The tail end of late spring swept across the Qinglan River, bringing with it a lingering drizzle. The air was filled with the scent of moist earth and the freshness of budding vegetation, but also with a lingering chill.
The chill penetrated into the cracks between Sun Guixiang's bones, bringing up the cold legs she had suffered in her youth. Her joints felt sore and swollen, as if they were filled with rusty needles.
"Cough... cough..." Sun Guixiang curled up on the old wooden bench with peeling paint in the clinic, her skinny hands tightly covering her chest. Every cough made her thin shoulders shake violently.
Her cloudy eyes were watery due to the exertion, and fine beads of cold sweat oozed from her forehead.
There was an infusion needle inserted on the back of her hand, and the transparent liquid was slowly flowing into her bulging blood vessels drop by drop.
The clinic was small and filled with a mixed smell of disinfectant and stale medicine.
There were a few elderly people sitting sparsely there, also receiving intravenous drips. The only sounds in the air were suppressed coughs and the dripping of the drip.
Ye Qingliu sat quietly beside Sun Guixiang.
Next to him was an old thermos, washed out and bleached, with a faded panda pattern on it.
The lid was unscrewed a little, and the sweet aroma of mung bean soup, like stubborn grass, stubbornly broke through the blockade of disinfectant and drifted into the air.
Sun Guixiang coughed violently, her body shaking uncontrollably, and the IV tube swayed slightly.
Ye Qingliu's movement of turning the pages of the book paused almost imperceptibly.
He didn't look up, but just stretched out his cold, slender hand, and very naturally and accurately, used his fingertips to gently steady Sun Guixiang's slightly trembling wrist.
The temperature of the fingertips is slightly cool, but it carries a strange stabilizing power.
Then, Ye Qingliu picked up the thermos with his other hand and unscrewed the lid. A richer, warmer, sweeter aroma of mung bean soup filled the air.
He picked up the small spoon that came with the thermos, scooped up a spoonful of light green soup at just the right temperature, and handed it to Sun Guixiang's cracked lips.
The movements were smooth and carried an unmistakable gentleness.
"Mother-in-law." His voice was clear and slow, like the dripping ice from the eaves. It did not contain too many emotional ups and downs, but it fell clearly into Sun Guixiang's ears.
"Drink a little."
Sun Guixiang looked at him with her cloudy eyes, then looked at the spoonful of warm mung bean soup at her lips.
She obediently opened her mouth and took small sips.
The warm soup slid across the dry throat like a sweet rain, temporarily suppressing the heart-wrenching itch.
Ye Qingliu fed patiently, one spoonful after another.
His gray-blue eyes were always lowered, his gaze fixed on the pages of the book, as if feeding soup was just a task that could be completed easily and did not require much attention.
This quiet and warm scene, like a stone thrown into a stagnant pond, instantly attracted all the attention in the clinic.
Several elderly people who were receiving IV drips looked on enviously and whispered to each other:
"Hey, look at how blessed Sister Sun is..."
"This young man... is he her grandson? He's so handsome! And so filial!"
"That mung bean soup smells delicious...Alas, I can't even see the shadow of those at home..."
At this moment, the clinic's wooden door with mottled paint was pushed open with a loud bang.
A fat figure wrapped in a bright orange plastic raincoat blocked the doorway. The hood of the raincoat was lifted, revealing Wang Jinfeng's fat, powdered face.
The rain wet the few strands of her deliberately curled bangs, which stuck to her forehead, making her look a little disheveled.
She was holding a plastic bag with a pharmacy logo printed on it, and it was obvious that she was there to buy medicine.
Her small eyes, squeezed into slits by fat, habitually scanned the clinic with a critical look and a condescending sense of superiority.
His eyes swept across a few haggard-looking old men, and he curled his lips, as if he disliked the polluted air here.
However, when her eyes fell on the picture on the bench in the corner——
It was like being struck by an invisible lightning!
The impatience on Wang Jinfeng's face froze instantly, her eyes suddenly widened, her mouth opened uncontrollably, and even her breathing stopped for a moment.
It's him again!
The young man, who was so exquisite that he didn't look like an ordinary person, was now sitting next to Sun Guixiang, the old, poor and sick woman.
He was wearing a soft off-white cashmere sweater that was spotlessly clean. He lowered his eyelashes and read a book quietly.
One of his hands was actually holding Sun Guixiang's skinny wrist which had a needle inserted in it.
With his other hand, he was holding a spoon and feeding soup to that sick old woman?!
That movement, that posture, was so gentle that it was dazzling, and so harmonious that it made her heart feel choked.
Why?! Why on earth could Sun Guixiang, a poor, sick old woman on the verge of death, have such a godlike person serving her personally?!
And she, Wang Jinfeng, who wears gold and silver and whose son is a "leader" in the city, has to brave the rain to come to this shabby clinic to buy medicine when she is sick?!
The humiliation and shock she suffered in Sun Guixiang's courtyard last time surged up again, mixed with the stimulation she witnessed with her own eyes, and instantly burned her poor sanity to ashes.
She took a deep breath, tried to suppress the turmoil in her heart, forced herself to put on her usual mean and exaggerated smile, twisted her fat body, and stepped on her wet shoes.
Wang Jinfeng deliberately made a "clicking" sound and walked towards Sun Guixiang and Ye Qingliu.
"Oh! Who did I think it was? Isn't this Sun Guixiang?" Wang Jinfeng's sharp and high-pitched voice exploded in the quiet clinic, full of deliberate "surprise" and strong malice.
"Oh my! What's wrong? Are you too sick to get up again? Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, look at your face, so sallow, like an over-pickled pickle!"
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