Chapter 4

Chapter 4

July 16 – Clear

My temperature has finally come down to a low fever: 37.7°C.

Miss Song suggested taking my bedding outside to dry in the sun. I hesitated.

I didn’t know what those people might do next, but I knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

I told Miss Song about Boss Lu, but said nothing about the bribes or the way the people at this gay conversion center treated human lives as disposable.

She was barely in her twenties, still at the age when she ought to be young and carefree. The less she knew about things filthy enough to destroy her faith in people, the better.

But the girl waved me off. Her uncle owned the gay conversion center, she said. No one would dare touch her. And if all else failed, she could sit beside the bedding and keep watch.

When she insisted on drying it, I gathered up the mattress pad and summer quilt and followed her outside.

A large tree stood beside the drying area, with the dormitory building behind it. We sat in the shade beneath the tree: she studied while I stared into space.

Without warning, a basinful of cold water came crashing down from above. It soaked the bedding just as it was nearly dry and drenched Miss Song and me like a pair of drowned rats.

I stood and looked up. Boss Lu was on the balcony holding an empty basin, his face a picture of bland indifference.

Even an idiot could see the contempt in his eyes, the sheer arrogance of him.

I smiled at Miss Song. “See? He’ll pour it down even with you sitting here.”

She was too angry to answer. She gave me a look that said, Are you missing part of your brain? Then she ran off.

I watched her race toward her uncle’s office. With a helpless sigh, I gathered up the bedding and took it back inside.

What a shame. Miss Song and I had spent so long getting that summer quilt half dry, and now all our work was ruined.

July 17 – Clear

I’m Song Tangyan, Liang Anping’s nurse and friend. At a certain person’s forceful request, I will be writing today’s diary entry as an outside observer.

Yesterday morning, after Boss Lu soaked the bedding, I went to see my uncle.

To my surprise, the uncle who had always spoiled me told me not to concern myself with anything involving Liang Anping apart from his medical treatment.

What kind of nonsense was that? Liang Anping and I have known each other for days now. We’re good friends and kindred spirits. How could I simply abandon him?

But my uncle refused to discuss it. He threw me out of his office.

I stormed away, planning to call Liang Anping back so we could think of something else. Then, from outside, I heard the heavy thud of something striking the ground and a scream that escaped only to be strangled short.

I ran out in a panic. Liang Anping was lying on the ground, his left hand pressed to his chest, his face white with pain.

I hurried to help him, but he waved me off and said his leg seemed to be broken too.

Then I happened to look up. A group of people stood on the second-floor balcony, gazing down at Liang Anping with malicious smiles. I understood at once what had happened.

I called an ambulance and had him taken to the hospital.

The doctor said that common injuries from a second-story fall included broken bones: fractures in the feet or ribs, for example. If the head was injured, there was also a serious risk of concussion or cerebral hemorrhage.

Liang Anping had five broken ribs, a shattered kneecap, a displaced fracture in his left hand, and a mild concussion.

I don’t know whether to call that fortunate or merely miraculous.

July 18 – Clear

I’m Song Tangyan. To keep a certain poor fool from straining his eyes, he is dictating today’s entry while I write.

Yesterday, while I was carrying the bedding back to my room to write in the diary, Boss Lu sent someone to summon me. They dragged me upstairs. An argument broke out, and someone accidentally pushed me over the second-floor railing.
Luckily, I managed to protect my head. Otherwise, my life would have been ruined.

On a separate note, the hospital’s pork rib soup is disgusting.

That’s all.

Miss Song’s Notes:

Liang Anping’s mental state is much worse than before. He is constantly sleepy during the day, yet suffers from insomnia at night. Even sleeping pills do little. He still lies awake night after night.

My uncle just called and told me to arrange Liang Anping’s discharge as soon as possible.

I didn’t understand. My uncle said recuperating was the same anywhere, so why waste the money?

I sneered, but then he told me that if I wanted Liang Anping to remain in the hospital, I was welcome to pay the bill myself.

If I had the money, I would certainly have thrown “Fine, I’ll pay it” in his face. But my boyfriend and I earn barely enough to live on. There is nothing I can do.

July 18 – Rain (Late at Night)

After two clear days, it is raining again.

They discharged me this afternoon, and once again I find myself on that familiar, clammy bed.

The sodden bedding was unusable, so Miss Song brought over a thick quilt and a summer quilt from her own home. We laid the thick quilt over the bed board, and I use the summer quilt as a blanket.

The silly girl even bragged that she had managed to avoid everyone on her way in.

I smiled and said nothing.

My mental state has been deteriorating. I’m drowsy during the day and sleepless at night, tossing and turning in bed without ever drifting off.

After a while, I took out my diary again, switched on the desk lamp, and began to write.

The truth is, I lied about what happened yesterday.

Boss Lu ordered his lackeys to drag me upstairs. He pawed at me in front of everyone. I was so furious that I punched his greasy face, and his men lifted me up and threw me from the second floor to the first.

In that instant, I finally understood what it felt like to be on the verge of death.

There was no fear, anger, hatred, or despair.

In that moment, your mind goes blank. You cannot think of anything at all.

By the time I came to my senses, I was already in the hospital.

As for their refusal to pay for my stay, I think I’m almost used to it.

I should tear this page out.

July 19 – Overcast

Miss Song told me that on my birthday, July 21, she would invite Old Wang and take us both out for a meal to celebrate.

I ruffled her hair and said that, in the blink of an eye, I was twenty-nine and hurtling toward thirty. How depressing.

Miss Song proudly announced that she was only twenty-two.

I pretended I was going to tickle her, but then her phone rang.

The moment she answered, her expression changed. She hung up in a panic, blurted, “I have to go. See you tomorrow,” and vanished.

With nothing to do but lie in bed, my thoughts wandered. Most of them were about my husband.

I still remember the first time we met. It was in a restaurant.

That day, I accidentally bumped into a server carrying drinks. Every last one spilled over my husband, soaking his clothes.

His face was thunderous. I had the distinct feeling that he wanted to hit me.

I apologized at once and offered to compensate him, but he waved me away.

Later, I asked why he had refused my offer.

He said he had thought I was handsome, and my apology was so sincere that half his anger disappeared. If he kept pressing the matter after that, he would have been the unreasonable one.

I gave him a sidelong look. “If you’d dared to bully me over it, I would’ve put you straight on my blacklist.”

My husband hastily assured me he would never have dared.