Storms and Tranquility
On June 6, 2027, the shadows of the sycamore trees outside the floor-to-ceiling windows cast a mottled halo on the leather sofa. Zhou Yong's fingertips traced anxious arcs across the touchpad. He suddenly took off his glasses and rubbed his brow. "The electronic report has been synced to the cloud. The paper version will be sent to you in two days."
Xiaofeng was looking through documents on his foldable phone. Hearing this, he said without raising his head: "The only thing missing for Ningxia's admission procedures is this physical examination report. I'll come and get it. It's more convenient to ride a motorcycle..." Before he could finish his words, he was interrupted by his father.
Zhou Yong used the smart home system to brighten the indoor light by 30%, and soft white light spread over the coffee table. This subtle action made Xiaofeng reflexively lock the screen and look up.
"About Wen Feng's heart disease..." Zhou Yong's voice became heavy, with a solemnity that only his heartbeat could be heard.
"What's wrong?" Xiaofeng's heart suddenly tightened, and he felt the heart rate curve of the smart bracelet on his wrist suddenly soaring.
"That disease has a hereditary tendency." After saying that, Zhou Yong turned the touchpad over so that the screen was facing Xiaofeng.
Xiaofeng's eyes fell on the diagnostic standards, classification treatment standards, and long-term management standards on the screen. The dense medical terms pierced his eyes like needles.
She suddenly became anxious, her voice tense: "It's Lucas and Oscar who need to come for screening, right?"
"And Wenqing..." Zhou Yong added, lightly tapping the genetic probability data table on the screen with his fingertips.
"What about George and Toots?"
"The most important thing now is to get their whole genome sequenced," Zhou Yong said, calling up the hospital's appointment interface. "Just sign your name."
After the party, Xiaofeng felt like a human pendant hanging on her body—Wenqing was completely slumped over her. She touched his head helplessly and said, "I'll make you a cup of honey water when I get home..."
"I want my wife to hold me..." Wen Qing's voice was lazy and drunken, like a spoiled child.
"Mr. Jiang, you are forty-six years old this year?" Xiaofeng deliberately dragged out his tone.
"Is it illegal for Forty-Six to act coquettishly with his wife?" He buried his face in the crook of her neck again, feeling righteous and confident.
"Don't you look like a billionaire CEO?"
"What should a billionaire president do?"
Xiaofeng finally couldn't help laughing out loud, and poked her husband's flushed cheek with her fingertips: "At least you should walk into the elevator by yourself, right?" The man hanging on her body became even more aggressive, burying his face in her neck and taking a deep breath. His breath with a hint of drunkenness burned her ears and numbed them.
The elevator mirror reflected a funny yet heartwarming scene - a man in a haute couture suit clung to his petite wife like a koala, his tie hanging askew on her shoulders.
"If the children saw you like this..." Before he finished speaking, Wen Qing suddenly straightened up and instantly switched to elite mode. However, his red earlobes and slightly shaky steps still betrayed his drunken state.
Xiaofeng hurriedly supported the drunken man, who had nearly crashed into the elevator wall. Wenqing seized the opportunity to grab her wrist and press it against his chest. Her heartbeat raced through her shirt, a rapid beat unsure if it was the alcohol or something else. She suddenly remembered the morning they'd met seventeen years earlier, the tall, handsome man now gently leaning against her shoulder.
"Honey water needs lemon..." Wenqing muttered as he began to lean against her shoulder again. Xiaofeng helplessly touched his face again. The elevator arrival chime sounded, and he took advantage of the situation and rested his chin on her head: "Honey, carry me..."
Xiaofeng started the car and Wenqing was taking a nap in the passenger seat.
Xiao Qi's voice came from the car speakers: "We've sent everyone home. Zhou Yang and I will leave first."
"Thank you. Wenqing and I will be home soon."
As soon as the call ended, the phone rang again. "Dad, are you home?"
"Well, is Wenqing okay?"
"I'm drunk. I have hangover remedies and liver-protecting medicine at home. I'll be fine. We're almost home."
"Then I'll postpone the checkup by three days. Alcohol can cause elevated biochemical markers like transaminases."
"Okay, sorry to bother you again."
"What inspection?" Xiaofeng was startled by Wenqing's sudden voice just after hanging up the phone.
Xiaofeng glanced at him quickly: "I was scared to death..." She retracted her gaze to the front and said softly, "Dad said that Wenfeng's heart disease has a hereditary risk."
"What is the probability of inheritance?" Wen Qing's voice suddenly became much clearer.
"If it's an autosomal recessive type, there's a 50% chance the child will inherit it. If it's an autosomal dominant type, since I don't have this problem, my child won't have it, but my brothers from the same father and mother have a 25% chance of getting the disease."
"The children and I are going to get checked out." Wen Qing's tone was extremely firm.
"Well, it'll be okay, Wenqing." Xiaofeng turned his head and gave him a reassuring smile.
The day before the test report came out, the clock at home seemed to have been slowed down.
Wenqing, preparing breakfast in the kitchen, couldn't resist making an extra serving of multi-grain porridge. Xiaofeng had been complaining about restless sleep lately, and he'd looked up recipes and found millet to soothe the nerves. As Xiaofeng took the bowl, her fingertips lingered on the back of his hand for a second longer. "I'll have Xiaoxin take care of the team today. This morning, I'll take George and Dudu to the park to feed the pigeons with you." Xiaofeng perfectly captured the frown and gently offered to dispel it, as if to say, "I understand what's bothering you."
At night, after the children were asleep, the living room floor lamp still glowed with a warm yellow light. Wenqing curled up on the sofa, flipping through a medical manual. Xiaofeng sat beside her, working on his keyboard, typing softly, as if afraid to disturb anything. When she rubbed her eyes, she found a blanket on her shoulders, carrying his faint cedar scent. "This paragraph says that the penetrance of dominant inheritance is not high," he pointed to a note on a page, his voice deeper than usual. "Just like planting seeds, not all of them will sprout."
"What if?" Xiaofeng's voice contained a dependence that he himself was not even aware of.
Wenqing put down the book, pried her hands apart, and kneaded her curled knuckles one by one. "There's no such thing as a 'what if,'" the warmth of his palm against hers felt like a promise. "Even if there were, we're not the same people we were seventeen years ago. Back then, I was so flustered by your frown that I was at a loss for words. Now—" He bent down and kissed her fingertips. "Now we have five little warriors, and each other. As long as you're here, I'm not afraid of anything."
Outside, the sycamore leaves rustled softly in the evening breeze. Xiaofeng suddenly remembered the old things she'd unearthed while sorting out the storage room that afternoon—the two little yellow ducks Wenqing had given her in 2010. Their rubber surfaces had long been softened by time, just like the ever-softening love between them. When she looked up, she met Wenqing's smiling eyes. He seemed to always be able to see through her thoughts. "Before we go to the hospital tomorrow, why don't you buy some of your favorite tiramisu?"
"I want to eat what you cook." Xiaofeng's voice softened, with a hint of coquettishness.
"Then make two." He reached out and scratched the tip of her nose, like teasing a child. "Look, we've even thought of the celebration process. What else is there to be afraid of?"
As the morning light crept up the curtains, Xiaofeng discovered that Wenqing had taped Lucas Oscar's sketch of a seven-person family portrait to the refrigerator. At the top, he had written in marker: "Jiang Family Squad, no one can be left behind."
Slanting sunlight filtered in through the clinic's glass windows, casting a grid of light across the floor. Xiaofeng's fingertips trembled slightly as she gripped the report sheet. Zhou Yong turned to the page about Jiang Wenqing and a clear, bright voice came over: "No abnormalities found."
Those four words were like a stone dropped into still water, instantly sending ripples through it. Xiaofeng whipped her head around, her gaze met with Jiang Wenqing's smiling eyes—a smile that held the same sense of relief as her own. He reached out and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear, the warmth of his palm a perfect touch. Needless to say, the anxiety that had lingered for days melted into a warm current as their eyes met, coursing slowly through their veins and into their heart.
Zhou Yong flipped through the children's reports one by one, his gaze gradually relaxed behind his glasses. "The children's genome sequencing is also fine. From now on, they will just need routine annual checkups."
"What about Wenfeng's illness..." Xiaofeng asked softly, her thoughts unconsciously drifting back to the day when she first met Jiang Wenfeng - he stopped on the non-motorized vehicle lane, and the way he rode his bike showed inexplicable effort, and she almost bumped into him.
"It's most likely acquired," Zhou Yong explained, tapping his fingertips on the table. "It might be related to heart trauma or electrolyte imbalance. The cause is quite complicated."
Xiaofeng nodded thoughtfully, remembering Wenfeng's unusual behavior when he was riding a bike that time. It turned out that there were clues already.
"So, regular physical examinations are very important." Zhou Yong closed the report, his tone carrying the solemnity of an elder. "Especially if there's a history of heart problems in your family, you can't be careless."
"Wen Feng is just a poor man trapped by illness." The sunlight moved forward again and fell on Xiaofeng's hand, warm and cozy, as if putting a gentle seal on this conversation across space.
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