Chapter 88 Guarding Through the Long Night
In late September, the heat in Beijing had not yet dissipated, but there was a slight coolness in the mornings and evenings.
Mr. Huo's old ailment suddenly flared up late one night. He experienced cardiogenic chest tightness accompanied by difficulty breathing. By the time the family doctor arrived, Mr. Huo was already cyanotic. He was rushed to the hospital and diagnosed with acute heart failure complicated by a lung infection; his condition was critical at one point.
When the news arrived, Song Zhiyi had just finished simultaneous interpreting for a foreign affairs event and was on her way back to her dormitory. Huo Yanli called, his voice tense despite his efforts to remain calm: "Grandpa is in the hospital, and his condition is not good."
Song Zhiyi paused in her steps: "I'll be right there."
Instead of returning to her dormitory, she went directly to the hospital. The hospital corridor was brightly lit late at night, filled with the distinctive smell of disinfectant. Huo Yanli stood in the family waiting area outside the ICU, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar slightly open, brows furrowed, a heavy atmosphere surrounding him. Huo's parents, Huo Zheng, and several close relatives were all there, the atmosphere somber.
Seeing Song Zhiyi walking briskly towards him, Huo Yanli immediately stepped forward to greet her: "You're here."
"How is Grandpa?" Song Zhiyi asked, slightly out of breath, clearly having rushed over.
"We just finished emergency treatment. She's temporarily stable, but she's still not out of danger. She's under observation in the ICU," Huo Yanli explained briefly, his gaze lingering on her face, noticing the concern and exhaustion in her eyes. "You just got off work? Are you tired?"
Song Zhiyi shook her head and looked at the closed doors of the ICU: "What did the attending physician say?"
“An acute attack of heart disease in the elderly, coupled with an infection of old lesions in the lungs, triggered heart failure. Multiple underlying diseases and declining organ function, this time…” Huo Yanli’s voice lowered, and he didn’t finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear—dangerous.
Mrs. Huo sat in a chair, her eyes red-rimmed. When she saw Song Zhiyi, she nodded with difficulty. Mr. Huo and Huo Zheng were talking quietly with a chief physician.
The next three days were a race against time for treatment. The old man was sometimes lucid and sometimes unconscious. The ICU has strict visitation rules, but the Huo family used their connections to allow immediate family members to visit for short periods each day.
Song Zhiyi turned down almost all non-urgent work, going directly to the hospital after work each day to relieve Huo's mother or others who had been there during the day. She didn't just sit and wait; instead, she carefully inquired about the patient's condition, medication, and reviewed the nursing records.
“Grandpa has rales in his lungs and thick phlegm. We can increase the frequency of turning him over and patting his back, and combine it with nebulized inhalation, which will be more effective.” She suggested softly to the nurse next to her, her tone professional and calm.
The nurse nodded in agreement: "Yes, Mrs. Huo."
On the third night, the old man's condition finally took a turn for the better, and he was transferred from the ICU to a single-person monitoring room in the cardiology department. Although he was not completely out of danger, he had finally passed the most critical stage. The whole family breathed a sigh of relief.
After being transferred to a regular ward, the caregiver's duties became even more demanding. The old man was frail and needed constant attention. The Huo family hired the best caregivers, but it was still necessary for family members to take turns on duty. Song Zhiyi volunteered to take on most of the night shifts.
“You have to work during the day, I’ll come to work at night,” Huo Yanli disagreed.
“I can adjust my daytime work, but nighttime care requires more careful observation. Moreover,” Song Zhiyi took out a small cloth bag from her bag, “I can do some supplementary treatments for Grandpa to help him recover.”
The cloth bag contained several slender silver needles and a small bottle of moxa wool.
“Acupuncture and moxibustion,” she explained. “Grandpa is currently suffering from a deficiency of vital energy and internal obstruction of phlegm and blood stasis. Acupuncture can help unblock the meridians and harmonize qi and blood, while moxibustion warms the yang and strengthens the body. Combined with Western medicine treatment, it can promote recovery and alleviate pain.”
Huo Yanli knew her medical skills and nodded, "Okay."
In the stillness of the night, only a soft wall lamp illuminated the ward. The monitoring equipment emitted a regular beeping sound. The old man was asleep under the influence of medication, his breathing much more stable than in the previous days.
Song Zhiyi washed her hands with warm water and, in the presence of a nurse, selected several safe acupoints: Neiguan (PC6), Tanzhong (CV17), and Zusanli (ST36). Her needle insertion technique was steady and precise, her movements gentle. After a few moments of needling, she lit a small amount of moxa wool and placed it above the specific acupoints for gentle moxibustion.
A faint scent of mugwort filled the ward, creating a tranquil and calming atmosphere. The nurse on duty observed the old man for a while and found that he was not uncomfortable, his breathing seemed smoother, and the monitoring data was stable.
Huo Yanli didn't go back to rest; he stayed on the sofa outside the ward, keeping watch. Through the glass, he watched Song Zhiyi's focused profile. She leaned slightly forward, observing her grandfather's reaction, occasionally adjusting the distance of the moxa wool, her movements patient and meticulous. The warm yellow light outlined her serene features, a few strands of hair falling across her forehead, which she gently tucked behind her ear. This scene, without a sound, moved him more deeply than any words.
For three consecutive nights, Song Zhiyi barely slept. During the day, she went to work, handling necessary tasks, and returned to the hospital promptly in the evening. Her complexion was visibly worse, with faint dark circles under her eyes, but her eyes remained clear, and her movements were still methodical. She was not only a caregiver but also a professional medical assistant, keenly aware of her grandfather's subtle discomforts, communicating promptly with the medical staff, and using her knowledge of traditional Chinese medicine to alleviate the old man's pain.
Mrs. Huo witnessed everything. On the morning of the third day, when she came to relieve her, she brought a pot of chicken soup that had been simmering overnight and handed it to Song Zhiyi: "Zhiyi, drink it while it's hot. You've had a hard time these past few days." Her tone was gentler than ever before.
"Thank you, Auntie, it's no trouble at all." Song Zhiyi accepted the gift, her voice a little hoarse. (I saw someone in the comments asking when the female lead started calling someone "Mom." She calls someone "Mom" in front of strangers, after all, she's "the Huo family's daughter-in-law.")
In the early hours of the seventh day, the old man briefly regained consciousness. The anesthesia and pain made him somewhat disoriented, but once his eyes focused, he could see the person watching over him by his bedside.
"Do you... understand?" The old man's voice was very weak, with the static from the respirator.
"Grandpa, I'm here." Song Zhiyi immediately approached, took the old man's withered hand, and asked in a very soft voice, "How are you feeling? Is anything bothering you?"
The old man slowly shook his head, his gaze lingering on her tired but serene face for a long time. A glimmer of light slowly gathered in his cloudy eyes, only to be veiled by a layer of misty tears. He tightened his grip on her hand slightly, took a few breaths, and then said haltingly:
"Zhiyi...the Huo family...we've wronged you..."
Song Zhiyi was taken aback, then shook her head: "Grandpa, please don't say that..."
"I promised your grandfather... I would take care of you... but I failed..." A tear welled up in the old man's eye, his voice filled with guilt and helplessness. "When he passed away... he was most worried about you... I brought you here... but you... suffered a lot of cold treatment... that brat Yanli... was a scoundrel too..."
He seemed to have gathered all his strength, gripping Song Zhiyi's hand tightly, his gaze earnest and sorrowful: "...When you see your grandfather again...he will definitely blame me..."
These words, though difficult to utter, carry a heavy weight. They represent the deepest remorse of an elderly person who has reached a certain stage in life, for the past, for promises made, and for old friends.
The ward was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the medical equipment. Outside the window, the sky was a deep, inky blue, just before dawn.
Looking at the old man's frail and aged face, and the sincere remorse in his eyes, Song Zhiyi felt a complex mix of emotions. She recalled her grandfather's dying words, her first days in the Huo family, and the gradual change in the Huo family's attitude over the past few months.
She squeezed the old man's hand back, her voice gentle yet clear: "Grandpa, you have done nothing wrong to anyone. You took me to the Huo family and gave me a place to stay, which is already a great kindness. As for the rest, it was all my own choice."
She paused, looked into the old man's still sad eyes, and said earnestly, "I'm doing very well now. My work is going smoothly, and I can take care of myself. You need to take care of yourself and get well soon. As for the rest, just let nature take its course."
She made no promises about the future, made no mention of the five-year agreement, and did not respond to questions about Huo Yanli. She simply stated the facts—she was doing well now, she was grateful for the protection the old man had given her, but when it came to matters of the heart, she had her own pace and considerations.
Tears streamed down the old man's face, but he understood her unspoken meaning. He had always known this child's clarity and independence. He forced a smile, nodded, and gently patted the back of her hand. Exhaustion washed over him again, and he slowly closed his eyes, his breathing becoming steady, before falling into a deep sleep, still holding her hand tightly.
Song Zhiyi sat quietly on the edge of the bed, remaining in that position, letting the old man hold her hand. The morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, gradually illuminating the room. She looked at her grandfather's peaceful sleeping face, her expression serene.
Outside the ward, Huo Yanli was already standing there, having witnessed everything through the glass. He heard her clear-headed and restrained reply, devoid of false comfort or easy promises—this was very much Song Zhiyi.
He leaned against the wall, tilted his head back, and squeezed his eyes shut. She was always like this, always clear-headed, always knowing what she was doing and what she wanted. And he, he had once so disregarded this precious heart.
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