The law firm had an important conference call that afternoon; the client's case couldn't afford to be delayed. She checked the time; there were still forty minutes until the meeting started.

She got up, intending to go to the water dispenser to get some hot water. Just as she stood up, she heard a rustling sound from the hospital bed. Her mother-in-law had woken up; her somewhat cloudy eyes slowly focused, and upon seeing her, she instinctively tried to move, then hissed in pain.

"Mom, don't move." Ding Xiaojuan immediately bent down. "What do you need? Water?"

The mother-in-law shook her head, her voice hoarse: "You... haven't gone to work yet?"

"No rush, I'll just call you in a bit. How are you feeling? Is it still in a lot of pain?"

"Much better... This thing works really well." The mother-in-law pointed to the pain pump, trying to smile, but the smile only made her mouth hurt. "It's just... lying down is uncomfortable, and I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble."

“Mom,” Ding Xiaojuan sat down by the bed and held the old woman’s thin, cold hand, “If you say that again, I’ll really get angry. What do you mean by causing trouble? Without you, how could Gao Sheng and I have worked with peace of mind all these years? How could we have raised Haha so well? We should be thanking you.”

This was the first time she had spoken these words so frankly. She had always thought that gratitude should be kept in her heart and that showing kindness to her mother-in-law through actions was enough. But today, seeing the elderly woman lying in the hospital bed, enduring the pain with a look of guilt on her face, those words involuntarily welled up inside her.

Her mother-in-law's eyes reddened, and she turned her face away. After a long while, she murmured, "You're a good child... but you're too strong-willed and too tired. It breaks my heart to see you like this."

Ding Xiaojuan's nose tingled, and she quickly blinked to force back the tears. She cleared her throat and changed the subject: "Haha, I've already talked to He Miao tonight. I'll go to her house to play with Gun Gun first. Once things are more stable here, Gao Sheng or I will pick him up and bring him back. Don't worry."

"Don't worry, don't worry... With you all here, what do I have to worry about?" Her mother-in-law patted the back of her hand and looked at her face. "But you shouldn't push yourself too hard. You should rest when you need to. There's never enough work. As for Gao Sheng... you should be more understanding. He's a stubborn person. He keeps things to himself, but he's actually more anxious than anyone else."

Ding Xiaojuan nodded. She knew perfectly well. Gao Sheng's panic and helplessness when faced with his mother's illness were even greater than hers. This man, accustomed to control and planning, was unable to plan for the unexpected and vulnerable moments of his loved ones. For him, this was perhaps a more unbearable "loss of control" than a setback in his career.

Her phone vibrated; it was her assistant reminding her of a conference call. Ding Xiaojuan gestured to her mother-in-law and walked to the corridor outside the ward. At the end of the corridor was a window, offering a view of the gray sky and the cold silhouettes of distant high-rises. She leaned against the window, put on her headphones, and entered work mode. Her voice was calm and clear, remotely directing the case's progress. Her profile was reflected in the windowpane—perfect makeup, a crisp suit—an impeccable professional woman.

Only she knew that the back of her shirt under her suit was slightly damp with sweat from the tension and busyness she had just been working on. And only she knew that, between reciting the legal clauses, she had been glancing out of the corner of her eye at the small window in the ward door, keeping an eye on what was happening inside.

It turns out that the so-called "balance" and "strength" are nothing more than stretching a single string to its limit, bearing multiple weights simultaneously, and striving to maintain superficial stability. Previously, her mother-in-law had silently supported her from behind, allowing her to charge forward with confidence. But now, the person who supported her needs to be relied upon; she must become that stronger string herself, while also diverting her strength to support the one who had once supported her.

The conference call ended, and she took off her headphones, rubbing her temples. The sounds of coughing and conversation from other wards drifted down the corridor, along with the clatter of nurses pushing trolleys. The real world was filled with illness, noise, and uncertainty, a stark contrast to the sophisticated world she usually lived in, built from case files, negotiations, and logic.

She suddenly thought of Yi Yi. She remembered how Yi Yi had been running around the hospital that morning, silently and efficiently helping out. She remembered the scarf Yi Yi had wrapped around her neck, still warm from her body. She had always thought Yi Yi was sometimes too sentimental, trapped in a fog of emotions and self. But at that moment, Yi Yi's concrete, selfless "presence" gave her the most real support in her panic.

Perhaps everyone has their own quagmire and their own light. No one way of life is inherently superior; it's just that on different battlefields, people struggle, cope, and occasionally lend a helping hand to one another in their own way.

She returned to the ward; her mother-in-law was asleep again. She sat down, this time without turning on the computer. She simply watched quietly as the old woman's brow remained slightly furrowed in her sleep, listening to her somewhat uneven breathing. Then, she took out her phone and sent a message to their small group chat:

"The situation at the hospital is stable for now. Thank you, sisters. @YiYi, thanks a lot for today. @HeMiao, thank you for your help tonight."

He Miao quickly replied, "Don't mention it! Gun Gun is eager for Haha to come! How's Grandma? Does she need any food delivered?"

Yi Yi replied, "It's good that Auntie is alright. I need someone to cover for me."

Ding Xiaojuan looked at the brief text on the screen, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly. There was no excessive comfort or sentimentality, but that reassuring feeling of "always there" was genuinely conveyed through the cold screen.

Just then, the ward door was gently pushed open, and Gao Sheng returned. He was carrying a thermos in his hand, his face still bearing the chill of the outside air, and his eyes looked somewhat tired, but when he saw Ding Xiaojuan and his mother on the hospital bed, he visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is Mom asleep?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, I just fell asleep." Ding Xiaojuan stood up and took the thermos. "What did you buy?"

"Porridge, and your favorite shrimp dumplings, eat some while they're hot." Gao Sheng said, walking to the bedside, carefully checking on his mother's condition, and gently tucking the blanket around her. This man, who was usually a bit clumsy and easily agitated at home, was unusually gentle at this moment.

Ding Xiaojuan opened the insulated container, and the steam from the food blurred her vision. She lowered her head and ate the shrimp dumplings in small bites. They tasted good; it was from her usual tea restaurant.

"Have you taken care of things at the company?" she asked.

"Yeah, there was a little mishap, but it's resolved." Gao Sheng sat down on the empty chair next to her and rubbed his face. "I've already contacted a caregiver. She'll come over at eight o'clock tonight. She's experienced. You should go home and get a good night's sleep tonight; you'll be busy tomorrow."

“I’m fine, I’ll wait until Mom’s condition stabilizes a bit more,” Ding Xiaojuan said. This wasn’t bravado, it was a statement.

Gao Sheng looked at the faint dark circles under her eyes, wanting to say something, but in the end he just nodded. "Then... I'll stay here for the second half of the night, and you can stay for the first half, is that alright?"

"OK."

The division of labor was simple, without shirking responsibility or accusations of "you should do this or that." Faced with shared difficulties, disagreements about educational philosophies and the need to reconcile family roles seemed to be temporarily set aside. They were simply two children who shared the same concerns and the same desire to do their best to care for their elderly parents.

"Oh, right," Gao Sheng suddenly remembered something, "Haha, the homeroom teacher sent out a notice this afternoon that there's a parent-child outdoor activity next weekend, and it's voluntary. I... I should be free that day, are you going? Or should we go together?"

Ding Xiaojuan was somewhat surprised. In the past, Gao Sheng would either have thought this kind of activity was a waste of time or simply let her decide. Now, he took the initiative to offer it, even considering his own time.

"Let me check my schedule." She didn't agree immediately, but her tone was open. "If we can reschedule, it would be nice to go together."

Gao Sheng grunted in response and said nothing more. But the slightly stagnant air in the ward seemed to quietly begin to flow because of these few ordinary words about the child and the future.

Outside the window, dusk was falling, and the city lights were gradually coming on, like a starry sky fallen to earth. The lights in the ward were a cold white, illuminating the hospital bed, the couple who were accompanying the patient, and this small space filled with the smell of medicine.

Difficult, but not hopeless. Cold, but warmth always arises when people are close to each other.

After finishing the last shrimp dumpling, Ding Xiaojuan packed up the thermos. She looked at Gao Sheng, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed in rest, then at the elderly man sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. The tension in her heart hadn't eased, but she suddenly felt that perhaps this tension wasn't meant to bear all the weight alone. It could be shared, understood, and even, in the brief moments of tension, a simple "Want to go together?" could bring a faint, heartwarming response.

The cracks may still be there, but light is indeed beginning to seep through them. Not the dazzling sunrise, but the quiet glow of window lamps lighting up one after another in the twilight. Faint, yet enough to illuminate a small section of the path ahead, giving people the courage to continue, supporting each other as they walk on.