Chapter 17: A Visit to the Hospital and a Shared Meal

The scent of disinfectant, the chill of the air conditioning, the grating of wheelchairs against the floor, the rhythmic tap of canes—these sounds mingled with the shuffle of infirm feet and the hurried strides of visitors brushing past patients. Often, the unseen illnesses lurking within a person’s body manifested in their appearance and demeanor. As the setting for both the beginning and the end of most lives, the hospital had always been such a place.

Jin Shiling, struggling with bulging plastic bags, followed closely behind Zhang Qingwei as they entered the elevator. At seven in the evening, the hospital’s inpatient elevator was packed, and it was only with considerable effort that the two managed to squeeze inside, securing a small corner.

Perhaps noticing the various lunchboxes and thermos flasks carried by other family members, Zhang Qingwei, after jostling his way out of the elevator through its open doors, turned his head to Jin Shiling, bringing up the topic of dinner.

“After we’ve seen them, let’s find somewhere to eat.”

“Alright.”

While doing homework with her friends at McDonald’s (TL Note: ‘Maimen’ is a Chinese internet slang term for McDonald’s.), Jin Shiling had only managed a few french fries. Those golden, salt-dusted delights now offered not the slightest bit of satiety; instead, they had intensified her hunger.

After passing the front desk and turning two corners, they spotted an elderly woman standing at a ward door, waving to them.

“Maternal Grandmother—”

“Maternal Grandmother.”

Jin Shiling was the first to wave back, hurrying to meet her, while Zhang Qingwei followed more slowly.

“Ah, you’re here! Have you eaten? If not, there’s still a bit left here.”

“No, Maternal Grandmother, she and I will just go out to eat later. There are plenty of restaurants nearby.”

“Oh, dear, how much money will you spend eating out? This is homemade. You two should just make do with a bite. How hygienic can outside food be? Just yesterday, I saw a crooked vendor on Douyin (TL Note: Douyin is a popular Chinese short-video platform, similar to TikTok.)…”

As the elderly woman continued her familiar chatter, which the siblings had long grown accustomed to, she led them into the hospital room.

“Alright, alright, Old Jin, my Maternal Grandfather will start complaining about your nagging again.”

Stepping into the ward, Zhang Qingwei and Jin Shiling immediately saw their Maternal Grandfather sitting on the bed in a hospital gown. According to their Maternal Grandmother, his current hospitalization stemmed from an incident during his walk, when he had insisted on pushing through a thicket of bushes. He had exerted too much force, snapping a branch, which caused him to fall to the ground, and he had not recovered since, necessitating his admission to the hospital.

“Maternal Grandfather.”

While Jin Shiling and their Maternal Grandmother busied themselves tidying the plastic bags and backpacks, Zhang Qingwei took a few steps closer to the bedside. The elderly man appeared to be in good spirits, certainly not looking sickly and frail as one might expect from someone confined to a hospital bed, which offered Zhang Qingwei a measure of relief.

“Ay—”

The Maternal Grandfather’s voice was strong and resonant, exactly as it always was at home. However, perhaps to spare the siblings further worry, Zhang Qingwei noticed the old man subtly withdrawing the hand with the IV drip beneath the blanket.

“Maternal Grandfather, how are you feeling? Is there anywhere else you’re uncomfortable?”

Compared to Zhang Qingwei’s subdued reaction, Jin Shiling’s concern was far more apparent. Upon seeing his young granddaughter approach, a wider smile immediately spread across the old man’s face, and he waved with his other hand, the one not connected to the IV.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit dizzy from the fall. Your Maternal Grandmother, she’s stubborn as a mule, doesn’t listen to a word, and dragged me all the way here again. It’s fine, I’m doing great, I’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

“I thought so too. Maternal Grandfather will definitely be fine.”

While Jin Shiling and their Maternal Grandfather engaged in desultory conversation, Zhang Qingwei led their Maternal Grandmother out of the ward and into the corridor.

“Maternal Grandmother, did Maternal Uncle bring you and Maternal Grandfather here?”

“Yes, I called your Maternal Uncle first, and he took leave to drive us over.”

“Are the hospitalization fees and related expenses sufficient? If not…”

“No need, no need, it’s all enough, quite enough. You two just take good care of yourselves.”

The Maternal Grandmother reached out and grasped Zhang Qingwei’s hand. It was rough and slightly cool, and with a gentle squeeze, he could feel the calluses on her palm—a silent testament to the passage of time and the onset of old age.

Compared to their Maternal Grandfather, whose health had steadily declined over the past two years, their Maternal Grandmother seemed largely unchanged, her body still appearing robust. Yet, in reality, they were only separated by three years in age. The hardships and difficulties she faced, solely responsible for her husband’s daily care, were burdens she had never once mentioned to anyone else.

“Maternal Grandmother, did Maternal Grandfather get X-rays today?”

The Maternal Grandmother glanced back at the ward not far away, then leaned her body closer to her grandson before beginning to speak in a hushed tone.

“No, he didn’t. You know how stubborn your Maternal Grandfather is. Your Maternal Uncle tried persuading him for ages, but couldn’t get him to budge, and it almost escalated into another argument. He just left before you two arrived. In the end, it took the doctor’s persistent coaxing for him to agree to get the X-rays tomorrow.”

“I appreciate your efforts.”

There’s an old saying: ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ This holds especially true for some patients, as not knowing the precise nature of the illness and its threats can paradoxically foster greater courage to fight against it, allowing them to approach treatment with a more optimistic mindset.

Their Maternal Grandmother had once vaguely described the Maternal Grandfather’s health to Zhang Qingwei: ‘There are two blood vessels in a person’s brain. Your Maternal Grandfather had a cerebral infarction once, and one of those vessels is already blocked. The remaining one is not in as good a condition as we’d hoped, and if that one also develops problems, the situation will certainly not be optimistic.’

Neither Jin Shiling nor the Maternal Grandfather himself were aware of this grim prognosis. It wasn’t that Jin Shiling wasn’t considered family; rather, the elders believed that since she was not yet an adult, there was no point in burdening her with unnecessary worry.

“Let’s make sure he gets a full comprehensive check-up this time. I expect Maternal Grandfather will start clamoring to be discharged in a few days. If you find it difficult to handle him, I’ll try to bring her back a couple more times to persuade him. You know, Maternal Grandfather is quite susceptible to Jin Shiling’s way; it’s much more effective than you or Maternal Uncle trying.”

“Yes, your Maternal Grandfather, the older he gets, the more stubborn his temper becomes, yet in reality, he’s terrified of death. We can only humor him. Let him have the check-up tomorrow, and if everything’s alright, we’ll discuss things further then.”

“Mhm.”

Zhang Qingwei could somewhat understand his Maternal Grandfather’s mindset. When he was a child, his Maternal Grandfather had always projected a strong, unyielding image, a man whose word was law. This profound impression had permeated over twenty years of his life, and now, it could even be said to have ‘worsened.’ When his mother was alive, he often heard her mention that his Maternal Grandmother could no longer travel around with her as before, because she had to stay home to care for the less mobile Maternal Grandfather. If his Maternal Grandmother left the house for even a few hours, the Maternal Grandfather would fly into a rage, verbally abusing her without restraint.

This domineering attitude had now transformed into a shell used to protect his fragile dignity. Many were aware of the shell’s vulnerability, yet no one dared to openly challenge it. In these twilight years, at such an advanced age, the more terrified he was of death, the more he felt compelled to feign fearlessness, masking his true feelings with grand pronouncements and exaggerated gestures. Such behavior was, in fact, not uncommon.

“Wei, how have things been with Xiao Ling lately?”

Perhaps the brief silence led his Maternal Grandmother to believe Zhang Qingwei was harboring some worries, prompting her to ask with genuine concern.

“Me? Nothing much, Maternal Grandmother, same as ever. As for her… she should be… fine, I suppose.”

Zhang Qingwei’s tone was hesitant, reflecting his genuine lack of attention toward Jin Shiling. The siblings’ lives typically intersected only briefly at home, and even then, they rarely spoke. They usually ate dinner separately, like two strangers who had carved out their own territories and refrained from disturbing each other.

“You, now, you should pay more attention to her, care more. Xiao Ling has it tough too, and we’re family. If there’s anything she doesn’t understand in her studies, see if you can teach her.”

“Ah, uh… alright.”

Zhang Qingwei nodded awkwardly, understanding the elderly woman’s good intentions perfectly well, but…

Now, six years out of university, was he to tackle high school problems in this era of relentless involution (TL Note: ‘Neijuan’ refers to intense internal competition, often leading to diminishing returns.)?

“Me, solving real exam problems? Seriously.”

“Xiao Ling is a sensible child. As her older brother, you should look after her more, alright?”

“Mhm, mhm, I know, I understand, Maternal Grandmother, please don’t worry.”

When faced with various suggestions from elders, it was always best to appear humbly receptive, regardless of one’s actual thoughts.

After receiving a thorough lecture from his Maternal Grandmother, Zhang Qingwei followed the elderly woman back into the ward. They remained in the room for over an hour before finally leaving the hospital with Jin Shiling.

To the lone man in the adjacent bed, Jin Shiling might have seemed more like a true member of this family, Zhang Qingwei suddenly mused while waiting for the elevator.

****

The time was nearing nine in the evening, and the streets remained bustling with activity. On this early summer Friday night, many restaurants had set up outdoor dining areas, creating a lively night market atmosphere. The crisp clinking of beer bottles, the dazzling array of colorful fairy lights, and the smoke rising from charcoal grills, laden with the irresistible aroma of roasted meat, assailed passersby. This enticing scene lured hungry patrons, their mouths watering, to take their seats on the plastic chairs arranged outside.

Zhang Qingwei swallowed, trying to banish the tempting images of edamame and peanuts from his mind. He glanced around for a moment, then finally pointed toward a distant restaurant specializing in copper pot hotpot (TL Note: A traditional Chinese hotpot served in a copper pot, typically with clear broth.).

“How about that one, then?”

Jin Shiling glanced at his uniform and offered no objection.

Once inside, they chose a table and ordered a ‘Mandarin Duck’ pot (TL Note: A hotpot divided into two sections, typically one spicy and one clear broth.), two plates of lamb, one plate of beef, a serving of tripe, a vegetable platter, and a pitcher of sour plum juice. While waiting for the dishes to arrive, they mixed their dipping sauces, then all that remained was to wait for the broth to boil.

Jin Shiling stirred the dipping sauce in her bowl, only to look up and realize that nearly half of the sesame paste in Zhang Qingwei’s bowl had already vanished. At that moment, he was intently watching his side of the clear broth pot, repeatedly dipping his chopsticks into the sesame paste and bringing it to his mouth.

A faint twitch played at the corner of Jin Shiling’s lips, and she chose to ignore it.

In a Mandarin Duck pot, the spicy side usually came to a boil first, with chili peppers appearing and disappearing amidst the bubbling, steaming chili oil. Already ravenous, Jin Shiling was the first to pick up several slices of meat with her chopsticks and drop them into the pot before her.

Hotpot was often an excellent choice for a meal with company; no matter how one prepared it, the taste was rarely disappointing, and flavors could be adjusted to personal preference. Moreover, eating hotpot typically took longer than eating stir-fried dishes, allowing for a few more casual chats while cooking meat and vegetables. And at any moment, one could enjoy piping hot meat and vegetables, freshly retrieved from the pot.

The siblings maintained their silence, each filling their own hunger. The copper pot and the rising steam formed a hazy barrier, obscuring their faces from each other. For them, living under the same roof, their understanding of one another had always been shrouded in a similar thin mist.

The first time Jin Shiling saw Zhang Qingwei, he didn’t look as he did now. At that time, he was the same age she was currently, a first-year high school student, while she was still young, without any real understanding or concept of many things.

Back then, they were simply travel companions, their relationship quite innocent, and they got along very well. As a child, she had genuinely liked the quiet yet caring older brother who sat with her in the same car; his smile was shy and exceedingly gentle.

Though she now realized that might have been merely a scene viewed through the innocent filter of ‘childhood,’ the Zhang Qingwei of that time had indeed left her with a favorable impression.

By the time they met again, their respective parents were already preparing for marriage. At that point, Zhang Qingwei…

He was already much like he was now. Regarding this young man who was about to become her family, Jin Shiling found herself unable to evaluate him from a truly objective and impartial perspective. In this regard, Zhang Qingwei was likely no different.

As only children, there was no standard answer to the question of how to accept a child from another family.

Upon leaving the hospital, Jin Shiling had briefly considered mentioning the parent-teacher conference to her Maternal Grandmother. Ultimately, however, she decided against it. For no other reason than that, both emotionally and practically, she felt it would be entirely inappropriate to burden the elderly woman in such circumstances and given their current situation.

‘Forget it,’ she thought. ‘It’s just a parent-teacher conference, nothing important.’

With that thought, Jin Shiling set down her chopsticks, initiating the first conversation at their dining table.

“Do you have time on the first Friday of next month?”

Hearing this, Zhang Qingwei paused, his right hand continuing the ‘seven-up, eight-down’ motion (TL Note: A technique for cooking tripe in hotpot, dipping it quickly seven or eight times to ensure it’s cooked but still tender.) of dipping tripe. With his left hand, he picked up his phone from the table, opened the calendar, and checked the date.

“Not currently, why?”

“It’s nothing important, just that the school is holding a parent-teacher conference that day…”

Jin Shiling’s fingers unconsciously twirled a strand of short hair by her ear, winding it round and round. Her gaze drifted towards a group of adults at the next table, clinking glasses and celebrating something.

“If it’s convenient for you that day, could I ask you to come?”

A parent-teacher conference, an activity initiated by the school, inviting students’ parents or relatives to visit the campus and learn about their academic and social lives. It was also, for some parents, a silent battlefield where they secretly competed with one another.

“A parent-teacher conference… Ah, it’s almost the end of the semester. After the conference, it should be holiday break, right?”

“Roughly.”

After adding the date Jin Shiling mentioned to his calendar with a reminder, Zhang Qingwei agreed.

“Alright, no problem. What time should I arrive that afternoon?”

“Two o’clock will be fine.”

“Class 7, Grade 10?”

“Yes, on the fourth floor of the teaching building, the second classroom to the left after you go up the stairs.”

“Okay.”

After confirming the details of the parent-teacher conference, silence once again settled over the table, broken only by the ‘gurgling’ sound from the pot.

Two pairs of chopsticks simultaneously aimed for the last fried bun on the plate, a sweet dessert, only to retract at the same moment upon noticing the other.

Finally, Zhang Qingwei reached out and pushed the plate towards Jin Shiling, then picked up two leaves of greens and dropped them into the pot for himself.

“Do you want to order anything else?”

“I’m good.”

“Alright.”

While waiting for the remaining ingredients in the pot to cook, Zhang Qingwei poured himself another glass of sour plum juice. As the cool drink refreshed him, his mind raced through various recent matters. His Maternal Grandmother’s admonition to pay more attention to Jin Shiling also surfaced, prompting him to tentatively initiate a conversation about her life.

“By the way, do high schools still divide students into arts and sciences now?”

“They stopped a long time ago. Now it’s the ‘3+3’ system (TL Note: A common curriculum model in Chinese high schools where students choose three core subjects plus three elective subjects.).”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

“…”

“…”

Silence itself isn’t awkward; what’s awkward is when you are the one who created it. For someone like Zhang Qingwei, who already had poor social skills, forcing a conversation with someone he didn’t have a good relationship with was too much of a strain.

He knew he could have symbolically added a few more sentences in many places, whether discussing her school life or her subject choices, at least to appear more attentive to her.

But did he truly care about Jin Shiling? Zhang Qingwei asked himself. Aside from this superficial sibling relationship, did he genuinely care about Jin Shiling’s thoughts?

Did he truly consider Jin Shiling family?

He detested meaningless pleasantries, yet who was it that unilaterally deemed all attempts worthless and actively gave up, remaining stagnant in place?

Chewing on the cooked greens, Zhang Qingwei once again habitually evaded the rising tide of self-inquiry.

A coward will keep everything behind and to their sides in full view, but they dare not look at what lies directly before them.

A detached person will mimic the behaviors of those around them, pretending to be normal, deconstructing morality and ethics, yet failing to grasp what is reasonable and empathetic.

A disappointed person will remain silent about everything, impartially expressing disappointment in the world, yet being most harshly biased towards themselves.

The water in the pot gradually ceased to boil, and the ripples in his heart subsided.

The two, who had unknowingly drifted onto diverging paths, walked towards the same destination under the night sky.