Lung Cancer
Old Lady Zhao
Beneath the dazzling starry sky, with warmth and softness pressed against her, Jian Qing felt a bit suffocated and turned her head to cough a few times.
Lu Yinxi quickly rolled off and climbed up, not daring to press on her any longer.
The person on the bed didn’t follow suit, coughing a few more times to catch her breath. She then lay back on the bedding, gazing at the stars dotting the ceiling.
The starlight was like water, and the room was peaceful and quiet.
It felt like that first night they met.
Lu Yinxi slipped off her shoes and sat on Jian Qing’s bed, hugging her knees. She traced her features with her gentle gaze and softly asked, “That night at the villa, you started to suspect me, didn’t you?”
Jian Qing responded with a hum, not looking at Lu Yinxi, continuing to gaze at the stars.
Lu Yinxi rested her chin on her knees and smiled, “That night, when I first saw you, I thought I was dreaming. Only in dreams could someone as beautiful as you exist…”
Being complimented on her looks, Jian Qing’s expression remained indifferent, “When I saw you that night, I thought you were sick.”
Lu Yinxi’s smile faded, and she whispered reproachfully, “Can you not ruin such a romantic atmosphere…”
Once again scolded, Jian Qing glanced at Lu Yinxi, then closed her mouth and fell silent, blending into the serene starlight.
Lu Yinxi looked at the bedside table and placed her index finger on the cover of Proust’s 《In Search of Lost Time》. She traced the black letters through the transparent wrapping and made small talk, “Do you like this book? I’ve heard it’s considered the 《Dream of the Red Chamber》 of the West.”
“Not really familiar with it. I heard it has a great hypnotic effect, so I bought it to try.”
Lu Yinxi withdrew her hand.
As expected, discussing literature was a dead end.
Both she and Jian Qing had stopped engaging with literature after entering university. Their literary exposure was limited to the mandatory readings from their school days. If they could remember the Four Great Classical Novels, it was already impressive.
“Sigh,” Lu Yinxi sighed again, catching Jian Qing’s attention.
Jian Qing looked at her, waiting for her to speak.
Lu Yinxi sat with her knees up, hesitating for a while, but couldn’t muster the courage to ask, “Do you prefer the old me or the me now?”
Jian Qing waited for a moment, but when Lu Yinxi remained silent, she turned her head back, rested her arm under her head, and continued to gaze at the stars. “Want to stay and sleep over?”
Lu Yinxi was annoyed. “Stay for what? As a teacher, aren’t you ashamed of saying such things?”
Jian Qing remained unfazed, as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
Lu Yinxi wanted to scold her more, but as she looked down at Jian Qing, some not-so-innocent images popped into her mind.
A veil over her eyes, wrists bound by a belt, under the moonlight by the window, from reluctant resistance to eager compliance…
In the past, reading such scenes, she couldn’t picture the other person’s face, and Lu Yinxi could remain calm. But now, having memorized every detail of Jian Qing’s appearance, the images in her mind became vivid and tantalizing.
Her gaze involuntarily swept over Jian Qing’s red lips, her collarbone, her curves…
Stop!
She couldn’t look any longer.
Her gaze felt like it was burning. Lu Yinxi quickly climbed off the bed. “Let the stars keep you company.” She walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at the person on the bed. Softly, she said goodnight, “Goodnight, Teacher Jian.”
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After a moment, Jian Qing replied in a gentle voice, “Goodnight, Student Lu.”
Lu Yinxi left, satisfied, leaving behind a room filled with starlight.
Ever since she transmigrated here, Lu Yinxi had developed a habit of opening her memo app before bed. She would repeatedly recall the plot from the original novel she had read and then jot down key timelines and characters.
She was cautious, using aliases for all the crucial characters involved in the plot and recording only keywords that she could understand. She avoided writing down any complete sentences that others might decipher.
It had been over half a month, and she had noted down almost everything she could remember. She couldn’t recall any more details.
Lu Yinxi opened her memo app and glanced once more at the ending of the original novel.
Next winter, roughly a year from now, her character—a mere cannon fodder—would commit suicide, and Jian Qing, the villain, would also die.
She didn’t know the causes or the events leading to these changes in the characters; she only knew the outcome.
To avoid this fate, she had given herself a five-month grace period.
In five months, after she got the money, she planned to sail across the ocean, far away from all the trouble, and live a life of self-preservation.
Lu Yinxi picked up the white smart watch on her bedside table.
The watch face displayed a plain background with black text, showing Jian Qing’s name and contact information.
She hoped that in case of any emergency, she could reach her immediately.
Lu Yinxi set the watch down on her bedside table and began to ponder the matter of split personalities.
Another personality would never emerge.
The original character was created based on her; it was essentially a part of her personality.
Over the years, not only had anti-fans written stories using her name and experiences, but some of her fans also enjoyed writing fanfiction, pairing her with various characters, both male and female, with no limits to their imagination.
Because of the brown tear mole under her left eye, eight out of ten explicit stories would describe someone pinning her down and kissing that tear mole.
Her fans were quite creative; sometimes, she was portrayed as a streetwalker, other times as an innocent schoolgirl.
They gave the name “Lu Yinxi” various roles and experiences. Lu Yinxi respected her fans’ little hobbies, always laughing them off without much concern.
After all, as a public figure, “Lu Yinxi” was just a symbol, an object to be observed and deconstructed.
The version of her seen by the audience, the anti-fans, and the fans never truly represented her; it was only about fifty to sixty percent of who she really was.
Jian Qing often referred to that fifty to sixty percent of her personality. Did this imply that she preferred that part of herself?
Fragile, obedient, utterly non-aggressive, like a parasitic dodder flower clinging tightly to her.
Did sending her to the hospital for treatment mean she desperately hoped that part of her personality would return?
A sour and aching emotion fermented in the darkness. Lu Yinxi curled up under the covers, shrinking into a shrimp-like shape.
Even if she could curse and bite now, unlike the obedient and gentle self she used to be, did she have to be so blatantly rejected?
What’s so great about being a dodder flower?
Innocent and fragile was just one of her former screen personas. Didn’t Jian Qing notice all the additional strengths she had now?
For instance, they could share common topics and understand all the medical-related matters; she was more cheerful and outgoing, willing to chat and set the atmosphere; plus, her personality was more resilient, adaptable, and she could quickly resolve any small emotional upheavals…
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Thick-skinned, Lu Yinxi listed her merits in her mind, firmly believing that her current self was better than the dodder flower personality.
But what if that jerk just likes dodder flowers? Who can say for sure when it comes to personal preferences?
It’s like how fans adore celebrities; often, they only love the persona, not the real person behind it.
Lu Yinxi’s mind was in turmoil, tossing and turning until midnight, succumbing to sleep only when exhaustion overtook her.
The next morning, during breakfast, she told Jian Qing the fable of “Ye Gong Hao Long.”
(LP: Ye Gong Hao Long (Ye Gong Likes Dragons) – to ridicule people who “say they like something but don’t actually like it”.)
Jian Qing detected a hint of sarcasm but didn’t grasp her meaning.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
Lu Yinxi sighed, shook her head, and remained silent.
Jian Qing’s tone turned cold. “Speak or don’t. I don’t care.”
On their way to work, as they reached the hospital entrance, Jian Qing finally understood. “So, the current you is the more authentic you. Is that what you meant?”
Lu Yinxi had already moved past that topic. She was sipping a cup of milk tea and, caught off guard, responded blankly, “What?”
Jian Qing: “It’s nothing…”
She had pondered over it all morning…
In the hospital, individuals and emotions become insignificant. Beyond life and death, nothing else matters. Other than the patients, no one receives any attention.
Putting on the white coat and mask, stripping away personal emotions and feelings, restraint and calmness are the only armors.
Jian Qing devoted herself entirely to her work. After Lu Yinxi joined the morning handover and teaching rounds, she was called to the piano room by the head nurse.
At the end of the right-side corridor in the second oncology ward, there used to be a storage room. Later, a charity organization donated a piano, and the storage room was converted into a piano room.
Every week, volunteers from Jiang University or hospital staff would come to play the piano for the patients.
Music can soothe the patients’ repressed emotions.
Recently, the students were busy preparing for exams and had no time to come, so Lu Yinxi stepped in.
It just so happened that she could play a few simple pieces.
It was common to see elderly folks sitting on the balcony of the piano room, basking in the sun and listening to the music.
Lu Yinxi met two very optimistic elderly ladies there, one surnamed Zhao and the other surnamed Zhou.
Madam Zhao was seventy-two years old, a retired English teacher suffering from lung cancer. She always came to the hospital with a cheerful demeanor and left just as happily after her chemotherapy. She greeted the medical staff with a robust voice, often bringing homemade treats to share with everyone. Her favorite saying was: “Living happily is still living, living unhappily is also living, so why not just live happily? However many days I have left, I’ll live them to the fullest.”
She was a lively and vibrant patient.
During her hospital stays, neither her husband nor her children ever visited her. It was always the quiet Madam Zhou who stayed by her side and took care of her.
Madam Zhou was younger, just over sixty, and a retired middle school music teacher. Sometimes she would play 《Amazing Grace》 on the piano inside, while Madam Zhao basked in the sun outside, chatting away with anyone who would listen about family matters.
Patients and their families naturally developed a sense of trust towards doctors, especially the elderly. When they encountered a doctor, they turned into chatty old children, eager to share every detail of their lives.
It wasn’t uncommon for interns, sent by their mentors to practice taking medical histories, to fall into the clutches of these elders and end up chatting for half an hour without realizing it.
Lu Yinxi had excellent social skills and could strike up a conversation with anyone. Her pure and sweet appearance made her well-known among the doctors and nurses in the ward. Even some long-term patients loved to chat with her about family matters and even tried to introduce her to potential partners.
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As soon as Madam Zhao saw her, she would eagerly open her phone’s photo album: “Girl, what kind of guys do you like? My nephew’s son works in the court, he’s 28 this year, owns two houses, and is quite the handsome young man. Look here—”
Lu Yinxi wanted to chat a bit more with the elderly lady, so she didn’t reject her outright. Glancing at the photo on the phone, she pretended to be young and said, “28? I’m only 20. That’s too big of an age gap.”
Madam Zhao chuckled, “Older men know how to cherish their partners. The younger ones don’t know how to take care of people.” She continued scrolling through her album. “Then take a look at this one. He’s the son of Teacher Zhou’s niece, 22 years old, studying medicine, and hasn’t had a girlfriend yet.”
Lu Yinxi replied, “Studying medicine? That’s even worse. A doctor will be too busy to spend time with me.”
“Then what kind of person are you looking for?”
“My requirements aren’t many. Firstly, they must have good character. Then, they should be pleasing to look at and treat me well, with an age gap of no more than seven years. Personality-wise, they should be cheerful and enthusiastic, not someone who takes half a day to say a single word. They should be broad-minded, not petty. They should be gentle and humble, not overly domineering. If they like reading and have a good literary background to complement me, that would be even better…”
As Lu Yinxi listed her criteria one by one, Madam Zhao pursed her lips, her eyes showing increasing disdain, almost as if she were about to grab Lu Yinxi’s ear and shout, “You call those few requirements?”
The piano music inside abruptly stopped. Madam Zhou, who was sitting by the piano, adjusted her glasses and stood up. “Doctor Jian, you’re here. Are Old Zhao’s test results out?”
“The results will be out this afternoon. I’ll do the assessment. Teacher Zhou, please come to my office this afternoon if you have time.”
On the balcony, Lu Yinxi immediately fell silent upon hearing that cold voice. She looked towards Jian Qing.
Jian Qing turned her head to look at her as well, her gaze indifferent.
