On Standby - Chapter 4

“Didn’t you say you’d be off work by 8:10? How come you’re only getting home at 10?” Tang Anhua, who was sitting on the living room sofa watching the news but already feeling drowsy, asked as he heard the key turn in the lock and the door close.

Tang Feihuan fabricated a lie, her voice hoarse: “A new patient came in right before I was about to leave.” She didn’t mention the hour she’d spent in the underground parking lot, trying to calm down.

“Oh, I see.” As the family member of a doctor, Tang Anhua was used to such delays and didn’t suspect anything. He grabbed the remote, turned off the TV, and stood up to head to the bedroom. As if remembering something, he added, “There’s a bowl of mung bean soup in the fridge. Drink it after your shower to cool down.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Get some rest early. Don’t be like your mother, poring over research papers until the middle of the night.”

Tang Feihuan forced a smile. “I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Tang Feihuan went to her room, put down her bag, turned on the air conditioner, and then walked back to the living room. As soon as she slid open the glass door to the balcony, a small, furry creature leaped into her arms.

“Tomato, slow down.”

Woof! Woof!

Tang Feihuan pressed her right index finger to her lips, reminding him, “It’s late. No barking.”

The Shiba Inu puppy seemed to understand human speech, immediately ceasing its barking and wagging its tail as it circled around her.

“Let’s sit down.”

Tang Feihuan went to the kitchen refrigerator and brought out a bowl of mung bean soup. She settled into one of the rattan chairs on the balcony, where they often relaxed with tea. Tomato obediently squatted beside her, gazing up with his signature Shiba Inu smile. The air conditioner fan oscillated back and forth, and Tang Feihuan leaned back, her eyes half-closed as memories flickered through her mind.

In 2009, during their second year together, Tang Feihuan was a senior in college, while Lin Ye was a third-year graduate student doing an internship. Lin Ye would often complain to her after returning to campus at night.

“Kids are so annoying.”

Tang Feihuan had asked, “How so?”

“They cry and fuss endlessly. No matter how we try to soothe them, nothing works.”

She had reassured him, “You don’t have to deal with kids very often.” Later, they reached a consensus: neither of them liked children, and fortunately, they didn’t have any opportunities to have kids themselves.

How had their preferences changed so drastically over the years?

Tang Feihuan sipped her mung bean soup, the icy liquid sliding down her throat, yet failing to quell the unease churning in her chest. Lost in thought on the balcony, she didn’t hear Jiang Junli calling her from behind until the woman approached, her shadow falling across the wooden table before her. Only then did Tang Feihuan look up.

“Still haven’t showered?” Jiang Junli asked, noticing her daughter was still in her outdoor clothes.

Tang Feihuan composed herself. “Sit for a bit. I’ll go right away.”

Jiang Junli, adept at reading people, pressed further. “Something on your mind?”

“No, just keeping Tomato company.” Tang Feihuan swallowed casually, lowering her head to stroke the Shiba Inu puppy’s head.

Sensing her daughter’s reluctance to talk, Jiang Junli didn’t push. She changed the subject. “What’s your shift on Friday?”

The Second Affiliated Hospital’s Emergency Department operated on a “day-night-off” schedule: a day shift followed by a night shift, then a night-off shift, and finally a day off. First-line physicians (residents) worked two 24-hour shifts per week, while second-line physicians (attending physicians and junior deputy directors) worked one 24-hour shift per week. Third-line physicians were not required to be on-site.

Tang Feihuan pulled out her phone, checked her work schedule, and replied, “I’m off on Friday.”

“Six o’clock in the evening, dinner at Juhua Restaurant.”

“With whom?” Tang Feihuan frowned, wondering if her mother was going to bring up blind dates again. Just a few days ago, Teacher Tang had casually mentioned, both directly and indirectly, that she was getting older and should consider getting married sooner rather than later.

Jiang Junli recalled, “A distant relative. You probably met her when you were three.”

Tang Feihuan temporarily put her worries aside and asked, “Three years old? Male or female? What should I call her?”

Jiang Junli replied, “Your maternal aunt, Jiang Mu. She recently transferred from the traffic police squadron in the township to the traffic police brigade in our Shatan District. She’s two years younger than you, born in 1990.”

“Got it. I’m going to take a shower now. Good night, Mom.” Tang Feihuan picked up her empty bowl, first went to the kitchen to wash it, then returned to her own bathroom for a shower. After showering, she lay in bed, wrestling with her thoughts until two in the morning. Finally, she resolved to set aside her feelings and focus on her career.

At thirty years old, she needed to stay calm. If the other person was happy, that was a good thing too.

On the other side of campus, in the Shu River University faculty housing complex, a dim bedside lamp glowed in the second bedroom from the left on the third floor of an old-fashioned building. Lin Ye had just soothed his child to sleep, turned off the light, and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He hadn’t had time to wash up yet, his long hair still tied up, wearing a beige shirt and brown pants. As he turned, a middle-aged woman appeared before him. Lin Ye greeted her warmly, “Aunt Hui.”

Lin Wenhui, Lin Ye’s mother’s elder sister, was a 55-year-old professor of literature at Shu River University who had just retired in June. Childless herself, and having lost her younger sister a few years prior, she treated Lin Ye like her own son. She asked in a low voice, “Is Yangyang asleep?”

Lin Ye’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Yes, he’s asleep.”

They moved to the living room, deliberately making small talk.

“The child is so well-behaved,” Lin Ye said. “He washes his face and brushes his teeth all by himself now. He’s not as shy as when he first arrived.”

Four years ago, Lin Ye went to Kashgar Second People’s Hospital in Xinjiang to provide medical assistance. That summer, she delivered a baby for a pregnant woman. The child was born healthy, but the mother died from severe postpartum hemorrhage. Later, Lin Ye learned that the child’s father was a firefighter from Rong City who had been sent to Xinjiang as part of the Aid Xinjiang program. He had died two days earlier while fighting a fire. The pregnant woman had traveled thousands of miles from Rong City to Xinjiang, and the arduous journey had triggered premature labor.

Neither family had parents, meaning the martyr’s child was now an orphan. Fortunately, the Rong City welfare home made proper arrangements, and the child was adopted by a childless family who provided a comfortable life. However, this arrangement didn’t last. Last August, Lin Ye received a call from a welfare home staff member, informing her that the adoptive family was planning to abandon the child and was currently negotiating with the civil affairs bureau and the welfare home.

Because the staff member had maintained regular contact with Lin Ye, she immediately thought of her.

“The child has congenital heart disease. The family has spent twenty to thirty thousand yuan on treatment, but it hasn’t worked, so…”

“I’ll raise him,” Lin Ye said. This wasn’t a hasty decision; she had already discussed it with Lin Wenhui, explaining that she didn’t want to marry and that adopting a child would be a good alternative.

Lin Wenhui agreed that forcing the issue would be fruitless. Since the other party had already considered abandoning the child, it was best to bring the child home. The next morning, Lin Ye took leave from work, flew to Rong City, completed the adoption procedures in two days, and returned to Shu River with the child.

The child was renamed Lin Yangyang.

Due to his premature birth, Yangyang was diagnosed with congenital heart disease—Tetralogy of Fallot—at six months old. In September of the previous year, Lin Ye admitted him to the hospital. After examination by Director Fang of the Cardiovascular Surgery Department, it was determined that Yangyang’s condition was not yet suitable for radical surgery. Instead, a palliative procedure was performed, and he was placed under observation. The plan was to perform the corrective surgery when he was older.

After Lin Wenhui finished speaking, she noticed Lin Ye smiling sincerely. “Xiao Ye,” she asked, “did your department admit a patient named Zhong Yuanzhao today?”

“Yes, Aunt Hui. Do you know him?” Lin Ye guessed they might know each other, since they were both professors at Shu River University.

Lin Wenhui sighed. “Of course I know him. Old Zhong and Old Zheng used to live across the hall from us. They moved to the western district nursing home six years ago. This afternoon, when I picked Yangyang up from kindergarten, the security guard mentioned that Zhong Yuanzhao was critically ill.”

“We’re doing everything we can to save him. Professor Zhong’s son and daughter are on a flight back and should arrive in Shu River around 7 PM tomorrow.”

Seeing the exhaustion etched across Lin Ye’s face, Lin Wenhui decided to end the conversation. “You doctors work so hard, saving lives. Go wash up and get some rest.”

Lin Ye glanced at the antique clock hanging to the right of the air conditioner—9:23 PM—and nodded. “Okay.” They retreated to their respective rooms.

Late that night, with the moon hanging high above the trees, Lin Ye finally closed her textbooks after reviewing dozens of pages of research and turned off the light. Propped against the headboard, she replayed fragments of Lu Yuqing’s words in her mind.

“Tang Feihuan’s a cardiac surgeon, right? What’s she doing in the Emergency Department? Her intentions are as clear as day.”

“How long did you endure before breaking up with Tang Feihuan? I thought she’d try to win you back, but what did she do? Sent a single word in the middle of the night the next day.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what? Bullshit! Did she even realize how miserable you were back then?”

“Now that she’s successful in her career and studies, she thinks she can just come back and chase you? Tell her she’s got another thing coming.”

Lin Ye pressed her aching temples and lay down, forcing herself to banish Tang Feihuan’s image from her mind.

It’s over, she told herself. We have no future.

The next day, Lin Ye was on a 24-hour shift. She closely monitored Zhong Yuanzhao’s condition. Fortunately, after over a dozen hours of treatment, the elderly professor’s condition continued to improve. At 6 PM, when Tang Feihuan took over the night shift, her first thought was also for Zhong Yuanzhao. She saw Professor Zheng standing outside the Emergency Intensive Care Unit (EICU) door, his eyes brimming with tears as he expressed his gratitude.

Tang Feihuan didn’t greet Lin Ye. She simply pressed the button to enter the EICU and walked straight to Professor Zhong’s bed, Bed 5. The elderly man lay connected to a ventilator, his eyes half-closed as he gazed at her, his fingers twitching slightly. Understanding his gesture, Tang Feihuan donned a mask and cap, disinfected her hands, and leaned closer to hear his faint whisper: “Don’t… don’t save me… don’t save me anymore…”

As if sensing his impending departure from this world, he begged.

True to form, less than half an hour later, Professor Zhong’s bedside nurse shouted, “Bed 5’s bl00d pressure is dropping! The vasopressors aren’t working!”

The attending physician frantically called for backup: “Get Director Lin here now! Bed 5’s patient is in ventricular fibrillation!”