ATLAS TRANSLATES

Tao Zhi and Tao Xiu Ping walked out of the radiology department’s inpatient ward without saying a word.

There were many people handling paperwork. Ji Fan had been waiting in line for over ten minutes, and only two-thirds of the people ahead had finished. The young man was getting impatient, fanning his hospital booklet left and right. When he turned around, he happened to see her waiting at the entrance.

The young man smiled, showing his white teeth, and waved at her.

Tao Zhi’s first reaction was that she absolutely could not let Ji Fan know about this.

Unlike her, Ji Fan had never been away from Ji Jin since childhood. She had watched him grow from babbling his first words to taking his first steps, from a little boy to a tall young man. Every day, he had grown up with her companionship.

When this realization hit her, Tao Zhi felt an uncontrollable, very faint sense of being left behind. However, the greater truth was that Ji Fan’s feelings and dependence on Ji Jin were probably much deeper than hers were now.

Tao Zhi raised her hand, pressing her cold fingers hard against her burning eyes, then said softly: “Have you told Mom about my situation?”

Tao Xiu Ping looked at the young man in the crowd from afar: “No.”

Tao Zhi nodded.

She understood what Tao Xiu Ping meant, and also knew why he had suddenly told her about this long-kept secret today.

She didn’t even need to guess how Ji Jin would react if she knew about this.

Tao Xiu Ping might not oppose as strongly as before. He was just using this silent method to discourage her, telling her that at this crucial moment, she couldn’t be inconsiderate.

The bright lobby was packed with people, each window had a long snake-like queue winding in front of it. They crisscrossed, colliding and weaving through their territories in both orderly and chaotic fashion.

It was like the snake game she played as a child, biting down one bean after another, then watching the long snake slowly fill up the screen, feeling satisfied.

But this time, watching the fully packed screen after biting to the end, Tao Zhi suddenly felt lost.

She didn’t know which way was right anymore.

No matter which path she chose, it seemed she would crash into that long, dragging tail, then face total defeat, everything reset to zero.

Tao Zhi stayed at home for the weekend.

Auntie Zhang made different nourishing soups for her every day, wanting to send all three meals up to her room so she wouldn’t have to get out of bed, and insisted on watching her finish everything.

The situation was so serious that Tao Zhi almost thought she had suffered complete body fractures.

She was actually already fine, except for the deepest wound behind her ear which had its stitches removed and was slowly healing.

On Monday, she rushed to school eagerly.

After not attending school for a week, everything seemed unchanged.

Except that with winter break approaching, the study atmosphere was particularly intense in preparation for final exams.

Fu Xi Ling was almost crying tears of joy that someone had finally come to the last two rows of the first group, no longer having to look at three empty seats alone. The moment she saw Tao Zhi, the little girl rushed over and hugged her: “Zhi Zhi.”

Experiencing such direct welcome for the first time, Tao Zhi felt somewhat at a loss. She hurriedly patted her back: “Hey, I’m here, I’m here.”

Fu Xi Ling refused to let go: “Zhi Zhi.”

Tao Zhi patiently responded: “I’m back, I’m back.”

Fu Xi Ling nuzzled her head and whispered: “Your chest is so soft.”

Tao Zhi: “…”

The single fighter of empty seats had become a three-person group of one class officer, one mediocre student, and one useless person, while Jiang Qi Huai’s seat remained empty.

Previously, after being discharged and escaping Tao Xiu Ping’s sight, her first action would definitely have been to coerce or bribe Ji Fan into telling her Grandpa Jiang’s hospital room number to see Jiang Qi Huai. But now, she felt hesitant.

Her snake game character wandered aimlessly in its cage, crashing against the hard walls until bloodied, yet still unable to find a way forward.

For an entire week, she didn’t send Jiang Qi Huai any WeChat messages for the first time.

Saturday morning, Tao Xiu Ping went to the company for a meeting. All of Tao Zhi’s tutoring classes for these two weeks had been temporarily suspended. She dressed up and went to the door to put on her shoes, ready to go out.

Ji Fan had just gotten up and saw her putting on gloves at the door as he came downstairs.

The young man paused while running his hand through his hair: “Are you going to the hospital?”

Tao Zhi kept her head down, silently putting her hand into the soft wool glove, spreading her five fingers.

Ji Fan didn’t say anything more. He walked down the stairs into the kitchen, only dropping one sentence as he passed the entrance: “603.”

Tao Zhi froze, lifting her head to look at him.

The young man didn’t turn back, coolly waving his hand at her: “Take care of yourself.”

Tao Zhi pressed her lips together and went out.

When she arrived at the hospital it was close to noon. Tao Zhi first went to the radiology department’s inpatient ward.

She stood at the doorway of the hospital room looking in. Ji Jin wasn’t there. The room was empty, with two small pots of unknown plants on the windowsill, their tender leaves slowly stretching out their stems, climbing along the sill.

Tao Zhi waited for a while until gentle footsteps sounded in the corridor.

She turned around.

Ji Jin was walking alone with her head down. Tao Zhi didn’t know if chemotherapy always caused hair loss, but her hair didn’t seem to have fallen out. It was still a long black mass tied neatly at the back of her head, making her pale face look even smaller.

Her figure was thin, barely filling out the hospital’s large white clothes. She looked very tired, walking forward very slowly.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, Ji Jin suddenly looked up.

She looked at her, first appearing dazed, then slowly coming to her senses, calling out somewhat uncertainly: “Zhi Zhi?”

Tao Zhi opened her mouth, but before she could make a sound, tears had already started falling uncontrollably.

She held back her sobs and said softly: “Mom.”

Ji Jin closed her eyes, her whole body swaying slightly.

Tao Zhi quickly wiped away her tears and ran over in panic to support her. The moment she touched her arm, Tao Zhi felt directly and vividly how fragile she was now.

Through the fabric, her fingertips seemed to directly touch the outline of her bones.

Tao Zhi lowered her head, biting her lip hard as tears fell on the woman’s pale hands.

Ji Jin sighed and hugged her.

“Why are you crying,” her voice was weak but still gentle and soft. “Mom is actually very happy to see Zhi Zhi here.”

“Although I’ve been hiding it from you all, not telling you, not wanting to worry you or make you unhappy, now that I actually see you here, Mom is very, very happy.”

The woman’s embrace was still warm and gentle, carrying a familiar scent that even the smell of medicine and hospital disinfectant couldn’t mask.

It seemed like everything had changed, yet nothing had changed.

In that moment, all the previous events, those lonely cold nights and awkward barriers, Tao Zhi couldn’t remember any of it. Only the warm moments of being accompanied by her mother flooded her mind.

Mom smiling gently, Mom worriedly pinching her nose, Mom softly singing songs and tucking her in, Mom stroking her hair and saying Zhi Zhi was the most sensible child, Mom who loved her.

Tao Zhi hugged her, almost unable to speak through her tears. She sobbed indistinctly: “I didn’t know anything, I always left you alone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Ji Jin was crying too, holding her tightly: “Zhi Zhi has nothing to be sorry for, it’s Mom who should be sorry to you. Zhi Zhi is very good, taking care of Dad all by yourself. It’s Mom who didn’t fulfill her responsibilities, didn’t take good care of you, didn’t care for you, didn’t watch you grow up.”

A little boy from the neighboring room ran out after hearing the sound. He tilted his head looking at them, seeming somewhat scared and not daring to approach, only standing there calling out carefully: “Auntie Ji?”

Tao Zhi released her arms and turned around slowly, sniffling.

The little boy pressed his lips together, walking over slowly, then softly consoled her: “Auntie went for that light therapy, that light is painful, but it’s okay, after the therapy the illness will get better.”

Tao Zhi messily wiped away her tears while nodding.

She helped Ji Jin back to the room. The little boy followed step by step holding his small sketchbook until his mother called him back.

He was somewhat reluctant, saying unwillingly: “Then big sister can play with auntie first, Li will come back later.”

Ji Jin smiled in response.

Tao Zhi went to the room’s small bathroom to wash her face. The cold water splashing on her cheeks helped calm her down considerably. She looked at herself in the mirror and splashed another handful of cold water on her eyes.

She couldn’t be unhappy – she was the family’s little ray of sunshine.

She took a deep breath before walking out.

Ji Jin was already lying in bed. Tao Zhi picked out a big apple from the table and sat by the bed, clumsily peeling it slice by slice for her.

She peeled the apple like she was peeling a potato, the skin coming off with large chunks of flesh falling into the trash can. Ji Jin didn’t say anything, just watching her, then suddenly asked: “Your father says you recently have a boy you like?”

Tao Zhi’s hand shook, and with a crack, she cut off a large piece of the apple.

Ji Jin smiled: “Our Zhi Zhi has really grown up, even having boys she likes now. What kind of child is he?”

Tao Zhi kept her head down, her mood still somewhat low as she said softly: “Just, a very good person.”

“Very capable, always first in our school, always gets full marks in math, and works hard at life.”

“Is his family not well off?” Hearing her say this, Ji Jin asked.

Tao Zhi nodded gloomily: “His father… isn’t very good.”

Ji Jin sighed: “When I first met your father, his family wasn’t well off either, just a poor boy, but very hardworking. At that time I just felt he had a kind of drive that was very attractive.”

“Later we got together, got married, had you and Ah Fan. Although we weren’t quite in step with each other – the life I wanted and the life he wanted were too different and we couldn’t reconcile it, which led to us separating. But thinking about it now, I still don’t regret choosing to be with him then.”

Ji Jin turned to look at her: “Zhi Zhi too, just do what you want to do. Do the kind of things that even after years or decades, when you look back, you’ll still feel that choice was worth it.”

Perhaps because the treatment had consumed too much of her energy, by the time she finished peeling the apple, Ji Jin had fallen asleep.

Tao Zhi put the first apple she’d ever peeled in her life in a small bowl, got up to wash her hands, tucked Ji Jin in, and closed the hospital room door.

When she came out of the radiology department, the sun was high overhead. It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria cart from the inpatient department was parked against the wall of the main lobby, with the cafeteria auntie standing behind it ladling out porridge bowl by bowl to the people in line.

Tao Zhi walked to the elevator and pressed for the sixth floor.

She found room 603, its door slightly ajar. She stood at the doorway, pressing her lips together as she knocked gently.

After waiting for what felt like seconds or minutes, the door was pulled open from inside.

Jiang Qi Huai stood in the doorway holding a small thermos, his gaze pausing when he saw her.

The young man she hadn’t seen for nearly half a month looked unchanged, except for being slightly thinner, the angles of his jawline appearing more defined.

He stared at her motionless. Tao Zhi only glanced at him once before lowering her eyes, her fingers tightly intertwined.

For the first time, when she saw him, she seemed to suddenly develop mutism, unable to say any of her usual witty remarks.

After a moment, Jiang Qi Huai moved aside slightly, his voice low and gentle: “Come in.”

Tao Zhi walked in.

Ji Fan had told her Grandpa Jiang’s general condition. Tao Xiu Ping had originally offered to pay all hospitalization and treatment costs, which was no small sum, but Jiang Qi Huai refused and ended up paying it himself.

Fortunately, hospital rooms weren’t in short supply, and since Jiang He Sheng’s father was the orthopedics director, they had arranged a two-person room. The other patient had been discharged last week, so only Grandpa Jiang was in the room now.

The old man was sleeping. Apart from the cast on his arm, he appeared to have no other injuries. Tao Zhi felt slightly relieved and asked softly: “How is Grandpa Jiang’s spirit?”

“Pretty good,” Jiang Qi Huai poured hot water into the thermos. “He was playing cards with the old lady next door this morning, probably just tired now.”

Tao Zhi sat on the empty bed, swinging her legs, not knowing what else to say.

Actually, she did know.

She just didn’t dare ask.

Originally when she kept waiting at the hospital and Jiang Qi Huai never came to see her, Tao Zhi hadn’t thought about these things. But as time passed, she felt she somewhat understood his thoughts.

So she didn’t dare send him WeChat messages anymore.

So she didn’t dare look for him anymore.

But she didn’t want to regret it.

Are you scared?

Are you regretting it?

Do you feel guilty towards me, so you’re going to leave me?

Are you… not wanting me anymore?

She had a basketful of questions she wanted to ask him. She wanted clear answers, wanted to know his thoughts.

She wanted to tell him it was okay, she hadn’t been badly hurt, she was a little hero now, she was very brave. She was willing to accompany him, could face all difficulties together with him.

Growing up was just like this.

Growing up meant having to endure many hardships, getting hurt constantly, achieving the impossible under everyone’s questioning gazes, desperately breaking free from various shackles and suffocating cocoons, then soaring toward the sky.

Tao Zhi clutched the white bedsheet, bit her lip, and still asked him with difficulty: “Why didn’t you come see me?”

Perhaps because someone was sleeping in the room, the little girl’s voice was very soft, carrying undisguisable dejection.

Jiang Qi Huai put the thermos on the small table between the two beds and turned to look at her.

Her arms were rigidly tense, fingertips white from gripping too hard, eyelashes lowered and trembling, lips pressed tightly together.

The winter sunlight was cold yet gentle, the freshly boiled water still bubbling in the thermos, with only quiet, steady breathing filling the hospital room.

Jiang Qi Huai didn’t speak, just silently and intently looked at her for a long time.

When exactly those initial feelings began, Jiang Qi Huai couldn’t tell anymore.

Maybe it was when the girl awkwardly held an armful of new books and test papers for him, then passed him a gingerbread man from the front, pressing it on his desk and twisting it around urging him to look.

Or when he stood on the playground, watching her stand at the flag-raising platform, declaring childish and arrogant words like “justice fighters are everywhere” under the morning sun’s embrace.

At that time, Jiang Qi Huai realized she was someone completely different from him.

Different growth trajectories, different fates, different personalities, different worlds.

She did things he would never do in his life, said words he wouldn’t say, thought thoughts he didn’t dare think, and kept moving forward.

That extreme difference between them drew him like an insect to flame, wanting to explore further.

While wanting to stay away, he couldn’t help but gradually move closer, bit by bit.

Until he struggled to fly to the burning light’s edge, he truly felt that in this world, he had always been yearning to possess such warmth.

Jiang Qi Huai’s hanging fingers twitched, then slowly raised to touch her neck.

His thumb lightly touched behind her ear, where there was a slowly healing wound.

Just a light touch, then he moved his hand away.

His warm palm covered her nape as he called out to her: “Zhi Zhi.”

Tao Zhi lifted her head.

A shadow fell over her as Jiang Qi Huai bent down, his lips touching her soft mouth.

Cold, delicate, careful yet tender sensation.

Tao Zhi’s eyes widened.

His breath and scent overwhelmed her, coursing through her body. In the blank whiteness, his lips pressed tightly against hers as his hoarse voice, like sand ground by rushing river currents settling into the riverbed, said: “Don’t come again.”

She heard him say.