49: Chapter 49 Lin Wanqiu's Night Shift

The streetlights in the Old neighborhood had just cast a dim, yellow glow, and the ballast emitted a faint "buzzing" sound, like a small insect hidden inside the lamp post.

Locust tree leaves fluttered down within the lamplight; some spiraled into the metal cabinet of Wang Leis Braised Food Stall, while others landed on Chen Jie's overalls, looking like scattered fragments of silver.

Chen Jie was bent over, arranging freshly braised pig ears in the freezer of Wang Leis Braised Food Stall—each piece was sliced to an even thickness, coated in a dark brown braising liquid, and so glossy it reflected the lamplight. The "clatter" of plastic containers hitting the freezer walls, mixed with the sound of a wrench tapping from Brother Li's repair stall in the distance, wove into a loose thread in the evening breeze, exuding the liveliness of the neighborhood.

The wild chrysanthemums at the base of the wall were in full bloom, their yellow and white petals dotted with night dew, glistening brightly. Their fragrance slipped into the freezer with the wind, intertwining with the rich, savory scent of the braising spices and meat, making even the cold air inside the freezer carry a hint of warmth.

Wang Lei squatted nearby, counting loose change; the coins "clinked" in the metal box. He looked up from time to time to chat with Chen Jie: "These pig ears are braised to perfection tonight. Leave two boxes for Grandma Zhang later; the old lady loves this."

Suddenly, a bicycle bell rang out, a crisp "ring-a-ling" like ice cubes tapping against an enamel mug, standing out distinctly in the quiet alley.

When Chen Jie turned back, his brows twitched almost imperceptibly—it was Lin Wanqiu. She stood at the entrance of the alley, pushing a semi-old roadster bicycle, a white canvas bag hanging from the handlebars, likely containing things she needed for her night shift.

She hadn't changed out of her white coat yet, and the hem carried a faint scent of disinfectant. The evening breeze lifted it gently, brushing against a locust leaf that had fallen on the bicycle seat, causing it to roll over.

A energy-saving lightbulb was lit in the community bulletin board behind her, the light diffusing through the dusty glass, casting a soft, fuzzy halo atop her hair, making even the stray hairs at her temples clearly visible.

"Off work?" Chen Jie straightened up, wiping the back of his hand against his overalls—the braising liquid from arranging the pig ears hadn't dried yet, leaving a sticky sensation on his fingertips.

He deliberately avoided her gaze, his eyes falling on the canvas bag at his feet—the zipper wasn't fully closed, revealing half of a dark green jade stone, which shimmered with a cold light under the streetlamp. The green was very deep, even more intense than the Laba garlic Wang Lei had soaking in a glass jar nearby.

His lips were pursed, as serious as when he was fixing things, but when she approached, he still quietly moved half a step to the side to make more room for her, afraid it would be difficult for her to pass with the bicycle.

"Yes, I'm on emergency duty tonight. I just grabbed a few things from home."

Lin Wanqiu leaned her bicycle against the nearby plane tree. The moment the lock "clicked" shut, she suddenly hissed, her brows furrowing as she lowered her head to rub her right ankle. The hem of her white coat fell, obscuring her movements.

Chen Jie's gaze darkened abruptly, as if pulled by something. His feet moved faster than his brain, and he quickly dragged a folding stool from behind the braised food stall.

The legs of the stool scratched a white mark into the cement ground covered with fallen leaves, startling a cricket in the pile of leaves. The cricket "chirped" and darted into a crack in the wall, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Wang Lei, lend me a bottle of iodine and a pack of cotton swabs." His tone sounded no different than usual, but his ears were quietly turning red, as if baked by the streetlamp.

Lin Wanqiu just wanted to wave her hand and say, "No need, I just twisted it, it's nothing," when her ankle was gently supported by Chen Jie.

His fingertips carried a scent mixed with machine oil and braising spices—the bitter tang of the oil and the fragrance of the spices, which, when combined, were surprisingly not unpleasant.

His touch was very light, as if handling fragile glassware, for fear of hurting her.

When the iodine-soaked swab brushed over the red, swollen area on her ankle, Lin Wanqiu couldn't help but flinch. Chen Jie's eyelashes trembled, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and he whispered: "Bear with it, just a second. It's like repairing a bicycle chain; if you don't disinfect it, it's easy for it to 'rust,' and then it will hurt even more."

While saying this, he kept his eyes fixed on her white sneakers—the edges were stained with a bit of mud, picked up while at work during the day. He didn't dare look up, afraid of meeting her eyes and revealing the panic he had nowhere to hide.

The wind swirled a locust leaf past her white coat, bringing a bitter scent of disinfectant mixed with wild chrysanthemums, and within that scent hid a faint, minty fragrance unique to her.

"You have quite the philosophy when it comes to fixing things, even managing to relate disinfection to bicycle repair." She smiled as she looked at his focused profile, her voice soft, like the evening breeze brushing over the water's surface.

Chen Jie, however, acted as if he had been scalded; the pressure of his fingertips loosened for a split second before he hurriedly steadied them. His ears turned even redder, like sheet metal baked by a streetlamp, and even his neck flushed with a faint red.

Afraid that his trembling hands would hurt her, he quietly channeled a bit of Qi into his fingertips—the warm current flowed along his fingertips to her ankle, like a layer of thin gauze wrapping the swollen area, quietly alleviating some of the pain. This was the most subtle care he could think of.

Chen Jie didn't answer; he just made his movements even lighter while applying the adhesive bandage to the wound.

He kept his eyes lowered, the stray hair on his forehead resting on his brow bone, obscuring the emotions in his eyes; only his tightly pursed lips revealed a hint of discomfort.

Next to them, Wang Lei's braised food stall was closing up. Amidst the "clatter" of the metal rolling shutter being pulled down, the siren of an ambulance came from the distance, growing louder then fading away; it was probably taking a patient to the big hospital.

Not until the sound of the siren was completely gone did he slowly loosen his hand holding the bandage wrapper; his knuckles still bore faint white marks from having gripped it too tightly.

"All done. Try not to bump it, and avoid getting it wet." He let go and moved to the side, almost pressing against the freezer; the cold air from the freezer hitting his arm was the only thing that cooled his burning skin.

"Tie your shoelaces tighter, like adjusting bicycle brakes. If they're loose, it's easy to have mishaps, and your walking won't be steady." After saying this, he quickly turned his head, pretending to study the remaining pig ears in the freezer, but his shoulders were tensed straight. He didn't even react when Wang Lei nudged him with an elbow; his mind had already drifted elsewhere.

When Lin Wanqiu lowered her head to tie her shoelaces, a faint scent of mint drifted from her hair—the smell of the shampoo she used.

Her fingers paused on the shoelace knot, and suddenly she looked up, watching Chen Jie's back as she said, "By the way, that braised food recipe you mentioned last time, could you... could you write one out for me? I want to try making it for my mom this weekend."

"I'll write it on paper for you tomorrow, I promise it'll be clear." Chen Jie abruptly interrupted her, his voice half a pitch higher than usual, sounding a bit flustered.

Cold mist puffed out from the freezer, hitting his face, which finally cooled his burning cheeks a little.

He quickly took a glass jar out of the freezer and started packing it with braised chicken feet, his fingertips trembling, afraid that if he waited another second, his voice would shake.

"Use less star anise, your stomach isn't good, swap it for bay leaves. Keep the heat low when stewing, and don't make it too oily." He added, reciting every precaution he could think of, as if afraid she would forget.

Behind him came the sound of a bicycle bell, "ring-a-ling," the same crisp sound as before.

Chen Jie didn't turn back, but his shoulders slumped half an inch, like a deflated tire. His heart felt a bit empty, yet also a bit sweet.

Not until the bell faded away did he slowly turn around. The flush on his face hadn't completely faded, but he smiled at the empty alley. The smile reached the corners of his eyes, creating fine wrinkles, like icicles melted by the sun—very gentle.

Wang Lei had already hooked the rolling shutter door with an iron hook, locked it with a "click," and walked over to Chen Jie, patting him on the shoulder: "What are you smiling like a fool for? She's already long gone; she can't see you even if you keep smiling."

"I'm not smiling like a fool, I just think the braised food is quite fragrant tonight." Chen Jie was stubborn, stuffing a piece of freshly sliced braised liver into his mouth. The fragrance of the braising liquid spread in his mouth, though it tasted a bit bitter, yet he couldn't help but smile again.

His fingertips paused on the slip of paper at the bottom of the glass jar—when he was packing the braised chicken feet earlier, he had deliberately pressed a note to the bottom of the jar, on which he had written, "Heat it up before eating, cold food is bad for your stomach." Now, he traced those crooked characters once more, afraid she wouldn't be able to see them clearly.

The night wind blew through the tops of the plane trees, creating a rustling sound of leaves, as if they were whispering secrets.

Chen Jie carried the jar of braised chicken feet toward the Community Hospital. The canvas bag swayed gently behind him, the jade stone inside pressing against his waist, but he didn't feel it was heavy.

Moonlight leaked down from the cracks in the clouds, spreading a layer of thin frost on the ground; stepping on it felt like stepping on fragments of silver.

He looked down at the glass jar in his hand; the chicken feet inside gleamed with an oily shine. He suddenly raised his hand to touch his face, and the temperature of his fingertips was so hot that even he was stunned. Then he laughed out loud in a low voice, like a child who had stolen a piece of candy, his joy impossible to hide.