Storms and Tranquility
When the video call came through that evening, Xiaofeng was still wrapped in a damp towel, the water droplets from her hair gleaming in the screen light. "Honey..." she suddenly leaned in closer to the camera, her eyelashes still damp with moisture, "Your lips are turning pale. Are you feeling unwell?"
"Maybe I have a little altitude sickness," Wen Qing forced a smile at the camera, "but don't worry, I should be fine after two days of adaptation."
"Where exactly does it hurt?" Xiaofeng suddenly pulled off her towel, her fluffy red hair dancing like a ball of flame. Her entire face was practically pressed against the screen, even the tiny freckles on her cheeks were clearly visible.
"I'm just really tired, my temples are throbbing..." He raised his hand and touched his burning forehead, "My temperature seems a little high too."
"How about booking a flight back now?" Xiaofeng suddenly stood up, her pajamas collar askew, revealing her collarbone, and her fingers scratched at the screen in vain. "I'll fly over to pick you up?"
"Be good, don't make trouble." Wen Qing closed his eyes and pressed his temples, chuckling softly. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he swallowed. "Now that you're here, you have to take care of two people... I'll just go get some oxygen."
"Don't be so stubborn," Xiaofeng held the phone in front of her eyes, with a flickering light in her pupils. "Go to bed early. Every hour during the day, you must send me a message."
As the morning light filtered through the gauze curtains, the unanswered ring of the phone pierced Xiaofeng's heart like a tiny needle. She went through her morning routine numbly: staring at her red eyes in the mirror while squeezing toothpaste, her fingers trembling slightly as she packed her twins' schoolbags. Even after the school bus pulled away, the seventh time she dialed the number, she still received a cold busy tone.
Her phone suddenly vibrated, and the screen lit up: "Take off immediately, go to the hospital first." Those eight words burned painfully in her palm. After hanging up the call requesting leave, she trembled and dialed Zhou Yong's number. "Dad..." Before she could finish her words, she heard a muffled breath coming from the receiver: "The airline just requested medical assistance..." Each word sounded like it was being ground on sandpaper. "The ambulance is on standby at the airport, landing at 11 o'clock."
"Wenqing?" Hot tears hit the phone screen, creating a mist.
"Unstable blood oxygen... high fever... difficulty breathing..." Zhou Yong's narration suddenly stopped, and he changed his tone quickly: "There are people accompanying him on the plane, and there are necessary medical equipment. Don't worry!" This comfort was as light as a piece of thin paper.
"I'll go to the airport and wait for the ambulance." She clenched the car keys, her nails digging deep into her palms.
"Come directly to the hospital." Zhou Yong's voice suddenly sounded ten years older.
For three agonizing hours, a revolving lantern of memories spun in the darkness. The ambulance screeched to a halt at the hospital entrance. Xiaofeng paced in the back. Zhou Yong pulled her behind him—but the image was seared into his mind: Wenqing's pale face, unresponsive, tucked into the respirator mask. "Pulmonary edema," "Blood oxygen 87," "Flu positive," "Consciousness confused"... the doctor's shouts distorted into garbled text amidst the tinnitus.
Xiaofeng rushed to catch the transfer bed, but was blocked outside the emergency room door.
The smell of disinfectant suddenly became pungent, the dripping sound of the instrument hammered at her eardrums, and under the scarlet "rescue" indicator light, she found that her knees were shaking involuntarily, and the half-moon shaped indentation on the palm of her left hand was oozing tissue fluid - and the pain nerves seemed to be cut off, leaving only a numb hole.
The records in her mobile browser skyrocketed within ten minutes: "Survival rate of pulmonary edema", "Complications of influenza", "Prognosis of blood oxygen 87"... Her thumb mechanically rubbed the non-existent stains on the tempered glass. When the phrase "multiple organ failure" jumped into her sight, she suddenly locked the screen and threw the phone into her bag like a hot potato.
Suddenly, she remembered that she had forgotten to water the sunflowers in the yard. Without Wenqing, even the plants would wither. This thought made her, a fearless woman at the racetrack, instantly curl up in a corner, as fragile as a baby.
"Xiaofeng," Zhou Yong gently supported her trembling elbow and helped her up from the cold ground, "her condition is stable."
"I want to see him." Xiaofeng's voice was hoarse, with an almost pleading tone.
"You can't visit the intensive care unit, especially with the flu..."
"I'm not afraid. Let me stay with him..." Xiaofeng looked at the metal door at the end of the corridor with a stubborn look in his eyes.
Zhou Yong was silent for a moment: "I'll take care of it. You take care of the children and the household affairs."
"Dad," the rustling of fabric could be heard from the other end of the line. "Wenqing has high-altitude pulmonary edema and is in the ICU at Manlin Hospital. He has the flu and needs to be isolated... Don't come over." Xiaofeng paused, his voice tense. "Comfort Mom and take care of Ningxia for a few days."
"Brother Zhou Yang," Zhou Yang's words of comfort came flooding in as soon as the call was connected. "I'm fine. I'll go into the ICU to accompany him. I'll leave the twins and Liou in your care."
Xiaofeng's protective suit glowed a cold blue under the ultraviolet light. When she pushed open the door to the negative pressure ward, the curves on the electrocardiogram monitor were twitching wildly on the screen.
Wenqing lay there, like a shadow puppet with its skeleton removed. His usually perfectly ironed shirt was now wrinkled and clung to his body, soaked with cold sweat. The oxygen mask had left deep marks on his bruised face. His lips beneath the mask were a strange purple-black, while his cheekbones burned red.
The monitor issued a sharp alarm, and Xiaofeng's long-suppressed cry finally broke through her throat.
Zhou Yong's rubber gloves were still stained with iodine. "His ring," he said, his voice as if through frosted glass, "was taken off during the rescue just now."
The number "A&H, 2012.11.25" on the inside of the ring tightened Xiaofeng's heart like a thin wire. She held the ring, buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently.
"Mrs. Jiang, please take a rest." The doctor on duty tapped the monitor screen with the pen cap, which showed the blue number 02:27.
Xiaofeng's thumb was stroking the central venous catheter fixation patch on the back of Wenqing's hand. "His eyelashes just trembled." Her voice was very soft, as if she was trying to convince herself.
"The peak of the cerebral edema has passed." The doctor adjusted the sedative infusion rate. "The vital signs are stable. You will wake up in the morning. You need to conserve your energy."
"Is there another checkup in the morning?"
"Well, lung ultrasound, heart ultrasound..."
"Jiang Wenqing..." The doctor called his name by the bedside, waking Xiaofeng from her light sleep. As she sprang up from the accompanying bed, the IV stand was knocked out of focus, and her movement to the bedside resembled a glitched surveillance video.
"Mr. Jiang, if you can hear me, hold my hand tightly." The doctor put two fingers into Wenqing's palm, and the ECG lead wire vibrated slightly as Wenqing's fingers contracted.
"Yeah, good, blink twice."
The doctor took out the pen again and moved it slowly in front of Wenqing's eyes, "Look at this pen... well done." The blue light of the tablet reflected the doctor's fingers as he quickly wrote: GCS15, timestamp 2022-07-31 07:42.
The doctor carefully untied the straps of his mask. "What's your name?"
"Jiang...Wenqing." Xiaofeng suddenly grabbed the bed rail. She heard a gasp with a smell of metallic rust coming from Wenqing's throat.
"Do you know where you are?"
"Hospital."
"What color is my pen?"
"gold."
"Great. I'll call Dean Zhou and then take over."
The Velcro on Wenqing's neck brace made a subtle tearing sound as he turned his head precisely 30 degrees—the safe range the doctor had instructed. Their eyes met, and a warm smile instantly spread across his face. He slowly raised his hand, and Xiaofeng, understanding, immediately took it and pressed it against her cheek.
"You big liar!" Xiao Feng said fiercely with red eyes, "You promised to stick with me forever! Now you want to cheat? Just be good and get well soon, do you hear me, you bad guy!"
Xiaofeng slapped the ring on his palm and said, "Put it on yourself."
Wenqing pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and raised his hand slightly, the movement a little strenuous.
Xiaofeng picked up the ring and gently slipped it onto Wenqing's ring finger, slowly pushing it in until it slid into the perfect fit. Wenqing suddenly exerted force, tightly gripping Xiaofeng's hand in his own, a strength that held a sense of cherishment in the hand he had lost and now found.
"I can walk, I don't need a wheelchair." "You have no say."
"Dizzy..." "Lie down!" "No, no, unless my wife hugs me."
"Where have you been?" "Chatting with Dad." "Did Dad say my illness is called 'dizziness when I can't see my wife'?"
"I feel like the ceiling is spinning." "Are you dizzy again?" "Try lying down." "You childish fool!"
On August 14, 2022, Wenqing was discharged from the hospital and returned home. As soon as he entered the hospital, he saw Jiang Heng and Jiang Wan holding Dudu. The twin brothers and Liou rushed over like a gust of wind, hugging their parents' necks and kissing them non-stop, their warm breaths filled with longing.
Jiang Heng and his wife put Dudu on the ground. The little princess in a yellow suspender skirt staggered two steps, suddenly turned around and threw herself back into her grandmother's lap. Her little hands tightly wrapped around Jiang Wan's legs, and she looked at Wenqing with her round eyes, with a hint of grievance still hanging on her eyelashes.
"My sister is throwing a tantrum." Lucas reached out and poked Dudu's cheek, which was puffed up like a little bun. His fingertips touched the traces of tears that she had not wiped away.
Wenqing squatted down a little slower than usual and opened his arms slightly: "Dudu, come here, daddy will hold you."
"Go and coax her, she listens to you the most." Oscar pushed Liou beside him.
Without a moment's hesitation, Liou strode over to his sister. He suddenly knelt on one knee and whispered something in Dudu's ear. The strawberry hairpin in the little girl's braid swayed with the slight tremor of her head. The next second, the soft little bombshell rushed straight into Wenqing's arms, leaning on her father's shoulder, mumbling something in a baby voice, her warm breath tickling the back of her neck.
The evening's birthday party was specially thrown for Liou. He carried Dudu to the cake, the candlelight dancing delicately on the silver epaulettes of his hip-hop outfit. "Sister, blow out the candles," he said in a clear voice—this was the promise he had made to his sister that morning, and he remembered every word clearly.
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