At the end of July, during the peak of summer, the sun blazed fiercely, and the ground steamed with heat waves. A sudden scream came from inside the house, startling a cat hiding under the camphor tree by the window into leaping up in fright.
“It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”
The child cried out, mouth wide open, his chubby, fair little hand smeared with blood, which looked even more striking against his short-sleeved shirt.
Where was this happening? At the Hongjiang City People’s Hospital.
Su Xuezhen, clad in a white coat, carefully examined the boy’s wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the flesh inside had already started to gape open slightly—it looked shocking. She turned to the parent beside her and asked, “What happened?”
The man held the child tightly to stop him from moving, a guilty expression on his face. “Well, it’s summer and the grass in the yard was growing too fast. We used a sickle to clear it yesterday and forgot to clean up one sharp root. The kid happened to trip while running in the yard and hit it right on the forehead.”
Su Xuezhen’s voice was calm, gentle yet firm: “He needs stitches.”
As soon as she said this, the boy burst into loud sobs and flailed his legs, trying to get down from the examination table. “No, no! I don’t want a shot!”
“It’s that bad? But it doesn’t seem to be bleeding that much anymore. Can’t you just prescribe some medicine and bandage it up?”
The man was stunned as well. The wound was on the forehead, and he hesitated. “It’s on his face… If it leaves a scar, it’ll look really bad. He’s still so young.”
“The wound is already nearly a centimeter wide, and it’s not shallow. At this level, if we don’t stitch it, it’ll still leave a scar and won’t heal properly on its own. Plus, little kids move around a lot. If he gets too active and it starts bleeding again or gets infected, that’ll be even harder to deal with.”
Su Xuezhen’s tone was firm. The man looked at his still-crying child, then at her, and finally relented. “We’ll do as you say.”
“Hold him tight so he doesn’t move. It won’t take long.”
Stitches aren’t painful for adults and can be endured, but for a child, it’s not easy. Su Xuezhen looked at the child—who was resisting with all his might, shaking his head despite having half his body restrained—and felt mostly sympathy. She tilted her head slightly and pointed to the ceiling of the operating room. “Look, what’s that up there?”
The child was lying face-up. With her cue, he glanced at the ceiling, and the next moment he exclaimed with delight, “It’s a little bunny!”
“What’s the bunny doing?”
While the boy’s attention was on the colorful mural painted above, Su Xuezhen quickly disinfected the area and administered a local anesthetic. The moment the needle went in, the child screamed, but fortunately the man held him tightly.
As the anesthesia began to take effect, the boy gradually calmed down. Su Xuezhen immediately began stitching the wound. Her hands moved swiftly as she gently chatted with him, “Do you like bunnies?”
“I do!”
“What do rabbits like to eat?”
“They like carrots! I like them too!”
“Auntie likes them as well.”
His forehead felt cool, and even the slight stinging pain was forgotten in the middle of their conversation. The boy was very happy—it was rare to have an adult talk to him about things he liked. “Auntie, we both like carrots!”
The man looked surprised, watching the two of them chat back and forth. His son had stopped struggling altogether—he had no idea his child could be this well-behaved when he wasn’t asleep.
Su Xuezhen had gotten into medical school through the worker-peasant-soldier admission policy, graduating from a 3+1 program. Her stitching skills were exceptional. By the time their conversation ended, she had finished suturing. After bandaging the wound, she smiled and patted the boy’s shoulder, “All done. You can get up now.”
“Make sure to protect your head well when you get home.”
Caught between still wanting to talk and being surprised that the stitching was already over, the boy looked dazed as he got off the examination table, staring blankly at her.
Although the stitches were done, there was still one painful shot to go. Su Xuezhen gently reminded them of a few precautions: “Keep the wound clean. Avoid spicy, greasy, or cold foods. Come back in a week to get the stitches removed.”
The man looked at the child’s forehead and thanked her repeatedly. Just then, Nurse Wei Juan came in holding a syringe. “Dr. Su, the skin test results are back—no allergic reaction.”
Su Xuezhen nodded and instructed the father, “Hold the child.”
This time, there was no way to use gentle tactics. Ignoring the boy’s loud cries, Su Xuezhen efficiently administered the tetanus shot. The boy cried his heart out, his big tearful eyes filled with betrayal as he looked at her—he felt thoroughly deceived.
Weren’t they supposed to be carrot-loving friends?
Su Xuezhen chuckled, patted his head, and said to the father, “It’s all done. Just be extra careful when you get home.”
The man left, carrying the child.
That was the last patient of the day in the outpatient clinic. By then it was lunch time. There were only two pediatricians in the department; Director Ling Yurong had gone out for an exchange program, leaving only Su Xuezhen and two nurses—Wei Juan and Lü Ziyue.
Someone still had to stay behind during meal times in case of emergencies. Today was Lü Ziyue’s turn, so Su Xuezhen and Wei Juan went to the hospital cafeteria together.
“Wonder what the cafeteria is serving today.”
Wei Juan chatted as they walked, lowering her voice mysteriously, “Oh right, did you go see Dr. Ling yet?”
“Not yet. I haven’t had time these past two days. I’ll go after lunch for a check-up.”
Su Xuezhen knew what she was referring to. At that thought, her right hand instinctively touched her belly. Her peach blossom eyes—big, bright, and clear—paired with her soft, dewy skin, made her look radiant.
Wei Juan was five years older. After returning from rural work, she had been assigned to the pediatrics department as a nurse. She’d just had a daughter last year. At the hospital, she listened to crying children all day, and at home, her daughter Zhenzhen drove her crazy. She couldn’t help but sigh, “Giving birth is hard, raising them is even harder. Ever since she was born, my dark circles haven’t gone away.”
“Kids really shouldn’t be spoiled. My husband’s spoiled ours so much she can’t be left alone. The moment we set her on the bed, she wails like she’s been thrown.”
Su Xuezhen thought about it and felt a bit of a headache too.
Wei Juan snorted and added, “But honestly, you two have been married for over a year—it’s about time for a baby.”
“When I first started the job, I wasn’t familiar with the work, and I figured I’d be too busy, so we didn’t think about having kids then.”
Su Xuezhen had gotten married relatively late. Medical school took an extra year compared to other majors and had a heavier workload. By the time she graduated, she was already 22. When they took graduation photos, quite a few classmates already had kids in their arms—she was considered late in terms of marriage among her peers.
She was also good-looking, an only daughter in the family. Naturally, once she went to university, she had no shortage of suitors. As a young girl, her idea of love was a bit too dreamy—she fell for sweet talk. She ended up dating a clinical medicine student. Near graduation, he went to meet her parents but felt she had it too easy at home and was too pampered to endure hardship—so he broke up with her.
Quite laughable, really.
After graduation, Su Xuezhen was assigned to the People’s Hospital. Only then did marriage come onto the agenda. Through an introduction, she met her current husband, Cen Bai.
Cen Bai’s younger aunt was her mother’s elementary school classmate. Though he looked stern, he was kind-hearted. He wasn’t great with words, but he was caring and sincere.
They dated for half a year before getting married, and after marriage, Su Xuezhen felt even more pampered by him.
As they chatted, they soon arrived at the hospital cafeteria. It was already half full—four or five tables taken. The space was large, with two big ceiling fans in the center. Long cloth streamers hung from the fan blades, fluttering as the fans spun.
Everyone huddled under the fans. The sound of conversations overlapped, creating a lively atmosphere.
There were no seats nearby. As Su Xuezhen carried her tray to get food, the cafeteria server, Sister Zhao—whose grandson had previously seen her for a diarrhea issue—recognized her. Scooping up a large spoonful of ribs, she said, “Dr. Su, over here.”
“Thanks, Sister Zhao.”
Su Xuezhen accepted it with a smile and added a serving of vinegar-cooked cabbage.
Today’s soup was mung bean soup. Settling for the closest available seat to the fan, she sat down. At the same table was OB-GYN doctor Ling Yao, who, seeing the pile of ribs on her plate, looked envious: “Sister Zhao really favors you, huh.”
“Pediatrics is too popular,”
Wei Juan joined them after finishing her own meal, just in time to hear that. She laughed, “Don’t even say that. It’s a curse to work in pediatrics. Just last month the hospital director criticized our department for bad service.”
Though she was replying to Ling Yao, the real target of her sarcasm was the director.
Ling Yao was just joking—everyone knew pediatrics was the toughest department. Not only did they have to deal with tiny patients, but also with their entire families hovering over them. She didn’t say another word and quietly sipped her soup.
“The director knows full well what it’s like in pediatrics. We’re used to getting scolded at every meeting.”
Su Xuezhen picked up her enamel bowl and took a sip of mung bean soup. “Do you have time after lunch? I need to get an ultrasound.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll wait for you.”
Ling Yao nodded in agreement. She didn’t leave right after lunch—wanting to go with Su Xuezhen. The ribs were deep-fried in hot oil and coated with flour—glistening and greasy. She was a bit surprised that Su Xuezhen hadn’t started having morning sickness yet. She lowered her voice and asked, “Still no morning sickness?”
“It’s not too bad—probably still early, so it’s not that serious.”
She was hungry, yes, but eating too much at once made her feel a bit queasy. That uncomfortable feeling in her stomach started to rise. Su Xuezhen quickly took a bite of vinegar-cooked cabbage to cut the greasiness. “Mostly, I was just too hungry.”
Wei Juan, having been through it herself, smiled and advised her, “This is exactly the time to eat—when you’re hungry, eat.”
“Yeah, who knows how much it’ll torment me later on.”
Su Xuezhen took another bite of rib. At home, Cen Bai ate quickly, and being around him had rubbed off on her—she had picked up the habit over time. It didn’t take long for her to finish her lunch, and afterward, she went with Ling Yao to the OB-GYN department to do the ultrasound.
For ultrasounds in the first two months of pregnancy, a full bladder is necessary. That bowl of mung bean soup from earlier turned out to be just right for the test. Lying on the examination chair, Su Xuezhen lifted her shirt, her heart slightly anxious. After all, it was still just a suspicion up to this point—she didn’t want to get excited for nothing.
“Pregnancy isn’t easy—you’re going to have a hard time ahead.”
Ling Yao wasn’t married yet. Watching Su Xuezhen stirred up complex feelings in her. No one knew better than she did how tough pregnancy could be. Especially for someone like Su Xuezhen, a doctor—right now her belly wasn’t showing, so it was manageable. But once she hit six or seven months, staying on the front lines of medical work would be truly exhausting. And this was just the beginning—there was still childbirth and child-rearing ahead.
Su Xuezhen was afraid too, of course. But this decision had been made after careful discussion between her and Cen Bai. She didn’t regret it.
Ling Yao applied coupling gel to her belly and slowly moved the abdominal probe. Su Xuezhen turned her head to watch the screen as well. As time passed, the image of her uterus gradually became clearer. The gestational sac was clearly visible, and inside it, the yolk sac.
“Congratulations.”
Ling Yao smiled. “You’re going to be a mom.”
Su Xuezhen’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the little life on the screen. A sense of responsibility surged up from within.
