After drinking some water, Zhu Hong closed her eyes to rest. She still had a low fever and was physically weak, coughing after saying just a few words.
Ji Wenyu moved the small stool used for companions right next to Zhu Hong’s bed and took out his phone to search online for high-altitude pulmonary edema.
With its rapid onset and potential for severe fatality, the online descriptions made him more and more frightened, prompting him to slip out of the hospital room quietly to find the on-duty doctor.
Zhu Hong was suspected to have a mild case of high-altitude pulmonary edema. Having been brought to the hospital for oxygen in a timely manner and immediately hospitalized for treatment, her condition was currently considered stable. Stepping out of the doctor’s office, Ji Wenyu breathed a slight sigh of relief. However, the thought that she would still need to stay in the hospital for at least three more days kept his heart feeling heavy.
His attempt to change to a single room failed; the doctor said Zhu Hong’s symptoms were relatively mild, making a move unnecessary. Furthermore, single rooms were located in the VIP area, where there were fewer doctors, meaning nighttime care might not be prompt. The young man had no choice but to return to the triple-occupancy room and sit by his mother’s bedside.
The treatments were routine methods. Aside from oxygen therapy and intravenous drips, all they could do was wait slowly for the patient to recover on their own. Sitting by the bed and watching Zhu Hong as she slept for a while, Ji Wenyu picked up his laptop and walked out into the hallway outside the room.
Distracted, his coding stalled as well, running into continuous error messages. He had barely written a few lines when the doctor came by for rounds. After the rounds, he took Zhu Hong’s medical insurance card and ran from the inpatient building to the outpatient building to process out-of-town medical care. Afterward, he went downstairs to the cafeteria to buy dinner. The cafeteria’s food selection was ordinary, and after searching around, only a winter melon and pork rib soup seemed relatively light. Zhu Hong had no appetite; she didn’t eat a single piece of meat, only eating a few bites of winter melon and drinking some soup.
After the IV had been running for just a day, the back of the woman’s hand was already swollen. The third bottle was scheduled for the early morning, and the nurse said it was uncertain whether a reinsertion would be needed at night. Helping his mother to the restroom to wash up and back into bed, he found that the sky outside the window had long since turned pitch black without him noticing, already approaching ten o’clock.
Uncle Zhang, who had slept for a while, rushed back to the hospital again, bringing a fruit basket. Zhu Hong couldn’t eat anything, and Ji Wenyu waved his hand as well, having no mood to eat.
Nighttime accommodations for companions used the daily rental folding beds from the hospital room cabinet, costing ten yuan a day. He scanned to rent one and set up the small bed at the foot of Zhu Hong’s hospital bed.
“Let me take the night shift, Wenyu,” Zhang Qing patted his shoulder.
Zhu Hong chimed in as well, “Yes, Xiaoyu, go back to the hotel to rest. You won’t sleep well in the hospital room.”
The hospital folding bed was only eighty centimeters wide; turning over easily caused one to fall off, and there were no pillows. Their child had never lived in such an environment since childhood.
Yet Ji Wenyu insisted on staying.
As Zhu Hong’s son, he had no reason to leave.
“It’s getting late, Uncle Zhang, you should head back. I’ll accompany her tonight.”
The canvas folding bed felt a bit harsh on the supports when lying flat on one’s back. The young man turned over, lying sideways facing the hospital bed.
The phone’s screen glowed faintly as he swiped the screen to reply to the inquiries sent by his dad and grandparents. The second he locked the screen, he suddenly realized that he hadn’t checked in today. Ji Wenyu lit up the screen again and opened Qinghe.
Aside from notifications about his notes receiving likes, reposts, and comments, the interface showed messages sent by X.
[X: 200 vocabulary words checked in]
[X: Is the model going smoothly?]
[X: Today’s tree-planting duration was 9.6 hours]
[X: Are you busy?]
X had sent a total of four messages.
The model he had only finished the first two questions, and a small half of that was done yesterday. Perhaps when a person is overwhelmed by a superposition of tension, anxiety, and fear, their mind simply goes completely blank. Ji Wenyu’s brain felt like it was filled with paste all day, completely unable to concentrate on thinking.
His fingertips hovered near the keyboard, wanting to reply to X about something.
I have something going on at home, I’m not checking in today. Or I flew to Qingcheng, my mother got sick and is hospitalized here.
Never mind, just an online acquaintance; why bother telling X these things.
A wave of exhaustion washed over him. Unsure of what to say, Ji Wenyu ultimately didn’t reply and pressed the power button to turn off his phone screen.
The folding bed was very hard, and the mixed smells of medicine and decay lingering in the hospital room floated around his nose.
Zhu Hong was right; he really couldn’t sleep.
Unable to sleep, he didn’t even dare to turn over for fear of waking his mother.
Beside him, Zhu Hong’s breathing rose and fell steadily, serving as his only comfort at the moment.
Ji Wenyu closed his eyes, trying to let himself relax in the completely insecure environment.
Unable to sleep, his heart hammered heavily against his chest step by step, and the dark surroundings only made him feel more irritated. Yet, he still forced himself to stay still in place until the sound of a cart accompanied by footsteps echoed in the hallway.
“Patient in Bed 10, time for the IV.” The nurse turned on the spotlight at the head of his mother’s bed.
The young man hurriedly scrambled up from the bed.
The indwelling needle was somewhat cooperative; although the insertion process wasn’t smooth, it went in after all, avoiding the need for a redo.
“Alright, go back to sleep,” the nurse turned off the glaring light. “About an hour and a half. I’ll come by when the time is up, and family members can keep an eye on it too.”
“Okay, okay,” Ji Wenyu hurriedly responded.
Running a low fever, Zhu Hong spent most of the time in a hazy sleep, except for a trip to the restroom midway.
Ji Wenyu felt his way back in the dark to lie down on the folding bed, still unable to sleep. Half-asleep, he finally felt a hint of drowsiness only after the nurse came by to remove the empty IV bottle.
Sleepiness, exhaustion, anxiety, tension.
Having stayed in the hospital for two days, Zhu Hong’s low fever kept recurring. Receiving oxygen brought her blood oxygen saturation up a bit, but symptoms like dizziness, nausea, and coughing hadn’t eased much.
Having accompanied her for two consecutive nights, Ji Wenyu was also starting to reach his limit. The IVs ran late into the night, and fellow patients in the same room began waking up one after another before six in the morning. Not resting well at night in the hospital room, he had to run around doing tests, fetching reports, and finding doctors during the day, leaving him not a single moment of rest.
Even when he had time, he had to squeeze in moments to write the assignment due to Chen Wang. The code was written in a mess, throwing error messages every few lines. The more anxious and irritated he grew, the less he knew how to fix it, the worse it got fixed, and the more panicked and unsettled he became.
Should he just speak to the professor and delay the deadline? But this was his first time interacting with Chen Wang, and he didn’t know if it would leave a bad impression. Furthermore, the registration date for the winter camp was getting closer and closer, and Ji Wenyu worried that if the other person rejected him because of this, he wouldn’t have time to prepare another research plan to find the next target professor. Besides, after carefully studying the biological intersection direction, he truly wanted to do research in this area; he didn’t want to miss this opportunity.
On Sunday night, waiting once again for the third IV bottle in the early morning.
Unable to sleep anyway, Ji Wenyu simply moved his chair to the hallway and waited until Zhu Hong finished her IV before sleeping.
Sitting at the unmanned nurse station in the middle of the hallway, he plugged his laptop into the charger. Without Wi-Fi, he could only connect to a hotspot. For the model of the five questions, he had done okay on two of them, the other two were crooked and messy, and the last one yielded completely wrong results when the code ran. After modifying it slightly, it started throwing errors, and he had no idea how long debugging would take.
His head felt like it had been heavily beaten by someone, aching dully from his temples to the back of his head. His head hurt, and his stomach hurt too. Having not eaten properly for days, his upper abdomen twisted and squeezed, complaining to him in grievance. Ji Wenyu raised his hand to press firmly against the painful spot with his knuckles, unable to focus his attention on the reflective laptop screen for a long time.
Can’t do it, not doing it anymore.
With his feet resting on the crossbar of the metal stool, the young man lowered his body, hugged his knees, and curled into a ball.
That was precisely when his phone screen lit up.
Ji Wenyu blinked.
Cold sweat soaked his eyelashes, blurring his vision for a fraction of a second. He saw the lit-up screen displaying messages sent by X.
During the two days he had disappeared, X seemed to have been sending him messages intermittently.
Even though he still lacked the strength to reply.
With him absent, X checked in as usual, and their check-in group remained at the top of the Qinghe activity rankings. While posting notes for check-in in the public square, X would also privately send him a separate message. Beyond that, everything X asked about was his recent status. Asking how the questions given by the professor were going, whether he was very busy, when he would return to check in, and additionally, whether he needed help.
Needed, he needed it very much.
Ji Wenyu bit his lower lip and finally couldn’t hold back, sending the stuck code over.
[Little Fish: I’ve been accompanying someone in the hospital these past few days, so I haven’t had time to log online. This code is stuck, is it convenient for the big boss to help me take a look?]
The typed string was quite long, harboring some suspicion of playing the pity card, so the young man deleted it character by character. Just as he was preparing to re-edit, X had already replied on the other end.
[X: Let me see]
The other party understood his meaning instantly, and Ji Wenyu lowered his hand wearily, suddenly losing the energy to waste brainpower on editing.
The window at the end of the ward hallway was open, and the night breeze blowing in was a bit cold. Although Qingcheng was in the south, autumn had arrived.
The young man shrank into his hoodie, crossed his arms, and rested his head against the hard wall in a daze.
The doctor said they would draw blood tomorrow morning, and if the blood picture was still fine, his mother should recover soon. If there was a problem with the blood picture they might need to transfer hospitals for treatment. Transferring to a slightly lower-altitude neighboring city, or returning to Beijing. But returning to Beijing meant taking a plane was out of the question, and the high-speed rail would take at least seven or eight hours. If any situation arose midway, where would be best for them to get off the train?
Ji Wenyu knitted his brows tightly, feeling the pain in his stomach grow even more severe.
The phone in his arms vibrated—it was a reply message from X.
The young man swiped his screen and saw a long string of code.
X had fixed the code and sent it back to him.
For the debugged parts, the other party used Chinese to make notes, explaining how it was adjusted. If he hadn’t been living in chaos these past few days, Ji Wenyu could have actually fixed it himself; with X’s brief explanation, he immediately understood where the problem had been previously. Copying the code over and pressing run, it finally executed normally. The young man relaxed slightly, his nasal passages stinging with an inexplicable sourness.
This time’s result should be fine now, right? But even if the models were all built, he hadn’t started writing the overall argumentation for the answers yet.
Tomorrow he definitely couldn’t return to Beijing; he wasn’t sure if he could leave the day after. A day late, just a day late, it should be fine, right? Asking Huang Bin to help him ask for leave from Chen Wang, Chen Wang would agree, wouldn’t he?
Thinking of this, Ji Wenyu switched software to message his roommate. He didn’t mention the details of his mother’s hospitalization, only saying something had come up at home. Huang Bin replied quickly, urging him not to rush since the rest of them were at school. Ji Wenyu opened Qinghe again, preparing to reply to X.
Words of gratitude were actually very simple, right on the tip of his tongue, but Ji Wenyu seemed to have lost the strength to type. Perhaps seeing that his typing status indicator had been continuously active without any message being sent, X sent another one.
[X: Did it run?]
The young man sniffled.
[Little Fish: Mm]
Lacking the actual strength to type, he selected a Thank you sticker instead.
He hadn’t replied to the string of messages X sent earlier, yet the other party didn’t pursue the matter either.
[X: Send me your current progress on the five questions]
Ji Wenyu paused and followed suit, sending the five pieces of code along with the messy text portions all at once.
[X: Due tomorrow?]
As if suddenly interrogated by a teacher, a wave of heat flushed across the young man’s face.
[Little Fish: Postponed to the day after tomorrow]
X said nothing more, as if feeling disappointed in his study partner. Ji Wenyu pursed his lips and put down his phone just as the nurse pushed the cart over for the IV. Following her into the room, he stayed with his mother for a while, poured water, and helped adjust the oxygen tank. After half an hour or so, he walked out of the room and sat back down in front of his laptop.
[X: I’ve outlined a framework]
The file was sent directly to him.
Ji Wenyu felt his cheeks burn even more intensely, hesitating without clicking it open.
A sudden sense of inferiority made him unwilling to accept X’s help anymore.
These were questions he should have completed independently in the first place; he didn’t want the other person to look down on him. Even if the X on the opposite end was the big boss of all of Qinghe, being better than him was naturally a matter of course.
X seemed to sense his subtle emotions.
[X: Voice chat?]
Without waiting for his consent, the other party directly popped over a voice call.
Not wanting his voice to disturb Zhu Hong resting in the room, Ji Wenyu held his phone and walked to the very end of the hallway.
The vibration urged him on continuously, and he slowly pressed the accept button.
“Hello.” A gentle male voice came from the other side.
In standard and clear broadcasting tones, the other side simply greeted him and waited for him to speak.
Ji Wenyu opened his mouth several times without making a sound.
He could feel the dampness in his throat; that moisture seemed ready to flow into his nasal passages the moment he spoke, rising all the way up to his tear glands.
He was simply too tired.
The pain in his stomach surged more fiercely, making him unstable on his feet, so he simply squatted down and gently let out a breath.
X on the other side remained quiet throughout, neither urging him nor leaving.
“I…” Ji Wenyu took a deep breath and spoke again, his voice dry and hoarse.
He suddenly felt grateful for the voice changer.
Perhaps because of it, X wouldn’t notice his disheveled state.
Yet X still seemed to sense something.
“Let’s look at the answering approach again tomorrow, contact you tomorrow. It’s getting late, rest.”
Ji Wenyu could detect the hesitation in the other person’s voice.
“Mm,” he acknowledged, yet felt reluctant to hang up the phone.
The young man squatted by the window a while longer until the pain in his upper abdomen gradually eased. He wobbled to his feet, walked back to the room, and lay down sideways on the folding bed with light steps.
The earphones remained quiet, but upon careful listening, he could catch the other person’s light, shallow breathing.
X hadn’t hung up the phone.
He was still on the other side.
Ji Wenyu gave a light cough.
[Little Fish: Hang up first]
Inconvenient for speaking inside the room, he typed to X.
“Alright,” X’s voice came through the earphones. Pausing for a moment, that person added, “Goodnight.”