ATLAS TRANSLATES

When Tao Xiu Ping hurriedly arrived at Second Medical University Hospital, the hallway was empty and silent, with almost no one around.

A few helpful neighbors were describing what happened to the police at the entrance, while Jiang He Sheng leaned against the wall, talking with a doctor.

At the end of the hallway, by the operating room door, a boy sat on the cold bench, elbows propped on his knees, head lowered, as if he couldn’t hear any sounds around him.

The smell of disinfectant permeated the air, and the hospital’s desolate white lights stretched his shadow long and lonely.

This was Tao Xiu Ping’s first time seeing Jiang Qi Huai.

Before this, his understanding of him was limited to photo documents, the school’s wall of honor, and Tao Zhi’s descriptions.

The boy’s face was pale and stern, his back bent low, dark bangs hiding his brows and eyes, casting gloomy shadows.

He was an upright and proper young man.

Tao Xiu Ping watched him from afar. The anger and urgent desire to blame someone that he felt on the way here was forcibly suppressed by reason. He suddenly remembered what Tao Zhi had said that night.

Jiang Qi Huai truly hadn’t done anything wrong. Fate was just like this – people were born unequal. While bearing everything, he was also trying hard to break free from it all.

He had it harder than anyone else. Tao Zhi was right – his selfishness was a cruel thing for Jiang Qi Huai.

But people were inherently selfish.

Jiang He Sheng was the first to see Tao Xiu Ping. He turned and called out “Uncle Tao.”

Tao Xiu Ping turned around, forcing himself to stay calm as he asked: “How is Zhi Zhi?”

“Mostly superficial injuries. There’s a slightly deeper wound behind her ear that might need a few stitches,” Jiang He Sheng hesitated, then said conservatively, “Don’t worry, my mom is in there. She says to tell you not to worry, Zhi Zhi will be fine.”

Tao Xiu Ping nodded slowly and was about to speak when from the other end of the hallway, Ji Fan came rushing in like a gust of wind.

He brushed past Tao Xiu Ping’s shoulder, bumping him hard, but acted as if he hadn’t felt it, heading straight for the person at the end of the hallway.

Jiang Qi Huai unconsciously raised his head, his light brown eyes deep and empty, devoid of any emotion.

Ji Fan rushed up to him, grabbed his collar with one hand, and raised his other hand high, swinging a fierce punch at his face.

With a dull thud, Jiang Qi Huai’s head tilted, his body slanting sideways. He hit the bench with a harsh scraping sound, then fell sitting on the ground.

Ji Fan looked down at him, breathing heavily.

He couldn’t beat Jiang Qi Huai.

He had known this since their first encounter at Affiliated High – he had picked fights two or three times but had never managed to land a punch so smoothly. But now that this punch had actually hit his face, he felt none of the satisfaction he had imagined.

Ji Fan crouched in front of him, his jaw clenched tight as he looked at him: “I know you’ve had it rough, that you’re a victim too,” he said in a low voice, “but what did Zhi Zhi do wrong?”

Jiang Qi Huai remained motionless with his head down. After a long while, he slowly raised his hand, wiping his split and bleeding lip corner with his thumb, his voice hoarse: “I’m sorry.”

Ji Fan’s eyes turned red.

“I know you’re a good person, so I never stopped you two. When she ran out to find you, I would even help cover for her with Dad.”

The boy grabbed his hair, suddenly burying his head deep in his knees: “I thought you could do it, I thought no matter how messed up things got, you would take care of her. I trusted you so much, I gave you our family’s treasure that we all cherish…”

Jiang Qi Huai’s Adam’s apple bobbed: “I’m sorry.”

He knew this wasn’t Jiang Qi Huai’s fault.

But there was just this fire burning inside him, crackling and growing more intense, leaving him with no outlet to vent.

It was actually his fault for not watching over her properly. Old Tao had specifically asked him to keep an eye on her during this time.

“Damn it,” Ji Fan cursed softly. He took a deep breath, rubbed his face hard, and looked up: “How’s Grandpa?”

Jiang Qi Huai raised his head: “He’s fine.”

The old man had always been robust, but at his age, his bones were fragile, and falling on the snowy ground had still resulted in a fractured forearm.

When Jiang Qi Huai entered the hospital room, Jiang Qing He had just woken up. The nurse beside him was tucking in his blanket while saying gently: “With your hand like this, where were you trying to run off to? Just lie down and rest for a while. If your grandson comes and can’t find you, won’t that just make him worry?”

Jiang Qing He smiled: “I wanted to go see how that young girl who was with me is doing.”

“She’s fine, full of energy and spirit,” the nurse comforted him, then turned around and saw Jiang Qi Huai, “Look, your grandson is here.”

Jiang Qing He turned to look.

The old man’s white hair was somewhat messy. The usually energetic little old man suddenly seemed to have aged several years. His lips moved as he called out: “Ah Huai…”

Jiang Qi Huai quickly walked over, stood by the bed, and bent down to pull up his blanket: “You’re awake? How do you feel? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

“How is little Tao?” Grandpa Jiang asked.

Jiang Qi Huai’s fingers paused as he tucked in the blanket corner: “She’s asleep. She’s fine.”

Grandpa Jiang finally seemed to relax, his whole body sagging as he mumbled: “That’s good, that’s fine…”

“I saw her, she was looking at me. I wanted to tell her to run quickly, not to worry about me,” the old man said with a trembling voice, “But I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t say it.”

Jiang Qi Huai’s fingers gripped the blanket, tightening bit by bit.

Jiang Qing He’s eyes reddened and tears fell: “I’m just an old life, nothing to regret losing. She’s so young – if anything had happened to her, how could that be okay? Grandpa… Grandpa couldn’t properly protect our Ah Huai’s important person.”

Jiang Qi Huai closed his eyes, unable to say a word.

When Tao Zhi woke up, it was already deep into the night.

The anesthetic hadn’t completely worn off, and she could only vaguely feel some sharp pain. Her arm felt numb all the way to her fingertips, not responding to her commands.

The hospital room was completely silent, the lights were off, with only the corridor light streaming in softly through the square window.

She lay in bed, quiet for a moment, slowly organizing the chaotic information in her mind.

Before her consciousness and vision had completely fallen into darkness, Tao Zhi had felt something hit her face.

Warm, scalding hot.

He had cried.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, then after a moment, struggled to sit up and turned her head with effort.

Tao Xiu Ping sat by her bed holding her hand, his voice carrying undisguised exhaustion and hoarseness: “Awake from your sleep?”

Tao Zhi licked her dry lips: “Dad…”

Ji Fan, curled up on the small sofa at the foot of the bed, startled awake. He instantly jumped up and walked over in two steps: “You’re awake? Does anything still hurt? Are you dizzy? Thirsty? Hungry?”

Tao Zhi: “…”

Ji Fan held up one finger suspended in front of her, anxiously watching her: “How many fingers is this?”

Tao Zhi rolled her eyes, her voice hoarse: “I’m not an idiot, you weirdo.”

Ji Fan let out a long breath of relief, plopping down on the edge of the bed, his whole body relaxing: “Scared me to death.”

Tao Xiu Ping poured a cup of warm water and handed it over.

Tao Zhi took it and gulped down the entire cup in big swallows.

As her parched, burning throat felt better, she held the cup, looking at Tao Xiu Ping, about to speak.

“That grandpa is fine now,” Tao Xiu Ping knew what she wanted to ask and raised his hand to smooth her messy hair, softening his voice, “Zhi Zhi protected him well, Zhi Zhi was very brave.”

Tao Zhi blinked, suddenly feeling very belatedly both wronged and scared.

Even for a sixteen-year-old girl who was usually so mischievous, she still got scared.

In that moment when she rushed forward, Tao Zhi was trembling with fear all over.

She thought she was good at fighting. She wasn’t afraid of pain – she had fought countless times since she was little, but this time was different.

That kind of adult strength and oppressive force was something she simply couldn’t contend with.

Tao Zhi fought back the urge to cry and reached out to Tao Xiu Ping.

Tao Xiu Ping hugged her.

She buried herself in his embrace, leaning against his warm, broad chest. She had rarely felt her father’s hugs – when she was little, she would coquettishly snuggle into her dad’s arms, but after growing up, it never happened again.

Tao Xiu Ping stroked her hair.

His child was curled up small in his arms, seemingly returning in an instant to her long-ago childhood.

A delicate little dumpling who would run over calling “Dad” when she saw him, wanting to be held.

When did their communication become limited to her calling to tell him about recent events, telling him what trouble she’d gotten into, while he just objectively evaluated whether what she did was right or wrong?

At those times, she must have been very sad.

Growing up, she had heard too many principles and rights and wrongs. She just wanted to hear one comforting word that would let her be spoiled.

“Before, I always felt I needed to use every incident to teach you life’s principles, to teach you how to handle problems, teach you not to be impulsive, teach you to grow up.”

Tao Xiu Ping soothingly patted her back gently and sighed: “But somehow Dad’s Zhi Zhi has grown up when I wasn’t looking, already able to protect others, like a little hero.”

When she heard these words, all the pain, fear, and many years of loneliness that Tao Zhi had suppressed burst forth in that instant.

She clutched Tao Xiu Ping’s clothes tightly, burying her face in his embrace as she cried freely.

Outside the hospital room, the boy’s fingers slowly released the doorknob. He stood for a moment with downturned lips, then turned and left.

Tao Zhi’s injuries healed quickly.

When the anesthetic fully wore off, she finally felt the pain, but it was still within bearable limits. She didn’t show it, not wanting to worry everyone more.

Ji Fan made her go through every possible examination up and down until he was finally assured that there really weren’t any other issues.

Tao Xiu Ping had already requested leave from school for her. Early on weekend morning, Li Shuang Jiang, Fu Xi Ling, and the whole group swarmed in.

Li Shuang Jiang was still his noisy bouncing self, not caring about any hierarchy between boss and underling anymore. As soon as he burst into the hospital room, he immediately scolded her.

“We know you’re good at fighting, you’re undefeated at Experimental, but how can that compare? Those were street thugs! You could have just called the police and been done with it, why did you have to rush in there! Think you can play hero!”

Tao Zhi raised her hand, fingers lightly touching the spot behind her ear where the stitches had just been removed after a week of healing. It didn’t hurt anymore.

“How could I just call the police and watch,” she mumbled softly, “Besides, I’m fine, aren’t I?”

Li Shuang Jiang was so angry his face and neck turned red: “You’re amazing! You’re truly the universe’s most invincible awesome amazing person!”

Fu Xi Ling sighed and silently pinched his arm, afraid he might say something he shouldn’t.

Li Shuang Jiang and the others didn’t know the details of what happened. Ji Fan had just briefly told her earlier that the person involved was Jiang Qi Huai’s grandfather.

After making a ruckus for a while, they were worried about disturbing her rest and didn’t stay long before leaving.

The hospital room became quiet again.

Tao Zhi’s smile faded as she lowered her head and looked at the phone beside her bed.

For an entire week, she hadn’t seen Jiang Qi Huai, and all her WeChat messages had sunk like stones into the sea with no response.

Whenever she asked, Tao Xiu Ping would only tell her everything was fine and not to worry about these things for now.

Tao Zhi could only try to get information from Ji Fan.

Jiang Zhi was currently being detained on suspicion of intentional injury. Grandpa Jiang wasn’t seriously injured and was fine, and Jiang Qi Huai was taking care of him.

Tao Zhi wanted to ask what Grandpa Jiang’s room number was, but Ji Fan wouldn’t tell her either.

The hospital room door was gently pushed open, and Tao Zhi instantly raised her head, her dark eyes staring intently at the light green door.

Ji Fan came back after seeing everyone off. He entered and closed the door behind him.

Seeing it was him, Tao Zhi’s face fell with disappointment: “Ah…”

“What ‘ah’? What do you mean ‘ah’?” Ji Fan said irritably, “Yes, it’s me! Disappointed, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not,” Tao Zhi lied with wide eyes. She looked at him pleadingly, “Ah Fan, I want to eat a dragon fruit.”

“…You can only boss me around now. Wait till you’re discharged tomorrow and go home, then I’ll have to give you a good beating.” Ji Fan rolled his eyes but bounced off to peel dragon fruit for her.

Tao Zhi watched the boy silently run to get a knife to cut fruit from the cabinet, then lowered her head again.

She secretly pouted.

That heartless Jiang Qi Huai.

They were in the same hospital!

He didn’t even have time to come see her?!

On the day Tao Zhi was discharged, the weather that had been gloomy for several days finally saw light.

Warm sunlight melted the thick layer of accumulated snow on the surface. She could have been discharged a day earlier, but Tao Xiu Ping and Ji Fan absolutely wouldn’t allow it, so Tao Zhi was forced to stay two extra days.

The little girl was back to bouncing around energetically, though occasionally she would become downcast. Everyone knew the reason why, but no one mentioned it.

While Ji Fan went to queue up to handle the discharge procedures, Tao Xiu Ping looked at her: “Let’s go.”

Tao Zhi came back to her senses: “Aren’t we waiting for Ah Fan?”

“We’ll come back later,” Tao Xiu Ping said, “Dad will take you to see someone.”

Tao Zhi thought they were probably going to see Grandpa Jiang.

She immediately perked up and obediently followed Tao Xiu Ping around the hospital’s landscaped plaza to another inpatient building, up to the third floor.

The hospital’s smell wasn’t particularly pleasant, with busy chaos everywhere contradicting the solemnity and cleanliness. They walked through a long corridor, and Tao Zhi looked up at the directional sign hanging above.

Radiotherapy Inpatient Department.

She froze for a moment.

At the very end room, Tao Xiu Ping stopped and turned: “It’s this one.”

Tao Zhi looked inside with him.

The room’s door wasn’t closed. It was a standard single room with two beds, and a woman lay in one of them.

Ji Jin was half-sitting in bed, wearing the hospital’s snow-white clothes, her face as pale as her garments, looking even thinner than when Tao Zhi had last seen her.

She had an IV in one hand, and in the other, she held a colored pen, intently drawing something in a notebook.

Next to her, a five or six-year-old boy in the same white hospital gown was half-lying on the bed’s edge, cutely propping up his head as he watched her draw.

Ji Jin’s voice was gentle: “See, this is how you draw a lion. The ears should be short.”

The little boy blinked and said happily: “I can draw it now, thank you Auntie Ji!”

Ji Jin smiled and patted his head: “Does A Li like lions?”

“I like them!” The little boy swung his arms, “Lions look so strong, they don’t get sick, and they don’t have to see doctors like Auntie and A Li.”

As he spoke, his expression turned unhappy, his little face scrunching up: “A Li has to go get that light treatment again tomorrow. It hurts so much, and it keeps hurting for days after.”

“But that’s how A Li’s illness will get better, how you can become like a lion.” Ji Jin said.

“Okay then,” the little boy said reluctantly. He looked up and asked carefully, “Will Auntie get better from the light treatment too? Does it hurt Auntie?”

Ji Jin fell silent, her smile fading somewhat.

She looked out the window, quiet for a few seconds, before smiling again: “Yes, Auntie will get better too.”

The little boy became happy again. He hugged his drawing notebook and stood up: “I’ll show this to mommy! I’ll come back to play with Auntie later!”

He stumbled toward the door, and Ji Jin’s gaze followed him.

Tao Zhi suddenly came back to her senses. She instinctively stepped back two paces, barely avoiding her gaze.

She leaned against the cold corridor wall, sunlight streaming through the window enveloping her, cold and insubstantial.

“What… what does this mean?” Her eyes were wide as she stared at Tao Xiu Ping, “What’s wrong with Mom?”

Tao Xiu Ping silently looked away. His eyes were red, and after a long while, he said hoarsely: “Late stage, it’s spread to the lymph nodes. Now we can only use radiotherapy and chemotherapy to suppress the cancer cells from spreading further.”

“I had wanted to tell you and Xiao Fan all along, but your mom absolutely wouldn’t let me tell you.”

Before Tao Zhi realized it, tears had already slipped from her eyes.

Ji Fan’s sudden return home.

The woman’s gaunt figure during her last visit.

The person they could never contact.

Tao Xiu Ping’s inexplicable long stays at home, and his increasingly tired, increasingly silent, weary appearance.

There had been so many signs.

So many things that weren’t right.

Yet she knew nothing, noticed nothing. She and Ji Fan were like two idiots, complaining about their trivial troubles every day, jumping around thinking the whole world was unfair to them.

The little boy from the next room came running out again with his drawing notebook. He opened Ji Jin’s room door but didn’t close it.

In the silence of that moment, Tao Zhi heard the woman in the room seemingly murmur: “I wonder how A Fan and Zhi Zhi are doing.”

The little boy bounced over: “Auntie Ji! Teach me to draw a tiger!”

Ji Jin was interrupted and came back to herself, smiling as she responded.

Tao Zhi covered her eyes with one hand. She leaned against the wall, sliding down bit by bit until she was crouching.

She bit her lip hard, trying desperately to suppress the sobs that threatened to burst forth uncontrollably.