Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 39

Chapter 39 – Call

More than a sisterly feeling

——

Qin Han’s weekend had flown by too quickly. She’d only managed to have lunch at Zhang Yuqing’s shop…

It was still afternoon, and the table hadn’t been cleared yet when Qin Han received a call. Her mother said she’d already gotten off the plane and would be home in about an hour.

After their divorce, in truth, her father had only taken some clothes. Most of his belongings remained in the house, as if he were just on a business trip.

It was her mother who had thrown away or broken many of her father’s things. Only his study remained untouched.

One day, Qin Han accidentally saw her mother enter her father’s study. Worrying that her mother might tear up the books, she tiptoed to the door.

Through the crack, she saw her mother open a book. Tears fell onto the pages with each turn of the page.

Qin Han remembered that book—it was an English original edition of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

She also remembered the words her father had written on the title page. “I will never be alone, because I will always love you.”

Her father had said that book was their love token.

Her mother’s trip had lasted over 20 days. Now that she was back, Qin Han couldn’t continue staying at Yaonan Alley.

After saying goodbye to everyone, Qin Han slung her empty backpack over her shoulder and stepped toward the exit of Zhang Yuqing’s shop.

She had barely taken a step when the backpack’s zipper was pulled open.

Turning back, she saw Zhang Yuqing had stuffed several bottles of brown liquid inside.

Zhang Yuqing grabbed Qin Han’s backpack and tugged her back, asking, “The military training starts next week, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Old tradition at Beijing Normal University. They’ve been doing mid-month training every year.”

He pointed at her backpack. “Take some Huoxiang Zhengqi Shui. Better safe than sorry with the heat.”

——Huoxiang Zhengqi Shui is a liquid herbal formula used in Traditional Chinese medicine to “induce diaphoresis and clear away summer-heat, to resolve dampness and regulate the function of the spleen and stomach”.

“Thanks.”

“Take your time getting back. Come by again during the next break.”

With that, Zhang Yuqing shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back to the shop.

Qin Han suddenly called out, “They don’t give weekend passes during military training.”

“Mm.”

Zhang Yuqing smiled over his shoulder. “But they’ll give a week off for National Day.”

So after returning to school, Qin Han found herself counting down to National Day just like she used to count down to weekends.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t done anything special during previous short holidays anyway—either studying at the library or visiting her grandmother with her parents.

But this year would be different.

Qin Han had her own destination in mind.

The day before military training began, her roommates bought sunscreen sprays, creams, whitening pills, and face masks together.

To these beauty-conscious girls, the only true horror of military training was the prospect of getting tanned.

During the day, Qin Han would sweat profusely. At night, she’d bathe and sit on the small balcony, reading by the glow of mosquito coils.

The training was too exhausting for serious study. She borrowed random books to pass the time instead.

Her contact with Zhang Yuqing remained sparse. Since returning from the weekend, they’d exchanged only one message—a photo Zhang Yuqing sent of Beibei wearing its collar.

Midway through the training, there came two days of unexpectedly scorching heat.

One night, Sun Ziyi suddenly developed diarrhea and vomiting.

Qin Han, a light sleeper in the bottom bunk, felt frequent movements in the bathroom. She switched on the bedside lamp to see Sun Ziyi pale and disheveled.

Startled, Qin Han jumped out of bed and whispered urgently, “…Ziyi! What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

“I think I’m heatstroke,” Sun Ziyi replied weakly, crouching by the bathroom door.

The sweat-drenched bangs on her forehead clung to her skin, revealing furrowed brows.

“What should we do? Should we go to the infirmary?”

Sun Ziyi, unable to maintain her crouch, plopped onto the floor and shook her head. “I don’t have the energy. Besides, we’ve got full-day training tomorrow. Let’s not disturb everyone. I’ll probably feel better after vomiting a couple more times. You should get some sleep.”

“How can I let you suffer like this?”

Qin Han’s fingers fumbled through her backpack, remembering the medicine Zhang Yuqing had stuffed inside earlier. She retrieved several small brown bottles, her frustration mounting.

I should’ve asked Zhang Yuqing about proper usage and dosage.

Sun Ziyi had never taken this concoction before either.

At 1 o’clock in the morning, Qin Han mustered the courage to text Zhang Yuqing.

The dormitory’s spotty signal made calls unreliable, but the internet connection remained stable.

Zhang Yuqing’s reply came promptly, “Drink one small bottle.”

Lacking experience with nursing others, Qin Han administered the Huoxiang Zhengqi Shui to Sun Ziyi. Still worried, she pulled up a chair to keep watch.

“Go back to sleep. You don’t need to stay with me.”

“It’s alright. Our formation has only been practicing drills these past two days, so it’s not too exhausting.”

“Little Qin Han, you’re truly wonderful.”

“You sleep first. I’ll wait until you’re fully asleep before resting.”

Perhaps the Huoxiang Zhengqi Shui had taken effect, as Sun Ziyi’s furrowed brows gradually relaxed.

After nearly an hour, her breathing became even.

Strangely, Qin Han suddenly found herself completely unable to sleep.

The phone screen lit up briefly in the darkness—it was Zhang Yuqing.

[ Feeling better now? If it’s serious, go to the infirmary. Don’t delay. ]

Qin Han replied.

[ She’s already asleep. ]

[ Good. You should sleep too. Goodnight. ]

Qin Han stared at Zhang Yuqing’s message, frozen for a few seconds. Suddenly, she didn’t want to simply reply with “goodnight” anymore.

Humans were indeed greedy.

On this early autumn night, she wanted more of Zhang Yuqing’s tenderness.

Lowering her eyelids, Qin Han pressed her lips together and sent a message.

[ Zhang Yuqing, I can’t sleep.]

After sending this message, Qin Han’s heart began to race.

The phone screen lit up briefly, but she didn’t dare look at it.

After a long while, Qin Han finally took a deep breath and opened the new message.

He said,

[ Want to chat? By text or call? ]

The moment she read the message, Qin Han felt close to tears. It was as if something soft had gently collided with her heart.

She held her phone and tiptoed to the balcony.

After closing the door, she put on her headphones and made a voice call.

Zhang Yuqing answered quickly. He must have put the phone on speaker, as Qin Han could clearly hear Beibei’s cries and the cicadas’ songs from Yaonan Alley.

Along with the old electric fan’s whirring.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Zhang Yuqing’s voice came through the headphones. “I’m working on a pattern. Not done yet.”

“In your bedroom?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Qin Han could picture Zhang Yuqing’s current state.

He was probably leaning against the bed, holding a small drawing board and designing patterns. Her voice, carried through the phone, filled his entire bedroom.

At this thought, Qin Han’s ears and cheeks burned.

She whispered, “Thanks for the medicine. My roommate got better quickly.”

“You should take care too. During military training, the cafeteria sells green bean soup. Drink plenty to prevent heatstroke.”

From Zhang Yuqing’s end came the soft rustle of a pencil tip against paper. When he spoke, his voice gently overpowered these faint sounds, warm and understanding.

He knew she was using the “can’t sleep” excuse.

But he didn’t expose her. Instead, he accepted her scheme and accompanied her through the night, chatting casually.

That night, the stars shone particularly bright, and the moon hung in a crescent shape on the horizon. Qin Han said whatever came to mind, and Zhang Yuqing always managed to continue the conversation from her topics.

When the conversation turned to her recent reading of Kawabata Yasunari’s works, Qin Han said with some frustration, “Kawabata-sensei won the Nobel Prize in Literature, but I just can’t understand what he’s writing or what he’s trying to express.”

She continued to berate herself, “When I read Snow Country, I even thought Shimamura was just a scummy guy.”

Zhang Yuqing’s soft laughter spread through the night air. He asked, “What made you pick up Snow Country in the first place?”

Qin Han’s face flushed red as she hesitated. “Because the cover looked nice.”

Zhang Yuqing chuckled. “Then just remember the last line of the book.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Mhm.”

Zhang Yuqing paused briefly, as if pondering. After a few seconds, he suddenly said, “‘The Milky Way flowed down inside him with a roar.’ If I’m not mistaken, that’s how it goes. As beautiful as the cover.”

Qin Han hadn’t memorized any lines from the book. The next morning, when she flipped to the last page of Snow Country, she found Zhang Yuqing’s recitation word-for-word accurate.

At the end of their balcony conversation that night, Qin Han asked Zhang Yuqing if she could call him occasionally during her free time.

“Anytime,” Zhang Yuqing replied.

The subsequent military training became more bearable. Qin Han would carry her water bottle, filled with green bean soup as Zhang Yuqing had instructed.

She also found time to visit the library for books, calling Zhang Yuqing during lunch breaks or evenings.

Each call remained brief, never lasting until dawn like that first night.

Yet Qin Han felt deeply satisfied and happy.

Sun Ziyi remarked, “Most people wilt during military training, but little Qin Han seems to gain energy. Her appetite’s improved too.”

Xie Ying, face plastered with a mask, strained to speak. “Must be… the power of love.”

During one call, Qin Han asked curiously, “Have you read many books before?”

“Quite a few.”

Zhang Yuqing shared his university experiences for the first time.

He’d worked night shifts at a 24-hour fast-food restaurant. While sleep was forbidden, he could fill the hours with other activities.

When not serving customers, Zhang Yuqing translated English documents for extra income. When translation work dried up, he immersed himself in books.

Zhang Yuqing didn’t have much time, so he asked his roommate to borrow books from the library for him.

His roommate didn’t know what type of books Zhang Yuqing liked, so he borrowed whatever he saw. Sometimes he even brought back textbooks from other departments.

Zhang Yuqing laughed over the phone, “He even borrowed forensic autopsy manuals with those gruesome illustrations. The more I read, the more energized I felt.”

“Why?”

“Go see for yourself and you’ll understand.”

The next day, Qin Han found the book Zhang Yuqing mentioned in the library. As soon as she opened it, she saw a page filled with rotting corpses, their wounds crawling with maggots.

She felt sick to her stomach.

That night, when they called each other again, Qin Han complained about Zhang Yuqing’s “evil deed.” She didn’t notice how her voice sounded like she was teasing a boyfriend.

“Zhang Yuqing! You did this on purpose!”

Zhang Yuqing’s triumphant laughter came through the phone.

Who said he was always mature and gentle? When he acted childish, he was no better than those college boys on campus.

The back door of Zhang Yuqing’s shop opened. Luo Shijin walked in carrying two large plates of dumplings. “Qing-ge, my dad made dumplings. Let’s eat together.”

Seeing Zhang Yuqing, Luo Shijin paused.

His Qing-ge often sat by the window designing patterns when he wasn’t busy.

Today was like any other day, yet somehow different.

Luo Shijin carried two plates of dumplings. He’d struggled to push open the back door—first using his foot to wedge it open, then blocking it with his body as he squeezed inside.

He thought he’d heard Zhang Yuqing’s laughter then, but dismissed it as his imagination.

His Qing-ge had never laughed so freely before.

Now, Luo Shijin saw Zhang Yuqing leaning casually in his chair, surrounded by sketches and a phone. Headphones hung around his neck, a pencil twirling between his fingers.

Perhaps sensing the door’s movement, Zhang Yuqing turned, his eyes and lips still holding traces of amusement.

Luo Shijin set the dumplings on the table without a word. “Mm, go ahead,” Zhang Yuqing said.

His Qing-ge’s phone had just finished playing a call-end message. Luo Shijin couldn’t hold back anymore, “Qing-ge, who were you talking to?”

“Qin Han.”

In the past, Zhang Yuqing never used headphones. He valued efficiency in everything he did, rarely allowing himself to be distracted.

Yet today, he wore headphones while drawing, all for a phone call.

Luo Shijin opened his mouth several times before cautiously asking, “Is being a stand-in so demanding? You even have to chat with her?”

Zhang Yuqing glanced at him mildly. “Just say what you want.”

“Uh, it’s not that I’m gossiping,” Luo Shijin said, scratching his head. He took a large gulp of water before continuing, “I’m just worried. Do you… do you feel something more than a sisterly feeling toward that girl Qin Han now?”

Mid-sentence, Luo Shijin still felt it awkward to say, so he rephrased, “Last time, when I asked if you liked her, I felt your ‘like’ was like how you’d feel toward a younger sister. But now? Do you… do you feel more than that?”

Zhang Yuqing removed his headphones and tapped his fingers twice on the table, lost in thought.

After a moment, he looked up and smiled openly. “Yes, I suppose I do.”