Making Up

At the provincial hospital’s differentiation department, the director was in Hua Yu’s office, keeping an elderly woman company while they waited for her.

Hua Yu took the subway back to the hospital and arrived at eight in the evening.

“This is our provincial hospital’s most promising young doctor, Dr. Hua,” the director said with a smile, introducing her to the elderly woman. “She’ll be your attending physician from now on.”

The old woman sat in a chair, her pupils clouded white and her back hunched.

Hua Yu studied her for two seconds and quickly noticed that her fingernails were healthy in color, and the clothes she wore were also youthful in style.

The “elderly woman” spoke in a slightly delicate voice. “Thank you for coming all this way personally, Director.”

“No trouble at all,” the director said, lowering his head. “Your mother and I are good friends. If anything comes up after you’re admitted, call me directly.”

After that, the director called Hua Yu outside.

“She has a rare type 4 of premature aging,” he said, the smile fading from his face as worry settled in. “Her glands are active and healthy, but her body is aging at a rapid pace.”

Hua Yu had seen plenty of difficult cases. Calmly, she asked, “Are you sure the glands are the cause?”

“Not sure.” The director slowly shook his head, troubled. “Her glands are perfectly healthy; there’s no sign of anything wrong. But there’s no precedent for a person aging while her glands remain healthy, and genetic testing hasn’t shown anything either. You’ve always specialized in this area, so I’m handing her off to you first.”

Hua Yu frowned. “Director, what if it can’t be treated and we still can’t find the cause?”

The director sighed. “I know your concerns, but she’s special. Our hospital can’t push her off on anyone else. Just do your best and treat her as far as you can.”

Hua Yu understood. A patient who had made the director come in person and call her back for overtime was definitely no ordinary case.

“I’ll do my best.”

The director patted her shoulder. “Mm. I’m counting on you.”

After arranging for the patient to be admitted, Hua Yu stayed up all night going through nearly half a meter of test records from her childhood to the present. By the time she checked the clock, it was already four in the morning.

Hua Yu gathered her things and left the hospital, first stopping by a nearby café to buy a coffee—an extra-strong Americano.

The bitter taste numbed her tongue. Hua Yu had long since grown used to working overtime. The fatigue from work wasn’t real exhaustion; after glancing at the time, she realized it was time to pick up Wei Yin.

How should she talk to Wei Yin?

Hua Yu didn’t want to lose her temper at Wei Yin, even though that anger had been simmering ever since they met again.

She didn’t blame Wei Yin for cutting ties with her back then; she only blamed Wei Yin for making herself this way.

Wasn’t the first thing a person should do cherish life and live properly?

If you didn’t even cherish your own body, then what kind of bleak, hopeless life were you living—and who could you expect to save you?

The car had been left at the hotel. The heavy rain from the previous day had gradually stopped in the early hours of the morning, and today was overcast. She took the subway to the hotel.

She arrived right at six.

Not knowing whether Wei Yin was awake, Hua Yu didn’t knock immediately.

She sat in the hotel lounge for a while first. The duty manager came over to keep her company and, in the course of conversation, brought up the cemetery next door.

The manager was very perceptive. A lot of people from the cemetery had checked into the hotel the day before, and anyone who could afford that kind of burial plot must have money, so she eagerly introduced it. “Anping Garden was renovated and completed five years ago; it’s the city’s best feng shui hillside. The developer leased the entire mountain and even hired many masters to set up altars and arrange the feng shui. The design is exquisite; people were snapping up plots before it was even finished. Of course, the prices are high too—anywhere from 400,000 to 800,000 per square meter. If you do the math, a single burial plot starts at at least a million.”

Hua Yu listened quietly without interrupting or offering any opinion.

When Wei Yin had sent her the cemetery address, Hua Yu had been too busy rushing to pick her up to ask much about the place.

Hua Yu knew that Wei Yin had grown up in a single-parent family. Her mother had died when she was in her third year of high school, so she hadn’t been there to see her become an adult, nor to see her get into university.

After Hua Yu got to know Wei Yin, she had lived a simple, frugal life. Before they fell out, Hua Yu roughly knew Wei Yin’s savings; there was no way she could afford a cemetery plot priced like this.

In other words, most ordinary families, even some merely well-off ones, couldn’t afford it either.

Wei Yin had come to pay respects to her mother; she must have been missing her family. Hua Yu temporarily set aside the question of how Wei Yin could afford such an expensive burial plot and spent three seconds reflecting on her own emotional overreaction yesterday.

Inside her, there was a seesaw. On one end sat the thought, “Why lecture Wei Yin at a time like this? What she needs now is a hug and some comfort.” On the other end sat, “No matter when it is, your own body comes first. She needs to be scolded awake.”

The former wore a white angel’s robe and looked full of pity. The latter wore black-and-white clerical robes like the White Impermanence, expressionless. They cursed at each other and fought, neither willing to back down.

Hua Yu closed her eyes, her head aching. High-intensity work had put her in a bad mood, and she kept wanting to flip the seesaw over and stop caring about anything at all.

At that moment, both little figures turned around and glared at her. “Dare you?”

Hua Yu: …

In the end, Hua Yu returned to her usual demeanor and knocked on Wei Yin’s door with a calm expression.

Footsteps quickly sounded from inside. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

The door opened. Wei Yin was wearing pajamas and looked neatly put together.

“You’re awake?” Hua Yu asked.

Wei Yin nodded. “Mm, for a while now.”

“Did you feel unwell last night? Fever? A cold?” Hua Yu asked as she went in.

Wei Yin shook her head. “No.”

After thinking for a moment, Wei Yin added, “My gland feels a little hot.”

Hua Yu sat on the bed and beckoned her over. “Come here. Let me take a look.”

Wei Yin walked over and, as Hua Yu instructed, lowered her head to expose the back of her neck.

Hua Yu looked at her first, then warmed her palms and pressed them against the area.

“Mm, a little swollen,” Hua Yu said softly. “That’s about right. I still have to go to the hospital later, so come with me. I’ll give you an exam.”

“Okay.” Wei Yin bit her lip. “Dr. Hua, about yesterday, I’m very sorry…”

Hua Yu’s expression didn’t change, and she didn’t let her keep drowning in self-reproach. She raised a hand and pressed lightly on her gland. “Mm, received. You don’t need to explain to me right now. When we get to the hospital, I have something I want you to see.”

Wei Yin only found out what that “something” was once she got to the hospital.

“Zhao Qi isn’t doing very well; go visit her.”

At the ward door, Hua Yu had already changed into a white coat and put on her metal-framed glasses, cool and professional.

This wasn’t the same room they had stayed in before. Zhao Qi had been transferred to a single monitoring room, and through the glass they could see Zhao Qi’s mother asleep with her head on the table.

Only a few days had passed, and she’d already grown white hair.

Wei Yin knocked and went in. Zhao Qi was wearing a breathing mask, her cheeks dark and her eyes clouded. She turned toward Wei Yin.

“Big sister…”

Zhao’s mother woke up and quickly called to Wei Yin. “You’re the child who was discharged last time, right… you’re here to see Xiaoqi?”

Wei Yin said yes, but didn’t move any closer. She found it hard to connect the terminally ill-looking patient in front of her, who seemed to be in the late stages of cancer, with the lively little girl from a few days ago.

Zhao Qi spoke to her for a couple of sentences, then suddenly started coughing uncontrollably. Zhao’s mother hurried to press the nurse call button, and chaos broke out. Wei Yin backed out of the room.

Hua Yu was standing around the corner, waiting for her.

Wei Yin’s eyes quickly grew sore. In a trembling voice, she asked, “What happened to her?”

“Her immune system is frantically attacking her glands, while the glands are simultaneously releasing large amounts of hormones and squeezing the life out of her organs. The two sides have already completely gone feral.”

Wei Yin’s face was full of fear. She didn’t know, didn’t understand, and couldn’t make sense of how things had changed so drastically in just a few days.

“Why? She was fine before… because she secretly ate my cake?”

Hua Yu rested a hand on Wei Yin’s head and gently rubbed it. Her voice was soft. “Because she secretly snuck out to eat hotpot.”

Wei Yin blinked, and a large tear fell, splashing onto the back of Hua Yu’s hand.

“What about the omega I saved?” Wei Yin grabbed Hua Yu, wanting to find a thread of comfort.

As long as the gland was removed and she became an ordinary beta, she would never have to face this kind of risk again, right?

Hua Yu looked at her quietly. “You want to go see him?”

Wei Yin nodded silently.

Hua Yu took Wei Yin to the morgue.

“He’s lying in there.”

“After the gland was removed, his brain developed complications. It stopped secreting dopamine and other hormones that regulate emotion. He was in so much pain that he hanged himself with a belt from the bathroom pipe.”

Wei Yin stumbled back half a step; her legs went weak, and she fell into Hua Yu’s arms.

She turned and hugged Hua Yu, her grip fierce, like a little animal terrified out of its wits, desperately burrowing into Hua Yu’s embrace.

Hua Yu held her and covered Wei Yin’s eyes with one hand.

Then she lowered her head slightly, her lips brushing the back of Wei Yin’s hand in a kiss so faint it was almost imperceptible; it seemed like comfort, and also like a silent sigh.