Tears in Heaven

It took Du Xiaosu a moment to recall the name.

Lin Xiangyuan.

Indeed, she had nearly forgotten it. From the blissful ignorance of youth to the pure joys of bygone schoolyard days, she had managed to forget it all.

Not three years after graduating, she had switched jobs, moving from one city to the next. Now, ten years later, when the dust had long settled and the memory of him had already faded away like smoke, she felt an unbidden unhappiness rise. That name, that person, that hazy, distant face—gradually, the recollection rose from the depths of her memory. With some effort, she remembered and understood.

“Oh,” Du Xiaosu said. “What about him?”

Zou Siqi shot her a glance. “He’s doing very well. He’s very happy with his wife. They are a very loving couple.”

Du Xiaosu was temporarily stunned. After a few seconds, she came to her senses, leaning over to pinch her friend on the neck. “You really just went and poured salt right on my open wound. You are a rotten egg! I’m going to strangle you to death!”

Zou Siqi choked with laughter. “All right, all right! I’ll treat you to a meal. My apologies.”

Du Xiaosu dragged Zou Siqi to Ito’s House. There, the two of them devoured short ribs, double portions of grilled eels, an entire sashimi platter, and a plate of grilled beef tongue.

As she paid the bill, Zou Siqi lamented, “You are truly ruthless, Du Xiaosu. All I did was mention Lin Xiangyuan.”

“Who told you to stab at my scars?”

“What scars? It’s been two years, for heaven’s sake. Sure, he was handsome, but is he really worth two years of anguish?”

“We always want the things we can’t have. Yet, if I were still in a relationship with him, we probably would’ve had our fair share of problems by now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Zou Siqi, nodding in assent. “That’s why it’s so crucial for you to make haste to go out with someone else!”

“I’m always so busy. Do you think I have the time or the effort to strike up a new romance?”

“What about that handsome young man whose photo sits on your desk? He’s far more attractive than Lin Xiangyuan. Stop hesitating! He’s the one! Once you get together with him, remember to treat me to a meal so I can take closer look at this superb man and appreciate his beauty!”

“What do you mean? I don’t even know him!” exclaimed Du Xiaosu, releasing a gusty sigh. “I doubt we’ll ever encounter each other again in this lifetime.”

As luck would have it, Du Xiaosu would soon bump into Shao Zhenrong again.

Du Xiaosu had decided to tempt fate and go to the hospital to keep an eye on Yan Jingjing’s recovery.

That day, it just so happened that a rear-end collision occurred between two buses, one of them a school bus. The traffic accident was severe and many students had gotten injured.

As the patients arrived at the nearby hospital, the emergency ward was immediately thrown into chaos. Several doctors were transferred over from the inpatient department to help the harried medical personnel.

Just as Du Xiaosu was taking advantage of the chaos to try and sneak photos of Yan Jingjing, she overheard a nurse shouting anxiously, “One of the kids is blood type AB and Rh negative, but the blood bank doesn’t have this combination at the moment! What are we going to do?”

Du Xiaosu halted in her steps. Glancing over at the emergency doctor, who was getting so anxious that beads of sweat started appearing on his forehead, she saw that the corridor was still packed with students who had gotten injured. Meanwhile, the head nurse was running in dizzying circles trying to attend to everyone.

Turning to stand before the nurse, Du Xiaosu said, “I have blood type AB and I’m Rh negative. I can donate blood.”

The head nurse was so relieved that she reached out and caught hold of Du Xiaosu’s hand. “Thank you, thank you! Thank you so much! We’ll run a checkup on you first to make sure everything is fine.”

After the 400 cubic centimeters of blood were drawn, Du Xiaosu started to feel her leg go numb.

The numbness was likely exacerbated by the fact that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. I should get myself a pouch of a fresh milk to drink, she thought. Anything to fill my empty stomach.

Noticing that the nurses were all busy and occupied, she silently slipped out. Just as she entered the corridor, she felt her vision blackening. Vaguely, she heard the exclamations of the people around her as she suddenly collapsed.

When she woke up, she felt chills all over, as if her body were covered in cold sweat. It took a while for her to recover her consciousness. Gradually, she came to her senses.

His fingers were slightly cool, pressing against her eyelids. His body carried the faint scent of disinfectant. This was her first time thinking that disinfectant might actually smell pretty decent.

Lying in this position, she could just barely discern the name tag of the doctor in question: “Shao Zhenrong, Neurosurgeon.”

She fought the urge to laugh. What a coincidence.

“Do you feel uncomfortable at all?” he asked, his voice warm and gentle. “Any dizziness? Does your head hurt?”

She shook her head. “Doctor Shao . . .”

“What is it?”

Finally, she asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue for a while. “What kind of doctor is a neurosurgeon, exactly? Is . . . is there something wrong with my brain?”

He glanced at her. “Looks like your brain is fine. You might be suffering from anemia, though.”

The corridor was filled with people who were bustling about. He said, “There’s been a traffic accident. All of the emergency rooms are occupied, so this was the only place for you to repose.”

“It’s no problem,” she said. “I’m fine.”

A nurse came scurrying over to hand Du Xiaosu a grape candy. The nurse had already unwrapped it for her. “The head nurse told me to give this to you. You’re supposed to rest for a while after you donate blood, but you just took off. Dizzy now, aren’t you?”

Du Xiaosu smiled sheepishly.

The nurse saw Shao Zhenrong and immediately broke into a grin. “Doctor Shao, she should be fine now. She just donated blood to one of the students, so she was probably feeling faint after blood loss.”

Shao Zhenrong nodded.

“Doctor Shao, we have a student here with a head injury!” called a doctor at the other end of the hallway.

Shao Zhenrong turned to Du Xiaosu and said, “Swallow the grape candy and take a break before you go.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and rushed away.

Du Xiaosu watched his figure retreat, then looked down at the grape candy in the palm of her hand. Feeling a sudden elation wash over her, Du Xiaosu tipped back her head and swallowed the grape candy in one gulp.

Ever since that incident, she had been coming to the hospital on a daily basis.

Occasionally, she would encounter Shao Zhenrong. Since he was Yan Jingjing’s main physician, she would pester him ceaselessly in the hope that she might be able to extract even the slightest bit of information from his lips.

Although he never treated her unkindly, his voice always carried a hint of exasperation. “Miss Du, you are really very dedicated.”

She merely smiled widely in response. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. “You know, I only want to convince you to tell me something—anything.”

Since she acted in such a shameless manner, he assumed such behavior was customary of her. After a while, he got used to her, even greeting her first whenever he saw her during the day. “Reporter Du returns?” he would say.

“Yes, I’m back. Oh, Doctor Shao, won’t you tell me something today?” Even when the person standing next to him started laughing at her, Du Xiaosu would not budge. She only frowned and sighed, making it seem as if she had no choice but to persist.

This girl is probably fully immersed in the entertainment industry. Her acting skills aren’t bad, Shao Zhenrong thought, smiling to himself before walking away.

Yan Jingjing had already been transferred to a general outpatient ward, gradually recovering from her injuries. Several entertainment reporters had already ceased to come, including Bi.

Only Du Xiaosu continued coming to the hospital. At this point, she was already very familiar with some of the nurses.

Most commonly spotted in the hospital cafeteria, Du Xiaosu could be found eating a rice bowl or spicy pork noodles at noon. Although both were the simplest meals, she would still consume them with relish. A gaggle of nurses always surrounded her as she ate, marveling at the way she held with her paper bowl with rapture and obliviously blurted whatever came to mind.

Upon catching sight of Shao Zhenrong pass by, Du Xiaosu would turn her face up—even in the midst of engrossed eating—and mumble around a mouthful of food, “Doctor Shao, do you have anything to tell me today?”

The nearby nurses would burst into excited glee and clamor in her support, exclaiming, “Doctor Shao, why don’t you just tell Reporter Du something?”

As he hurried away, he could hear the sound of Du Xiaosu’s bright laughter following him.

“The greatest joy in life is to badger handsome young men! Ahaha . . .”

He felt as if the laughter sounded familiar, but he couldn’t seem to put his finger on where he might have heard it before.

Because Du Xiaosu came to the hospital often, she soon knew where to go and when.

Once, when she was lingering in the nursing department, she encountered a professor making rounds. Leading several students, the professor was both an academician and a doctorate supervisor. Naturally, people made way for the group.

Shao Zhenrong was certain that the professor would tell Du Xiaosu to leave and forbid her from ever returning. To his surprise, the white-haired professor smiled at her, even nodding in greeting.

Du Xiaosu returned the smile, radiant like a flower. Then, she greeted Shao Zhenrong—almost as if in secret—by subtly crooking her finger at him.

Shao Zhenrong felt momentarily stunned as he stood there amidst the crowd of people.

A few days later, the professor suddenly asked him, “How come your girlfriend hasn’t been coming here to wait for you to get off work recently?”

“My girlfriend?” Shao Zhenrong echoed.

“Yes, your girlfriend. That lively girl with the big eyes and the long hair. Is she not your girlfriend?”

Shao Zhenrong had to think for a long moment before he realized that the professor was referring to Du Xiaosu. No wonder the professor hadn’t driven Du Xiaosu away the other day! It had all been a misunderstanding.

Later that day, Shao Zhenrong encountered Du Xiaosu again in the cafeteria. As per usual, she was surrounded by people, so he approached her from the side, deliberately slowing down his steps as he did so.

Coming closer, he could hear that she was talking about her experience shadowing someone at Hengdian.

“Those mosquitoes,” she said. “Those mosquitoes were so noisy! We just kept on getting bitten. Not to mention wild places like that are devoid of people and perfect for committing crimes. So dangerous . . .”

One of the nurses gasped, exclaiming, “Oh, my! Why must filming be conducted at places like that?”

“Costume dramas have to be filmed in locations without houses, roads, power lines, and the like. Otherwise, long shots would contain things that are out of place. That’s why film crews favor deserted locations. I was there for three days, crouching the entire time. Those dratted mosquitoes bit me all over. My entire body got covered in lumps. If I scratched myself at all, pus would come spilling out. After I got home, I found out that I’m allergic. I nearly got disfigured . . .”

Shao Zhenrong saw Du Xiaosu raise her hands to gesture and illustrate. He thought, a young woman like her with an occupation like that—it must indeed be very toilsome.

This time, for example, she had been coming to the hospital every other day just to capture a few photos. If it had been anyone else, they might’ve already lost their patience by now.

Du Xiaosu did not find it tiresome at all. On the contrary, she thought that she had gotten lucky. After persisting for so long, she finally had an opportunity. Once the hospital rounds had been completed earlier today, two rather negligent reporters from entertainment companies had simply left. Du Xiaosu, on the other hand, had covertly positioned herself directly across the window of Yan Jingjing and snapped photos of her. Yan Jingjing had recently undergone craniotomy, so all of her hair had been shaved off. These bald photos would definitely be exclusive content.

Upon finishing her story, Du Xiaosu turned around, and the smile promptly fell from her.

Standing silently behind her, Shao Zhenrong extended his hand. “Give me the camera.”

“No,” she said, clutching it tightly in her arms.

“Then delete the photos.”

Pursing her lips, she repeated, “No!”

“In that case, I’ll call the security guard over. Your photos will get deleted either way.” He continued standing there stubbornly with his hand outstretched, while she sat stiffly, refusing to budge. “Hand it over!” he demanded, almost as if issuing an ultimatum.

She took a step diagonally as she considered taking a run for it, but he reached out a hand to stop her.

Finally, he wrested the camera from her grasp. He deleted every last photo.

As she stood there in sorrowful silence, his finger suddenly paused. Raising his head to look at her, he saw that her eyes were lowered like a disheartened child.

At this point, he had already deleted all the photos of Yan Jingjing. Now, all the remaining ones were of him.

He had no idea when she had taken these photos. They had been captured from all angles. He could tell that some of them had been shot this morning, when he had been accompanying the professor on rounds. Respectfully listening to the professor, he had tilted his head sideways. There was a large group of people in the picture, yet everyone seemed oblivious to the fact that someone had been taking photos.

As he looked through the frames, he saw the blurred silhouette of his back as he walked down the corridor, the profile of his face as he conversed with a nurse, the weariness of his soul as he emerged from the operating room, and the urgency in his stride as he hastened over to attend to a patient.

Every single shot was captured vividly.

For how long had she been secretly taking photos of him? A week? Two? Perhaps even from the very beginning?

At last, he returned the camera to her.

She took it from him wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The hospital has regulations. We must protect the privacy of our patients.”

She smiled softly. “It’s all right,” she said. After pausing for a moment, she continued, “I won’t come back anymore. Don’t worry, Doctor Shao.”

Then, she turned to go, her shoulders slightly caved in, her silhouette faint and frail.

Shao Zhenrong stood there unmoving, watching as she slowly disappeared down the end of the corridor.

True to her word, Du Xiaosu did not return to the hospital.

A few of the younger nurses missed her greatly. “Alas, Reporter Du no longer comes to the hospital! That mouth of hers,” they sighed. “Whenever she talks celebrity gossip, it’s just so fascinating!”

“I know, right?” said another nurse, joining in. “She has the sweetest smile. She’s as adorable as Chibi Maruko!”

Chibi Maruko! The realization dawned on him all at once. Chibi Maruko! That was it! No wonder he kept on thinking her laughter sounded so familiar.

“Doctor Shao?”

Returning to his senses, he realized that the nurses were grinning at him. One of the nurses asked, “What are you thinking about, Doctor Shao? You keep on smiling. You look so happy.”

What? Suddenly, he spotted his own reflection in the bright and shiny glass: the corners of his lips were indeed upturned in a smile. At once, he tamed his mind, hurriedly walking away to write a summary of discharge for one of his patients.

After a busy day of two operations, he felt so exhausted that he could barely muster the energy to speak. It was only after he had made sure his patient’s condition was stable that he let his colleague take over for the night shift. Dragging his feet wearily, he entered the elevator to head down, taking a shortcut so that he could quickly exit the emergency department.

It was in the corridor that he spotted a familiar shadow. Startled, he halted in his tracks.

Upon walking over, he knew that it was indeed who he thought it was. She was sitting on a bench with her head slightly lowered; it seemed as if she were on the verge of falling asleep.

He couldn’t help but smile back. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I came to donate blood,” she replied. Then, she asked, “Doctor Shao, are you off work?”

He nodded. “It’s only been two months since you last donated blood,” he said. “How come you’re back so soon to donate more blood?”

“It can’t be helped,” she said. “My blood type is very rare. When I received a call from the hospital, I rushed over. I was afraid that the few other possible donors might not be able to be contacted. There can’t be any delay when it comes to saving lives.”

The days were progressively getting colder, but she was only wearing a thin sweater. There were several loose threads on the collar and around the sleeves of the sweater, and a threadbare silk scarf was wrapped around her neck. It seemed that she always dressed in this careless, mismatched way, unlike other girls, who were always so particular about the way they dressed. It was just that she looked rather like a doll, sitting there in her thin sweater and with her hands clasped together for warmth. Her face was pale from the cold, her eyes red from fatigue.

The head nurse of the emergency department, who was already on very familiar terms with Du Xiaosu, came outside to greet her. “Reporter Du, you should head home. Two other donors have just arrived.” The head nurse then turned to greet Shao Zhenrong, “Off duty, Doctor Shao?”

“Yes, I’m off work,” said Shao Zhenrong. Upon seeing Du Xiaosu pick up her bag and stand up, he found himself saying, “I have a car. I’ll send you.”

“Oh, sure. While you’re at it, you can treat me to dinner,” she said generously, as if she were doing him a favor. “I’m starving; I came from doing fieldwork.”

Starving she was.

At a nearby restaurant, she randomly ordered a few dishes, all of which she promptly devoured within minutes. She sipped at her soup greedily, even though it was merely a simple winter melon soup with small white scallops. Still, she consumed it with delectation.

Shao Zhenrong had to resist the urge to scoop some into a bowl and taste it himself.

When her appetite was finally satiated, she set down her bowl and declared, “Ah! The greatest joy in life is to eat and drink one’s fill!”

 “The greatest joy in life is no longer to badger handsome young men?” he blurted.

For a moment, she beheld him with some surprise. The next moment, she burst into laughter.

She was really quite pretty, especially as her eyes curved in delight.

He rarely ever saw girls laugh without restraint.

Du Xiaosu lived very far from the hospital.

Shao Zhenrong dropped her off at the entrance of her neighborhood.

As she got out of the car, she seemed to remember something, so she turned back to open the car door and draw an envelope from her bag.

“For you,” she said, handing it to him.

He opened the envelope to find a thick stack of photos . . . of himself. After a moment of consideration, he handed them back to her. “For you,” he said.

The blaze of the streetlamps was a warm titian color, the glow emanating from within the car a pale gold. The lines of light—cast over her face in an intersecting pattern—made it seem as if her eyes were shining even more brightly. Without a word, she took the photographs back from him, the corners of her mouth curved, as if she were trying not to give away her smile.

“What are you smiling about?” he couldn’t resist demanding.

“What are you smiling about?” she countered.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror, lips upturned—could it be in a smile as well?

He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t.

There was a wondrous sort of joy, rather like the fresh scent of grass borne by the spring winds, rather like the dew that rests upon the greenery of tree leaves after light summer showers, soundless and breathless all at once, that was now pervading the depths of his heart.