Sweet Oxygen - Extra 3

Chapter 73 – Extra 3

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[ 3.1 ]

In late summer, the tattoo community was organizing an exchange event in New York, specifically inviting Zhang Yuqing.

Initially, Zhang Yuqing had no intention of attending. However, just after he declined, Qin Han’s school contacted her, requesting she represent the institution at an educational conference in the United States.

That evening, when Qin Han mentioned this, Zhang Yuqing suddenly smiled. He ruffled her hair and asked, “Where in the States?”

“New York.”

“When?”

Qin Han flipped through the notification before answering, “Early November.”

When November arrived and Qin Han prepared to book international flights, Zhang Yuqing wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her ear as he murmured, “Little girl, I’ve already taken care of it.”

“You booked my ticket?”

Qin Han turned in surprise, only to be pulled into his embrace. His fingers deftly unzipped the back of her dress, trailing down the spine’s curve.

“We both got tickets,” he corrected. “For our conference trip.”

Luo Shijin felt deeply uneasy about their upcoming overseas trip. Having never left the country, his understanding of foreign lands was hazy. He even considered packing a few watermelons for Qing-ge.

He patted the melons with a melancholic sigh. “Bring these. What if they don’t have watermelons there? Even if they do, they won’t taste as sweet as mine.”

Zhang Yuqing glanced at him. “Luo Shijin, we’re attending a conference. We’ll be back in a week.”

In Luo Shijin’s mind, foreign countries were distant and dangerous places. This morning, the news had mentioned some incident in a far-off land, which only reinforced his belief that overseas travel was both perilous and impractical.

No matter how Qin Han and the others tried to explain they were simply attending a conference, Luo Shijin couldn’t quite process it. Like an old man worried about his children, he kept fretting and insisting on packing their car with fruits.

Xie Ying smacked Luo Shijin’s arm. “Stop fussing! They’re going on a honeymoon, not a war campaign. What do they need fruits for? America has everything. You’re ruining the mood!”

The mention of a honeymoon instantly transformed Luo Shijin’s mental image of foreign lands. He now envisioned sun-drenched beaches from movies—palm trees swaying, seagulls circling, and bikini-clad beauties sipping coconut drinks.

Luo Shijin’s face lit up. “Why didn’t you say it was a honeymoon earlier? No need for watermelon then! Just remember to bring back souvenirs!”

Xie Ying raised her hands in agreement. “Don’t forget the gifts!”

After her exclamation, she patted each small melon on the table. “Are these the yellow-fleshed seedless ones we had last week?”

“Of course.” Luo Shijin pointed at one. “This one’s guaranteed to be the sweetest.”

“I think this one would be sweet too.”

“Think what you want! I’m a melon connoisseur. Trust me!”

As they huddled over the melons, Qin Han gently tugged at Zhang Yuqing’s sleeve.

Zhang Yuqing glanced back at Xie Ying and Luo Shijin, who stood so close their heads nearly touched. He smiled knowingly at Qin Han.

After attending Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing’s wedding, Xie Ying finally decided to work in Imperial City. She refused to stay at Qin Han’s home, claiming she didn’t want to disrupt the newlyweds’ “amorous activities.”

Zhang Yuqing eventually arranged for Xie Ying to rent a room in Grandpa Liu’s backyard. The spare bedroom came with a modest monthly fee of 500 yuan.

With the proximity, Xie Ying often visited Zhang Yuqing’s shop. She frequently saw Qin Han sitting by the window, engrossed in a book.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room’s furnishings and casting a glow on the reader by the window, making her skin appear even more luminous.

The cactus on the windowsill had grown to three fist widths across, now sporting a flower bud at its tip.

The cactus’s shadow fell across the book before Qin Han. Her ears glowed almost translucent in the sunlight, her lashes fluttering as she read. At particularly moving passages, tears would well up in her eyes.

After observing this scene several times, Xie Ying seized the moment when Zhang Yuqing was momentarily idle and playfully patted him on the shoulder.

Zhang Yuqing turned with a raised eyebrow. “Xie Ying? I thought you were Luo Shijin.”

“How could we possibly look alike?!” she retorted before earnestly asking, “Qing-ge, did you fall for our Xiao Qinhan because you saw her quiet, studious side and found her irresistibly endearing?”

His gaze drifted toward the window table where the young woman was engrossed in her book. Her face lit up with satisfaction as she found a particularly pleasing passage, then carefully copied it onto a notepad, each stroke deliberate.

Though now a married woman, she still carried traces of her youthful innocence—an innocence most pronounced during her college days.

After watching her for a long moment, he smiled. “Not exactly. Her charm isn’t limited to her scholarly demeanor.”

Xie Ying, ever the fierce one, had spent half her college allowance on skincare products. She’d lived by the philosophy, “If you like someone, push them into bed; if you love them, sleep with them.” She’d never experienced the slow-burn romance shared by Zhang Yuqing and Qin Han.

She looked at Zhang Yuqing in confusion, but he said, “All her looks are good.”

Xie Ying immediately broke out in goosebumps.

While Zhang Yuqing and Qin Han discussed their reading insights, Xie Ying ran to the fruit stall outside the back door. She peeled a banana and bit into it, chewing vigorously. “Listen, do you think we single dogs never meet gentle partners because we don’t read enough?”

Luo Shijin took a bite of watermelon and agreed, “Holy shit, that makes sense!”

Later, Xie Ying told Qin Han that she wanted to read more books too.

Qin Han took Xie Ying to Grandpa Liu’s room filled with second-hand books. Standing at the door, Xie Ying glanced at her rented bedroom in the rear courtyard and sighed, “I can’t believe I lived so close all this time and never thought to come book hunting.”

Xie Ying texted Luo Shijin, and soon he arrived in a hurry.

He said, “I want romantic ones. Let Qin Han pick them. She and Qing-ge read a lot, so they know what makes a book romantic.”

The two stood at the entrance of the old bookshop, hands clasped together like twin monks praying.

They both thought, This whole room must be filled with romance bibles.

Qin Han felt a bit troubled. After looking for a while, she picked out a poetry collection for each of them.

The two left as if they had discovered the true essence of love, overjoyed and elated.

Back at Zhang Yuqing’s shop, Xie Ying and Luo Shijin eagerly grabbed the poetry books and began reading.

After a few minutes, Luo Shijin looked up from the book, his eyes filled with confusion as he stared at Xie Ying. He muttered in a low voice, “What’s going on? I recognize all these words, but I can’t understand what they mean.”

Two seconds later, Xie Ying also looked up. “I don’t seem to understand either.”

They both set down their books simultaneously and sighed in unison, “This is fucking impossible.”

That day, Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing were both present.

Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing exchanged glances, both seeing in each other’s eyes a new understanding of “fate.”

The two poetry books chosen for Xie Ying and Luo Shijin remained untouched on the shop table, not even opened two pages by the time November arrived.

Qin Han remembered that night before her departure, when she had lain sprawled on the table, feeling Zhang Yuqing’s strength beneath her.

A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye. Under the moonlight, Zhang Yuqing asked her, “Does it feel good?”

Even after marriage, Qin Han remained the same thin-skinned girl. She wanted to tell him she loved him, wanted to say other things, but first her face flushed crimson.

She turned her head to see the book on the table. Her voice, slow and trembling, followed his movements as she spoke, “I adore you, as I adore the night’s vaulted dome.”

The words were from a poem by French poet Charles Baudelaire, taken from the book Les Fleurs du Mal on the table.

Zhang Yuqing leaned down with a smile and kissed her. “Shall we continue here or go to the bed?”

“The bed,” her voice was barely audible.

The next day, Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing were preparing to depart for New York, each with their own meetings to attend while taking the opportunity for a trip.

On the day of departure, Zhang Yuqing carried all the luggage, including the backpack that held Qin Han’s laptop and cosmetics.

The women’s backpack had a laser-cut pink pattern that looked slightly out of place on him. Qin Han said, “Zhang Yuqing, let me carry it. This bag is too feminine for you.”

Feeling the weight of the backpack, Zhang Yuqing didn’t want Qin Han to carry it and smiled. “Let me experience Li Nan’s joy for a moment.”

Less than three minutes after he said this, Li Nan who had come to see them off heard about it. He pulled off his wig and asked Zhang Yuqing, “Qing-ge, are you experiencing it now?”

This made everyone laugh uncontrollably.

The flight from Imperial City to New York was quite long, over twelve hours. Qin Han spent the time reading the book she brought.

It was a book smaller than ordinary ones. Most books were A5 size, but this one wasn’t even as big as Zhang Yuqing’s palm.

The author was Canadian, and the book’s title was also unique, Blood Donations Lost in the Sea Breeze.

It was an old book. After reading just one chapter, Qin Han felt the story’s weight settle in her chest, filling her with overwhelming sadness.

Zhang Yuqing must have sensed her emotional shift. He lifted the armrest between their seats and pulled Qin Han into his embrace. “Are you upset?”

Qin Han recalled her time as an exchange student in the States when she’d read countless books. Back then, nothing in those stories seemed to move her. She’d quietly finish each one before moving on to the next.

It wasn’t until her relationship with Zhang Yuqing stabilized that she became someone who could be deeply affected by fictional narratives.

The plane’s smooth flight lulled Qin Han into sleep. Perhaps the book’s oppressive storyline had drained her energy, for she suddenly awoke disoriented, convinced she was back at eighteen, sitting beside Dean Du Zhi on a flight.

She jolted awake in Zhang Yuqing’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

Startled by her sudden awakening, Zhang Yuqing wiped away her tears. “What were you dreaming about?”

Qin Han shook her head, the normally straightforward girl unexpectedly adopting a pleading tone. “Stay by my side no matter where we go from now on.”

“Of course.”

Zhang Yuqing easily guessed what had troubled her. Over the airplane meal, he casually asked, “Want me to be your tour guide?”

“What kind of tour guide?”

“A New York City tour,” he replied with a smile.

During her time in the United States, Qin Han had experienced rapid personal growth. She handled everything herself, even replacing burst pipes during a winter storm with her roommates.

When Zhang Yuqing offered to be her tour guide, Qin Han didn’t understand his intentions, assuming he’d simply researched local attractions.

Upon landing, they were met by Zhang Yuqing’s tattoo artist colleague, who escorted them to their hotel. While tearing off luggage tags, Qin Han overheard the foreign artist teasing Zhang Yuqing in English.

Zhang Yuqing’s fluent English allowed them to converse effortlessly.

“You claimed you’d stay home to cherish your new wife,” the artist said. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Zhang Yuqing smiled. “I’m actually accompanying her to a conference. Thought I’d visit you all while I’m here.”

The artist playfully punched his shoulder. “Oh man, Yuqing! You’re practically glowing with love!”

From checking into the hotel to finding restaurants, sightseeing, and locating the conference venue—Zhang Yuqing managed every detail.

It wasn’t until the second day of her conference that Qin Han realized something. Since arriving in the States, she hadn’t once recalled her previous life here alone. Zhang Yuqing’s constant care made her feel as if she were experiencing America for the first time, side by side with him.

After the meeting, Qin Han rushed out of the hotel conference hall already past 3 PM.

Zhang Yuqing had sent a message, so he was waiting for her at a café across the street.

New York was deep into autumn, the entire street submerged in yellow fallen leaves.

Zhang Yuqing wore a long coat perfect for the season, sitting by the café window.

Qin Han ran over, and he stood up to embrace her.

She buried her head in Zhang Yuqing’s chest. “Zhang Yuqing, I feel like I’m 18 again.”

“Mm.”

“I’m not talking about my age. I mean…”

Qin Han lifted her head, thought for a moment before speaking, “I wish I had come to America when I was 18 with you by my side, just like this.”

“Back then, my English wasn’t this good. You’d probably have to be the tour guide.”

Zhang Yuqing smiled and ruffled her hair. “I heard there’s a famous ice cream shop around the corner. Want to try it?”

“Yes!”

Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing each held an ice cream cone, walking and laughing through the autumn streets of New York.

She took a bite of the ice cream, shivering at the cold sensation. “Zhang Yuqing, was your English good when you were in school?”

“Passable.”

“Then when did you practice your speaking skills?”

“After you came to America.”

Qin Han’s face flushed slightly, but the foreign land had given her a newfound boldness. She feigned ignorance and asked, “Why are you practicing your English?”

“To pursue someone.”

“Huh?”

Qin Han held her ice cream cone, a smudge of frozen treat lingering at the corner of her mouth. Unaware of the mess, she pressed on, “How is that about pursuing someone?”

Zhang Yuqing’s footsteps suddenly halted, freezing mid-stride.

Qin Han’s next step wavered, worry coloring her voice. “Don’t tell me you once had a crush on some foreign beauty?”

Zhang Yuqing didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the distance between them in a swift embrace, kissed away the ice cream from her lips, and murmured in English, “Fair lady, would you honor me with your hand in marriage?”

He laughed first, “Would you agree to this kind of pursuit?”

The public kiss made Qin Han’s ears flush crimson. She tugged at her pant leg, revealing a diamond ankle chain. “Aren’t we already married?” she murmured.

Zhang Yuqing spun her around like a giddy teenager whose first love had just accepted his proposal. “I love you!” he declared, laughter ringing through the air.

Though the passing foreigners couldn’t understand Chinese, they cheered and clapped enthusiastically. Some even pulled out their phones to capture the moment.

Qin Han buried her face in Zhang Yuqing’s shoulder, her voice so soft it might have been mistaken for a mosquito’s hum. “I love you too.”

The sky stretched wide above them, the autumn street carpeted in golden leaves—the very color of love.

[ 3.2 ]

When Qin Han returned home, she brought Grandma Zhang a new pair of reading glasses with crystal lenses, known for their cooling properties and eye protection.

That day, Zhang Yuqing was busy, so Qin Han decided to stay for lunch at her grandmother’s house.

After lunch, Grandma took out an old photo album and began telling Qin Han stories about Zhang Yuqing’s childhood.

The heavy album slipped from her grasp as she lifted it, causing a photograph to fall out.

Qin Han picked up the dropped photo, her eyes resting on the image.

In the black-and-white photograph, a young woman leaned against a man’s shoulder, her face flushed with embarrassment, yet smiling with radiant beauty.

This was the young version of her grandmother and grandfather.

Grandma Zhang took the photo, her eyes brimming with nostalgia. “My dear granddaughter, this is your grandfather. Look how beautiful I was in my youth. How did I end up marrying this short-lived wretch?”

Qin Han, barely in her twenties, could only sigh and quote Wang Guowei’s Butterfly in Love with Flower, “What man cannot retain most easily? The mirror’s fading bloom, the tree’s departing flower.”

As she bowed her head, lamenting the fleeting nature of time, she suddenly heard Grandma call her grandfather a “short-lived wretch.” She froze, thinking it was an insult.

Qin Han looked up in panic, only to meet Grandma Zhang’s gentle gaze.

Though no longer young, Grandma’s smile held the same warmth as in the photograph.

Grandmother’s eyelids drooped loosely, the corners of her eyes etched with deep wrinkles, and her sagging bags hung heavy.

Yet within her smile, Qin Han saw the truth of “time never conquers true beauty.”

True beauty isn’t skin-deep. What does it matter if youthful charm fades?

When Grandma Zhang recalled her husband, her gentle, smiling eyes proved she was indeed beautiful.

“Grandmother, tell me about Grandfather’s stories.”

“What’s there to tell?” Grandma Zhang snorted, yet she still put on her crystal reading glasses and began stroking the photograph as she spoke.

Grandmother said Grandfather was a man of extraordinary perseverance, always keeping his promises.

When they married, they were desperately poor. During the New Year, Grandma Zhang had craved dumplings. Grandfather declared, “Why can’t we have dumplings? We’ll make dough and fillings tomorrow.”

In those days, Grandma Zhang was still a young woman. She shook her head and sighed, “Not wild vegetable fillings. I want oil scrap dumplings. I want rich, oily ones.”

The elders of Yaonan Alley all knew that in old times, poor families often ate wild vegetable cornbread and wild vegetable flatbreads. Even wild vegetable dumplings were considered a luxury, since dumplings required white flour rather than corn flour.

And oil scrap dumplings were even rarer. The oil scrap filling required rendering fat from pork until only the crispy residue remained, then chopping it into fine pieces.

Grandmother gently placed her hand on the photograph, a smile spreading across her face. “I still wonder where that short-lived devil got the money. Those days he’d leave early and return late. He really did buy me a piece of marbled pork, made those oily dumplings, then refused to eat a single one after wrapping them up. Said he’d eaten out and couldn’t stomach more.”

“Your grandfather left us too soon, never getting another chance to enjoy such delicious dumplings. Those were hard times—he must have craved rich food and meat after all that labor.”

Grandmother slipped the photo back into the album. “This modern age is better,” she said to Qin Han. “My dear granddaughter, you and Qingqing should chase your dreams while you can. Don’t let opportunities slip away. Regrets are bitter when you’re old.”

“Do you miss him often?”

“Not when I was busy. Now that I’ve slowed down, his memory comes more frequently.”

Her smile remained calm. “I’ll keep you young ones company for now. When my time comes, I’ll join him. Ah, I just hope he won’t laugh at my wrinkled face when he sees me.”

“Grandfather would never laugh.”

Grandmother nodded. “If he dares, I’ll break his leg!”

Qin Han’s throat tightened as she pulled out her phone to text Zhang Yuqing.

[ Zhang Yuqing, I love you. ]

She thought,

I will love you as my grandmother loved my grandfather, still cherishing you as deeply at eighty as I do now.

And I’ll always yearn to see you, whether across life or death.

After sending the message, Qin Han set her phone aside and listened to her grandmother recount stories from Zhang Yuqing’s childhood.

As people age, they become like books filled with life’s trivialities. Without someone to listen, they grow lonely. Grandma Zhang particularly enjoyed revisiting the past, recounting old tales with meticulous detail.

Mid-story, Zhang Yuqing pushed open the courtyard gate.

Qin Han, absorbed in the narrative, startled at the door’s creak. Her eyes met Zhang Yuqing’s figure framed in the entrance.

It was a late autumn afternoon. The paulownia tree outside no longer bore spring’s flower-laden branches; even its leaves hung precariously. The courtyard’s wildflower pot stood wilted and lifeless.

The scene should have been desolate, but Zhang Yuqing’s sudden appearance shattered the stillness.

Though past thirty, the man carried a youthful vitality. He entered like a basketball player fresh from the court, his tattooed arms glistening with sweat beneath a plain short-sleeved shirt.

Qin Han froze momentarily before Zhang Yuqing strode over, pulled her chair toward him, and enveloped her in a bear hug.

Grandma Zhang chuckled from the side, “Shameless! Who raised such an impudent grandson?”

Zhang Yuqing felt the person in his arms give him a gentle poke. Turning with a smile, he said, “Don’t look yet, Grandma. I’m saving a kiss for her. My wife just texted me saying she loves me, and I need to return her affection.”

Qin Han, still nestled in his embrace, gave him a harder poke and blushed, exclaiming, “Zhang Yuqing, stop talking!”

[ 3.3 ]

Even the youngest can fall ill. During winter, there were days when the old north wind howled particularly fiercely, driving temperatures to record lows.

Yaonan Alley’s windows were adorned with rare frost patterns, the snowflakes dancing outside.

Zhang Yuqing wrapped Qin Han in layers daily, insisting on chauffeured transportation to work. “The roads are slippery,” he’d say. “Better not drive yourself.”

Yet the one who fell sick was him.

Sweet Oxygen took two days off. On the first day, Zhang Yuqing didn’t announce his illness, simply calling the family doctor for intravenous treatment at home.

But those people never missed a beat. Luo Shijin, Li Nan, and Xie Ying found out about Zhang Yuqing’s condition that very night.

The next morning, Luo Shijin arrived first with a massive fruit basket. He rushed to Zhang Yuqing’s bedside, collapsing dramatically. “Qing-ge, I was thinking about all our past adventures last night. You’ve always been the rock, and seeing you so weak in bed… it fucking breaks my heart!”

He dissolved into tears as he spoke.

Zhang Yuqing had just woken up. He’d even gone jogging with Qin Han downstairs last night. So what if he hadn’t fully recovered from the fever? How was that weakness?

Luo Shijin sobbed between hiccups. “Qing-ge, do you remember when I wouldn’t listen to you? I insisted those mushrooms under the old tree were edible, and ended up hospitalized from poisoning. You carried me to the hospital that day! I was so fat back then! Over 160 pounds! You never made fun of me!”

“…I still made fun of you!”

“What nonsense! I won’t let you say that!”

Luo Shijin’s wails grew louder. “Now it’s my turn to repay you! What do you want me to do? Take care of your wife? Or look after Dandan and your grandmother?”

Zhang Yuqing shot him a glance. “I want you to shut up.”

He threw off the quilt, stood up in sleep pants, and pulled on a short-sleeved shirt. “You sound like a professional mourner.”

He did sound remarkably like one.

Xie Ying, who had arrived a moment later, stood frozen at Zhang Yuqing’s doorstep, listening to Luo Shijin’s escalating sobs.

After nearly a minute of stunned silence, Xie Ying turned to Qin Han in confusion. “Wasn’t Qing-ge just running a fever? Did they discover some other serious illness?”

Qin Han, equally bewildered, shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”

Li Nan arrived slightly late. Upon entering the living room, he saw Luo Shijin sitting there with red, swollen eyes and jumped in surprise. “Qing-ge, what’s wrong? Are you feeling feverish?”

The moment “Qing-ge” and “illness” were mentioned, Luo Shijin sniffled, nearly in tears again.

Zhang Yuqing tossed him a box of tissues. “Swallow it back. Shut up.”

After everyone left that night, Zhang Yuqing finally told Qin Han that Luo Shijin hadn’t been crying because of his illness.

It was approaching Luo Shijin’s mother’s death anniversary. With no other outlet for his emotions, he’d used Zhang Yuqing’s illness as an excuse to let out his tears.

Qin Han immediately grew concerned. “What should we do? Should we invite him for dinner tomorrow?”

In the bedroom, only a warm bedside lamp was lit. Zhang Yuqing leaned against the bed, gazing at Qin Han.

The young girl’s face was full of worry, her delicate eyebrows drawn together as she murmured, “What does Luo Shijin like to eat? Let’s go out tomorrow. I think he likes that braised shrimp place on Qianhai Road. Remember last time I brought some home? He ate several of them.”

Her considerate demeanor was utterly adorable. Zhang Yuqing pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Alright, we’ll take him there tomorrow.”

Qin Han turned her head. “Should we take him for steamed shrimp? Or those braised meatballs from Donghu? He likes those too, right?”

“We’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“If we get meatballs, we should bring some back for Grandma. She likes them too. Should we deliver some to Grandpa Liu too? He didn’t charge me for those two books last time. I feel so embarrassed.”

The girl kept chattering, always thinking of others. Zhang Yuqing kissed her lips and smiled. “All you ever think about is others? I’m still sick here.”

Qin Han jumped in surprise, immediately touching Zhang Yuqing’s forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you feverish again? Feeling unwell?”

“Feeling unwell.”

“Oh! What should we do?”

Qin Han panicked instantly, struggling to get out of Zhang Yuqing’s arms. “Should I call the family doctor? Didn’t he say three days of IV treatment would cure it? It’s already been two days. Why are you still feeling unwell? Mom said persistent fevers can lead to pneumonia!”

Zhang Yuqing chuckled softly, holding Qin Han’s small hand to his forehead. “Don’t panic. Feel carefully—the fever’s gone.”

“But you said you were feeling unwell earlier…”

Zhang Yuqing took her hand and guided it downward, placing it on a specific part of his trousers. “Can you feel this? This is where it’s uncomfortable.”

Qin Han’s fingers brushed against something, curling instinctively. “How could you do this? You’re so naughty.”

“Are we doing it or not? I’m really starting to feel it now.”

“But… aren’t you still sick?”

Zhang Yuqing kissed her gently. “It’ll feel better after.”

He’d never seen Qin Han so soft before. After their exertions, he carried her to the shower and then to bed. Though clearly exhausted, she clutched the quilt and worriedly reminded him, “Zhang Yuqing, when you shower, make sure to turn on the warm air. Don’t catch a cold again.”

In the dim light, the young girl shrank into the quilt, only her half-lidded eyes visible—even her eyelids showed extra creases from fatigue.

Her voice, muffled by the quilt, was small yet tender.

Zhang Yuqing kissed her eyelids. “I know. Sleep now. Goodnight, little girl.”

“Goodnight. I hope you’re better tomorrow.”

[ 3.4 ] 

Qin Han became pregnant in September the following year, just as the weather was turning cooler and the oppressive heat had subsided.

By late spring, Qin Han’s abdomen had begun to swell noticeably. During this time, Grandma Zhang’s health took a turn for the worse, with troubling signs emerging—she started forgetting recent events.

Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing visited their grandmother whenever they had time.

The first time they noticed Grandma Zhang’s memory issues was when Qin Han returned from Mother Qin’s bakery with a special cheese and salted egg yolk custard cake.

Mother Qin now ran not only the bakery but also a small pastry processing factory in partnership with a special education school and Father Qin’s company.

Deaf-mute and visually impaired children could choose to train at Father Qin’s company after graduation and then work at Mother Qin’s factory.

Several disabled workers were employed on the production line for this cheese and salted egg yolk custard cake.

That day, Grandma Zhang scooped up a spoonful of cake and ate it with delight. “This tastes wonderful! You must bring your mother here soon so I can learn the secret recipe. My baking skills have been lacking lately—everything I make turns out too hard.”

Luo Shijin, ever the blunt speaker, retorted, “Why do I never find your cakes hard? You’ve probably lost too many teeth—that’s why you think it’s tough.”

Grandma Zhang snorted. “Qingqing, who’s this rascal? Get him out!”

“Right.”

“Qing-ge! You can’t just respect the elderly and ignore the young!” Luo Shijin shouted, his voice booming.

Zhang Yuqing smiled as he placed his palm on Qin Han’s abdomen. “You’re no child here. The real child is right here.”

As he spoke, Qin Han suddenly arched her back. A rare moment of stillness settled over Zhang Yuqing’s face.

“It’s the baby moving,” Qin Han said, looking up with a smile.

Grandma pushed up her reading glasses, her eyes crinkling into slits. “Does our little treasure like cake? Why the sudden movement? Does it share Grandma’s taste? Just like Great-Grandma!”

Luo Shijin chimed in, “Maybe it’s my voice that’s getting it excited?”

That day everyone was in high spirits, eating cake and discussing Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing’s baby.

When it came to naming the baby, they considered many names but weren’t satisfied. They settled on a nickname—Xia Tian.

After eating two pieces of cake, Grandma said she wanted more. Zhang Yuqing stood behind her, massaging her shoulders. “Old lady, you can’t eat too much at once. Remember those salted egg yolks are high in cholesterol? Did you forget about your high blood lipids again?”

Qin Han had been thinking about bringing this cake to her grandmother again. She went to her mother’s bakery on the weekend, and Zhang Yuqing came to pick her up. He saw Qin Han standing outside the shop with two cake boxes, waving at him.

The two boxes contained a cheese and salted egg yolk lava cake, and a strawberry ice cream cake—her grandmother and Dandan’s favorite treats.

After Qin Han got in the car, Zhang Yuqing smiled and said, “Little girl, they say pregnant women have all sorts of cravings. Why haven’t you mentioned what you want to eat? You’re always thinking about your grandmother and Dandan.”

Qin Han lifted her face. “I’ve already eaten everything I want. I really liked the noodles you made last night.”

“Did you like the noodles, or something else?”

Qin Han’s face flushed as she remembered something.

Now, her grandmother and Dandan lived across from Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing. Even after moving to a new house, they still spent several days each week at Yaonan Alley, unable to part with the place.

They had stayed at Yaonan Alley last night. Due to her pregnancy, Qin Han couldn’t eat much but often felt hungry. The doctor advised her to eat small meals frequently.

When Qin Han felt hungry that night, Zhang Yuqing had made her a bowl of noodles.

The vibrant green napa cabbage nestled among the noodles, accompanied by poached eggs and shredded carrots. Diced scallops added a touch of freshness to the broth. After finishing a small bowl, Qin Han’s eyes sparkled. “It’s truly delicious.”

Zhang Yuqing leaned in to kiss her lips. “Mm, it is.”

Qin Han gently pushed him away, embarrassed. “What are you doing? I haven’t even wiped my mouth.”

“Let me help you with that.”

“I don’t know if this big kid can understand, but don’t corrupt him/her,” Qin Han said.

Zhang Yuqing leaned close to her ear. “He can’t understand. But at this age, they’re already old enough to… you know.”

His warm breath caressed her ear as he kissed her neck. “How about it, Miss Qin?”

Remembering this, Qin Han’s face flushed again. She fanned her cheek with her hand.

Initially thinking she was hot, Zhang Yuqing lowered the car window halfway. But seeing her face grow even redder, she turned to glare at him.

He realized his mistake and teased, “So unfair! I really didn’t know you were thinking that.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything!”

“Really?”

Qin Han pouted. “Zhang Yuqing, act your age.”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

The gathering was at Shangyu Garden today. Apart from Yaonan Alley, Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing’s home had become another main gathering spot for the group.

Li Nan and Chen Lingbei had already married and bought a small car. They drove over with Beibei in tow.

Chen Lingbei was exceptionally kind. Upon hearing there was a Golden Retriever named Beibei, she felt a sense of familiarity. The next day, she bought dog food to visit Beibei. Now Beibei frequently gets taken home by Li Nan’s couple.

Zhang Yuqing drove to pick up Luo Shijin and Xie Ying, then returned to Shangyu Garden.

Dandan could now push her grandmother’s wheelchair from the opposite house by herself. The group gathered in the living room, Beibei chasing the floor-cleaning robot around, filling the space with laughter and cheer.

However, after the meal when they were eating cake, something sad happened.

Grandmother took a piece of cake, took a bite, and said, “This tastes good. Someday your mother should come. I need to get the secret recipe. This is my first time eating a cake with cheese and salted egg yolk filling. It’s really delicious.”

Even Luo Shijin and Li Nan, who had been drinking heavily, were taken aback.

The entire table slowly set down their forks. Qin Han asked carefully, “Grandmother, is this your first time tasting this flavor of cake?”

Grandmother smiled, revealing her toothless gums. “Yes, it’s delicious!”

She had forgotten that they had eaten this exact cake together just a week ago.

It was from that day onward that Grandma Zhang’s memory began to cause genuine concern.

In the past, she had loved the pearl necklace given to her by Mother Qin. Every night, she would remove it and place it beside her pillow, then put it on again in the morning.

Zhang Yuqing discovered recently while tidying up for his grandmother that the pearl necklace often appeared in different places around the house. Once, he even found it in the refrigerator.

On the day Qin Han and Zhang Yuqing took their grandmother to the hospital, Dandan clung to Qin Han and said, “Sister-in-law, Dandan is scared.”

“We’re just going to the hospital to get some nutritional supplements for Grandma. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“Is Grandma sick?”

Qin Han shook her head. “Grandma is just getting old. She forgets things sometimes. We all get like that when we’re old.”

Dandan understood what “forgetting” meant. Zhang Yuqing had explained it to her before, “Like when Dandan forgets to wear socks?”

“About like that.”

Dandan’s mind couldn’t grasp deeper concepts like aging and death.

But from the day Grandma Zhang returned from the hospital, Dandan suddenly hugged her and said earnestly, “Grandma, don’t forget Dandan.”

From that day on, Grandma Zhang drank milk every day and insisted on eating walnuts.

She started keeping a diary, pasting photos in it and writing names beside each person. She recorded what happened each day.

But even with these efforts, Grandma Zhang’s memory continued to decline.

Another summer arrived. As Qin Han approached her due date, her grandmother could no longer clearly remember everyone’s names. Sometimes when Mother Qin came to visit, the grandmother would mistake her for Qin Han, taking her hand and trying to teach her how to be a good granddaughter.

One night, Qin Han curled up in Zhang Yuqing’s arms. “Do you think Grandma will ever forget us completely?”

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t.”

Qin Han sighed and clung tighter to Zhang Yuqing.

Zhang Yuqing patted her back, holding her until sleep claimed them both.

They all understood that aging couldn’t be stopped. All they could do was cherish every moment with their grandmother.

During that time, whenever they had free moments, the family would gather together, most often at Yaonan Alley—the place where Grandma Zhang had lived her entire life.

Those days were filled with happiness. Even when the grandmother lost another tooth, she laughed more joyously than anyone else.

Li Nan and Chen Lingbei had painted everyone with the same face-painting designs.

Luo Shijin had made fruit salad for them using watermelon and chili peppers.

Xie Ying had organized a barbecue in the wild.

They made dumplings together, rolled tangyuan together, competed in eating crabs together, played cards together, and sang songs together.

In late June, Qin Han gave birth to a baby boy named Changying, which means “summer” in Chinese.

Zhang Yuqing said that all the important moments in his life had happened in summer—he met his wife in summer, reunited with her in summer, got married in summer, and now had their child in summer.

“Summer is Zhu Ming, and also Changying.”

Xiaotian looked very much like Zhang Yuqing did as a child. That day, when Qin Han brought Xiaotian to show Grandma Zhang, the old woman’s eyes—clouded for many days—suddenly brightened. Instead of calling him “Qingqing,” she kissed his forehead tenderly and caressed his cheek with her weathered hand.

“Little one,” Grandma said, “I know who you are. You’re our Changying.”

Later, Grandma Zhang told Qin Han and the others that if her memory grew worse, they shouldn’t worry. There was an old saying in Yaonan Alley that when people grow old, their memories travel ahead to find the ones they miss.

“My memories have gone to find your grandfather,” she explained. “When he sees them, he’ll know what our Qingqing has become, and how beautiful his wife is, and how adorable his child.”

The family had told Xiaotian these stories. So when he turned three, his daily routine after returning from kindergarten was to run to his great-grandmother and ask, “Great-Grandma, do you remember me today?”

“Qingqing?”

“I’m not Daddy. I’m Xiaotian. I’m Changying.”

Xiaotian would then tell his great-grandmother about the day’s events in his childish voice, always ending with, “You must remember, okay?”

Of course, Grandma Zhang couldn’t remember. But Xiaotian insisted that if she forgot when he asked the next day, it meant she had successfully sent the information to Great-Grandpa.

[ 3.5 ]

When Qin Han was on maternity leave, their home was always bustling with visitors. Sometimes it was her grandparents, other times her aunt and uncle or her younger uncle and aunt. Friends would also drop by frequently.

Father Qin, Mother Qin, and Dandan’s grandmother visited often too.

With limited alone time during the day, Zhang Yuqing refused to leave the master bedroom even when Qin Han insisted the baby’s midnight wake-ups might disturb him. He insisted on staying with her, holding her close every night as they fell asleep together.

Watching Xiaotian sleep soundly in her crib, Qin Han whispered, “If you don’t get proper rest, how will you work tomorrow?”

Zhang Yuqing brushed her hair and smiled, “Who said I won’t rest well?”

“But you wake up several times at night,” she murmured, her voice tinged with concern. “That can’t be good for you. I’m on maternity leave, so I can nap with Xiaotian during the day. But you… if you’re exhausted and accidentally pierce someone’s skin during a tattoo, what then?”

She grew more animated as she spoke, her imagination running wild, “When the time comes, we won’t be able to afford the damages. If someone gets disfigured, they’ll make unreasonable demands. Our whole family would have to work like slaves to repay the debt.”

Zhang Yuqing’s laughter shook his chest as he kissed Qin Han’s forehead. His voice still carried amusement, “Don’t let your mind wander, young lady. I’d really struggle to rest if I had to stay alone in the next room.”

During that period, Zhang Yuqing became deeply attached to home. He returned without fail every day, clutching Qin Han as they fell asleep.

One day, upon returning, he sat by the bed and watched silently as Qin Han held Xiaotian while nursing.

“What are you staring at?” Qin Han, feeling self-conscious under his gaze, handed him a baby comfort toy.

Zhang Yuqing took the pig-shaped toy, squeezed it a few times, then suddenly smiled, “You know how much I love this kid, right? I’m actually willing to share with him.”

Share what?

Qin Han looked down at the nursing child, her face flushing crimson.

Later, when Xiaotian turned four, he clutched a storybook one day and demanded bedtime tales from Qin Han.

He opened his mouth, calling in a childish voice, “Mommy.”

Zhang Yuqing glanced at him. “Xiaotian, a little man shouldn’t keep pestering Mom for stories.”

“Then Daddy’s a bigger man than me. Why do you always try to monopolize Mommy?”

Qin Han watched as father and son settled their dispute with rock-paper-scissors over who would sleep with her. She smiled and captured this moment on video.

Naturally, Zhang Yuqing won.

Xiaotian pouted, planting a kiss on Qin Han’s cheek. “Goodnight, Mommy. You sleep with Daddy tonight. I’ll sleep alone.”

Qin Han kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Zhang Yuqing pointed at his own face. “Xiaotian, no kiss for Daddy? No ‘goodnight’ for me?”

“Nope!”

Xiaotian scampered to his bedroom door, then turned for a dramatic look at Zhang Yuqing. In a mock-adult tone, he sighed, “Ah, I must really love Daddy to share Mom with him.”