Within half an hour, the bespectacled woman went to the bathroom twice, each time staying for a long while.
The first time, Mianmian happened to have a stomachache as well and followed her to the restroom. She entered a stall and had just squatted down when she heard faint, pained moans coming from the next stall.
“Mmm… mmm…”
Short, suppressed, trembling uncontrollably with a thick, tearful tone, like the whimper of a wounded little animal.
After one moan, there was a brief, deathly pause, broken only by terrifyingly heavy panting. Then came another:
“Mmm…”
Mianmian squatted there, not daring to move a muscle, even holding her breath. She imagined the woman next door, in what agonizing position, enduring wave after wave of pain surging from deep within her body.
Then came the rushing sound of a flush.
When Mianmian came out, the door next to hers opened too. The woman walked out with her head lowered, and Mianmian caught a strong, sweet, metallic scent from her.
The second time, worried, Mianmian followed again.
She stood at the bathroom entrance without going in. After a while, she heard the sound of a phone call from inside.
“…Can you come pick me up?” the woman’s voice, thin and tearful, “I’m spotting, and my stomach doesn’t feel right either… the pains are coming closer and closer… it hurts so much I can’t sit still… I think it’s starting…”
The person on the other end seemed to say something.
“Still an hour before you get off work?… Can you hurry a little… I’m afraid I can’t wait that long… the pressure and pain down there is really bad…”
A pause.
“Don’t work overtime today… please…”
Standing at the door, listening to the suppressed pleading inside, Mianmian clenched her fists.
The woman came out of the bathroom, passing behind Mianmian, the sweet, metallic smell even stronger now.
Her belly had changed too. Before, it was overall round and full, like a plump ball, its center of gravity in front of her body.
Now it was different. The entire belly had dropped, the highest point seeming to have shifted below her navel. The whole weight seemed to press down between her pelvis and legs, stretching the hem of her white cotton dress taut, forming a somewhat strange, irregular pear shape.
The woman shuffled back to her seat, perching half on the chair, leaning forward against the table, panting softly.
“Huh… ha… huh… ha…”
The sound was very soft, very rapid, as if afraid of being heard.
After a while, the panting changed tone.
“Mmm… mmm… mmm…”
Still very quiet, but the trailing notes were drawn out long, as if resisting a huge, downward pushing force, holding back with all her strength.
Each muffled groan, by the end, would turn into an extremely faint, tearful whimper, like the trailing sound of a thin string snapping.
“Wuh…”
Mianmian couldn’t help but glance quickly under the table.
The woman’s two legs, in the cramped space, were spread wide apart, almost to their maximum, the toes of her canvas shoes pressing hard against the floor.
Her entire calves, along with her thighs, were trembling uncontrollably and violently, causing the damp hem of her dress to make faint, rustling sounds of fabric rubbing.
At 5:30 p.m., the library’s loudspeaker sounded.
“Attention, all readers. The library will be closing shortly. Please gather your personal belongings and exit in an orderly manner.”
People began to move. The sounds of closing books, packing bags, and getting up filled the air with a rustling noise.
The woman didn’t move.
People left one by one, chairs emptied one after another.
Everyone was gone, leaving only the bespectacled older sister by the wall in the study room, and Mianmian waiting outside for her.
The sister slowly turned her head, her forehead covered in beads of sweat the size of peas. She looked at Mianmian, her eyes rimmed red, filled with tears of humiliation.
“Sister, hasn’t the person picking you up arrived yet?” Mianmian asked.
The sister shook her head, a tear rolling down: “I won’t wait anymore, I’ll take a taxi myself…”
“Then I’ll help you to the roadside to wait for the car,” Mianmian said.
The sister looked at her, tears streaming down: “Thank you, little sister…”
They walked out together.
The sister could barely walk. Every few steps, she had to stop, leaning against the wall to catch her breath for a long while. Her hand gripped Mianmian’s arm tightly, squeezing until it hurt.
Mianmian didn’t make a sound.
Outside the library, the sky had already darkened, and the streetlights had come on.
A car arrived—a white ride-hailing car.
The driver rolled down the window, took one look, saw a weak, disheveled pregnant woman with a high belly, and frowned:
“Is this a trip to the hospital to give birth?”
The sister shook her head: “Not yet…”
The driver stared at her for two seconds and said, “Sorry, I won’t take this ride.”
“Why?” Mianmian asked anxiously.
“No reason, it’s my rule,” the driver said. “Drunk people and those going to give birth—I just don’t take them. What if she gives birth in my car? How would I do business then?”
He rolled up the window and drove off nonchalantly.
“Should we call another one?” Mianmian said.
The sister shook her head: “Forget it, let’s not dirty someone else’s car. Let’s just wait for him… He should be on the way…”
The wind was chilly, and the sister kept shivering. Was it from the cold or the pain?
Her white cotton dress was soaked. Mianmian took off her school jacket and draped it over the sister’s shoulders.
Time passed so slowly.
One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.
The sister could no longer stand, her entire weight pressing against Mianmian, her body temperature burning hot.
So heavy.
The sister’s face was drenched in sweat, her hair soaked and plastered to her cheeks, dripping down her chin.
But she didn’t make a sound, biting her lips. Only her breathing betrayed her—fast and shallow, one gasp after another.
Mianmian didn’t dare move either. She just stood there, holding her up.
The sound of running footsteps came from the distance.
A young man in a shirt and tie rushed out from the street corner, panting and out of breath:
“Xiaoxue… I’m sorry… I’m late…”
The sister looked at him with sorrowful resentment, tears suddenly welling up in her gentle, soft eyes. She raised her hand and pushed him with all her strength:
“You finally came… You might as well not have come at all… Just let me… give birth by the roadside…”
Her voice was hoarse and trembling, choked with tears, filled with grievance, resentment, and a trace of fragility from finally having someone to rely on.
But her small hand had little strength. Pushing against his chest, it felt soft, like hitting cotton.
The man pulled her fiercely into his arms: “I’m sorry, there was traffic… I ran all the way… I’m sorry…”
The sister struggled in his embrace once but couldn’t break free.
She struggled again, still couldn’t break free.
Then she stopped struggling, her whole body softening like melting snow, collapsing into his firm, warm embrace.
Her face buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
The man held her with one arm while gently patting her back with the other, whispering something softly.
His voice was too quiet for Mianmian to make out the words, but from the hurried yet tender tone, she could discern endless affection, regret, and reassurance.
Her sister nodded, then shook her head in his embrace, crying too hard to speak.
The man took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her sister. Enveloped in the oversized coat, her sister appeared even more delicate and fragile.
“Can you stand?” the man asked, trying to help her walk.
Her sister shook her head in pain.
Supporting her, the man helped her slowly squat down.
She crouched by the roadside, clutching his hand tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed.
The man squatted beside her, holding her hand, his face turned toward her as he whispered something repeatedly into her ear, his brow furrowed, anxiety nearly overflowing from his eyes.
Then, as if suddenly struck by an idea, he glanced around and spotted a row of shared bicycles parked not far away. He rushed over, fumbling to scan the code and unlock one, then struggled to push the bicycle back and stopped it in front of her sister.
“Xiaoxue, sit on this! I’ll push you to the hospital! It’ll be faster!” His voice carried a desperate hope.
Her sister looked at the narrow, hard bicycle seat and shook her head helplessly, sweat pouring down her face as she cried in distress.
“I… I can’t sit… I…” she sobbed, breaking down again.
Then, she bent over, hands on her knees, arching her back as she stood, raising her heavy, sagging hips high, holding her breath and straining.
Her head hung low, and a long, muffled roar—suppressed with all her might—escaped her throat.
“Hnngh—!!”
It was filled with a resolute, primal strength.
The man was stunned by this sudden turn of events. He froze for a moment, seeming to realize something, his face drained of color.
Trembling, he reached out hesitantly and lightly touched the area beneath her raised hips, covered by the suit jacket and her soaked white dress.
Just once.
The man jerked his hand back as if burned, his face contorted with extreme terror and disbelief, his voice cracking:
“Xiaoxue! You… this! How… how could it be… so… so…”
His eyes widened as if he had witnessed the most terrifying thing in the world.
Her sister remained frozen in that bent-over, hips-raised posture, motionless as if petrified.
After what felt like an eternity, Mianmian heard a sound.
A tiny, tender sound, brimming with utter grievance and discontent.
“Waa—”
The sound came clearly from beneath her sister’s arched body, from the concealed, chaotic space hidden by her clothes.
Mianmian froze. Under her sister’s skirt, a small bundle was moving.
“What do I do, what do I do…” The man was completely panicked, babbling incoherently, unsure where to put his hands and feet. “How did it come out already…”
He reached out as if to touch the little bundle but didn’t dare, his face a mix of overwhelming joy, fear, helplessness, and extreme panic—utterly bewildering.
Her sister slowly squatted down and lifted the little bundle out.
The man knelt, wrapping his arms around her and the little bundle.
“I’m sorry, Xiaoxue… I’m sorry, baby… Daddy was late… Daddy is a jerk… I’m sorry…” He cried like a child.
The older sister leaned against him, utterly exhausted, her voice faint as a wisp of smoke. “Look… it’s a daughter.”
Her tone held the relief that follows pain, boundless tenderness, and a trace of serene release.
Tears streamed down the man’s face, yet he grinned, revealing a foolish, bubbling smile mixed with snot and tears.
“A daughter… I have a daughter… Xiaoxue, you gave me a daughter…”
The family of three clung tightly to each other, weeping together.
Mianmian stood a few steps away, quietly watching the scene. The evening breeze rustled her thin shirt, bringing a chill, but her heart felt as if something had filled it—warm and swelling.
Slowly, she took a step back, then another, leaving this small, intimate, sacred space entirely to them.
Walking to a streetlamp a little farther away, she took out her phone and dialed 120 for them.
“Hello, this is right in front of the city library. A woman just gave birth on the roadside and needs an ambulance…”
She waited quietly until the flashing blue and red lights of the ambulance appeared at the street corner. Shouldering her backpack, she took one last look back.
Under the streetlamp, the embracing family of three was already surrounded by the swiftly arrived medical staff. A stretcher was laid down, gentle inquiries and professional instructions filled the air. The man still followed closely, flustered yet unwilling to leave their side.
Mianmian turned around and, without lingering, strode toward the bus stop.
Her mind was a jumbled mess.
Sigh, she really didn’t understand. Just moments ago, she was pushing him away, blaming him, resenting him for being late and making her suffer so much.
But later, she leaned so dependently into his arms and even gave birth to his daughter…
Weren’t they arguing? When did they make up?!
Never mind.
Love was all twists and turns, sticky and messy—crying one moment, laughing the next, pushing away then embracing. It was too complicated; she didn’t want to understand.
The bus arrived. Time to go home and keep working on practice problems.
After the college entrance exams were over, she still wanted to borrow medical books from Jiang Yu’an to study properly—just how did childbirth work?
From that tiny seed taking root in the belly, growing day by day, to finally arriving in the world in such a earth-shattering, unstoppable way…
The bus swayed and rattled, carrying the young girl’s thoughts deep into the night.