harleyscars Chapter 308 Lin Daiyu's Day
Chapter 308 Lin Daiyu's Day
On Sunday, Lin Yue got out of the taxi carrying a lunchbox.
The lunchbox was an old-fashioned aluminum lunchbox, the outer plastic shell was worn and scratched, with white marks on the pink background.
Afraid of spilling the soup, she wrapped the lid with several layers of plastic wrap, making sure it was tightly sealed.
She stewed the pork rib soup in a small electric pot borrowed from the cafeteria kitchen.
I went to the market before dawn to pick out pork ribs, had the vendor chop them into small pieces, blanched them three times to remove the scum, added goji berries and yam, and simmered them over low heat for the whole morning.
After it was cooked, she took a bite and thought it was too bland, so she added some salt and took another bite.
She stood in front of the meat stall at the market, looked at the spare ribs, then at the cheaper pork ribs, and finally decided to go with the spare ribs.
She stared intently at the scale as the boss weighed her, her eyes never blinking.
She got out of the car with her lunchbox, closed the door, and the taxi sped away, its exhaust fumes dissipating in the air after a couple of seconds.
She stood still and looked up.
Nanjiang City Mental Hospital.
A white sign with black lettering hangs next to the iron gate, its paint peeling off in patches, revealing rusty iron underneath.
An old man in the security booth was reading a newspaper, his reading glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, and a radio sat on the windowsill, playing opera.
It sounds like a Huangmei opera, but I can't quite make out which one.
Hearing footsteps, the old man glanced at her over the newspaper, then looked down again.
He recognized the little girl in the school uniform. She came every month, sometimes more than once. She always carried a lunchbox and was always alone.
Lin Yue stood at the door for a while.
Every time she comes, she has to stand for a while, not because she's afraid, but just to prepare.
She switched the lunchbox to her left hand, gripped it briefly with her right hand, and then switched it back.
Then he took a breath and went inside.
The path in the yard was uneven, with several cracks in the cement ground, and weeds I didn't know the names of growing in the cracks.
The holly bushes on both sides of the road were trimmed unevenly, and in some places a few wildly growing branches had sprouted.
There weren't many people in the courtyard, except for an elderly man in a hospital gown sitting motionless on a bench in the distance, staring at the ground, seemingly looking at something.
The hospital building was still that gray-white tenement building, with iron bars on the windows.
Zhao He was transferred to this hospital during the summer vacation. She comes here at least twice a month and has walked this road countless times.
Every time I walk, I feel like my feet are on soft cotton.
The smell of disinfectant in the lobby was mixed with an indescribable, oppressive atmosphere.
The fluorescent lights were on, making the floor appear white.
The nurse at the front desk was writing something with her head down. Hearing footsteps, she looked up, glanced at her, and then looked down again.
Lin Yue didn't say anything, and carried the lunchbox upstairs.
The corridor is very long.
One fluorescent light after another stretched to the horizon.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, one after another.
Pushing open the door to the ward, I found it to be a three-person room, but the other two beds were empty.
On the bed by the window, Zhao He sat up, with two pillows behind her back.
She was wearing a blue and white striped hospital gown, her hair was short and messy, with a few strands of white hair peeking out from her temples.
Her face has become much thinner, her cheekbones are more prominent, and her eye sockets are sunken.
She's only in her forties, but looks like she's in her fifties.
Hearing the door open, she turned around.
His gaze fell on Lin Yue, paused for a moment, and then looked away, as if he were looking at a stranger.
Lin Yue went in, placed the lunchbox on the bedside table, and unscrewed the lid.
She simmered the pork rib soup in a small electric pot borrowed from the cafeteria kitchen for the entire morning.
The soup was clear, with a few goji berries floating on top, and the pork ribs were stewed until tender.
She helped Zhao He sit up a little, stuffed another pillow behind her back, then sat on the edge of the bed, picked up a spoon, scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Zhao He's lips.
Zhao He didn't speak. She looked out the window at the cedar tree, its branches hanging down and blocking most of the window.
"The woman in the next bed, her husband came to see her yesterday."
Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself, "He drove a black car and parked it downstairs. The nurses all ran out to see what was going on."
Lin Yue held up her spoon, remaining silent.
Zhao He turned around and looked at her, his gaze finally focusing.
"Yueyue, you must find a rich man in the future. Don't be like your mother, foolishly believing men's words and ending up with nothing."
Lin Yue pushed the spoon forward again, "Mom, have some soup."
Zhao He opened his mouth and drank the soup.
She started talking again.
She talked about how Lin Suo had lied to her back then, saying that he was working three jobs to pay off his debts, and that people were talking behind his back and calling him a mistress.
I said it once, and then I said it again.
Lin Yue sat on the edge of the bed, feeding the baby spoonful by spoonful.
She listened without saying a word.
After feeding the child the soup, she put the lunchbox away and screwed the lid on.
Stand up, remove one of the pillows from behind Zhao He, and help her lie down.
Zhao He lay down, turned to his side, and faced the wall.
He was still muttering to himself, but his voice was getting softer and softer.
Lin Yue carried the lunchbox and walked out of the ward.
The fluorescent lights in the corridor were still very bright.
She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and went downstairs.
Lobby.
She walked to the payment window and took out her bank card from her pocket.
The card was a bit worn; she had just gotten it during the summer vacation.
There was more than two thousand yuan in it, including the advance salary from the milk tea shop, the part-time salary from the breakfast window in the cafeteria, and the five hundred yuan borrowed from Xia Rou.
She handed the card through the window.
"Zhao He, hospital fees."
The nurse took the card and swiped it on the computer. Then she looked up.
"Zhao He's fees have already been paid."
Lin Yue was stunned for a moment. "What?"
"It's been paid." The nurse handed the card back. "Someone paid for two years' worth of fees in one go, 450,000."
Lin Yue's hand was suspended in mid-air.
The bank card was handed to her by the nurse, but she didn't take it.
She stood there, her mind blank.
Four hundred and fifty thousand? Two years? Has someone already paid?
She suddenly raised her head.
Above my head, a surveillance camera was pointing directly at the payment window, its red indicator light flashing.
Lin Yue suddenly thought of something, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Could you please help me access the surveillance footage?"
Her voice trembled slightly.
The nurse glanced at her and hesitated for a moment.
Then he turned around and shouted inside.
"Sister Zhang, could you please check the surveillance footage?"
The sound of typing could be heard from inside.
After a while, the nurse turned the monitor around.
On the screen, a boy is standing in front of the payment window.
Wearing a white T-shirt and dark pants, he is tall and has his profile facing the camera.
He was casually taking his bank card out of his pocket, as if he were buying a cup of milk tea.
He then handed the card to the window, entered the PIN, and received the receipt.
He glanced down at it, folded it neatly, stuffed it into his pocket, turned around, and walked out.
His pace was neither too fast nor too slow.
Lin Yue watched that figure from behind, her fingers gripping the edge of the windowsill.
Song Huan.
She recognized him.
She recognized that figure all too well.
In junior high school, he sat in front of her, and she looked at his back every day.
He walks with his back very straight, his shoulders slightly pulled back, and his pace neither too fast nor too slow.
Sometimes he would fall asleep on his desk during class, with a tuft of hair sticking up from the back of his head that he couldn't get down no matter how hard he tried.
She stood there, the fluorescent lights humming.
The nurse turned the monitor back and said something, but she didn't hear it.
She lowered her head, still clutching the bank card in her hand.
She put the card back in her pocket, picked up the lunchbox, turned around, walked towards the door, and left the inpatient department.
The cedar branches swayed gently in the wind.
The sunlight shone down and fell on her face.
She stood on the steps, motionless.
The lunchbox felt heavy in my hand.
450,000.
He didn't even tell her.
Last time in the cafeteria, he said, "If you really have any difficulties, I can help you."
But she refused.
She didn't want him to feel that she was friends with him only because he helped her.
So he stopped talking.
I went straight to pay 450,000.
She stood there, the wind blowing, scattering stray hairs across her face.
She reached out and touched it, but her eyes reddened.
She switched the lunchbox with her other hand and walked towards the gate.
The old man in the security booth was still reading the newspaper, and opera was playing softly on the radio.
She went outside and stood on the side of the street.
Taxis drove by one after another.
She didn't stop her; she just stood there.
A long time passed.
She took out her phone and found that number.
My thumb hovered over the screen for a long time.
Then she turned off the screen and put the phone back in her pocket.
The lunchbox felt heavy in my hand.
She walked slowly along the sidewalk, her shadow trailing long on the ground.