"Dad's not dead yet! And you..."
Her voice trailed off as the ward door suddenly opened and the doctor walked out with a grave expression.
"The patient's condition has worsened and requires immediate surgery. Have you discussed this?"
The corridor fell silent instantly.
The five children looked at each other, none of them speaking.
The doctor sighed and turned to leave.
Su Mingqiang suddenly called out to him.
"Doctor, if... if we don't have surgery, how long can my dad live?"
The doctor looked at him in disbelief.
"At most... three days..."
Su Mingqiang nodded, a relieved expression on his face.
"Then let's not do it. My dad's too old; he can't take any more stress."
The other four remained silent; none of them objected.
The doctor shook his head and turned to leave.
In the corridor, the alarms from the monitors grew weaker and weaker until they finally fell silent.
When the monitor's alarm completely stopped, Su Jianguo felt a strange sense of relief.
The murky tears slid into my ear canal, as if from a long, long time ago.
The warm water his wife dripped into his ears while cleaning them.
The memories in my mind suddenly became clear before my eyes.
It was a snowy day. Wang Xiulan, the old man's wife, was squatting at the entrance of the steel rolling mill, holding an aluminum lunchbox that she had warmed with her body.
When he lifted the lid, two hard-boiled eggs were dangling in the cabbage soup, and flour was still stuck to the woman's chapped hands.
Those were eggs she secretly earned by washing clothes for others.
"Why didn't I hug her then..."
Su Jianguo moved his chapped lips.
In my memory, I always frowned and pushed the lunchbox away.
"Going to beg for favors again? What a disgrace to Old Su!"
The sounds of arguing outside came and went, sometimes near, sometimes far.
Su Jianguo recalled the day the family divided their property, when his third son knelt in the snow begging for money to pay for his repeat studies, while he threw the savings book at his eldest son's face, saying...
"Running a transport business is the only way to bring honor to one's ancestors!"
When Xiulan secretly delivered money to Lao San in the middle of the night, he grabbed a rolling pin and broke her little finger.
The electrocardiogram monitor started showing a flat line, but the body temperature strangely rose again.
In a daze, she smelled the aroma of scallions being stir-fried in a wok. Wang Xiulan, wearing a patched apron, turned her head in front of the stove.
"Jianguo, the dough is ready."
He reached out to touch the gray hair at her temples, but saw the returned university acceptance letter lying in his palm.
It was 1966 when he personally tore up her teacher's college acceptance letter, which she had hidden in her dowry chest.
"drop--"
The electrocardiogram monitor emitted a long beep.
The old man suddenly convulsed violently, his withered, twig-like fingers tearing open the oxygen tube.
The children in the corridor turned their heads at the same time and saw the monitor screen glowing a deathly green light.
Before his last shred of consciousness faded, Su Jianguo finally made out the corner of the ward.
Wang Xiulan, wearing a tattered blue cloth shirt, was knitting woolen socks for him.
"show.."
Phlegm blocked the throat.
The old man suddenly laughed, his relaxed cheeks revealing two deep furrows.
The scene before my eyes gradually darkened.
As darkness crept in, Su Jianguo felt a warm hand wiping away the tears from the corner of his eyes.
Just like Wang Xiulan before her death, when cancer cells had already gnawed through her spine, she was still tucking him in.
"The old man has always been strong-willed; he can't let anyone see him cry."
At 3:07 a.m., the on-duty doctor pushed open the ward door.
The five children were each playing on their phones on a bench in the hallway, while the elderly man, with his head turned to the side, gazing out the window, ended his life.
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