"So how many pieces do you think we'll get?"
Loazu (Uncle Ruobing's son) asked, looking at Bai, who was holding a notebook and a pen, carefully calculating the cake portions Loazu wanted to take to his friends.
Loazu had originally gone to Zhan, telling him that the cake he once made had become so popular among his friends that they still talked about it. But when Zhan explained that he simply didn't have the time to baked him anymore....that work had piled up relentlessly.....Loazu understood that he was serious.
So he stood there listening to Bai, who had confidently assured him that he could handle the baking, becouse he know how Zhan was doing it. They ended up buried in calculations that seemed never-ending, all within earshot of Zhan, who sat nearby working with a tablet in his hands.
"I told you to wait," Bai replied calmly when Loazu asked again about the quantity. "We need to finish all the calculations first before we decide how many cupcakes."
Loazu looked at him and said, "But before doing all this, you should already know that from the start, three kilos give how many pieces. And now you're saying we have to finish every calculation first?"
"Well, everyone works differently," Bai replied.
"That's why people are given the same pot to cook....everyone prepares it their own way. Cake isn't any different."
Zhan turned to look at them then. Bai paused, tucking the pen he was using behind his ear, his eyes still on the notes as he spoke.
Zhan simply shook his head and went back to his work. He already pity Laozu and his friends that will eat Bai cupcakes. He was sitting near the small carpet where Nainai usually sat. He wore a white T-shirt made of soft fabric, decorated with small black floral patterns. There was no cap on his head, only short braided extensions Bai had styled for him because Bai loved how smooth and neat Zhan's hair looked. Even though Bai's natural hair was similar, but he always enjoyed playing with Zhan's hair, braiding it, even though the braids never lasted long and often unraveled on their own. The braids fell forward along his face whenever he bent down, and he kept pushing them back.
Nainai came out of the room she'd stepped into earlier, her face still damp from washing. She looked at where Zhan was sitting and shook her head.
"You're still sitting there tapping away," she said. "At least take a shower and put that phone down. You haven't even eaten since you got back."
Zhan shook his head without looking up.
"I will, Nainai. I'll get up soon....just let me finish this part."
"Honestly, today I'm really worried," Nainai continued. "What kind of job is this? Ever since you started there, you haven't rested. And it's not like it's getting better....every day, the work just keeps increasing."
She moved closer, trying to sit down.
"I think I should call Sanxing, the one who helped you get this job, and tell him to fix this situation. I don't understand why you have to suffer like this...."
Before she could finish, Bai quickly cut in, saying, "Please, Nainai, don't say that. Why would they dismiss him? He only had one month salary."
"You only see the money," Nainai shot back. "That's all you notice not his tired frame or sleeping eyes. Otherwise, what's the point of such a demanding job when all the enthusiasm he started with is already gone? It'll be hard for him to ever return to how he used to be."
Zhan only smiled as he listened....at Bai defending the job and Nainai criticizing it. He was used to this exchange, but it had grown worse this particular week, ever since Dr. Yibo had assigned him that task. The assignment had completely robbed him of peace....at the hospital and at home. At home, at least, if he ignored Nainai's complaints, he could still get some work done. But at the hospital, there was absolutely no time to focus properly; every single day came with its own workload waiting for him.
He wasn't even halfway done yet, and every time he crossed paths with Dr. Yibo, the doctor asked about the progress and stressed its importance. Inspectors were expected from the ministry, and everything done so far would be reviewed and scrutinized.
As a result, Zhan's mind was constantly under pressure. At the hospital, he could only manage the bare minimum. He completely stopped doing full patient briefings. Now, his only interaction with Dr. Yibo happened in the ward....standing bed by bed, summarizing each patient's condition and confirming that whatever had been ordered the previous day had been done.
At this point, nothing else occupied his thoughts except finishing this assignment. That was why he barely reacted to Nainai's complaints. He believed that once he completed it, everything else would fall into place. Still, there was one part he'd been struggling with since morning....no matter how he tried to organize it, it just wouldn't come together. Every angle he approached it from felt wrong.
He had wanted to ask Dr. Yibo earlier that morning, but the doctor hadn't come to the hospital at all that day. Zhan felt stuck. He considered looking up Dr. Yibo's number and calling him, but the thought made him hesitate....they had never spoken on the phone before. Their communication had always been through email, where Dr. Yibo sent instructions and expectations. Even though the Dr said he could reach out if something was unclear, Zhan still tried to find a solution without calling.
So Zhan remained seated, not even getting up to serve food, until Nainai turned away to begin her chores. Just then, Uncle Elder walked in, interrupting everyone. Instantly, Zhan jumped up and hurried into the room before the curtain could be lifted....he knew that if Uncle Elder saw the braids on his head, he would definitely comment on them.
After Zhan went into his room and set the tablet down on the bed, he opened the wardrobe and grabbed the first brown cap his eyes landed on. He was about to step out when his vision blurred slightly....his eyes stinging from staring at screens for too long.
So he turned into the bathroom instead, splashed water over his face, then came back out. That was when he realized Uncle Elder and Uncle Ruobing had arrived. He immediately crouched to greet Uncle Ruobing, since Uncle Elder was already exchanging greetings with Nainai.
After the greetings, Zhan went to the fridge, poured water onto a cups, and brought it to them. Then he returned to the warmer to fetch food....the one they always brought upstairs after cooking downstairs, the same way meals were taken to Aunt Taichen's place.
Bai and Loazu withdrew after greeting the elders, so Zhan retreated into his room, leaving them in the living room. He sensed that the visit was for a serious discussion. Just as he suspected, he heard Uncle Ruobing begin to explain that the parents of Yufei's suitor wanted to come over to formally discuss financial arrangements.
Yufei's suitor.
On the day Zhan got this job, Yufei had called him repeatedly. She wanted to tell him about Duan, a young man she had met not long ago....a police officer who had returned to town that day. From then on, hardly two days passed without her calling to give Zhan updates about him. She had begged Zhan more than once to come and meet Duan whenever he visited, but Zhan always excused himself, blaming his workload. Eventually, Duan came by and greeted the uncles himself.
In fact, Zhan was the one who advised Yufei to accept Duan's proposal to involve his parents, since she had no real reason to refuse him. So the discussion wasn't new to Zhan. He ate his food and continued working, listening as Nainai expressed her happiness and showered them with hopeful wishes.
What he didn't expect was for Nainai to suddenly steer the conversation toward him....complaining to the uncles about how demanding his job was, and how tired she was of his constant unavailability, let alone the absence of any serious prospect she could proudly present, the way they were doing now for Yufei.
Zhan never imagined she would go as far as saying,
"So, Ruobing, won't you people just find someone and pair Zhan up already?"
Zhan immediately shook his head, grabbed his phone, and decided to call Aji....only to stop midway and instead send a message asking for Dr. Yibo's number. After Nainai's words, he knew his headspace wouldn't allow him to think clearly anymore.
¦
¦
He didn't receive the number until after 8 p.m. By then, Uncle Elder had already left, and Nainai was eating. Zhan checked the time to make sure it wasn't too late, then dialed. As the call began to ring, his legs carried him into the room almost on their own. He sat on the edge of the bed just as a cool breeze....heralding rainfall....slipped in through the window, lifting the curtain gently.
✨✨✨
Like many days when fragments of Yibo's past visited him in his dreams, another one came that night....filled with images and echoes of everything that had happened back then. He saw it all vividly, as though it were unfolding again in real time.
Seventeen years earlier, when they were still in high school, they had been sitting in the school laboratory. The entire class was busy with their tasks. Some students were copying notes from the board where the teacher was writing at an elevated platform, while those assigned to the back worked carefully with chemical solutions, trying to achieve the correct color for their 'Titration' experiment.
At that moment, a teacher named Miss Grace entered the lab, holding a few papers. It was clear she wasn't there for the class. She stopped beside the teacher and spoke quietly.
"Good afternoon, sir. The principal's office is asking for Wang A Bo."
The teacher turned, marker still in hand. After exchanging greetings, he faced the students just as the named student put down his pen and stood up. A tall, fair-skinned boy stepped forward. Though he was the right age for final-year high school, his face already showed hints of maturity, with a faint shadow of facial hair.
He started walking....but instead of heading toward where the teacher stood, he detoured, moving around the back until he reached the desk where Yibo sat.
"Shall we go?" A Bo asked, looking directly at Yibo's face as it was back then.
Yibo shook his head, his voice low as it came from deep within him.
"Didn't you hear what she said? He's calling for you alone. I'll stay here."
A Bo smiled, clearly having expected that answer, and said,
"What if Mom is there too?"
Yibo slowly shook his head again and replied,
"She's not there. You know she's not."
"How can you be so sure?"
Yibo didn't answer. So A Bo nodded once more and said,
"Alright then. I'll tell her you said hello."
Ten minutes later, the class ended. The teacher dismissed the students and began gathering his papers. Yibo, however, didn't stand up or close his book. Instead, he picked up another textbook and started working on the assignment given for the next day. He stayed that way until A Bo finally returned.
"It's break time, Yibo. Aren't you going to eat something?"
A Bo asked as he pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Instead of answering, Yibo looked up at him and asked the question that had been circling his mind since A Bo left.
"Did he come alone?"
He saw A Bo's expression change instantly before he nodded.
"Yes."
The answer landed heavily in Yibo's ears, confirming what didn't need to be said aloud.
It was their father.
Yibo adjusted his posture slightly and asked again,
"What did he say?"
A Bo shook his head, his eyes revealing the frustration he'd tried to hide earlier.
"It was about the tuition fees."
For two full seconds, Yibo said nothing. He just stared at A Bo. Then he swallowed slowly and nodded.
"He paid only yours, like he said he would?"
A Bo shook his head.
"Yibo, let it be till we go back home. We'll talk to him there. I know he wouldn't listen to me here, that's why I didn't say anything."
"Did he pay for you only?" Yibo asked again, as if he hadn't heard anything else.
"Yes. But there's still time. We'll talk to him when we get home during the break. And you know Mom....if she steps in, he will listen. Just don't do anything rash, Yibo."
A Bo's voice carried every plea he could muster, hoping Yibo would understand. But like water poured into sand, every word passed straight through Yibo....heard, yet absorbed by nothing.
He wasn't listening anymore. His mind was busy calculating, planning, and settling on a decision he had already finalized.
That afternoon, a little after four o'clock, Yibo slipped away from A Bo's watchful eyes and took a route he had long known....one rarely used and usually unsecured.
He made his way toward the area where elderly groundskeepers worked clearing weeds. From there, a small side gate opened out into the world beyond the school.
By sheer luck, the area was empty. He quickly removed his school uniform, dug a shallow hole, and buried it. Then he pulled on a black T-shirt he had packed among his belongings.
That day favored him....he left without being seen.
Their boarding school was in Beijing, and at the time, Yibo knew only one person in the entire city: Yusha, a butcher who supplied livestock to their household whenever there were celebrations or large gatherings.
Once, during a school break, when they were being picked up to return home to Nanjing, they had stopped by to look for Yusha after failing to reach him by phone. A message had been left instead. Yibo never forgot the route, despite the distance between the school and Yusha's place.
He walked the entire way.
When he finally found Yusha, he begged him to give him a ride to Nanjing. After much hesitation, Yusha agreed....squeezing him into one of the livestock trucks, crowded together with the driver's boys. That was how he reached Nanjing.
From there, he went straight to his father's company building. At the entrance, staff confirmed that his father was inside, attending a meeting with senior officials.
Despite the importance of such meetings.... and despite staff attempts to stop him....nothing could deter Yibo from what his heart had already decided.
He went straight upstairs.
The office was almost entirely glass. From inside, Mr. Wang Haozhi saw security struggling to keep Yibo back. He ordered them to let him through, likely not imagining what Yibo intended to do....standing there in front of him and the distinguished people gathered, and directly asking why he had refused to pay his tuition fees.
No amount of authority or status stopped Yibo from asking.
Wang Haozhi searched for words, but none seemed sufficient to match the weight pressing against his chest. Finally, he said,
"If your mother sent you here to embarrass me in front of others, then go back and ask her your questions. If you still don't understand that you are expected to follow my decisions, she will explain it to you in a way you understand."
Tears spilled from Yibo's eyes instantly. He shook his head as he looked at his father and said,
"I've known this for a long time. I've told Mom again and again that you're serious....that you truly don't love me. She kept saying I was wrong, that a father doesn't reject his own child, that I just didn't understand you. She said if I kept quiet, if I endured everything, you would accept me."
"So what did I do wrong this time? What have I done now? Just because I said I wanted to follow my own choice? Just because I said I wanted to study the course I actually want at university, you refused to pay my tuition fees?"
"What exactly did I do to deserve being treated differently from my own brother....?"
The rest of his words were swallowed by the noise in the office as people stood up, trying to interrupt him.
At that moment, Yibo's entire body was trembling. Every part of him shook with the same violent tremor that had reached deep into his chest. He lifted his hands and buried his fingers in his hair, yet they continued to shake....just like his body, just like his heart.
And just like now, as his body shook beneath the blanket wrapped tightly around him…
He suddenly sat upright, eyes flying open, red-rimmed and unfocused. His neck and forehead were soaked with sweat despite the fan spinning steadily in the room.
He pressed both hands to his head, closed his eyes, opened them again, then slowly took in his surroundings. The darkness told him it was night.
Gradually, he remembered falling asleep sometime after four o'clock, when the storm of thoughts in his head had finally pushed him into taking the sleeping medication he'd been circling around for weeks.
He was certain of it....the moment he took it, he'd fallen asleep within ten minutes. Time slipped past like that until six in the evening. He told himself it was inevitable that he would dream like this.
He stood up slowly, the heavy pressure in his chest still there, and walked into the bathroom. He turned on the warm water and let it run over him from head to toe. Even after finishing his shower, the tightness in his chest hadn't eased.
He stepped out quickly, didn't bother drying off, pulled on his clothes, and sat down again, letting himself sink back into his thoughts....thoughts that, strangely enough, began to feel a little lighter.
From his wardrobe, he picked out a clean set of clothes, changed, and sprayed on some cologne. He grabbed the phone lying on his bed, then went into the sitting room and picked up the house keys from their usual place on the TV stand.
He turned on all the outdoor lights before locking the living room. Once outside, he locked the gate as well. He took a short walk to get some air, but hunger soon caught up with him. The sky was already darkening with the promise of rain, so he headed back.
As he walked, a cool breeze brushed against him, carrying the scent of impending rain. The city looked unexpectedly beautiful....every house lined with glowing lights, people passing by, some hurrying along to avoid getting caught in the rain.
He ate properly this time and realized just how hungry he had been. Afterward, he barely managed to sit for a few minutes before the drowsiness crept back in. He wasn't surprised....the medication was strong, and it was his first time taking it.
So he closed up the house again and returned to his room. He stripped down to just a pair of shorts, turned off the fan, switched on the air conditioner, and left the windows open. He wanted the cool night air drifting in, carrying the scent of wet earth.
He climbed under the blanket and curled up, surrendering space for sleep to settle in.
And just as he slipped into that first, gentle layer of sleep, he heard his phone ringing beside him.
With difficulty, he opened his eyes, reached for it, and answered....without even checking the screen.
"Hello, sir."
A voice Yibo never expected slipped into his ear at that moment. It felt cool, almost soothing, like the night breeze drifting in around him.
"Zhan?"
His reply came out low, carrying a hint of surprise and sleepiness.... something Zhan must have noticed, because he quickly said,
"I'm sorry, sir… did I wake you?"
"No, just give me a second," Yibo answered quickly, cutting him off. Instead of sitting up, he simply adjusted his position and spoke again without opening his eyes.
"I'm listening."
Zhan spoke again, a little hesitant.
"I'm sorry, sir…"
"Just talk, Zhan," Yibo said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes still closed.
"Okay. I'm working on the report you asked me to compile....the antibiotic audit section. You said I should flag any unjustified extension after sensitivity confirmation. I'm not sure whether I should base it solely on resistance, or if I should also consider clinical judgment."
Yibo listened quietly. Zhan's voice flowed into his ears, softened by the distance and the phone speaker, and somehow made the moment feel calmer. By the time Zhan finished speaking, Yibo remained silent for a few seconds, replaying every word in his mind before replying slowly.
"You called me at this hour just to ask about antibiotic resistance criteria, Zhan?"
Zhan's voice came back even softer than before, enough that Yibo shifted slightly.
"I didn't want to assume, sir… and you said it was important."
Yibo let out a short, almost amused breath.
"I can hang up if this is a bad time," Zhan added politely.
"No," Yibo said immediately, then softened his tone. "It's not."
He adjusted his position again, rubbing his neck as he explained,
"If the patient was clinically improving and the lab results were delayed, the extension might be justified. But if resistance was confirmed and the drug wasn't changed within six to eight hours....that's an error. Make a note of it."
As he finished, he heard Zhan say,
"Okay, sir. Thank you very much."
Before Zhan realized it, Yibo called out quickly, sensing the call was about to end.
"Zhan…"
"Yes, sir?"
The sound of his voice reached Yibo again, right as the cool night air slipped beneath the blanket.
"That's all?" Yibo asked.
There was a brief pause, as if Zhan nodded before answering.
"Yes, sir. That's all."
Yibo nodded to himself.
"Thank you for calling."
Zhan was silent for a moment, then said calmly,
"Good night, sir."
Click.
The call ended. Yibo didn't know how long he lay there holding the phone before tossing it aside and adjusting his position again.
When he turned over, he realized something had changed...the heavy pressure in his chest was gone. Completely gone.
¦
¦
At exactly 9:30 p.m. that night, Nurse Saleh reviewed the prescription Zhan had written for the patient in bed four. Following the written order, he administered the injection that Zhan had personally prescribed.
At 9:55 p.m., the patient suddenly went into violent convulsions. Before the nurses on duty could reach him, he passed away.
By 10:00 p.m., the news had reached Nurse Mu Jue, who received it with unsettling excitement and thoughts of financial gain.
By 10:30 p.m., the information reached Fuyue, just as he ended a phone call and opened a message from Nurse Suchue that had come in moments earlier.
And by 7:00 a.m. the next morning, the story had spread everywhere.... that Zhan had written an incorrect prescription, and a patient had died as a result.
Thursday, 18 Dec.
2015
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛