51: Chapter 51 An Encounter at the Community Hospital

The corridor of the Community Hospital was narrow, the overhead lights flickering, the ballast emitting a faint "buzzing" sound like a small bug hiding in the ceiling. The pungent smell of disinfectant was mixed with the bitter scent of mugwort drifting from the pharmacy and the occasional aroma of traditional Chinese medicine from the wards. These scents intertwined, always making one frown as they drifted into the nose. Where the plaster had peeled off to reveal the light yellow brick underneath, years of dust were embedded in the gaps between the bricks, resembling an uncleaned cutting board used for braised food, carrying a sense of time's roughness.

Chen Jie stood at the entrance of the pharmacy clutching his prescription, his fingertips wrinkling the thin slip of paper. The strap of his canvas backpack was damp with late-summer sweat, feeling stuffy against his back. Inside the bag was the antihypertensive medication for Grandma Zhang—the box was light brown and covered in dense text—along with half a bag of braised dried tofu that Wang Lei had stuffed inside. The tofu was marinated perfectly, its salty fragrance seeping through the canvas fabric and mingling with the scent of the medicine, creating a strange sense of comfort, reminiscent of the way his mother used to pair medicine with candy when he was a child.

"Master Chen?"

A familiar voice reached his ears, and as Chen Jie turned, he bumped into Lin Wanqiu pushing a treatment cart from the other end of the corridor. The hem of her white coat swept across the smooth tiled floor, stirring up a cool breeze that carried a hint of the unique disinfectant scent she always had—though it was softer than the smell in the corridor. Her mask hung around her chin, revealing her small jawline, and there was a smudge of white ointment at the corner of her mouth—likely picked up while changing a patient's dressing earlier. She caught sight of the medicine box in Chen Jie's hand, her eyebrows twitching almost imperceptibly, and her tone held a hint of familiarity: "Picking this up for Grandma Zhang? She came in to change her dressing this morning; her knee was badly swollen, and she kept telling me how comfortable the bench you fixed is, saying it's even softer than her rattan chair at home."

"Yeah, I just ran into a nurse downstairs; she said Grandma Zhang bumped her knee while out for a walk yesterday." Chen Jie tucked the medicine box into the pocket of his work pants, his fingertips brushing against the rough surface of the paper box, which felt slightly abrasive. "Are you... just finished?" His gaze fell on the treatment cart—the transparent tray held needles, alcohol-soaked cotton, and a few tubes of ointment. He suddenly recalled the sight of her rubbing her ankle when he bumped into her at the alley entrance last night. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he lowered his voice slightly: "That injury... it didn't keep you from coming to work, did it?"

"It's been fine for a while now; just a minor sprain. A bandage was all it needed." Lin Wanqiu shifted the treatment cart to the side to make way for a nursing assistant pushing a hospital bed. The cart's wheels let out a "creak" against the floor, like an old, rusted door hinge. "You're quite thoughtful to remember to bring medicine for Grandma Zhang. Her children are both out of town, and she relies on your help quite a bit." Her gaze landed on Chen Jie's bulging backpack, and she suddenly chuckled, her eyes curving into crescents. "Did Wang Lei stuff you with good things again? I just caught a whiff of braised food—the kind with cinnamon."

Chen Jie's ears flushed a bright red, as if scorched by the corridor's fluorescent lights. He quickly glanced toward the end of the hall—a "Health Guide" poster hung there, its corners curled, offering a temporary way to avoid her gaze. "He insisted I try his freshly braised dried tofu, saying he added cinnamon this time, so it's more fragrant than the last batch..." He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that Lin Wanqiu had a sensitive stomach and that while cinnamon was fragrant, it could be a bit harsh. He hurriedly added, "I didn't eat much, just tasted two pieces. The rest... I'll take it to Zhao Kai later; he loves this stuff."

"I'm just teasing you. I never said you couldn't eat it." Lin Wanqiu bent over to tidy the cotton swabs in the treatment tray. Her dark hair fell forward, brushing against the faint blue veins on the back of her hand like a soft feather. "By the way, Grandma Zhang's knee needs a cold compress. When you get back, find a plastic bag to put ice cubes in, and remember to wrap it in a towel before applying it—just like when you fix a bicycle chain, don't put the ice directly against her skin. It'll be like 'metal on metal,' and when it gets painfully cold, she'll blame you for making a mess of things." She deliberately mimicked Grandma Zhang's tone, teasing him, and Chen Jie couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth lift.

"I know, I'll remember." Chen Jie took a half-step back, not paying attention to the bulletin board behind him. His back hit the metal surface with a dull "thump." He quickly straightened up, his ear tips turning even redder, only to see Lin Wanqiu staring at his hand—the thin calluses on the web of his hand shone pale white under the fluorescent lights. They were hardened patches from years of gripping wrenches and turning screws. In the light, they looked like a piece of unpolished jade stone, exuding a sense of steadfast reliability.

"Your hands..." Lin Wanqiu's fingertips paused on the edge of the treatment tray, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Are these all from fixing things? Last time I saw you repairing a fan for Chen Yang, your hand was steadier than a wrench when you were turning the screws—not a single tremor."

"Yeah, I'm used to it. It's been over a decade; the calluses have been there for a long time." Chen Jie felt a bit embarrassed. He spat into his palm and rubbed it against his work pants, as if wiping away non-existent grease, trying to hide his awkwardness. "It's more substantial than twisting bottle caps. Twisting bottle caps takes no effort, but fixing things gives you a sense of accomplishment." He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth—they sounded even clumsier than the inaccurate old grandfather clock at Grandma Zhang's house. Who compares repairing things to twisting bottle caps?

Fortunately, Lin Wanqiu didn't dwell on it. She simply placed the last cotton swab neatly into the tray and closed the lid. "I have to go change the dressing for the gentleman in Bed 3; he's waiting. You should hurry and get that medicine to Grandma Zhang, too—don't keep the old lady waiting." She turned to push the treatment cart away, but after just two steps, she suddenly stopped. She looked back at Chen Jie and added, "By the way, about that braised food... using less star anise really is better for the stomach. If you make it again, you could try substituting it with bay leaves. It's just as fragrant and won't be as irritating."

Chen Jie stood where he was until the shadow of the treatment cart turned the corner of the corridor and vanished from sight. Only then did he slowly begin to move. The medicine box in his pocket pressed against his waist, feeling slightly heavy, but the braised dried tofu in his backpack seemed to be radiating heat, with even the canvas feeling warm to the touch. He raised his hand to touch the calluses on the web of his hand; they still held the lingering warmth of Lin Wanqiu's gaze—warm, even warmer than the braising sauce fresh off the stove. He took a deep breath and suddenly felt that the pungent smell of disinfectant in the hospital didn't seem so unpleasant anymore; instead, it was mixed with a faint, reassuring scent.