Just as the last straw was being firmly packed down, thunder rumbled across the sky.
Gu Zhixing stood under the eaves, looking at the people who were huddled together to take shelter from the rain.
He didn't know when it started, but the coughs that used to frighten him had quietly turned into bursts of laughter.
His soaked robe clung to his back, the chill penetrating to his bones, yet he felt he had never lived so consciously before.
Over the next ten days or so, a new chapter quietly began to unfold in Gu Zhixing's life.
Besides taking care of Shen Jintang and reading, he had a new task—chatting and working with the people affected by the epidemic here.
He enjoyed listening to them chat about everyday life, to Old Zhang recount his travels in his youth, to Aunt Li complain about her chickens always running off to the neighbor's, and to several teenagers surrounding him, chattering away about what the capital city was like.
Gradually, they stopped calling him "Young Master" with trepidation and started calling him "Young Master Gu" affectionately. Some even secretly slipped him a handful of dried persimmons from their own garden and whispered, "Young Master, you've been studying hard. Have something to eat."
Gu Zhixing held the sweet and soft persimmon cake in his hand, and a sense of satisfaction he had never felt before welled up in his heart.
Even more gratifying is that Shen Jintang's fever has finally subsided.
After taking his pulse, the doctor stroked his beard and smiled, saying, "Your pulse is stable. You'll be much better after a few more days of rest."
Gu Zhixing's heart, which had been hanging in suspense for a long time, finally felt a little relieved.
Even more fortunately, the epidemic in the west of the city was gradually brought under control, and fewer and fewer people died from the disease, which brought a bit more life to everyone's faces.
However, the day of the imperial examination quietly arrived, and twelve letters came from the capital, each urging Gu Zhixing to embark on his journey home.
He stood in front of Shen Jintang's bed, gazing at her still somewhat pale face, his heart filled with reluctance.
These days, he stayed by her side day and night, watching her get better little by little, but in the end, he couldn't watch her fully recover.
He gently took her hand in his; though her hands were still thin, they radiated warmth.
He said softly, "I'm sorry, I have to go."
Her fingers twitched slightly, as if in response, but she remained unconscious.
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