A breath swept across her neck, warm, intricate…
The hallway was bustling with people, someone was on the phone, while another was discussing a newly prescribed medication.
Lian Qiao pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, twisted the handle of a stall, and lowered her voice. “Dr. Wang, please go ahead. I’m a pharmaceutical representative myself, so I can understand any situation.”
“The coronary angiography shows that your mother’s left main coronary artery is more than 75% blocked. This location is extremely dangerous, a myocardial infarction could happen at any moment. We recommend surgery as soon as possible. What are the family’s thoughts?”
“I’m currently in Shanghai. I’ll head back to Anqing tomorrow to discuss this with you in person. My aunt is in Huaining County, and I’ll contact her right away.” After hanging up the hospital’s call, she dialed her aunt and briefly explained the situation.
Her aunt was still muttering complaints over WeChat voice messages. “I’m on my way. Your mother is just too stubborn, she never says anything because she’s afraid of being a burden to me.”
Holding her phone, Lian Qiao stood motionless inside the stall, refusing to bend over or lean against the partition. At this exact step, once she bent down, she wouldn’t be able to straighten back up.
Huaining County was only five kilometers from downtown Anqing, so her aunt would arrive at the hospital soon. Her aunt was a kind person who could help look after things while her mother was hospitalized, but her financial situation was tight, so she didn’t need to ask her for money. As for other relatives, her mother seemed to only exchange New Year greetings via WeChat and didn’t usually keep in touch.
“Knock, knock, knock.” Someone knocked on the stall door. “Are you still using the restroom?”
Lian Qiao unlatched the door. “Sorry about that.” She walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and water rushed out loudly.
After washing her hands, she checked her hair and smoothed her collar in the mirror. The face looking back at her was normal, save for slightly red rims around her eyes. She wasn’t wearing makeup, she wanted to splash cold water on her face, but worried it would ruin her sunscreen, so she just dried her hands and headed back to the cafeteria.
“Why did you take so long?” Ling Weiwei was waiting with her food tray.
“The restroom was crowded.”
They grabbed their dishes and sat down. The smell of stir-fried food mixed with the scent of disinfectant from down the hall, Lian Qiao was already used to it and ate quickly. Ling Weiwei wrinkled her nose, poking at the liquid pooling around her stir-fry.
She still needed to talk about handling complaints. Lian Qiao was just about to open her mouth.
“Why did you apologize to that old lady?” Ling Weiwei poked a piece of bell pepper on her plate. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The old lady wasn’t going to listen to reason. But once we acknowledged a mistake, she stopped complaining.” Lian Qiao had repeated this professional script a hundred times, it was as deeply ingrained in her mind as product promotional brochures. She shoveled a bite of rice into her mouth, it was a bit hard.
“Every single time? When people point fingers right in your face, you still admit fault?”
“I take this salary, so I need to deliver performance for my boss. There’s nothing grievance-worthy about it.” She needed to finish eating quickly and go find Wang Jianguo.
Ling Weiwei jabbed at the stir-fry with her chopsticks, separating the green peppers and meat slices to opposite sides of the plate, then put her chopsticks down. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“From the moment we started talking about that old lady until now, you haven’t picked up a single piece of food.”
Lian Qiao glanced down at her plate, picked up a morsel, chewed, but couldn’t taste anything.
“The second you bend down, the old lady has nowhere left to vent her anger.” Ling Weiwei scooped the green peppers back over to the meat, shoved them forcefully into her mouth, and asked, “How many times did you try this before figuring out that trick works?”
What use was complaining? Lian Qiao said, “I honestly don’t remember.” She swallowed the last mouthful of rice, feeling it scratch dryly against her throat.
After lunch, back at the office, Lian Qiao asked Ling Weiwei to draft an incident report, using the case of the old lady from that morning, assuming she had filed a formal complaint. No matter how urgent her personal matters were, she had to remain fully dedicated to her intern.
Ling Weiwei leaned against the glass partition and typed out a version.
Lian Qiao skimmed it. “Too much like a student self-criticism. Don’t use AI assistance for internal situation reports.”
Ling Weiwei bit down on the cap of her pen and tapped out a second version.
Lian Qiao glanced through it. “This version sounds like an excuse. The personal emotional tone is way too strong.”
“Shouldn’t people defend themselves?”
“You’re explaining a situation, not trying to convince everyone you’re a good person.” Lian Qiao pushed the document back. “Rewrite it.”
“Sending version three.” Ling Weiwei pushed her chair back a bit and reached out to rotate the potted pothos on Lian Qiao’s desk. She turned the withered leaf toward herself and the lush, green ones toward Lian Qiao.
Lian Qiao glanced over the green leaves and then reviewed the document. “Version three looks like a proper report. Let’s use this one.”
“Why are your eyes still a little red?” Ling Weiwei leaned in closer to inspect her face. “And what is that smell on you?”
“Laundry detergent?” Lian Qiao lowered her head to sniff her collar, there was no scent. She changed her clothes every day so she wouldn’t smell like sweat, but her clothes never held onto the fragrance of laundry detergent either.
“No.” Ling Weiwei wrinkled her nose. “It’s like grass, very faint, a bit bitter.” She paused. “Maybe you picked it up when you stood up from the flowerbed. Can’t you smell it yourself?”
Then, she leaned closer.
Lian Qiao instinctively pulled back. Ling Weiwei followed, her nose almost touching Lian Qiao’s collar. Almost. That microscopic distance was far more unbearable than physical contact. A breath swept across Lian Qiao’s neck, warm, intricate, carrying a hint of citrus fragrance. The summer wind suddenly seemed to take on a physical shape.
Lian Qiao froze all over, goosebumps spreading rapidly from the back of her neck to the back of her hands, her fingers resting on the mouse trembling slightly. She heard her own heartbeat, heavy and urgent, echoing wildly from her chest straight to her eardrums. Ling Weiwei must have heard it.
Yet Ling Weiwei didn’t move. Ling Weiwei’s hair was thick and soft, several strands brushing lightly against her neck.
About three seconds passed, or maybe longer. Ling Weiwei suddenly snapped backward, the tips of her ears turning red. “I was just checking. You don’t have to react like that.”
Lian Qiao stared down at the keyboard, her fingers tapping the spacebar unconsciously twice. Her mother was lying in a hospital bed, what was she even thinking? Outside the window, the sunlight over the Zhangjiang industrial park was blindingly white, and someone in the row of workstations by the window had pulled down the blinds.
Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
When she left home this morning, the weather forecast said it would be thirty-five degrees. Shanghai had long since exited the plum rain season, and the continuous overcast drizzle had been replaced by high temperatures and glaring sunshine, this direct, dry heat was set to last a month and a half.
A voice echoed inside her head, clear as if someone were speaking right beside her ear: If you keep going like this, you’re going to lose control.
She licked her lips, they were dry. Loss of control.
At a time like this, she actually used that word regarding the big boss’s daughter.
She forced her attention back to the screen, feigning concentration on organizing documents. Then she stood up, walked over to Wang Jianguo’s small cubicle, gave a token knock, and pushed the door open.
“I was just about to look for you.” Wang Jianguo took a sip of tea.
“My mother had a heart attack. I need to head back to Anqing tomorrow, and I’d like to request a day off plus the weekend.”
Wang Jianguo put down his teacup, his brow furrowing slightly. “How is your mother doing?”
“The left main coronary artery is more than 75% blocked, she needs surgery as soon as possible.” Lian Qiao stated the facts, standing straight. Emotional breakdowns solved nothing, she still had to fill out a leave form after returning to her desk. A coronary bypass surgery generally cost seventy or eighty thousand yuan. She had eighteen thousand in savings, leaving a gap of sixty-two thousand. Manager Zhou’s bridging loan carried high interest, but it should be available immediately.
“You should head right back then. Tomorrow, right? Approved. Go ahead and submit the leave request in the system.” Wang Jianguo made a note in his phone calendar. “We have clients coming in over the next three days, so I’ll have Chen Kai cover for you first.”
“I’ll maintain client relations online. For face-to-face meetings, I’ll resume handling them when I’m back on Monday.” Her mother’s surgery required money, she absolutely couldn’t let Chen Kai steal her clients. Wang Jianguo approved the leave readily, so she said “Thank you” again and turned to leave.
“Wait a second.”
Lian Qiao turned back.
Wang Jianguo leaned against the back of his chair, tapping his fingers twice on the teacup lid. The sound of the air conditioning vent inside the cubicle seemed louder than outside, vibrating in sync with the ceiling overhead.
“Lian Qiao, you’ve been at Lingyue for five years, and your performance has always been outstanding.” He paused. “The macro environment isn’t great, and the company cut this year’s promotion quota down to just one.”
A single quota for a senior pharmaceutical representative, and management forced everyone below to fight tooth and nail for it. Lian Qiao stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Chen Kai has a running mouth, but his regional coverage rate and collection rate are higher than yours. You’ve been following Fumaining for over half a year, the approval is out, but sales haven’t picked up yet.” Wang Jianguo looked directly into her eyes. “You’re very capable, but the company needs to see performance. I’ve said my piece.”
“I understand,” Lian Qiao said. “I’ll boost volume as soon as possible and improve regional coverage and collection rates.”
“Once the collection rate goes up, your commissions can come in sooner too.” Wang Jianguo took a sip of tea, set the cup down, and added, “And that intern outside. Who she is, you know very well.”
Ling Weiwei was the big boss’s only daughter. Wang Jianguo not only knew it clearly, but he certainly knew it even earlier than she did.
“Word is already going around the company that you’re taking the intern to hospitals every day, being overly attentive, and trying to climb up a high branch by bypassing the hierarchy? I told them you’re just being thorough with your first time mentoring. But when the promotion review comes around, the compliance department will check these things too. Ling Weiwei won’t be able to help you then. She’s ultimately heading to Stanford for her studies, and a simple department transfer will make her forget you entirely. But the colleagues you offend will still be here, and if you miss out on a promotion, that would be the real pity.”
Her mother was still lying in a hospital bed in Anqing, needing a steady stream of money from her.
A senior pharmaceutical representative wasn’t just a nice-sounding title. Her base salary would jump from 8,000 to 15,000 yuan, and her performance bonuses and commission rates would shift up a tier, doubling her income was right around the corner. The next step led to Wang Jianguo’s position: regional manager.
Outside the window was the Zhangjiang Pharmaceutical Valley park, the sunlight blindingly white.
Ling Weiwei had squatted by the green belt, looking up and smiling, bright and blinding, saying that toxic things were always prettier. Then there were those mud-stained flats, and the heavy, book-cover-like thud of a Bentley door closing.
“I know how to handle it.” Lian Qiao stood ramrod straight. “The whole mentoring process follows protocol, nobody will find a loophole to catch.”
“With your mother sick, you’re likely going to need quite a bit of money coming up.” Wang Jianguo’s tone softened slightly. “The company has an emergency loan channel in the OA system, if you apply, I’ll approve it.”
Lian Qiao paused for a split second. Wang Jianguo probably said the exact same thing to Chen Kai. The art of leadership amounted to playing the good guy in front of every subordinate. Yet she still said, “Thank you, Manager Wang.”
Stepping out of the cubicle, she pulled the door shut behind her.
Ling Weiwei was biting her pen cap, locking eyes with her.
Lian Qiao looked away, sat down at her workstation, and pulled up the leave application form: “I need to take a day off tomorrow, and you can take a day off too.”
Ling Weiwei’s gaze lingered on her face two or three seconds longer than usual before she pulled the pen cap out of her mouth and placed it gently on the desk with a soft clack.
Lian Qiao switched tabs to the high-speed rail ticket page.
“Have you ever been complained about?” Ling Weiwei asked to make conversation.
Lian Qiao forced a faint twitch of the corner of her mouth. She genuinely couldn’t manage a sincere smile for Ling Weiwei, nor a professional fake smile, and even a cynical grin took too much effort. “Yeah, I look too fierce, I once scared a nurse to tears.”
“That nurse should go get her eyes checked,” Ling Weiwei blurted out.
Ticket secured: 6:18 PM, second class. Lian Qiao stood up, waved at Ling Weiwei, walked out of the office area, and hurried toward the Zhangjiang Hi-Tech subway station.
Her phone vibrated. Su Min sent a message: Meet at Huihui Plaza?
Su Min worked as an auditor and spent two-thirds of the year away from Shanghai. It was rare for her to be back, so they really should have caught up. Even stretched thin as she was, Lian Qiao sent a twenty-yuan red envelope with the note: Heading back to Anqing.
Su Min: What’s wrong with your aunt?
Lian Qiao typed three characters, Small issue, her thumb hovering over the send button before she deleted them. After nine years of friendship, Su Min wasn’t an idiot. She retyped: My mom has coronary heart disease, needs surgery soon.
Su Min: Is the money enough?
Lian Qiao replied with an OK hand-gesture emoji.
Su Min didn’t send anything further. When talking to a close friend, sending a single emoji already counted as talkative, sometimes even periods weren’t needed.
At 10:00 PM, Lian Qiao pushed open the door of the cardiothoracic surgery ward at the Anqing Municipal Hospital. The night-shift nurse stopped her, verified her identity, and pointed to the bed by the window.
“Why did you come?” Her mother lifted her head from the pillow, her brows furrowing tighter than if she were seeing a doctor. “Tomorrow’s Friday, can you make it back in time for work?”
The bedside monitor’s numbers flickered continuously.
“The leader specially approved my leave, no pay deducted.” Lian Qiao placed her bag on the bedside table. Annual leave indeed didn’t deduct pay. There was no need to mention Wang Jianguo’s subtle pressure.
“Where’s your aunt?”
“She went back to Huaining at five o’clock to pick up her granddaughter, I told her not to come. She even said I’m too stubborn.” Her mother’s tone sounded like she was telling tales out of school, but her face held that specific exasperation unique to sisters.
“Come to think of it, you weren’t feeling well since the Spring Festival, why didn’t you tell me?” Lian Qiao sat down by the bed. “Chest tightness isn’t a minor issue, stop always telling me the good news and hiding the bad.” She felt a twinge of self-blame. When her aunt had mentioned her mother’s chest tightness, she had assumed it was minor and begrudged taking time off that would hurt her full-attendance bonus.
“I thought it was just my high blood pressure acting up, and taking half a blood pressure pill made it better. In June, I went to the health clinic and got some Danshen pills, but they didn’t do much.” Her mother’s voice grew softer and softer. “And then I didn’t go back.”
“Once you get cured this time, you have to listen to the doctor,” Lian Qiao said softly. “Whenever you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, come to the hospital. I pay your health insurance for a reason, don’t let it go to waste.”
Her mother nodded repeatedly. At fifty-five years old, when being coaxed by her daughter, she looked just like a grade-schooler being lectured by a teacher.
Lian Qiao went to find the on-duty doctor to check the medical records, then returned, carried a cup of warm water to the bedside, and handed over a half-damp towel. Her mother took it to wipe her face, handed it back, and insisted on getting out of bed to brush her teeth by herself.
Once her mother was settled, Lian Qiao opened the fold-out escort bed, lay down, and opened her mobile banking app.
Balance: 18,000 yuan. Her credit card could draw 50,000 through revolving credit. She did have assets, but the apartment in Jiading was co-owned with Su Min, and putting it on the market would take at least two to three months before things loosened up. Her old home in Anqing was worth about 300,000, but there wasn’t time to sell it either. Even if she didn’t have a single mortgage payment hanging over her, she might not be able to scrape together the surgery fee right away. Money only seemed to slip away into places harder and harder to reach.
The gap remained.
If worst comes to worst, I could just sell myself, she thought.
She was startled by her own stray thought. But when she considered the worst-case scenario, the other options didn’t seem quite so hard to swallow.
Sell herself to the boss’s daughter? But that person was clearly straight, no need to scare people for nothing or leave herself with improper expectations.
The ceiling of the Anqing hospital was in disrepair, crisscrossed with cracks sprawling in all directions from the light fixture down to the corner, mingling with the gray plaster. In the dimness, it looked like a trapping net.
The phone screen beside her pillow suddenly lit up.
Ling Weiwei sent a text message: Is citric acid pronounced…
Followed by a voice message: “Ju-yuan-suan?”
Right, a quick search could tell you the answer. Did Ling Weiwei send such a trivial opening line just to avoid asking about anything heavier?
The other end was still waiting for a reply, she could answer anything.
Saying “I’m fine, don’t worry” was too fake. Saying “My mom needs surgery, and I don’t know how to secure better medical resources right now” was too fragile. In the end, she typed out: Did you ask Wang Jianguo about my reason for taking leave?
Ling Weiwei replied instantly: And listened to him brag about his glory days for a full fifteen minutes [vomit]
The corners of Lian Qiao’s mouth twitched upward. In the hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor overlapped with her mother’s light snores. Outside the window, the camphor trees swayed in the night breeze, casting shadows across the curtains like a silent warning.
Why was she chatting with an intern at eleven o’clock at night? Had Ling Weiwei waited until eleven just to message her? Not too late, yet leaving time before bed. But regardless, this ward smelling of disinfectant didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore. The cracks on the ceiling didn’t look quite so much like a net either.