In the days that followed, Ayu's visits became the most punctual sight in the ward. Every morning at seven o'clock, she would bring homemade multigrain porridge and cut apples into the shape of little rabbits; when the afternoon sun was at its best, she would bring a wheelchair and push him to the garden for a walk, her slender ankles revealed when her skirt was lifted by the wind; even when she was on night duty, she would sneak in to change his towels and check if the plaster cast had rubbed his skin red.
"Dr. Chen is being picky about food again today." One noon, Ayu looked at her almost untouched patient meal, hands on her hips, feigning anger. Chen Yanzhi, seeing her pretending to be stern, suddenly reached out and tugged at her sleeve: "Without Ayu's cooking, I simply can't swallow it." His words were half-truth, but they instantly disarmed Ayu, who blushed and pulled out a thermos containing braised chicken with mushrooms and jade shrimp. "I knew you were a picky eater."
They would chat in the afternoon sun about funny things that happened in medical school. Ayu talked about how she was so scared during her first anatomy class that she hid in the equipment room and cried, while Chen Yanzhi shared the embarrassing story of being caught by the headmaster secretly cooking hot pot in the duty room. Occasionally, the conversation would drift to the future. Ayu said she wanted to take the postgraduate entrance exam while working, so Chen Yanzhi pulled out his old notes and wrote down the key reading list on sticky notes with his hand that wasn't in a cast. Amidst the scratching sound of the pen tip across the paper, their knees gently touched under their wheelchairs.
What truly solidified Chen Yanzhi's feelings was that torrential downpour that evening. He was delirious with a low-grade fever when he heard the hospital room door slam open. Ayu rushed in, soaking wet, her hair dripping, but she immediately touched his forehead, her voice trembling with anxiety: "Why is your fever so high? Have you changed the cooling patch?" Ignoring her own drenched clothes, she busied herself adjusting the water temperature, changing towels, and even taking off her own cardigan to cushion his sweat-soaked back. "Don't worry, I've checked your drug sensitivity report; I'll have the on-duty doctor adjust the antibiotics immediately..."
As she bent down to change the IV bag, Chen Yanzhi could clearly hear his heart pounding like a drum. Water dripped from her hair, landing around the IV needle on the back of his hand. He suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, whispering in her startled gaze, "Ayu, I think I might like you a little."
Amidst the roar of the thunder outside the window, Ayu's pupils dilated slightly. Looking at his feverish, flushed face, she suddenly laughed, her fingertips lightly brushing against the tip of his nose: "Dr. Chen, are you taking advantage of your illness to be affectionate?" Though she said this, she secretly wiped her eyes as she turned away, and when she turned back, she held a clean towel in her hand. "Let's bring down the fever first. After you get your cast off, I...I'll take you to eat the pan-fried buns at the end of the alley."
The day the cast was removed, the sun shone exceptionally brightly. Ayu came to pick him up wearing a light blue dress, the hem embroidered with tiny daisies. When the doctor announced that he could begin rehabilitation, Chen Yanzhi suddenly grasped her hand and, amidst the teasing of the medical staff, said earnestly, "Ayu, actually, the first time you massaged my hands, I felt that my hands would probably only ever be massaged by you for the rest of my life."
On the windowsill of the ward, someone had placed a pot of crabapple blossoms in full bloom. As a petal fell into Ayu's hair, Chen Yanzhi reached out and plucked it for her, his fingertips brushing against her warm earlobe. This time, she didn't pull away; instead, she gently leaned against his shoulder. The beeping of the monitor remained regular, yet it seemed to be keeping time for their hearts drawing closer—it turned out that some feelings had already taken root and sprouted quietly, hidden in every touch of his fingertips, in every glance they exchanged, and in the long spring days spent in the ward.
As they left the ward, Ayu suddenly remembered something and took a small box out of her bag. Inside was a silver bracelet with a tiny medical badge: "A rehabilitation gift for you." She blushed and put it on him, her fingertips tracing the pulse on his wrist. "From now on... it'll be my turn to supervise your hand exercises."
Chen Yanzhi gazed at the faint light on his wrist and suddenly chuckled softly. He realized that the most touching confession was never a vow of eternal love, but rather, in the disinfectant-smelling ward, someone willing to warm porridge for you, massage your hands, and keep you company through every long afternoon. As they walked side-by-side down the hospital corridor, sunlight streamed through the glass, casting overlapping shadows on the floor—a tenderness belonging to two doctors, the warmest flower blooming amidst pain and exhaustion.
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