Chapter 3

Chapter 3

July 11 – Clear

Old Wang took the day off. Miss Song took the day off. I had to go back to work.

My throat is still a little uncomfortable, but much better than before. It isn’t bad enough to keep me from working.

So certain people started making a fuss again.

My throat was nearly healed, I’d received a heap of gifts and slept well, and for once I was in a good mood. I didn’t feel like arguing with them. If they wanted me to work, then fine, I’d work.

Then I left my thermos on the workbench while I went to the bathroom. I came back, drank all the water in it, and that was when things went wrong.

Old Wang had put all sorts of things that were supposed to help my throat inside and ordered me to finish every last bit.

The taste was more than I could stand, so I always swallowed everything whole.

Afterward, my throat seemed to start hurting again. I paid no attention, assuming it would pass.

Then the abdominal pain became so intense that I collapsed, and the staff took me to the hospital.

A gastroscopy revealed that my stomach contained a large amount of contaminated water. The water had reinfected and severely damaged my nearly healed throat and also caused a gastrointestinal infection.

The doctor wanted to admit me, but the staff couldn’t bear the expense. They got me some levofloxacin and enoxacin and brought me straight back.

After taking the medicine, I lay down to rest.

My stomach still hurt fiercely, but it wasn’t hard to work out what had happened, or roughly when they had mixed the dirty water into my thermos.

I had no proof.

Funny, really. Old Wang once told me during a quiet moment that at this gay conversion center, a few well-placed favors could make you king.

Even if someone died, as long as it didn’t attract too much attention, the staff would look the other way and use compensation money to silence the family.

So even if I had evidence, handing it over would probably be like dropping a stone into the ocean.

Goddamn money. The evil in human nature. A pack of greedy dogs without the slightest moral limit, serving masters rich enough to treat human life like nothing.

Disgusting.

July 13 – Rain

Yesterday, those people had Old Wang fired. Then, while I was away, they poured water all over my bed.

I have nowhere to sleep.

It is so damp here. Even the warming patches on my legs do nothing. My legs are still freezing.

I miss my husband.

I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.

Whenever it rained, my husband wouldn’t go into the office. He liked to hold me in his arms like a body pillow and refuse to let go. He would keep me there all day.

He knew my legs ached when it rained, so he was always gently rubbing my calves and knees, almost without seeming to notice he was doing it.

Honestly, my favorite thing in the world was being held by him on a rainy day, feeling the warmth of his chest and the heat of his palms. I felt so safe.

My legs always felt much better too.

But now there’s a hard chair back against my spine and a cold, rigid seat beneath me. The warmth on my calves comes from the useless patches.

I looked at the soaking bed and decided to make do with the chair for the night.

Making do left me with a fever.

Not a high one: 37.9°C. Just a low fever.

Still, a fever is a fever. How was I supposed to withstand being left out in the rain?

The leader of those men seems to be called Boss Lu. He’s fat, with a fleshy head and enormous ears and a beer belly. I don’t know how long it has been since he brushed his teeth, but his breath is foul enough to make anyone gag.

That morning, Boss Lu dragged me out of my room and openly pawed at me. I kicked him, so his lackeys swarmed me, forced me to my knees, and ordered me to please them like a dog.
I spat at them and refused. They locked me in a cage meant for a large dog and left me out in the courtyard in the rain.

It came down so hard. I was soaked and wretched, truly no different from a homeless dog.

My fever got worse. My head swam as I slumped against the bars, every part of me aching.

I still remember the last thing I thought and the last words I heard before I lost consciousness.

I thought: My husband, when are you coming to take me home?

I heard Miss Song scream, her voice shrill with terror: “Liang Anping! Liang Anping!”

When I woke again, I was lying on that damp bed. The first thing I saw was Miss Song’s red-rimmed eyes.

The moment she saw I was awake, she hurriedly asked how I felt. There were still tears in her voice.

I forced a smile and wiped the tears from her face. My voice was so hoarse it was barely recognizable.

“Silly girl, what are you crying for? See? I’m fine.”

Miss Song was so angry she slapped me on the forehead. According to her, my face had been as white as a hospital wall. My temperature had shot from 37.9°C to 39.8°C, and it was a miracle I hadn’t cooked my brain.

I fell silent. After a long moment, I managed, “Could you at least wish me well?”

Miss Song rewarded me with a tremendous eye roll.

July 14 – Overcast

Miss Song had enough authority to let me out of the cage, but not enough to secure me a dry bed. She couldn’t very well put me on the floor or a chair, so she had no choice but to settle me on that damp bed.

Lying in the wet was miserable. Among the things Old Wang hadn’t had time to take away, Miss Song found only the hair dryer I’d used before.

So the two of us wrung out the thin summer quilt until it stopped dripping, then spent more than half an hour blowing it with the dryer.

The ancient hair dryer gave up halfway through. No matter what we did, it wouldn’t start again.

Miss Song looked miserably at the quilt, neither wet nor dry. I had to comfort her. “It’s all right. As long as I can sleep on it.”

We removed the mattress pad and spread the summer quilt over the bed. It was hard and still a little damp, but better than lying in sodden bedding.

And that was where I lay for my IV. On the bed… or rather, on the bare bed board covered by a summer quilt.

Miss Song was afraid I’d get bored, so she lent me her phone for ten minutes while she sat in the chair studying.

Oh, I forgot to mention: the day I arrived, my husband’s mother took my phone and all my cash because she was afraid I would call him. The only things she left me were the pocket-sized diary and gel pen I carried with me.

After more than ten days without an electronic device, I’d nearly forgotten how to use one.

I opened the dialer first and entered my husband’s number from memory. Then my finger hovered over the call button for a very long time.

Miss Song popped up from nowhere. “If you want to call, then call. It’s not like I’m out of credit.” And she pressed the button for me.

I hurriedly hung up before the call could connect, then smiled at her. “He must be busy right now. I’ll call again in a few days.”

Only I knew how forced that smile was. Only I knew I had lied.

July 15 – Overcast

Old Wang came back to collect his things. He also brought me more warming patches and malva nuts.

He wasn’t allowed to see me, so he had to leave everything with Miss Song and depart when the staff rushed him along.

I put a malva nut in my mouth and slowly savored the taste.

It must have been my state of mind, but it seemed like the most delicious one I’d ever had.