Chapter 3

In the spring of 2011, my younger sister Bai Xue was admitted to the First Municipal Hospital.

Specialists gave her a thorough examination and formulated a surgical plan.

My parents brought out all their life savings; whether it was medication or equipment, they chose the very best.

On the day of the operation, I took leave from school, rode the coach to the city alone, and used my saved pocket money to buy a hat.

Bai Xue was to undergo a craniotomy, and her beautiful long hair was shaved off.

She loves to look pretty, so I knew she would appreciate this gift.

When her hair grew back, I would braid it for her as before, pin flowers in it, hold her hand, and parade her proudly through the streets, listening to others compliment her.

Thinking of this, my mood swelled and shimmered like those colorful soap bubbles floating in the sunlight.

When I arrived at the hospital, my parents were anxiously waiting outside the operating room, so worried they didn’t even notice me.

I felt a bit upset, so I didn’t call out to them-just hugged my gift tightly and quietly squatted in the corner to wait.

When Bai Xue was wheeled out of the operating room, her little face was pale, making my heart ache.

My parents’ eyes seemed glued to her, their steps following her hospital bed as it moved farther away.

I stood up to follow but was accidentally knocked to the ground by another group rushing by with an emergency stretcher.

My palm was scraped and bleeding. A kind nurse passing by dressed the wound for me.

After thanking her, I walked alone toward Bai Xue’s ward.

Dad sat outside the ICU with his head bowed, his face utterly exhausted.

Mom finally saw me, came over and hugged me, and asked softly, “When did you get here?”

I looked up into her bloodshot eyes, quickly hiding my bandaged hand in my sleeve, and smiled, “Just now.”

The doctor said Bai Xue’s surgery was very successful. I was so happy that I forgot all my grievances.

To be honest, for the past three years, Bai Xue’s illness had been like a rope wrapped around our family’s neck, choking us tightly.

Now, finally, we could breathe a little easier.

But unexpectedly, that rope suddenly tightened, stripping away vitality bit by bit.

The Bai Xue who woke up was even more uncontrollable, showing even stronger violent tendencies.

Dad suffered a head wound, and Mom cried at his side.

It took several doctors together to restrain her.

I saw the hat I had given her torn to pieces and thrown on the ground. For some reason, all I could hear was the popping sound of soap bubbles bursting in my ears.

The specialists said Bai Xue’s condition was more complicated than they had imagined and that she would need a second surgery.

The truth was, our family had run out of money and could no longer afford the high medical costs.

But if we gave up now, all our previous efforts would have been in vain.

My parents decided to sell the house and borrow some money, finally scraping together enough for the operation.

Money can always be earned again-as long as we could save Bai Xue, anything was worth it.

I had no objections, and even became more understanding of my parents than before. I studied hard and made sure not to make any mistakes, for fear of making them even more anxious.

That year I was in my final year of middle school and was accepted into the best private high school in the county.

But the high tuition and boarding fees were no longer something our family could afford.

I voluntarily gave up the school I had set my heart on and chose an ordinary public high school closest to home.

My parents praised me for being sensible and thoughtful, though I imagined they also felt guilty inside-only they were truly too busy to care for me.

I always tried to keep an optimistic outlook, believing that everything would slowly get better.

Only later did I realize: what is the easiest thing to betray us in this world?

It is hope.