Chapter 17: The Moon

The device on the bedside table emitted bursts of noise, the already grating electronic sound growing louder and louder in the cramped, silent ward, making Yudong irritable and leaving her head spinning.

After a while, the door to the ward was pushed open, and a young nurse, wearing rubber shoes and carrying two IV bags, walked toward the hospital bed.

The sound of rubber soles rubbing against the floor was a bit grating to Yudong.

She raised her hand and took down the nearly empty bottle from the metal stand.

The last few drops of medicine in the transparent tube trembled, then with a “pop,” the thick needle was pulled from the rubber stopper and deftly pierced into the new bottle.

After hanging it up, the nurse gently turned the wheel with her fingertips, adjusting the drip speed slightly, and then hurried out with quick steps.

The door closed, and the ward returned to its previous silence.

So dizzy.

Maybe… I’ve just been too tired lately.

A bit nauseous, Yudong simply moved the chair to the wall, leaned back against it, and looked up at the window.

Outside the window, a round moon gazed down at Yudong in a mocking manner.

So bright.

So cold…

The ward was on a high floor, with no other lights to interfere and no tall buildings to block the view.

Almost every night, when Yudong sat alone at the bedside, the moon would scatter its faint light to disturb her.

It wasn’t a gentle, soft illumination spilling indoors; to Yudong, it felt more like a provocation, as if tens of thousands of silver needles were piercing the ward bit by bit, stabbing through the gloom.

Rather than piercing, it was more like laying a layer of gray, making it just a little less dark.

But what difference was there between black and gray, really?

Honestly, Yudong didn’t like this feeling.

Not at all.

If you’re going to light up the night, then do it like the sun. What’s the point of this half-hearted glow?

And because it was a round moon, Yudong hated it even more.

So disgusting…

She couldn’t say her life had always been privileged, but Yudong’s days had been happy enough.

The only bad memories she had were the quarrels between her mother and father when she was little.

First came the fights, then the cold silence.

Then one day, the man never appeared at home again.

Life grew harder by the day. The child support he’d promised as he left started at less than a third of what was due, and soon, there was no news from him at all.

Yudong still remembered, one night as a child, she’d been woken by the urge to pee and had to get out of bed to go to the bathroom.

Passing by her mother’s bedroom, she heard crying.

Maybe afraid of disturbing Yudong, the sound coming from the bedroom wasn’t loud sobbing, but muffled weeping pressed into a pillow, leaking out in waves, as if something was blocking her throat.

Each sound carried a feeling of suffocation. The crying was so quiet that, if the building hadn’t been silent at night, Yudong probably wouldn’t have heard it.

Yet the sound was frighteningly heavy, so heavy that Yudong didn’t know when the corners of her own eyes grew wet, too.

Back then, little Yudong didn’t know why her mother was crying. She only knew that if she behaved, Mother would be happy.

Afraid her bathroom trip would make Mother think she wasn’t sleeping, she went straight back to her room, ignored her discomfort, and lay down on the bed again.

“Staying up late is a very bad habit, Yudong has to sleep well, okay? You must never stay up all night.”

Mother, I always listen to you.

That night, the moon was just like now, perfectly round, its brightness making the heart ache, taking over Yudong’s small bedroom as she slept.

Lying on the bed, Yudong just stared at the moon.

Strictly speaking, that was also her first night of insomnia—

That night, Mother didn’t say goodnight, and forgot to remind her to draw the curtains before sleep.

Those everyday scenes were still vivid in her mind. Lost in the memories, Yudong went downstairs.

The voice-activated light in the stairwell flickered on and off with her steps, her shadow shrinking into a tiny patch on the wall.

After leaving the hall and escaping the air filled with the smell of disinfectant, she turned and walked toward the hospital’s park.

Ever since coming to this hospital, Yudong had loved doing this.

Here, she didn’t have to think about much. Only the fragrance of grass and flowers by the artificial lake lingered in her mind.

The feeling of emptying her mind… was truly wonderful.

Temporary short update, I’ll add three thousand more words later, sob sob sob.