Sweet Oxygen - Chapter 53

Chapter 53 – Reason

Zhang Yuqing, I’m at your shop entrance

——

Qin Han had no idea what time her mother had returned last night. By the time she finished chatting with Xie Ying, it was already past 11 in the evening.

Perhaps because Zhang Yuqing had mentioned calling her today, Qin Han found herself on edge. She woke up before 6 o’clock.

She’d barely opened her eyes when her mother gently pushed open the bedroom door, peering inside. “Xiaohan, are you awake?”

Qin Han sat up on the bed, only then lifting her head. “Mhm, just woke up.”

Mother Qin entered Qin Han’s bedroom in her nightgown, settling on the edge of the bed. She asked with a smile, “Did you see Gu Xun yesterday? How was it?”

It had been years since they’d last sat so intimately on the same bed. Qin Han paused before responding, “Gu Xun’s a nice guy, but I think we’re better off as friends.”

“Why not? I think Gu Xun is a perfectly good boy. Why not give him a proper chance? Some relationships need time to develop.”

Since that summer after high school graduation, Mother Qin hadn’t used such assertive tones in years.

She furrowed her brow slightly, an inexplicable stubbornness coloring her tone. “Moreover, Mom thinks you two are perfectly suited. Qin Han, you’ve already said he’s a good person. How can you be certain you won’t develop feelings for him in the future? The first meeting might feel awkward, but that will fade with more interaction. Trust me, you’re meant to be together.”

5:49 PM.

The phone remained silent.

Qin Han switched her phone to ring mode, fearing she might miss a call.

She took a deep breath and met her mother’s gaze. “I have someone I like. I’ve always had someone.”

Mother Qin said nothing, maintaining eye contact with an unreadable expression.

The words had finally been spoken.

Qin Han smiled. “Mom, you’ve met him before.”

This taboo subject had been avoided for too long. Qin Han had forgotten the anger she’d felt that winter night. Now, merely recalling it brought only a sense of melancholy.

She remembered standing in the hospital, utterly lost.

The antiseptic smell of disinfectant hung thick in the air. White-clad doctors and nurses hurried past, occasionally joined by patients in gowns. Above them, harsh fluorescent lights glared down.

Zhang Yuqing sat alone on a waiting room chair, his face a study in loneliness.

Qin Han had hidden herself in a corner, back pressed against the wall, fighting back tears.

Something went wrong. Something must have gone wrong.

When Zhang Yuqing had first contacted her, he’d been so gentle, so patient. How had things ended up like this?

Qin Han was in a daze, unsure where to go or what to do.

Du Zhi called at that moment. Qin Han instinctively answered, but could only choke out “Dr. Du” before tears began falling. The rest of her words were swallowed by sobs.

It was Du Zhi who took her away.

She wept uncontrollably, as if finally finding an outlet to pour out all her pent-up anguish.

That Friday night, Du Zhi brought Qin Han back to her home.

Du Zhi wiped away her tears, murmuring softly, “Little Qin Han, it will all pass.”

Qin Han shook her head, her voice raw from crying. “My mom said so many humiliating things to him. He must be devastated. Dandan and Grandma are already hospitalized. When he’s so anxious, my mom still…”

Du Zhi knelt before her. “Trust him. Zhang Yuqing isn’t so easily defeated. He’s a youth whose spirit remains unbroken, even when life has bent his spine.”

“I’ve been trying so hard to grow up. Why is it still not enough?”

Du Zhi replied, “Growing up is indeed painful and difficult. Take your time. You’ll meet again at the right moment.”

Yes, growing up was painful.

Qin Han was already growing up. From her falling out with Hu Keyuan to her parents’ divorce, every event forced her to mature.

She knew she used to be just an immature girl, understanding human suffering only through books.

She would cry over a book’s poignant scene, then hypocritically sigh in relief that such misfortune hadn’t befallen her.

During that summer, during her growth, she truly felt lost.

Through this confusion, Zhang Yuqing’s companionship proved invaluable.

Qin Han sometimes thought that without Zhang Yuqing, she might not have endured so much growing up.

He was like an ocean that could embrace all rivers.

And she, too, wanted to become a stream that could receive flowing waters.

With this thought, Qin Han gradually calmed down.

On Saturday, Father Qin came to pick up Qin Han from Du Zhi’s home.

Father Qin’s car stopped outside Normal University. He looked at Qin Han and said, “That friend of yours living on Yaonan Alley, I think he’s quite good. My view differs from your mother’s—I don’t think he’s unworthy of you. Rather, I believe you’re too young now, and being together would only bring him trouble.”

Father Qin smiled. “I want my darling to become even more exceptional, strong enough to withstand life’s hardships, then meet him with composure.”

Qin Han, her eyes red and swollen, looked at her father. “Will I ever get such an opportunity again?”

“You will.”

The chaotic and painful weekend from memory flashed through her mind like images on a spinning carousel lantern.

“Mom, to be honest, I’ve been really struggling these past few years. But Zhang Yuqing is my shield. Only when I think of him do I feel stronger again. We haven’t seen each other in ages, but I’ve always felt like I can’t live without him.”

After Qin Han finished speaking, she looked at her mother with some anxiety.

Mother Qin looked at her daughter, and suddenly her eyes reddened. “Xiaohan, you’re finally willing to talk about this with me.”

She knew her own daughter best.

For many years, Qin Han hadn’t even come home for the New Year, and there was always a certain distance in her attitude. Mother Qin had long suspected that Qin Han knew about her visit to Zhang Yuqing.

Sometimes Qin Han was very much like her husband Qin Anzhi in temperament—she preferred to handle things herself.

Only after fully processing would she choose to be open and honest.

Just like how Qin Anzhi had known for years that she would secretly check his phone and track his movements. It wasn’t until much later that he finally said, “Jingru, I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry that after being with me, you’ve become so cautious and restrained.”

“When did you find out I went to see him?” Mother Qin asked.

“That day, I didn’t leave. I couldn’t accept it. I wanted to see what kind of woman Zhang Yuqing had hidden in his house.”

Qin Han lowered her eyelids. “I was hiding in the alleyway. I saw you.”

In truth, Mother Qin desperately wanted to talk to Qin Han about Zhang Yuqing. But she was also terrified—afraid Qin Han would blame her. That’s why she’d turned to Gu Xun.

She’d hoped that by setting up a blind date, Qin Han might bring up Zhang Yuqing herself.

Mother Qin’s eyes were red-rimmed as she gently hugged Qin Han. “Xiaohan.”

Qin Han suppressed the lump in her throat. “Mom, can you… stop saying things that hurt him?”

“Mom won’t go back there.”

In Qin Han’s determined stance, Mother Qin saw her own younger self.

She remembered being around Qin Han’s age now, kneeling before her parents-in-law, swearing to marry Qin Anzhi no matter what.

Mother Qin wore no makeup, her eyes still red. She spoke to Qin Han like an older sister, her voice calm. “Xiaohan, guess why Mom opened a dessert shop?”

Qin Han shook her head.

Mother Qin smiled, rolling up the loose legs of her pajamas to reveal a scar on her calf.

The scar was ugly, like a centipede clinging to her leg.

“Mother had a car accident before New Year’s.”

“Mother, you…”

“It’s fine, it healed long ago.” Mother Qin smiled, interrupting Qin Han. “Let me finish first.”

It was a day before New Year’s. Mother Qin had just finished a transoceanic call with Qin Han, who announced she wouldn’t return home for the holiday but would go straight to Changsha instead. The news had made her angry.

After hanging up, Mother Qin called Father Qin.

Father Qin was attending a conference in Hainan. “I’ll be in meetings all week, from dawn till dusk,” he said. “We can have dinner together when I return to the capital next month, okay?”

That day, Mother Qin had a cold. Being sick without anyone by her side made her feel abandoned by the world.

She put on a mask and walked alone through the streets, clutching her bag. She wanted to buy more cold medicine from the pharmacy near the hospital.

As she crossed the street, she didn’t notice a speeding electric scooter coming around the corner. It hit her, knocking her to the roadside.

The injury was severe. Blood from her calf quickly stained the accumulated snow red. Someone shouted about calling 120, while others suggested simply contacting a doctor since the hospital was nearby.

Some accused it as a hit-and-run, while others asked if they should help her up.

A young man pushed through the crowd, swiftly lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the hospital.

In moments of pain and fear, age becomes irrelevant. Mother Qin trembled from the agony, her sobs barely audible.

The young man’s voice was gentle as he comforted her, “We’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

He clearly didn’t recognize Mother Qin in her mask, but she recognized him.

That man was Zhang Yuqing.

After emergency surgery, he remained by her side. Only when Mother Qin regained consciousness did he approach the bedside, carefully draw the curtains to block the glaring sunset, and asked.

“Your phone is damaged. Should I help contact your family? Or do you need assistance with hospital registration?”

Mother Qin had no one to rely on.

Her ex-husband was attending a full-day business meeting, her daughter was overseas.

Her parents had passed away, and she had no siblings.

She sniffled, handed her documents to Zhang Yuqing, and said in a frail voice, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Zhang Yuqing.”

Mother Qin didn’t remove her mask as she asked, “Do you remember me? I’m Qin Han’s mother.”

Zhang Yuqing paused before responding, “But now, you’re just a patient. Make sure to rest properly.”

That night, when the anesthesia wore off, the stitches in Mother Qin’s wound began throbbing painfully.

Other hospitalized patients had family members present to bring water, deliver meals, assist with bathroom visits, and help change dressings. But Mother Qin had no one.

Alone on the hospital bed, she could only press the call button when needing assistance.

She had once enjoyed a warm and loving family—a husband, a daughter.

Her in-laws had treated her like their own flesh and blood.

Mother Qin recalled a time after her marriage when Qin Anzhi was on a business trip. She’d been rushed to the hospital by Qin Han’s grandmother in the middle of the night with acute appendicitis.

When she woke up, the entire family was there.

Qin Han’s aunt carefully spoon-fed her warm water, her eyes red with concern. “Sister-in-law,” she said, “my brother says he’ll be here tonight. If you need anything, just ask me. Don’t be shy.”

She had once possessed such a warm and loving family.

It was her fault; she had ruined everything.

Mother Qin buried her head in the hospital blanket, clutching it tightly over her eyes as she wept for what felt like an eternity.

When her tears finally subsided, she suddenly heard a voice from outside the blanket, “Would you like some congee?”

Startled, Mother Qin lifted the blanket, her eyes and nose red-rimmed. She saw Zhang Yuqing sitting in the hospital room.

With nowhere to vent her anguish, she suddenly exploded at him, “Why are you pretending to be so good?”

Zhang Yuqing’s face remained impassive as he set the congee on the nearby cabinet.

Mother Qin pressed her advantage. “Did you tell Qin Han about me coming to see you?”

The young man’s eyes were sharp, yet they always carried a hint of calmness, with a faint smile lingering in their depths.

But when she mentioned Qin Han, Zhang Yuqing’s expression finally shifted.

He gave a self-mocking laugh, “We haven’t contacted each other since that day.”

Perhaps due to the long wound on her leg, or perhaps because she had no family to keep her company, Mother Qin had been nothing but a paper tiger that day.

She wiped away her tears and drank the congee Zhang Yuqing had brought.

As they sipped congee, Mother Qin persisted in her defense, “You shouldn’t resent me for separating you. That day, when you didn’t leave, didn’t you also feel you couldn’t give Xiaohan happiness?”

The hospital room held only Mother Qin. A nightlight by the bed cast dim shadows.

Zhang Yuqing sat in the chair beside the bed, his voice measured. “I didn’t leave because I feared she wouldn’t be happy.”

“Do you truly believe you’re incapable of giving her that?”

Zhang Yuqing’s lips curved in a smile. “Not at all.”

Mother Qin lifted her head, studying the young man across from her. His features held unwavering conviction as he continued, “The circumstances were indeed challenging. As the family’s provider, I had to care for my grandmother and younger sister. But I never doubted my capability. Those difficulties weren’t born of incompetence.”

He paused before meeting her gaze directly. “The unhappiness I spoke of stems from the belief that any girl, regardless of age, would struggle to find joy caught between someone she fancies and her mother.”

Understanding dawned on Mother Qin.

Zhang Yuqing’s concession that day hadn’t stemmed from her threats or genuine doubts about their compatibility. He’d simply been protecting the girl he loved.

That night, Zhang Yuqing said to Mother Qin, “You should try to believe.”

“Believe what? That she’ll be happy with you?”

Zhang Yuqing laughed heartily, pulling out a few candy canes from his pocket and placing them on the bedside table. “I’m not talking about our situation. Whether you believe or not doesn’t matter. I know I have this ability.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Nothing.”

Zhang Yuqing picked up the lunch box and stood up. “The day you decided to divorce, the little girl said she only had her mother left. A mother must always be strong.”

During those days when Mother Qin was hospitalized, Zhang Yuqing would occasionally visit, bringing food or books.

One day, Mother Qin frowned. “Why are you so attentive to me?”

He smiled. “If it makes you uncomfortable, consider it me trying to win over my future mother-in-law.”

Later, when Mother Qin’s leg had improved enough to walk with a cane in the hospital corridors, she occasionally encountered Zhang Yuqing.

He was pushing his grandmother to a check-up, accompanied by a round-faced girl around 8 or 9 years old.

He would crouch patiently before the elderly woman, listening to her talk, and wipe away drool from the little girl’s chin.

Suddenly, Mother Qin wondered if she might have been wrong.

Could it be that her daughter’s taste in men was actually quite good?

Was it really only wealthy men who were worth entrusting one’s heart to?

During Zhang Yuqing’s last visit to the hospital, Mother Qin suddenly asked, “Do you have a girlfriend now?”

Zhang Yuqing turned to look at her. “Isn’t she still abroad?”

The determination in his eyes reminded Mother Qin of Qin Anzhi’s gaze before he married her.

Back then, her parents had fiercely opposed their union, hurling every imaginable criticism. Yet Qin Anzhi’s eyes had held the same unwavering resolve and comforting steadiness.

He had said to her then, “Jingru, I’ll give you a life of comfort.”

As Mother Qin recounted this to Qin Han, she wiped tears from her eyes. “I was the one who was wrong. I know now that your father could never love another woman. But I still felt uneasy. Later, I realized perhaps I’d lost myself in our marriage. I’d nearly forgotten what it was I truly loved.”

Qin Han was taken aback. She’d suspected something had happened during the New Year that she didn’t know about, but she never imagined it involved Zhang Yuqing.

“Go,” Mother Qin urged.

“Go where?” Qin Han asked, puzzled.

Mother Qin smiled through her tears. “Go return his jacket.”

Qin Han sprang up and embraced her mother. “Mom, thank you.”

“Remember to tell Zhang Yuqing that Mom is sorry. It was my fault before.”

That day in Imperial City, the weather was perfect with a gentle breeze. Magpies sang joyfully from the branches, and white yulan trees bloomed along the roadside.

Qin Han jumped off the bus, gazing at Yaonan Alley in the distance.

A few old men played chess at the street corner, someone played a soothing melody on a erhu, two stray dogs chased each other by, and the red-blue cylindrical signboard of the barber shop spun in circles.

Qin Han’s nose stung with emotion as she ran toward Yaonan Alley.

The street was still uneven. She remembered Zhang Yuqing once teaching her that this road had always been bumpy, and any fall would result in serious injuries.

Qin Han reached the entrance of Zhang Yuqing’s shop. The paulownia tree that once hung with colorful butterfly kites now blossomed with purple flowers.

The “Oxygen” sign remained unchanged, its strokes sharp and bold.

Her phone sang a song—it was Zhang Yuqing’s call.

Qin Han steadied her breathing before answering.

She’d never heard Zhang Yuqing speak like this before, his voice slightly tense.

He said, “Little girl, do you have time today? Let’s meet and talk.”

Qin Han’s nose stung again. She took a deep breath before saying, “Zhang Yuqing, I’m at your shop entrance.”