Bi Shenghua carried Qingmu out of the studio and into the outer corridor. Just then, sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the row of old but clean chairs.
Bi Shenghua gently laid Qingmu down on the chair, placing a cushion under his head and feet, and then feeling under his back to make sure it was flat and comfortable. She then stood up, rubbing her right shoulder with her left hand and massaging her lower back with her right, and smiled apologetically at Zhao Pengcheng, who had followed her, saying:
"Get Sun. Everyone needs to get Sun; you never know, you might wake up someday!"
Zhao Pengcheng didn't know what to say, so he just agreed, "Yeah, maybe he'll wake up someday."
He felt a strange pang of jealousy towards Qingmu. Even though he was clearly beyond saving, practically a dead man, why were there still people taking such meticulous care of him, still people hoping he would wake up?
He put himself in his shoes: if they were in each other's shoes, would someone take care of him day after day for ten years? Would someone long for him to wake up?
The answer is: No.
Zhao Pengcheng suddenly felt lonely—a new human emotion had infected him.
Sunlight shone on Qingmu's face, reflecting a jade-like luster. His jet-black hair was still as messy as ever, but upon closer inspection, there wasn't a speck of dandruff or dirt. It was a mystery how this woman had managed to keep both his hair clean and his strange hairstyle for so long.
"Are you a doctor?" Bi Shenghua suddenly asked.
How did you know?
"Just a guess."
Zhao Pengcheng thought that ten years in prison had cured most of the bad habits he had developed as a doctor, but he never expected that a strange woman would recognize his profession as soon as he was released.
He raised his hand and looked at his palm, which was covered with calluses and scars from working in prison. He laughed self-deprecatingly, "I'd almost forgotten I was ever a doctor."
Bi Shenghua smiled, seemingly having completely let down her guard against Zhao Pengcheng. She moved her joints easily and naturally. It was clear that taking care of a completely vegetative patient every day had exhausted her, but a satisfied smile appeared on her face. Sunlight shone on her face, clearly showing the deep crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and a few strands of white hair mixed in with her short hair.
This is a typical middle-aged woman who is good at managing household chores and taking care of men.
But from her slightly upturned eyebrows, straight and delicate nose, slightly strong facial features, and androgynous attire, Zhao Pengcheng could still imagine that ten years ago she must have been a strikingly beautiful and spirited girl.
"Was this a bar before?" he asked.
"Yes, I used to own a bar. Everyone called me Ruhua, but that was the name of the bar." Bi Shenghua seemed to recall something, and a happy look appeared on her face.
"Why... is it no longer open?"
"Look at the state of this street, is it even safe to drive?"
Bi Shenghua stared out the window, her eyes unfocused.
The outside of the glass was covered in dust, obscuring the view; one could vaguely make out the outlines of the trees on the street and the houses across the street. There was no one outside the window, nor were any dogs barking.
"The bar closed shortly after he fell into a coma; actually, the street was quite lively at that time."
Zhao Pengcheng felt a pang of sadness upon hearing this and said, "Do you want to know why he became like this?"
"No, I just want to know if he can wake up." Bi Shenghua looked at Zhao Pengcheng very seriously, as if trying to find the answer on his face.
Zhao Pengcheng felt a pang of pity and remained silent for a long time before finally shaking his head.
Bi Shenghua smiled. Despite her attempts to hide it, Zhao Pengcheng still caught a fleeting glimpse of disappointment on her face.
"Could you watch over him for me? I need to go cook." Bi Shenghua glanced gently at Qingmu, who was lying on the chair. "Actually, there's not much to watch over him; he can't move. But it's always reassuring to have someone watching him."
Zhao Pengcheng did not refuse, and nodded, saying, "Okay."
Before going downstairs, Bi Shenghua turned back and called out, "Oh, why don't you stay for dinner?"
Zhao Pengcheng saw an empty chair next to Qingmu and sat down. He didn't know why he had agreed to this woman's request and was sitting in this narrow aisle by the window, like a child watching over something for a stranger.
Qingmu lay peacefully beside him, sunlight moving from his face to his chest, then gradually leaving his body and settling on the ground, eventually reaching the opposite wall.
Presumably to prevent paint peeling and dust from splashing, the wall was covered with newspapers. When the sunlight moved in, it illuminated a bright square, like a slideshow. Zhao Pengcheng saw an obituary—
Mr. Xia Wenyuan, a renowned entrepreneur and philanthropist in this city, passed away yesterday due to illness.
The obituary took up an entire page, clearly indicating that Mr. Xia was a very important person. Zhao Pengcheng glanced at the date on the newspaper; it was from eight years ago.
Beside this newspaper, another newspaper's headline peeked out. "Wolf Family Feud, North America Wolf King Dies Unnatural Death"—but the exact year and month of this event remained a mystery.
The sunlight moved slowly, like a screen displaying changing images. Although they were all old newspapers with no recent news, compared to the information-isolated prison, the content was rich enough, and Zhao Pengcheng, who had just been released, read them with great interest.
The Cat-Killing Order has reappeared, and the feline species are facing another crisis.
An earthquake struck the South Pacific, triggering a tsunami that engulfed islands surrounding the Tubuai Islands, leaving thousands homeless.
An explosion at a Sweden laboratory killed renowned physicist Frederick.
Gunfights have broken out in multiple locations, suspected to be brawls between intelligence organizations.
The drastic decline in feline populations has led to a global rat infestation, and new plague crises have re-emerged in many places.
Zhao Pengcheng stood up without realizing it, following the sunlight all the way to the stairwell. Suddenly, an old yellow cat appeared out of nowhere, meowing and startling him.
He bent down to stroke the cat's head, as a gesture of apology and solace to the species that had suffered immense pain over the past decade. However, the old cat recoiled, suddenly arching its back and glaring menacingly at Zhao Pengcheng.
Zhao Pengcheng was unsure whether to advance or retreat with his hand outstretched when Bi Shenghua came up and said with a smile, "This cat doesn't like strangers." He then called to the cat, " Hanran, the food is ready."
The cat waddled downstairs, its slightly aged and obese body swaying.
Bi Shenghua walked to the bench, helped Qingmu up, and waved to Zhao Pengcheng: "Could you please help me again? The Sun is setting, it's time to go inside."
Zhao Pengcheng helped her carry Qingmu back to the clean room.
"Let's go eat. It's been a long time since anyone has come to my place for a meal."
When Bi Shenghua came out, she took the Crow specimen with her. Zhao Pengcheng found it strange, but didn't ask any further questions.
The meal was served in a large room downstairs, decorated and furnished just like the original bar. The food was laid out on a table, and you could smell its delicious aroma from afar.
Besides the table where they were eating, there was another table with two bowls and a plate, on which sat a whole braised pork knuckle. The old yellow cat was lazily lying on the edge of the table.