Zhao Pengcheng arrived travel-worn, his shoes covered in mud. The room was so clean that he felt an urge to change into a surgical gown and put on sterile gloves.
There were no chairs in the room, and he actually felt a little awkward standing there.
The ten years he spent in prison had made him believe that he had overcome most of the troubles of human emotions and could remain calm in any situation. Even when he was suddenly released and met his comrades at the prison gate, shaking hands and saying "We have won," he remained very calm.
But for some reason, as soon as he entered this clean room and saw the "enemy" lying on the bed, the one whose life and death he had worried about for ten years, those emotions that had long been worn away suddenly surged up like spring water in spring, endlessly. Perhaps the seeds of these emotions had begun to sprout when he desperately wanted to see Qingmu and confirm whether the man was alive or dead, and finally grew wildly in this spring and summer.
Bi Shenghua didn't seem to mind at all. She simply placed the basin on the bedside table, poured in some hot water, tested the temperature with her hand, and immediately pulled her hand back when the water was clearly too hot.
Zhao Pengcheng tried his best to hide his awkwardness and asked quickly, "Do you need some cold water? I'll get it for you."
Bi Shenghua said calmly, "Cold water contains bacteria."
Zhao Pengcheng slapped his forehead, annoyed that as a doctor, he had forgotten even basic nursing knowledge. Nursing a vegetative patient is a very troublesome matter, especially after a long time. As bodily functions decline, without a good medical environment, the patient is easily susceptible to external infections.
After the water cooled down naturally, Bi Shenghua began to use a warm towel to help Qingmu wash his body.
She first wiped her face, gently, starting from her forehead, then moving to her cheeks, eyelids, nose, and corners of her mouth, wiping carefully and meticulously, like an antique expert polishing a precious ancient jade.
Next, she wiped Qingmu's hands, and then his feet. After wiping each area, she changed the water and towel.
Zhao Pengcheng then realized that this seemingly unfeminine tomboy was actually a very meticulous woman. Her movements were gentle and slow, and her expression was focused and solemn. Her rather heroic eyebrows and eyes were now covered with many wrinkles, her eye bags were slightly puffy, and the skin on her hands was very dry with several cracks. These were probably all traces left from taking care of the man in bed.
"How long has he been lying here?" Zhao Pengcheng asked.
"It's been almost ten years." Bi Shenghua buried her head in washing the towel, continuing her work.
"Why not receive care in a hospital or nursing home? The conditions there are better."
"It started in the hospital, but..."
Bi Shenghua paused, then didn't continue.
Zhao Pengcheng seemed to hear endless sighs. Whatever the reason, he could understand; what vegetative patient would lie in a hospital for ten years?
However, it's quite a miracle that he survived for ten years under such rudimentary nursing conditions!
After wiping Qingmu's hands and feet, Bi Shenghua sat down and began to massage Qingmu.
Zhao Pengcheng opened his mouth, wanting to suggest that Qingmu should take off his clothes and wash his clothes underneath, but then suddenly felt that he was being superfluous. How could Qingmu not wash his clothes? It was just inconvenient for an outsider like himself to be present.
He noticed that Bi Shenghua's kneading technique was very professional, and, trying to make conversation, asked, "Have you studied massage?"
Bi Shenghua seemed to relax as well, placing Qingmu's arm on her leg and gently massaging it, saying, "The doctors at the hospital taught me this after he fell into a coma."
"You've been waiting for him like this for ten years?"
Zhao Pengcheng never understood where such human emotions came from. From the perspective of racial evolution and continuation, Qingmu was already a useless person. Apart from being a burden, his existence had no meaning.
Things that have no meaning should be discarded.
He believed that such a philosophy of survival was not only applicable to their race, but should be universally present in every corner of the universe.
Even on Earth, an animal's instinct will lead it to abandon an old or injured companion, whether it is Lion, a buffalo, or a hunting dog, even if it was once a king who helped the pack overcome difficulties and brought glory.
Only humans, this peculiar race, have actually evolved compassion, pity, and love, as well as some more complex emotions that Zhao Pengcheng still cannot comprehend.
Like the woman in front of me, she is in her thirties, but she has lost the vitality of life. Her beauty, spirit, straightforwardness, and confidence have all disappeared in the ten years of taking care of a person in a vegetative state. All that is left on her face are wrinkles and dark spots brought about by slow aging.
"Yes, it's been ten years," Bi Shenghua replied.
Is this how it is every day?
"More or less."
Bi Shenghua answered calmly, as if ten years were just ten hours.
Zhao Pengcheng couldn't continue asking. He didn't know what the point of asking was, nor did he know why he was asking these questions. He had only come to see Qingmu, only wanted to know if the man who had almost ruined him back then was dead.
Now that he has seen it, he doesn't feel the satisfaction of fulfilling a ten-year-long wish in one day; instead, he feels incredibly empty.
Yes, emptiness.
This is an emotion unique to humans.
Zhao Pengcheng felt he should leave. He looked at Qingmu on the bed, straightened his body slightly to show his respect.
But before he could say goodbye, Bi Shenghua stood up, helped Qingmu up, supported him under the armpits, and turned her back to him, seemingly wanting to carry Qingmu on her back.
No matter how much a woman dresses like a man, she is still just a woman. Qingmu is quite tall, and even after lying down for ten years, he doesn't seem to have lost any weight.
Bi Shenghua's movements were clumsy and laborious. She finally managed to get Qingmu onto her back, but as soon as she let go, she slipped off again.
There's a saying, "It's easy to carry a living person, but difficult to carry a dead one."
Zhao Pengcheng had heard Yu Jianguo say that carrying the corpses in the morgue was the most tiring job. The bodies were whole, but limp and powerless.
He rushed over to help him up, and when he touched Qingmu's body, the surgeon's hand sensitively felt a faint heartbeat. The pounding rhythm startled him, and he almost thought Qingmu was about to wake up. When he realized it was an illusion, Bi Shenghua had already carried Qingmu on her back and walked out with difficult steps.
Zhao Pengcheng stared at Qingmu's back as he lay on top of the woman, and vaguely heard the sound of footsteps.
He recalled that in that dark, dimensionless corridor, there was now a figure in a trench coat, walking alone, endlessly...