5
Chen Mingsheng relented at last.
They pushed the car to the roadside, or to be more accurate, Chen Mingsheng did— Feeling so light-headed that she almost fell to the floor, Yang Zhao barely contributed the second time around, leaving Chen Mingsheng to do the lion's share of the work. Afterwards, Yang Zhao dizzily led Chen Mingsheng back to her home.
Having relied almost entirely on instinct to make her way back, she had hazy recollections of what happened on the way home. The only faint memory she had was that they walked very, very slowly. Chen Mingsheng locked the car before leaving, and took out a crutch from the car's boot. Even so, they made very slow progress in the storm.
After they reached her home, Yang Zhao was adamant about taking a shower, so she grit her teeth, dragged her body into the bathroom and quickly rinsed herself off. She turned to Chen Mingsheng who was sitting in the living room and said: "The bathroom is over there. Feel free to take a bath."
Whether Chen Mingsheng replied or not she could not remember; she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the sofa.
Chen Mingsheng looked to the woman clad in a bathrobe lying before him. He raised his head and appraised his surroundings. The apartment was beautifully furnished, organized, and reflected its owner's good taste.
The scarlet sofas complemented each other and accentuated the sleeping person's features.
Yang Zhao's bathrobe was white, and her pitch black hair hadn't dried. Droplets of water slid down her hair and dripped onto the ground.
Chen Mingsheng sat briefly, then hoisted himself up to a standing position with his crutch. He tucked the frame of the crutch under his right armpit and tugged at the prosthetic limb fitted to his right leg with his free hand. Gritting his teeth, he popped the prosthetic leg socket off. His leg had been hurting badly as a result of the rain and the day's activities.
Chen Mingsheng propped up his prosthetic leg against the chair and entered the bathroom with the help of his crutch.
He did need a hot shower; his leg was near its limit.
Yang Zhao's bathroom was very spacious. Chen Mingsheng smelled the strong scent of jasmine upon entering, the scent of Yang Zhao's shower gel. There was a triangular bathtub and a vanity unit beside it lined with a range of cosmetic products. The bathroom had a very large mirror that was much bigger than a typical household's, probably specially installed.
Chen Mingsheng observed the expressionless person reflected in the mirror: He leaned onto his crutch, and only had one leg.
He set the crutch aside and took off his clothes with one foot planted on the ground. He took them off very quickly and threw them aside, bounced a little, and jumped into the bathtub. Searing pain swept over Chen Mingsheng as the hot water made contact with the stump of his leg. Chen Mingsheng bore it as best as he could as he washed himself. The wound on his leg had recently opened up again, and today it'd been submerged in rainwater. If he didn't treat it properly, infection could set in, and there would be trouble.
Chen Mingsheng didn't use any of Yang Zhao's things, not her shampoo, shower gel or even perfumed soap. After he was done showering, he continued standing in the bathroom and let the bathroom heater do its work. When he felt sufficiently dry, he picked up his wet clothes and put them on one by one.
The drop of temperature from hot to cold made his leg ache painfully, but he endured it.
Chen Mingsheng returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. He looked out of the window. The rain didn't seem like it'd be letting up anytime soon. He turned back and gazed at the woman in front of him.
Yang Zhao slept very soundly. When she turned over, her bathrobe slid, revealing a patch of fair skin near her chest. Chen Mingsheng looked Yang Zhao up and down quietly.
He remembered the provocative words Yang Zhao had said while they were downstairs.
[I'm not afraid, so what're you afraid of?]
Pft. Chen Mingsheng found it funny for some reason. He hugged his arms, sat on the opposite sofa, and closed his eyes to rest.
The next morning, Chen Mingsheng woke up promptly at six o'clock. The previous night's events had left him feeling a little drained. The faint, early morning rays of sunlight streamed inside the apartment. The sky had cleared up. The first thing Chen Mingsheng saw upon waking up was the woman sleeping on the sofa before him. Judging by her furrowed brows, her sleep hadn't been a peaceful one.
Chen Mingsheng stood up. After spending a night in his damp clothes, his whole body was aching. He took a deep breath and put on his prosthetic leg while leaning on his crutch.
Chen Mingsheng's right leg was severed at his thigh, and his remaining stump was relatively short. As such, his prosthetic leg required not only a locking hip joint, but also a pelvic band to be fitted snugly.
After Chen Mingsheng put on the prosthetics, he got ready to leave. As he made his first step with his crutch, he suddenly heard Yang Zhao's faint but hurried breathing.
Chen Mingsheng stopped and looked back.
Something didn't seem right about Yang Zhao.
Chen Mingsheng thought for a moment, went over with his crutch, and patted Yang Zhao's arms.
"You okay? Wake up."
Yang Zhao did not stir. The crease between her brows deepened, and her breathing became more rapid. She grimaced. Chen Mingsheng was unable to crouch with his prosthetics on, so he bent over as best as he could, stretched out his hands and felt Yang Zhao's forehead.
It was incredibly hot.
Chen Mingsheng sighed, straightened and looked at her.
After an internal debate, he heaved another sigh and stepped to the entrance with his crutch. Yang Zhao's coat hung from a clothes rack standing by the apartment's entrance. Chen Mingsheng searched her pockets — He'd seen Yang Zhao put her keys in her coat pockets after opening the doors yesterday.
In the end, not only did he find her keys, he found something else.
It was the paper with his contact number, the one that he'd given to her a few days ago. The paper was wrinkled beyond recognition. After being soaked in the rain, the ink was totally smudged.
Chen Mingsheng held that slip of paper and stared for a moment.
Not once did Yang Zhao call him; not once did she press him for payment. As a matter of fact, she didn't even write up an IOU. Sometimes Chen Mingsheng even had the feeling that Yang Zhao didn't care whether he returned her this 5,000 yuan or not.
Chen Mingsheng put the paper back into Yang Zhao's pocket, took the key and left the apartment.
He first called the auto repair shop to inform them of the car's location. As he was familiar with the staff, he had no qualms about letting them tow the car away directly. Then, leaning onto his crutch for support, he looked for a pharmacy along the streets.
Walking was more taxing than usual for Chen Mingsheng since his current body condition was not good. After walking for a distance, he realized that it was quite desolate here. Supermarkets and the like were few and far between. He began to regret taking his prosthetics along. Without prosthetics, he would have an easier time walking.
Chen Mingsheng swore quietly. The reason why he brought his prosthetics along was to look more complete. He detested being ogled at out on the streets. Even when he knew the futility of it, that he was just lying to others and himself, he could not help it.
Finally, after more than half an hour of walking, he found a pharmacy.
He went in. When the pharmacy girl looked up to see a man with crutches approach, she started, then said: "Mister, is there anything you need?"
"Can you get me some medicine for someone who has a fever after being drenched in the rain?" Chen Mingsheng asked.
"Ah, okay," replied the girl. She swiftly produced several different packets of medicines. "The temperature's been dropping lately. The flu bug has been making its rounds. What're the symptoms like? Any phlegm? Any throat pains?"
"Let's just assume that it hurts," said Chen Mingsheng.
The girl gave an "oh". She held out a few packets of medicine to Chen Mingsheng.
"Mister, these are for colds and flus. They're very effective."
Chen Mingsheng nodded without taking them. "That works," he said. "Bag them up, please."
The girl bagged the medicines up and passed the bag to Chen Mingsheng.
"The total is forty six yuan."
Chen Mingsheng paid, hooked the bag with his left hand, and exited the pharmacy.
The return trip was yet another long journey. As he walked, Chen Mingsheng tried his best to distract himself from the gnawing pain in his leg. By the time he made it back to Yang Zhao's apartment, his arm had begun to shake.
Yang Zhao still showed no signs of awakening. Chen Mingsheng set his crutch aside and removed his prosthetic leg. Without the prosthetic leg, Chen Mingsheng's body felt lighter. He took his crutch again and took out the medicines. He sifted through the packets and singled out the Contac.
He had taken this medication before. It should do the job.
Chen Mingsheng laid out the medicine, only to find that there was no water to be found in the entire apartment. This apartment's kitchen was like a showroom, free of any dust or oil. After much searching, Chen Mingsheng finally dug up a milk pot —still in its original packaging— from the kitchen cabinet. He took it out, filled it with water, then realized that the apartment's gas valve was not turned on.
Chen Mingsheng wasn't in the mood to fuss over how Yang Zhao had been living her life. Dragging a leg on the floor, he knelt down and turned the gas valve on.
As Chen Mingsheng heated the water, the thought occurred to him that this might be the first time this kitchen was being put to use.
Once the water was heated, he poured the water into a mug and left them on the coffee table to cool.
While waiting, he quickly checked on Yang Zhao once, but Yang Zhao was still unconscious. After a while, he ground the medicine tablets into powder and dissolved them in the warm water.
He sat on the sofa and propped Yang Zhao's head up.
"Drink this water," he said softly.
Hazy with sleep and dehydrated, Yang Zhao drank the water offered by Chen Mingsheng greedily, her eyes tightly shut.
"Slow down…" Chen Mingsheng eased the mug away from her to prevent her from choking.
After he fed her the medicine, Chen Mingsheng circled the apartment, stopping at Yang Zhao's bedroom. He picked up a thin blanket from her bed, went to Yang Zhao, and covered her with it.
By this time, Chen Mingsheng's energy was flagging. After skipping last night's dinner, this morning's breakfast, and getting drenched in the rain, Mingsheng felt that he might be in need of some medicine too. He took some of the remaining medicine and lay down on the sofa to rest.
He meant to leave after Yang Zhao's fever had subsided, but sheer fatigue knocked him out once more.
This time, the one who woke up was Yang Zhao.
Her parched throat had woken her up.
Yang Zhao knew she was sick, that much was clear. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw gave her a terrible fright. If it weren't for her dry throat, she would have screamed, for the first thing she saw was a leg — a fake one, that is.
Yang Zhao's first thought was: Chen Mingsheng has not left yet. Then it was: No kidding! Of course he hasn't, or else this leg wouldn’t still be here.
Yang Zhao knew since last night that he had a problem with his leg, but she didn't think it was so severe. There was practically nothing left of his leg.
Yang Zhao swallowed her drool and resolved to give Chen Mingsheng a piece of her mind about a certain problem called Leaving A Fake Leg Lying Around And Scaring People. She sat up. The blanket on her body slid to the floor.
Now, Yang Zhao had a strong point, and it was that she was rarely muddle headed. She could remain clear-headed even when she's sick.
She knew for a fact that she didn’t use a blanket last night.
Yang Zhao looked around. On the coffee table were some packets of medicine and mugs of water.
Yang Zhao looked up again. Chen Mingsheng lay quietly on the sofa with his eyes closed, apparently fast asleep.