Since the arrival of the "One Two Three Four Splash," Cheng Boyan’s alarm clock had retired.

In the morning, Cheng Boyan woke up to the heart-wrenching cries of the splashes. He stretched, got out of bed, walked to the window, pulled the curtain back, and with a hand gesture, mimed shooting a gun, then made four "bangs" toward the window opposite. After that, he turned around to wash up.

While brushing his teeth, Old mom called. Cheng Boyan answered and put the phone on speaker.

"Are you up?" Old mom asked.

"Mm, brushing my teeth," Cheng Boyan replied, his mouth full of toothpaste foam.

"Open the window and air it out. It’s been shut all night," Old mom vinstructed him, "Today, the air quality index is excellent."

"Oh," Cheng Boyan looked outside. The sky was a bit cloudy, the snow was still falling, and it was terribly cold, but he still opened the window as he was instructed.

The window here was parallel to the bedroom window. As soon as he opened it, the cries of the parrots from the building across became louder.

"Are you making soy milk?" Old mom asked, a little surprised, "The soy milk machine doesn't seem to be of good quality, is it making that noise? Be careful, it might explode."

"I haven’t bought a soy milk machine," Cheng Boyan spat out the toothpaste foam, "It’s the parrots from across the building."

"It’s too noisy..." Old mom sighed and then raised her voice, "Didn’t I tell you to buy a soy milk machine? I’ve been saying it for a month now. You need a balanced diet. Breakfast is very important..."

"I’ll buy it after work today," Cheng Boyan quickly said, "I promise, I’ll get it after work."

"If you're busy, I’ll just buy one and bring it over. Yesterday, your aunt gave me some fresh Dendrobium (NT: a type of herb used for nourishing the body and supporting immunity), I’ll bring that over for you too." Old mom said.

"Why would I need that?" Cheng Boyan sighed.

"To boost your immunity. You’re always working so much, your life is so irregular, staying up late and getting up early. Eating a bit every day is good for your health..."

"I know," Cheng Boyan interrupted Old mom. Having a nutritionist at home felt hard to describe, "I’ll pick it up after work today. You don’t need to come."

"You're worried that I’ll see your place is all messy, aren't you?" Old mom laughed.

Actually, Cheng Boyan felt that, compared to other single men, his situation was quite rare.

Thanks to his Old mom’s obsessive-compulsive disorder, his room was exceptionally clean and tidy, spotless. Upon entering, he disinfected his hands, his clothes were stored separately in a wardrobe, and unless absolutely necessary, he didn’t order takeout. He usually ate meals based on his Old mom’s various nutritional recipes, using his culinary skills that were almost like those of a "toxic chef" to make somewhat terrifying food...

After breakfast, Cheng Boyan left the house. The breakfast was a pot of mixed bean porridge made from various beans and coix seed. It was highly nutritious, but ... the taste was... well, the flavor of food cooked with his skills was somewhat lingering and hard to forget.

Cheng Boyan spent the morning in the inpatient department and had outpatient consultations in the afternoon. His schedule was quite tight.

As he passed by the restroom, he ran into Dr. Li from the radiology department. After greeting him, Dr. Li stopped him and said, "Xiao Cheng, didn’t you say there was a patient with a fracture coming in for an X-ray yesterday? Why didn’t they show up?"

"Huh?" Cheng Boyan was taken aback. "Didn't he come? The injury seemed pretty severe, I thought they might need to be hospitalized."

"Yeah, didn’t come. The three who came later weren’t fractures," Dr. Li said.

Was it really a scam?

Cheng Boyan suddenly felt a bit depressed. These days, scammers were getting more and more professional—getting injured and then quickly heading out to find their "victim," probably having already tried to scam a few people before coming to the hospital. In the end, they managed to get through the hospital without treatment...

He remembered the confused and innocent look on Zhan Hongtu's face, and that obedient "brother" he called out with an almost clever tone—good acting!

Zhan Hongtu, huh? Let’s reveal Zhan Hongtu’s ambitious schemes as a fraudster!

Though he was annoyed, Cheng Boyan couldn’t help but think about it when he changed clothes and went to the ward—more precisely, he was thinking about the injury Zhan Hongtu had.

He wasn’t sure how long a typical "scammer's" workday lasted. A simple fibula (NT: thinner of the two long bones in the lower leg, located alongside the tibia) fracture wasn’t hard to recover from, but if you kept dragging your leg around, jumping and bumping into things, the bones could easily displace with time, and that would be a bigger issue.

"Good morning, Dr. Cheng." Someone called out to him.

Cheng Boyan turned to see a young girl leaning against the bed in the ward, greeting him. She was 17 and had been admitted for a week.

"Good morning," he smiled and walked over. "How are you feeling today?"

"It still hurts," the girl furrowed her brows and pointed to her upper leg, "Is it bone cancer?"

"We can’t confirm that until tomorrow’s biopsy," Cheng Boyan looked at her and said, "Just rest well. What time will your mom be here?"

"She’s already here, went to buy some magazines for me," the girl said with a smile, then lowered her eyes. "Dr. Cheng."

"Hm?" Cheng Boyan looked at the Totoro plush on her bedside table.

"It’s probably bone cancer," the girl lifted her head and waved her phone. "I looked it up. It seems very similar."

Cheng Boyan felt a tug at his heart, bent down, took the phone from her, and placed it on the bedside table, smiling as he said, "If you can figure it out yourself, why bother with a doctor? Just rest. Dr. Liang will talk to you today. He’s very experienced, don’t worry."

The girl smiled and nodded, and didn’t say anything more.

The attending physician’s notes in the patient’s medical record read:

"Primary consideration: osteosarcoma at the lower end of the left femur. Complete all necessary pre-surgical tests and preparations. A biopsy of the tumor at the lower segment of the left femur is scheduled to confirm the diagnosis."

(NT: Osteosarcoma is a type of aggressive bone cancer that typically originates in the cells that form bones, most commonly in the long bones.)

Osteosarcoma — this was the name of the first malignant tumor Cheng Boyan had ever encountered, and it was the one that left the deepest impression on him.

Every time he saw this word, he felt a pang in his chest.

After completing the rounds with the chief physician, reporting, writing medical records, and speaking to several patients, it was almost noon. Cheng Boyan felt a bit of swelling in his calves, so he sat down on a chair, raised his legs, and moved them around a little.

At mealtime, he ate quite a bit. He felt that the meals he enjoyed the most every day were the ones from the hospital cafeteria. Compared to the food he made himself, it was like a feast.

He casually rested for twenty minutes at lunch and then got busy again. It wasn’t until just before the end of his shift that Cheng Boyan took a moment to check the message he had received two hours earlier on his phone.

"Leave some time this weekend for the gathering."

It was a message about a class reunion, from his small high school circle—seven or eight people, once a year, always on time.

They had started making plans early this year. Next up would be a series of gatherings: relatives, friends, and classmates, some coming back from out of town, others going back to their hometowns.

Eat, eat, eat. Drink, drink, drink.

Get fatter, fatter, fatter.

He wanted to reply quickly but, feeling dizzy and light-headed, he accidentally clicked delete. Just as he was about to reply again, the next patient entered the consultation room.

"Doctor," a man in his forties came in, supporting his waist as he sat down and placed an X-ray and medical record on Cheng Boyan's desk. "I came here before, can you take a look at this X-ray?"

"Let me see." Cheng Boyan grabbed a small lumbar cushion from the side and placed it behind the man.

"I was carrying a basin of water yesterday, sneezed, and stretched, and it hurt so much that my leg hurt too, and I couldn’t move," the man explained again.

"Well, as you can see, your lumbar spine discs between L3 and L5 are protruding, you have a herniated disc, and the leg pain is probably caused by nerve compression..." Cheng Boyan explained.

"So, what should I do? Do I need surgery?" The man asked, frowning.

"Your condition doesn’t require surgery..." Cheng Boyan shook his head. "You should go to our physical therapy department for treatment."

"No surgery?" The man seemed disappointed.

"Why, do you want surgery?" Cheng Boyan smiled.

"If I have surgery, they’ll have to take care of me," the man clicked his tongue. "I can enjoy it a bit."

"Just for that, huh?" Cheng Boyan said while writing in the medical record. "When you go to physical therapy, tell them the doctor said: car service to and from, no work, just eat and drink well, and be taken care of."

"Alright! I’ll say that!" The man slapped his leg.

"Don’t move so violently. Take it easy, go slow," Cheng Boyan advised.

After the man left, Cheng Boyan checked the time. He stood up, stretched a bit, then looked outside the consultation room. There were no more patients.

It was time to leave work.

He changed his clothes, drank a large cup of cold water, and walked out of the consultation room.

As soon as he stepped out of the hospital gate, snowflakes started falling from the sky. Cheng Boyan pulled his scarf tighter and jogged into the parking lot.

The radio in the car sadly announced that the road home was backed up for nearly a kilometer.

He thought for a moment, then turned onto a different road, taking a detour to his grandmother’s place to avoid the traffic.

The whole way, he listened to the radio, while his mind wandered, thinking about what to have for dinner.

He was a bit tired today and didn’t want to cook when he got home.

Beef noodles? Barbecued pork rice? Mixed bean porridge? No, he just had mixed bean porridge this morning... Single-serving spicy hot pot? Sour and spicy noodles? Mixed bean porridge again? Why mixed bean porridge again, it’s so awful... Zhajiang noodles? Stewed pancake? Mixed... bean porridge? Mixed bean porridge? Mixed bean porridge? Mixed...

"Hey!" Cheng Boyan slapped the steering wheel in frustration. It was like a mental loop, once it started, it couldn’t stop—his mind was full of mixed bean porridge.

There was a car blocking the way ahead. While he waited, Cheng Boyan took out his phone and dialed his grandma’s number. “Grandma, have you eaten?”

“Yes, I have!” his grandma’s loud voice responded. “Are you off work now? Don’t have a place to eat, do you? Come over and let grandma cook for you!”

“I should be there in about half an hour,” Cheng Boyan said with a smile, glancing ahead. It didn’t look like a normal traffic jam; there was a crowd of people up front.

After hanging up, he got out of the car and walked forward a few steps to see what was going on.

A red car was parked in the right lane, just in front of the crosswalk, where a group of people were shouting.

The blocked cars started piling up, with some drivers honking their horns, unaware of what was happening ahead.

Was there an accident?

Or… maybe because he was still on edge from his encounter with Zhan Hongtu, Cheng Boyan’s first thought was: did someone get hit? Was it a scam?

He wasn’t one to join the crowd or meddle in others’ business, but just as he was about to turn back to his car, a rather striking face caught his eye.

A Mohican haircut, with a bandage under the eye.

Zhan Hongtu?!

Cheng Boyan hesitated for a couple of seconds and then walked toward the scene.

Unlike the calm, obedient look he’d seen in the hospital, Zhan Hongtu now had a rebellious, impatient expression, giving off a rough vibe. With a few buddies backing him up, they didn’t look like people you’d want to mess with.

The driver, a woman in her twenties, was stuck in the middle of the group, looking visibly agitated.

With all the honking from the cars behind her, she couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled out a handful of cash from her bag, threw it in front of the men, and yelled, “Take it! Get out of the way! Just move!”

Cheng Boyan blinked in surprise. Another person harassed until she had to buy peace with cash.

He stopped and went back to his car. If he had known this woman, he might have given her a little lecture on the negative consequences of giving in to extortion and enabling such scams.

But he wasn’t interested.

Xiang Xi didn’t notice Cheng Boyan outside the crowd. After grabbing the money, they needed to make a quick exit in case the woman called the police after realizing what had happened.

He slung his arm over Mantou’s shoulder, hopped into a nearby alley, where Mantou had brought out an electric scooter. Xiang Xi sat down and patted Mantou. “Go!”

“Where to?” Mantou asked, starting the scooter. “The hospital? Didn’t Uncle Ping say you needed to go to the hospital today?”

“Internet café,” Xiang Xi replied.

“What?” Mantou turned his head. “Are you crazy?”

“I’ve been crazy for a while now. It’s not like it just started today,” Xiang Xi said, pressing the bandage by his eye. “Let’s go.”

“Xiao Zhan,” Mantou muttered, giving in and steering toward the internet café, pulling his neck down against the wind. “You’re the perfect example of someone living day by day, without ever trying to make things better.”

“How many people have you actually seen? Counting both the living and the dead, you’ve only met a handful on that one street in Wadawali (NT: colloquial expression meaning big pit, word game with the name of their street Dawa)…” Xiang Xi said. “Most of them live worse than dogs—why should I ‘make things better’?”

Mantou opened his mouth, swallowed a mouthful of cold wind, and didn’t say anything more.

*

After spending half the night at the internet café, Xiang Xi stood up and limped out, his leg aching, making it hard to even enjoy himself.

The two of them braved the late-night northern winds as they made their way back to Dawa street. At the entrance to the street, there was a large pit they had to walk around. It had been there for two or three years, and no one had bothered to fix it. Every time Xiang Xi passed it, he would study it, noting how much wider and deeper it had become, witnessing the growth of this pit.

The two of them braved the chilly midnight northern wind as they made their way back to Dawa Street. At the entrance to the street was a large pothole; they had to get off and walk around it. This pit had been there for two or three years, and no one had done anything about it. Every time Xiang Xi passed by, he would study it, noticing how much wider and deeper it had grown, witnessing its “progress.”

As usual, he took a look today. There wasn’t much change. Just as he was about to walk past, a dark shadow suddenly moved by the wall.

Xiang Xi jumped, and before he could shout, his injured leg was grabbed.

“Fuck!” he shouted, trying to pull his leg free, but the person held on tightly, and his leg hurt too much to apply any strength. “What’s wrong with you?!”

When the face emerged from the darkness, Xiang Xi recognized him as the tenant from the house next door. This guy had been living here for nearly a year, indulging in every vice—eating, drinking, gambling, drugs. Recently, his body had deteriorated so much that he didn’t even have the strength for all those vices, except for the drugs, which he clung to stubbornly.

When Mantou abandoned the scooter and came over to help, Xiang Xi slapped the guy across the face, causing him to loosen his grip and collapse onto the snow.

“Damn, what rotten luck!” Xiang Xi cursed.

“He’ll freeze to death lying out here all night,” Mantou commented.

“Let him die,” Xiang Xi said with a frown. “You think he was really ‘alive’ the way he was before?”

The next morning, when Xiang Xi woke up, he heard people chatting outside the window. That guy had indeed died.

Whether he froze, overdosed, or… was killed by that slap, no one knew, and no one cared. By noon, people would have stopped talking about it entirely.

When Xiang Xi was washing up, he scrubbed his hands thoroughly.

As he put on his coat, Uncle Ping looked over with a teapot in hand and asked, “Where are you off to?”

“The hospital,” Xiang Xi replied.

“You didn’t go yesterday?” Uncle Ping stared at him. “If the bone doesn’t set properly, people will say I didn’t take good care of you.”

“If it’s not going to set, it wouldn’t have yesterday either.” Xiang Xi opened the door.

Erpan was just about to come in when he saw Xiang Xi, and he sneered, “If it doesn’t set, so be it. You and Mantou can be cripples together.”

Xiang Xi glanced at him and smirked. “Is that the best you can do?”

Just before slamming the door shut, he overheard Erpan saying loudly to Uncle Ping, “What’s the point of keeping a troublemaker like him around? He’s bound to cause trouble sooner or later!”

Xiang Xi spat on the ground. He wasn’t afraid of Erpan. When Uncle Ping picked him up, Erpan was still off cheating and scamming somewhere else.

What did bother him a little, though, was Uncle Ping’s silence after Erpan’s comment.

The only reason Uncle Ping would stay silent was that Erpan had voiced his own thoughts.

But Xiang Xi didn’t care. He’d seen too many people come and go.

The world is huge, and there are so many people. In a life that most can’t even imagine, who would care if something happened to someone as unlikable as him?

So he didn’t care much about himself, either.

Sometimes, people just live to “exist.”

The hospital was crowded, and Xiang Xi hadn’t expected the orthopedics department to be this busy. He’d watched the silent TV on the bench and even dozed off twice before he finally heard his name.

Zhan Hongtu. Room 4.

He stood up and entered Room 4.

When Cheng Boyan looked up and saw the patient entering, he was briefly taken aback. The man smiled at him and said, “Doc, you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Not hustling today, huh?” Cheng Boyan couldn’t quite describe his feelings.

“What a thing to say,” Zhan Hongtu slumped into the chair, his voice low. “Who wants to be hustling out there in this freezing weather?”

“You’re really making a tragic story out of your little scam, aren’t you?” Cheng Boyan glanced at Zhan’s frostbitten fingers. “Roll up your pant leg, let me take a look.”

“Doc, don’t put it like that. It’s not like I want this… my dad’s sick,” Zhan Hongtu lowered his eyes and sighed softly as he slowly lifted his pant leg. “I can’t just watch him die, can I?”

 

Translator : DarNan