Chapter Fifty-Nine: Spending the Night at the Clinic

People who have never taken antibiotics truly are different from the rest. Not long after Qi Zhaodi was put on an IV drip, her complexion visibly improved. Seeing this, both Han Li and He Mi breathed a sigh of relief. After all, they were all educated youth sent down to the countryside together. Everyone had witnessed Qi Zhaodi’s circumstances—her body as thin as a reed, her meager belongings, her initiative in joining a small group, and her efforts to seek out food on her own, among other things.

No one expected her to be the first to fall ill—and with such a fierce illness at that.

In Han Li’s heart, an old saying surfaced: “A frayed rope always snaps at the thinnest place; misfortune seeks out those already suffering.”

They were all strangers in a strange land, with no kinship or claim on each other; none had the right or ability to say much about such things.

Now that Han Li saw Qi Zhaodi’s condition had stabilized, she said to He Mi, “Comrade Qi probably won’t be able to return tomorrow. She’ll likely have to stay here for another two days.”

“But with her alone in the hospital, a lot of things will be inconvenient. I’m afraid we’ll have to trouble you to stay and look after her,” she continued. “It’s not a big deal except—if, by any chance, someone with bad intentions notices she’s unattended…”

He Mi suddenly interrupted Han Li’s words, fixing her gaze on him and asking, “Why did you help Qi Zhaodi just now? Was it out of genuine goodwill, or was there some other reason?”

The abruptness of the question caught Han Li off guard, but he instinctively replied with the truth, “I had the ability, so why shouldn’t I do it? Why do you ask?”

He Mi looked at Han Li intently, then lowered her head and said softly, “It’s nothing. I thought perhaps you had a fondness for slim beauties like Qi Zhaodi.”

“I’m still young; I don’t joke about such matters. If others overheard, it could easily cause misunderstandings. Besides, the type I like is understanding, graceful, and curvaceous. Qi Zhaodi isn’t really my type.”

Han Li leaned back in his chair, opening his eyes every now and then to check the IV bottle.

He Mi lay on the empty bed beside him, eyes closed and motionless, like a sleeping beauty.

Yet her thoughts were lively, constantly comparing her grandmother’s words with the Han Li in front of her.

After a long while, He Mi said to herself, “Let’s wait a bit longer, watch a bit more; grandmother’s words can’t be wrong.”

Still, spending the night in a room with a boy for the first time was awfully embarrassing. Thankfully, Qi Zhaodi was there, even if she hadn’t yet regained consciousness.

Qi Zhaodi…

In Shanghe Village, by the time Han Li and He Mi left, night had already fallen—they wouldn’t be making it back tonight.

The four girls who remained discussed among themselves, and the Yun sisters brought their bedding over to help look after the house.

Yun Yingying rolled around on the kang several times, stretching contentedly, “It’s so much more comfortable with fewer people and a bigger bed. My back ached sleeping on the floor these past couple of days, and on the kang, you can’t even turn over.”

Yun Jingjing frowned at her sister’s antics and said disapprovingly, “We’ve only been here a few days and even the sleeping arrangements have you complaining like this? If we end up staying longer, are you going to marry one of the villagers?”

Yun Yingying replied, “Sis, we don’t dare call home—how do you think Mom and Dad are doing? When can I go back?”

“I… I don’t know, either.”

“If I really can’t take it anymore, and I have to get married, I’ll choose a clean and tidy educated youth. Those who don’t care about hygiene, who never brush their teeth or wash their faces, I just can’t stand.”

“That won’t do—have you forgotten what Mom and Dad said about not marrying while we’re here?”

“Remember what Dad told us: ‘A stream with no source dries up by morning; those oblivious to the past are like cattle in scholar’s robes.’”

The next morning, Han Li’s internal clock woke him early.

He glanced at the sleeping He Mi and at Qi Zhaodi—whose complexion had returned to normal but was still unconscious.

He didn’t wake them, instead slipping out alone to the clinic’s canteen.

As he left, He Mi’s tightly shut eyes opened a sliver. She glanced at Qi Zhaodi, still asleep on the other bed, and then closed her eyes again.

Breakfast at the clinic was pretty decent that morning—various cornbread buns, pickles, and the most expensive of all, bowls of white flour dough soup, which cost a ration ticket and thirty cents apiece.

Han Li ate his fill, then smiled at the woman serving food, saying, “Sister, I’m an educated youth sent down to the countryside. Last night I brought a comrade to the hospital and forgot my food containers. Could I borrow two bowls from the canteen so I can bring them some dough soup?”

Perhaps it was his polite address or his pleasant appearance, but the lady immediately lent him two pristine, large bowls—without even asking for a deposit. Not only did she fill each bowl to the brim, but she also loaded them with plenty of dough pieces.

“You’re clearly a good kid,” she said. “Not many would spend their ration tickets to get their friends dough soup. Want me to find you some smaller basins?”

Han Li quickly thanked her and said there was no need. He took a few cornbread buns, some pickles, and hurried off with two big bowls of dough soup.

Watching him go, the canteen lady remarked, “I knew he was a good kid—he’s practically running just to make sure his friends eat on time.”

When Han Li returned to the ward, He Mi and Qi Zhaodi were already awake, sitting together and talking, though Qi Zhaodi’s eyes were still a little watery.

Han Li set down the bowls and the paper bundle of buns and pickles. “It’s good to see you awake, Comrade Qi. How are you feeling now? Actually, I’ll fetch the doctor to take a look.”

Qi Zhaodi replied, “No, thank you, Comrade Han, for bringing me to the hospital. I’m much better now. There’s no need to call the doctor and spend more money. I’ll pay you back for the treatment little by little.”

“The money’s not important,” said Han Li, “but it’s best to make sure you’re fully recovered. Getting the doctor costs nothing.”

In a short while, Han Li returned with the doctor, who inquired about Qi Zhaodi’s condition before saying, “The fever has subsided, but yesterday’s situation was serious. It’s best to stay for another day of observation. If you really don’t want to stay, I’ll prescribe some fever medicine for you to take for a couple of days.”

Qi Zhaodi insisted on being discharged and taking the medicine, so the others had no choice but to agree. Han Li accompanied the doctor to get the prescription.

On the way, Han Li discreetly asked the doctor for a certificate so he could buy ribs or a bone for soup.

The doctor chuckled and replied, “Only an orthopedist can write that kind of certificate. As an internist, I can’t help you.”

Failing in his attempt, Han Li nonetheless decided he couldn’t leave the commune empty-handed.

So, after collecting the medicine, he made a detour to the supply and marketing cooperative—his first visit there.

The sights impressed him, and he thought to himself that the trip had been worthwhile.

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