First, then, love.

With the prescription in hand, Shu Yao went to pay the bill and pick up her medication, while He Zheng sat alone in the corridor outside the rehabilitation therapy room waiting.

At the end of the corridor is a row of handrails for disabled people, where several patients who have just undergone surgery are struggling to walk with the help of their families.

There was an old wooden stool next to it against the wall, where an old lady with gray hair sat knitting without even lifting her eyelids.

Her son was doing knee rehabilitation exercises, gritting his teeth with every step he took, veins bulging on his forehead. The old lady paused while knitting, her fingers trembling slightly, but she didn't stop.

I dare not look, but I cannot ignore it either.

He Zheng sat down against the wall, his gaze sweeping across the corridor.

A young man in a hospital gown, leaning on crutches, was limping forward, accompanied by a girl who looked quite young, probably a recent college student.

The young man gasped in pain with every step he took, and the girl nervously reached out to support him, but dared not actually touch him for fear of hurting him.

"Brother, slow down, we're not in a hurry," the girl said, her voice trembling.

"It's okay, the doctor said the earlier I start practicing, the better." The young man forced a smile, his forehead covered in sweat. "Don't keep staring at me like that, I'm perfectly fine."

"You're perfectly fine." The girl's eyes reddened, and she turned her head away so he wouldn't see. "Last time you said you were okay, but the checkup revealed that your bones are dislocated."

The young man didn't reply; he just held onto the handrail and moved forward inch by inch.

As He Zheng looked at it, he suddenly remembered that after he was shot for the first time, he was lying in a hospital bed and had to learn to walk again inch by inch in the same way.

Back then, no one was there to comfort him as he shed tears. When his teammates came to visit, the first thing they said upon entering was, "Stop pretending to be dead, get up and practice!" No one was willing to show any weakness.

It turns out that whether you wear a uniform or not, when faced with pain, people always endure it in such an awkward and undignified way.

"Captain He?"

A somewhat hoarse voice sounded beside He Zheng.

He Zheng looked up and, against the light of the corridor, saw a man in a yellow deliveryman's jacket standing in front of him, leaning on a single crutch.

The man looked to be in his forties, with half of his hair turned gray and his cheeks sunken, exuding a sense of weariness and vicissitude from years of exposure to the elements.

His right trouser leg was empty, tied in a knot below the knee.

He Zheng was stunned for a moment, his dark eyes narrowed sharply, and he stood up abruptly, forgetting the injury on his left shoulder, which caused a sharp pain.

"Old Chen?"

Chen Jianguo was He Zheng's old squad leader when he first joined the special police team, and also the mentor who took him on his first real combat mission.

Six years ago, during a hostage rescue bombing, Chen Jianguo lost his right leg in an explosion while protecting a new police officer. He was forced to retire due to his injury, received a pension, and disappeared from the police force's sight.

He Zheng looked for him, but couldn't find him.

He deliberately avoided his former comrades.

"It really is you, Captain He." Old Chen rubbed his rough hands together, gave a forced smile, his face creased with deep wrinkles, and subconsciously hid his crippled leg, which was supported by a cane, behind him.

"Old squad leader, what's wrong with you..." He Zheng's gaze fell on his dirty delivery uniform, his throat felt tight and dry as if he had a handful of sand stuck in it.

A hero of the special police team, a first-class meritorious officer.

Are you delivering food now?

Old Chen understood He Zheng's look, smiled憨厚ly, and waved his hand.

"Hey, don't even mention it. After retiring, I took some money and wanted to start a small business, but I got scammed and lost everything." Old Chen's tone was calm, as if he were talking about someone else's troubles. "My wife thought life was too hard and left with our daughter. Now I'm all alone. I've lost my legs, but I can still use my hands, so I modified a tricycle and do same-city express deliveries. I can earn three or four thousand a month, which is enough to live on."

He made it sound so easy, but the rubber pad at the bottom of that cane had been worn down to the point that the metal core inside was exposed.

The old woman knitting next to them looked up at some point, listened to the two talking, and a knowing look flashed in her cloudy eyes.

She put away her knitting, moved a little closer with her cane, and smiled at Old Chen.

"Young man, judging from your voice, you used to be a policeman?"

Old Chen nodded somewhat embarrassedly: "Auntie, that's all in the past."

"How can the past be considered the past?" The old lady shook her head, her voice soft but clear. "My son was in a car accident two years ago. The person who hit him was a drunk driver who fled. It was the special police team who brought him back from 300 kilometers away in the middle of the night. I don't know if it was you, but I remember it was raining heavily that day. Those young men were soaked to the bone. Before they put the suspect into the police car, they turned back to me and said, 'Auntie, we've caught him, don't worry.'"

As she spoke, her eyes reddened.

"I haven't done much to thank you in my life, but I just wanted to say thank you whenever I see someone wearing these clothes, or someone like you with a broken arm or leg." The old woman paused, then added, "We should enjoy the peaceful life you risked your lives for; we can't pretend we didn't see it."

Old Chen was stunned. His lips moved, but he couldn't say anything. He just lowered his head deeply, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He Zheng stood to the side, silent, but his fists were clenched.

At the end of the corridor, the girl was helping the young man slowly walk back. The sound of their footsteps echoed in He Zheng's heart, like the sound of a bell that had been silent for a long time.

"Alright, alright, stop saying such discouraging things." Old Chen waved his hand with a smile, managing to bring the atmosphere back on track. He turned to He Zheng and asked, "What about you? What happened to your shoulder?"

"It's an old injury, I pulled it a bit," He Zheng said in a low voice.

"You young people just don't take your health seriously. It's good to work hard while you're young, but you also need to have a backup plan." Old Chen sighed and patted He Zheng's intact right shoulder.

"Alright, I still have a delivery to make, and I'll get fined if it's late. Take good care of yourself and recover. When you have time...when you have time, come over for drinks, I'll treat you to some barbecue."

Old Chen turned around, leaning on his cane, and limped towards the elevator. His back was hunched, his spine bent by the weight of life.

The old lady watched his retreating figure, picked up the yarn again, but the stitches were a bit messier than before.

He Zheng stood rooted to the spot, his legs feeling like lead, unable to move an inch.

Shu Yao, holding the payment slip, walked over from the corner and saw Old Chen limping away, as well as He Zheng's reddened eyes.

She stood a few steps away, watching him quietly.

It's like I suddenly understand something.

I understand why he never complains of pain, why he always insists on doing all the heavy work at home, and why he treats retired war heroes more kindly than people.

Perhaps it was because he had witnessed too many comrades leave and perish.

He dared not stop, dared not cry out in pain, because he knew how clumsy and vulnerable these rough men, who only knew how to handle guns and fight desperately, were in the face of real life once they took off their uniforms.

Every scar on his body is a testament to the sacrifices he made for this city and for ordinary people.

He could only swallow all the honors and pain, along with the bitterness of his retired comrades, and bear it all in silence.

Shu Yao took a deep breath, suppressing the heartache surging within her, and walked over.

"He Zheng." She looked up at him, her voice clear and firm, "Get the medicine, let's go home."

He Zheng lowered his head, looking at the radiant woman in front of him. The emotions in his eyes slowly faded, and his tense muscles gradually relaxed.

He gripped her hand tightly in return.

"Okay, let's go home."