Sent to the countryside, I turned the health center into a top-tier hospital.

Chen Ping sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window.

The curtains were made of floral fabric and had faded from washing. Moonlight filtered in, casting a blurry glow on the floor.

He stretched out his hand and looked at his fingers. There was blood under his fingernails; it was dried and he couldn't pick it off.

He lowered his hand, lay down, and stared at the ceiling.

The voices of Sun Xiuying and Zhao Dezhu came from next door. They were low and their words were unclear, but their tone was off. It sounded like they were arguing, but it didn't.

After a while, it became quiet, and the lights went out.

Chen Ping closed his eyes.

The thoughts in my head are still racing, a little slower than before, but they still won't stop.

He could feel the pain in his wounds—his shoulders, back, thighs, and forehead. Every wound hurt, but the pain was different; some throbbed, some throbbed, some felt like needles pricking, and some felt like fire burning.

But he didn't feel uncomfortable; the pain kept him awake and reminded him that he was still alive.

He touched the gauze on his forehead; it was thick and a little wet, and he couldn't tell if it was blood or iodine.

He lowered his hand, turned over, and faced the wall.

The walls were made of adobe bricks and whitewashed. Several pieces of whitewash had fallen off, revealing the yellow mud underneath.

He suddenly remembered Cui Ying.

I didn't say much to her when I left. I'm not going back tonight. Will she worry?

Chen Ping reached into his pocket, took out his phone, and pressed a button, but the screen didn't light up. He didn't know if it was out of battery or if it had been damaged during the fight.

Chen Ping sighed, placed his phone next to his pillow, closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

This is the backyard of Siping Township Health Center.

Cui Ying sat on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow, with her phone on her lap.

The screen was lit up, displaying the dialer interface with the words "Chen Ping" written on it.

She pressed a button, dialed, it rang a few times, and then displayed the message "The user you dialed is temporarily unavailable."

She hung up, dialed again, but still couldn't get through.

I dialed again, but still couldn't get through.

She put her phone on the bed, stood up, walked to the window, and drew back the curtains.

She stood by the window, looked for a while, then went back, picked up her phone, and dialed again, but still couldn't get through.

She gripped her phone tightly in her hand until it was burning hot.

She lay down and pulled the blanket over herself, but didn't fall asleep.

His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. There was no sound from next door; Chen Ping wasn't there, and the next room was empty.

A cool breeze slipped in through the cracks in the window, and she shivered, pulling the blanket up a little higher.

My phone suddenly lit up.

She picked it up excitedly, glanced at it, and saw that it wasn't a phone call, but a text message.

A message from Cui Ying's mother: "Daughter, are you coming home this weekend? Your dad misses you."

She didn't reply. She put her phone under her pillow, turned over, and faced the wall.

After a while, he picked up his phone again and dialed the number once more.

"The user you dialed is temporarily unavailable."

She threw her phone on the pillow, got up and walked into the yard, then stared blankly in the direction of the health center's main entrance.

………………

The next morning!

Chen Ping woke up before dawn.

He wasn't woken up by anyone; he was awakened by the pain from his injuries—his shoulders, back, and thighs ached everywhere.

He opened his eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling above him for a while. The moonlight had faded, replaced by a hazy white that seeped in from outside the window, turning everything in the room a pale gray.

He sat up, a sharp pain shooting through his shoulder, and gritted his teeth, remaining silent.

He looked down at himself; his clothes were wrinkled and stained with blood and dirt, and his dark blue T-shirt had turned into a patterned one.

The gauze on my forehead is fine, but it's itchy underneath because the wound is healing.

There was no sound from next door; Sun Xiuying and Zhao Dezhu were still asleep.

The rooster crowed, the first crow, the second, the third, each one closer than the last, as if urging him to get up.

He threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the cold ground, which made him shiver.

The shoes were by the bed, covered in dust from last night's fight.

He put on his shoes, stood up, and moved his arms. His left arm was still a little sore, but he could move it.

My back hurts, but it doesn't affect my walking.

The head is the most troublesome part; it's heavy, like it's filled with lead, and it makes a buzzing sound when you shake it.

He picked up his phone from beside his pillow, pressed a button, but the screen didn't light up.

I pressed it for several seconds, but it still didn't light up.

Either it's out of power or it's broken. Last night, after I got hit by that stick, my phone, which was in my pocket, also suffered the consequences.

He put his phone in his pocket, picked up the first-aid kit from the bedside table, and opened the door to the west room.

The main room was dark and gloomy, and the gauze and iodine used last night were still on the table, untouched.

He tiptoed over, careful not to wake Sun Xiuying and the others.

As I reached the door, a voice came from behind me.

"Dr. Chen, are you leaving already?"

Sun Xiuying stood at the door of the east room, wearing an old cotton-padded coat, her hair disheveled, and her eyes still swollen.

She looked at Chen Ping with a mixture of anxiety and heartache, as if she were watching her own child get injured but still have to go to work, unable to stop him and unwilling to let him go.

"It's dawn, time to go back." Chen Ping smiled. "There are still patients waiting at the health center."

"You still have a head injury."

Sun Xiuying walked over and reached out to touch his forehead, but then withdrew her hand halfway, as if afraid of hurting him. "Have breakfast before you go. I'll boil you two eggs."

"No need, Sister Sun, I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat even if you're not hungry."

Sun Xiuying's tone left no room for refusal, and she turned and went into the kitchen.

Chen Ping stood at the doorway and heard the sound of matches being struck, firewood crackling, and then the sound of a pot lid being lifted from the kitchen.

He didn't leave, nor did he urge him. He leaned against the door frame, watching the sky in the courtyard gradually brighten.

Sun Xiuying brought out a steaming bowl of egg drop soup, with two poached eggs floating in the soup, white and tender, and a few scallions floating on top.

She shoved the bowl into Chen Ping's hands, then pulled out a plastic bag from the kitchen containing a dozen or so red-shelled eggs and a bag of dried mushrooms that smelled delicious.

"Take these eggs home and eat them; they're from our own chickens and are more nutritious than store-bought ones. The mushrooms are ones I picked myself from the mountain; I dried them, and they're delicious in stews with chicken or meat."

Chen Ping looked at the bag of things and shook his head: "Sister Sun, keep it for yourself..."

Chen Ping knew that Sun Xiuying's family was also having a hard time!

"Just take it."

Sun Xiuying tied the bag tightly to the back of the bicycle. "You saved my life, what's a little something like this? I won't feel right if you don't take it."

Chen Ping opened his mouth, but swallowed back his words of refusal.

He picked up the bowl, drank the egg drop soup, and ate the poached egg in a few bites, his mouth burning from the heat, but his heart felt warm.

He put the bowl on the table, wiped his mouth, and looked at Sun Xiuying.

"Sister Sun, where is Zhao Dezhu?"

Sun Xiuying glanced at the east room and sighed, "He's still sleeping. He didn't sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning, and only dozed off just before dawn."

She paused, then lowered her voice, "He felt bad too, like he was a coward who had hurt you like this."

Chen Ping didn't reply. He walked to the door of the east room, which was ajar. Zhao Dezhu was lying facing the wall, only half covered by the quilt. His shoulders were trembling. He wasn't asleep at all; he was crying.

"Zhao Dezhu," Chen Ping called out.

Zhao Dezhu's body stiffened for a moment, and he didn't turn around.

Don't take it to heart.

Chen Ping's voice wasn't loud, but every word was sincere. "What happened last night wasn't your fault. Even if you hadn't made this call, that careless guy would have found another way. You couldn't protect Sister Xiuying. If I were in his shoes, I would have made the call too."

Zhao Dezhu's shoulders trembled even more violently, and the blanket slipped down, but he didn't pull it back.

"Alright, I'm leaving." Chen Ping turned and walked out. "Take care, all of you."

Sun Xiuying followed her out and escorted her all the way to the gate of the courtyard.

Chen Ping pushed his bicycle, walked a few steps, then stopped and turned around.

"Sister Sun, if Ma Hu comes looking for trouble again, give me a call," Chen Ping said.

Sun Xiuying nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes again.

She stood at the door, watching Chen Ping get on his bike, ride wobbly up the village road, his figure getting smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared around the bend.

She stood there for a long time, until the rooster crowed several times, before turning around and going back into the house.