Fang Yao felt something rise, churning, in her chest. She clapped a hand over her mouth, ran to the cold stove, and retched violently gasping for breath, until the colour slowly returned to her face. Then she turned and ran straight out the door.
Wang Hua stumbled after her, legs buckling beneath the weight of terror. She fell at the threshold, crawled forward clutching the neighbour’s hem, weeping: “What did you say? He has only just returned to duty! How could this happen?”
“I know no more than what my husband told me!” the neighbour said hurriedly. “Go quickly to the Military District Hospital! He is in surgery fighting for his life!” She reached to help Wang Hua up but Wang Hua, broken and despairing, could not stand.
Fang Yao stepped forward at once. She lifted her mother-in-law and held her steady.
“Mother!” Her voice was calm, firm, and clear pouring strength into the older woman’s trembling frame. “He is waiting for us. We shall go together.”
What else was there to do?
Fang Yao had braced herself since yesterday suffered through a sleepless night of dread. And now it had come to pass. She could not change it. She could only stand and face it.
Buoyed by Fang Yao’s resolve, Wang Hua found her footing. She gripped Fang Yao’s hand tight just as she had on that wedding day when the brides were swapped. But this blow was a thousand times heavier.
Fang Yao asked the neighbour to bring their bicycle. She steadied Wang Hua on the seat, then rode hard toward the city.
The north wind howled. In their haste, neither had worn a scarf or head covering yet they scarcely felt the cold. By the time they reached the hospital, both faces were blue and stiff. Fang Yao supported Wang Hua to the reception desk and announced themselves as Lieutenant Xu’s family.
“Lieutenant Xu’s family you have arrived at last!” The nurse looked grave. “He is in critical surgery. His condition is listed as critical. We require a family member’s signature.”
At the word critical, Wang Hua began to shake uncontrollably. Her hands trembled so that she could not even hold the pen.
Fang Yao took it, signed her name swiftly and the nurse led them down the corridor to the operating theatre.
Wounded soldiers lined the hallway clad in mud-caked uniforms. Some sat slumped against the walls, others crouched in silence. Every face, every hand, every limb bore wounds; blood seeped through rough field dressings, speaking of unimaginable suffering, of lives snatched back from the very edge of death.
“These boys… all his comrades…” Wang Hua choked back tears. Her gaze moved slowly over them grief, pity, and profound respect in every line of her face.
Fang Yao guided her forward, step by step, heart heavy and tight. She thought suddenly of that evening when she had begged him to leave the service. He had stood facing the window, silent, alone, long into the night.
Had he not known the danger?
He had known again and again. Just as these men in the corridor flesh torn, blood spilled they swallowed their pain and chose duty still. They had long since laid their lives upon the line. Not because they valued life lightly but because their sacrifice bought peace for their country and safety for its people.
And so even had Xu Qingzhou known what lay before him he would not have turned aside. Not for anything less than the cause he believed in.
Tears blurred Fang Yao’s eyes. The red lamp above the operating theatre glowed bright, burning through her grief and in that light, she found peace.
He is alive. That is enough. If his legs are broken so be it. She would stand beside him. Together they would build a life worth living.
Ding.
The light went out. Every soldier in the corridor rose to their feet, waiting in breathless silence.
“Family of the patient?” A middle-aged surgeon stepped out, his surgical gown still stained with blood.
Fang Yao stepped forward from the crowd. “Here!”
The soldiers parted. She supported Wang Hua toward the doctor.
“The surgery is complete,” he said gravely. “His life is no longer in danger. But the bones of both legs have been shattered extensively. It is highly likely he will be permanently disabled. You must prepare yourselves.”
One moment Wang Hua wept with relief that her son lived. The next learning he might never walk again she broke down entirely, sobbing aloud.
Behind them, the soldiers could not remain silent.
“Lieutenant Xu was our finest example! He was wounded saving others! Doctor please try everything!”
“Doctor our legs are our very lives! What will become of him if he cannot walk?”
“Please we beg you do not give up!”
The doctor understood better than any man what the loss of mobility meant to a soldier. More than that he wished with all his heart he could give them hope. But he could not. He looked at them with sorrow, voice thick with sympathy.
“We have done all that human skill can do. Now we must wait for the wounds to heal. Then we shall begin long-term rehabilitation therapy.”
He nodded to the orderlies, who wheeled Xu Qingzhou toward the ward.
Because he had been wounded in the line of duty and his condition was grave, the Director had granted him a private room.
Fang Yao walked beside the gurney all the way. She watched as he was transferred to the bed his uniform cut away, bandages wrapped round every limb. Even beneath the anaesthetic, pain drew his brows tight; his breathing was shallow and faint, as though he hovered at death’s very door.
Wang Hua could not bear to look. She turned away, pressing her forehead again and again against the wall.
Fang Yao stood motionless beside the bed. Voices of his comrades came from behind her words she could not quite hear. Her mind was fixed on one thing only: how to ease his suffering, how to stand beside him through what lay ahead.
His commanding officer arrived from the Director’s office the moment surgery was confirmed complete.
“Comrade Xu Qingzhou served with extraordinary distinction,” he said solemnly. “His loss is a loss to every one of us. We share your grief…” He looked at Wang Hua and Fang Yao, broken and bowed beneath the blow and found he could speak no further.
Words were useless now. The harm was done.
He ordered two of Xu Qingzhou’s comrades to remain and assist with his care. All medical expenses and treatment costs would be covered in full by the service he would see to every detail personally.
Fang Yao walked to Wang Hua, wrapped her arms around her, and stroked her back gently. “It will be well, Mother. As long as he draws breath we must not lose hope.”
“Yes… yes…” Wang Hua nodded through her tears. She straightened, walked to the bedside, and stood guard over her son.
And so they waited one on either side of the bed through the long morning.
Slowly the anaesthetic faded. Xu Qingzhou’s eyes remained closed, yet he turned his head restlessly in pain, speaking in a fevered, distant voice half command, half dream.
“Come back… bring them all back…”
“Pull them up! Get them across! Hold fast to the rope!”
“There are still others below… go on without me…”
“Wife… I cannot come home… Forgive me…”