Springtime Musings in the Hospital Ward

The smell of disinfectant wove a transparent net in the ward, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor the only background noise. Chen Yanzhi stared at the swaying shadows of trees on the ceiling, the IV needle on the back of his right hand stretched taut by the tape, his fingertips slightly numb. When the door was gently pushed open, he knew without turning his head that it was Ayu—carrying the faint fragrance of morning dew, mixed with the aroma of white porridge from the thermos.

"Does your hand still hurt?" Ayu's voice was like cotton soaked in warm water, soft and gentle as it fell into his ear. She put down the thermos, first reaching out to test the brightness of the bedside lamp before settling into the caregiver's chair. Only then did Chen Yanzhi notice the faint dark circles under her eyes, and a few stray hairs that hadn't been pinned back were brushing against the collar of her navy blue nurse's uniform, suggesting she had just finished her night shift and rushed over.

"It feels numb, like being gnawed by ants." He shook his left arm, which was immobilized in a cast, and his right fingertips curled unconsciously. Last night, while making a house call in the pouring rain, he fell into a roadside ditch while trying to protect an elderly person from an overturned motorcycle. His left arm was fractured, and his right hand was also covered in blood from cuts from broken glass.

Ayu didn't reply, but first wrung out a hot towel and placed it on his right hand. The warmth of the pure cotton towel seeped into her skin, and Chen Yanzhi watched as her lowered eyelashes cast butterfly-like shadows under her eyes. He suddenly noticed that the beauty mark at the corner of her left eye shone faintly pink under the light. "Didn't the head nurse let you rest?" he suddenly asked, remembering seeing the head nurse patting Ayu's shoulder and giving her instructions at the nurses' station yesterday. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Does coming to see you during my off-duty hours count as skipping work?" Ayu looked up with a smile, but her fingertips gently pressed against the bruise on the back of his right hand. "Doesn't Dr. Chen always say 'patients first'? Now that you're the patient, you can't complain about the caregiver's skills." As she spoke, she took off the outer layer of her nurse's uniform, revealing a light gray knitted sweater underneath, with the cuffs rolled up to her elbows, revealing her slender wrists.

When her warm palm touched his fingers, Chen Yanzhi suddenly felt a tightness in his throat. Ayu's hands were softer than he'd imagined, but her fingertips bore thin calluses from years of wearing gloves. She began massaging from the base of his fingers to the tips. "My traditional Chinese medicine massage teacher said that for numb fingers, you should press the Hegu acupoint," she said, her voice lower than usual, as if afraid of waking the morning light in the ward. "But a high achiever like Dr. Chen probably wouldn't appreciate our 'folk remedies,' would he?"

Looking at her earnest expression, he suddenly recalled a late night in the emergency room three months ago. A drunk patient brought in suddenly vomited, spraying Ah Yu all over with filth. She, however, was busy cleaning the vomit from the patient's mouth, her own white coat dripping with soup. Later, when he handed her the spare surgical gown, he noticed that this young nurse, who was always praised by the head nurse as "steady," was trembling slightly.

"Does it hurt?" Ayu's fingertip stopped at a scratch on his palm. The wound had scabbed over, but it tugged at the surrounding skin when she touched it. Chen Yanzhi shook his head, but when she looked up, he met her eyes, which were like spring water. Morning light filtered in through the blinds, gilding the tips of her hair with gold. The glints of light on her eyelashes trembled gently with each blink, like snowflakes falling on her heart.

“Actually, you don’t need to come every day.” He suddenly turned his face away, staring at the IV drip tube by the bedside, watching the clear liquid drip down one by one. “My mom is coming from our hometown tomorrow.” Although he said this, he knew in his heart that his mother was too old and couldn’t withstand the ordeal of the hospital. What’s more—he remembered the thermos that Ayu had brought him last night in the rain, containing a stewed blackfish soup that was cooked until tender, and shrimp that she had peeled herself. “When you do this… it makes me feel like I’m really being taken care of by my girlfriend.”

The last sentence was spoken softly, yet it made Ayu's hand freeze abruptly. Her earlobes instantly turned bright red, a blush spreading across her neck, and her fingertips trembled slightly in his palm. "Dr. Chen...don't joke around." She looked down at her hands, noticing the calluses on his palms were more numerous than she had imagined, and shallow marks from years of handling scalpels on the base of his thumb. "Yesterday, when I was changing your sheets, I saw the medical record book in your white coat pocket..."

"Hmm?" Chen Yanzhi raised an eyebrow, looking at her hesitant expression, and suddenly found it amusing. Ever since that accident in the emergency room, he would unconsciously pay attention to this soft-spoken nurse, watching her purse her lips carefully when checking medical orders, watching her magically produce candy when giving injections to young patients, but he never imagined that she would be sitting by his bedside now, looking at him with such gentle eyes.

“You remembered the follow-up date of that child with pneumonia three months ago.” Ayu suddenly looked up, her eyes burning. “And last week when Grandpa Zhang was discharged from the hospital, you secretly slipped the instructions for his blood pressure medication under his pillow, marking the three times to take the medication in red pen…” Her voice grew softer and softer, yet it was like a spring stream flowing over pebbles. “Actually… everyone knows that Dr. Chen is the most soft-hearted person.”

The sound of a treatment cart being pushed came from outside the ward, and the family members of the patients in the next bed were talking in hushed tones. Chen Yanzhi looked at Ayu's flushed cheeks and suddenly wanted to reach out and touch the tips of her hair that were sticking up. But his left arm, which was in a cast, reminded him of his current disheveled state, so he could only gently hold her hand with his right hand and feel the warmth of her fingertips spreading in his palm.

"Ayu." He called her name for the first time, with a courageous break from his cocoon. "Actually, ever since you brought me my first hospital meal, I've been thinking—" Before he could finish, the ward door was suddenly pushed open, and intern Xiao Li poked his head in: "Teacher Chen, the radiology department said your CT scan is in..."

Ayu recoiled as if burned, hastily smoothing the wrinkles in her sleeve. Chen Yanzhi watched the blush spread from the tips of her ears down to her collarbone, and suddenly felt a tightness in his throat. Xiao Li walked in obliviously, chattering about the test results, but all he noticed was the handwritten note on the thermos when Ayu turned around: "Porridge temperature 45 degrees Celsius, avoid spicy side dishes," the handwriting as neat as a primary school student's exercise book.

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