PSE - 31

More than ten kilometers away, at the People’s Hospital of Suicheng City, the young Jin Zhenliang had just parted ways with his in-laws downstairs in the hospital ward.

After Xue Jing left, the hospital received an urgent notice: starting from 8 a.m., the inpatient floors would be under closed management. All wards were to prohibit visitation by floor units, and family members needing to provide care must carry a valid negative nucleic acid test report from that day. After completing the necessary procedures, they would live with the patients, eating and staying together. Until the lockdown was lifted, no one would be allowed to freely enter or leave the inpatient department.

By not even five o’clock, two long lines had already formed at the 24-hour nucleic acid testing station next to the outpatient department. The faster-moving line on the left was reserved for medical staff, while the right side consisted entirely of family members needing to arrange for patient care.

Though both had endured a sleepless night, compared to Xue Jing’s neat and seemingly effortless appearance, Jinzi looked like an overnight fried dough stick pulled out of a deep fryer. His hair clumped together, his eyes bloodshot, he bowed his head, hunched over like a shrimp, slowly shuffling along with the queue. In his right hand, he clutched his phone, while his left hand swiped back and forth on the calendar app, calculating how to request leave from the leaders at the Cultural Bureau.

Xiao Yu’s accident prompted the director, whose trip had not yet ended, to exceptionally allow him to return to Suicheng early. This was already a significant favor in terms of work. As a driver, his duty was to be on call at all times. Over the years working at the Cultural Bureau, he had never taken a single day off for personal reasons, even working through colds and fevers.

If he were to request another week off, would his superiors directly terminate his contract position?

His mother was elderly, and he had long been married, bearing heavy responsibilities. He couldn’t afford the hassle of changing jobs.

He desperately needed that 3,200-yuan monthly salary and the timely payment of his five insurances and one fund by his employer.

At the beginning of the year, Xiao Yu had discussed with him the recent drop in second-hand housing prices, contemplating whether to save up for a down payment to buy an old apartment in the county town. His mother’s house was old and dilapidated; the summer heat, humidity, and crawling insects were tolerable, but in winter, outdoor water pipes often froze, leaving the household without running water for at least two months.

Their aspirations were good, but unforeseen disasters and accidents stood in the way. This hospital stay meant losing another bathroom, making such dreams now unthinkable.

After typing and deleting for a long time, when it was finally Jinzi’s turn to scan and pay, he sent a leave request filled with phrases like “I’m sorry,” “Excuse me,” and “My apologies” to Director Zhao, hoping to elicit sympathy from his superior.

Removing his mask, Jinzi stood with feet apart and opened his mouth at the window. Once the cotton swab had brushed against his throat, he quickly put his mask back on.

The individual test results would take at least two hours, so he still couldn’t enter the ward to be with his wife.

The first rays of dawn appeared on the horizon, and small vendors at the hospital entrance began opening for business. Jinzi bought two of the cheapest steamed buns from a breakfast cart. After hesitating for a while, he added two sugar pancakes and a tea egg, paying via WeChat.

After purchasing his own breakfast and the sugar pancakes Xiao Yu liked, he chose a spot that wouldn’t obstruct pedestrians, squatting on the steps next to the flower bed. Holding the plastic bag in his hand, he stuffed the two buns into his mouth one after the other.

After finishing the buns, he thought for a moment and decided to save the egg, tucking it along with the pancakes into his chest to keep them warm.

With his stomach full, he had nothing to do and started repeatedly refreshing the nucleic acid test results on his phone app.

On the twenty-first refresh, his phone rang. The caller was Ha Yue, who had hurried home from Xue Jing’s place after hearing what he had to say.

She had heard everything Xue Jing wanted to convey, but in her haste, she hadn’t considered her own issues with him, only remembering that she had left her phone on the kitchen windowsill after sending a message to Xue Jing.

Ha Yue was filled with anger towards Xue Jing for being so irresponsible about such a significant matter. Both morally and reasonably, she felt compelled to inform Jinzi quickly.

Perhaps it was because advising someone to have an abortion is a grave sin.

Over the phone, Ha Yue, usually very straightforward with her neighbors, chose her words carefully. But Jinzi sensed that her meaning aligned with the hints Xue Jing had given him a few hours earlier.

Perhaps it was due to their different social classes, but Xue Jing did not approve of their decision to have the child.

They say distant relatives are not as helpful as close neighbors. Aunt Siqin and Zhao Chunni were very close, and Ha Yue genuinely worried about Jinzi and Xiao Yu’s future life. Jinzi understood this, but he still didn’t agree with Xue Jing’s “modern” ideas.

After Ha Yue finished speaking, Jinzi wiped his eyes, smearing away the accumulated white grease from the inner corners. He forced a characteristic憨笑 (hān xiào - hearty smile) at the passing legs and managed a slight upward curve of his lips, though the familiar warmth of his smile didn’t reach his eyes. He said, “Sister, did Brother Xue Jing ask you to persuade me?”

Perhaps because of their relationship, Jinzi no longer called Xue Jing “Teacher” but directly referred to him as “Brother.”

“I know Brother has good intentions, but between us, there’s no way we can abandon this child. There’s nothing to consider.”

Ha Yue was still pondering on the other end of the line. After a brief silence, Jinzi’s lips drooped slightly, and he softly added,

“This isn’t just my decision... Xiao Yu has dreamed of having a child for years. Forcing her to have an abortion would be like taking her life.”

Jin Zhenliang and Cao Xiaoyu held their wedding six years ago and obtained their marriage certificate four years ago upon reaching the legal age. They still had no children.

Ha Yue had heard from her mother after returning these past two years that the neighboring couple seemed unable to conceive naturally and were trying IVF. She disliked hearing Zhao Chunni gossip about others’ affairs, especially such private matters between couples. Asking too many questions was extremely impolite.

In today’s society, the number of couples choosing to be child-free (DINK: Double Income, No Kids) is increasing. Ha Yue hadn’t paid much attention to her neighbors’ lack of children after their marriage.

But now, Jinzi’s words confirmed that they weren’t DINK. They were a couple desperately trying to have a child, even going so far as to spend large sums on IVF treatments.

Like most conventional couples, Jinzi and Xiaoyu never thought about not getting married when they were dating. Even after marriage, they never considered becoming one of those unconventional couples without children.

Dating, marrying, having children, honoring their parents, earning enough to sustain life—these were their most ordinary goals in life. Whenever they talked about the future, their eyes would fill with visions of a happy family of three. If circumstances allowed, after their first child started school, they hoped for both a son and a daughter.

But fate played a cruel joke on this simple couple.

In the second year of their marriage, Xiaoyu, who had been taking folic acid to prepare for pregnancy but hadn’t succeeded, suggested that she and Jinzi go to the hospital for fertility tests.

The results showed that Xiaoyu had blocked fallopian tubes, and Jinzi had a high rate of sperm abnormalities. Both were in their prime reproductive years and appeared healthy, yet they were told by the doctor that they faced infertility issues.

From then on, their married life was forced onto another long and arduous journey.

Though infertility affected both of them, Xiaoyu bore the brunt of the suffering. Jinzi lost count of how many times she had her blood drawn or how many needles were stuck into her abdomen. At first, Jinzi accompanied her to the hospital for injections, but later he couldn’t spare the time. Xiaoyu didn’t blame him; instead, she obediently rode her electric scooter to follow the doctor’s orders.

Sometimes it was at the People’s Hospital, sometimes at the community clinic, but more often than not, while Jinzi lay dozing on the couch after a long day of driving, Xiaoyu would ride her scooter alone at night to find a nurse at the emergency room.

During that time, Xiaoyu’s mind was consumed with thoughts of injections. Her greatest fear was that there wouldn’t be enough nurses due to emergencies, as her medication had a limited time window. Any delay would render all her previous efforts futile.

Her happiest moments also stemmed from these injections. As long as she managed to inject the medicine into her body before the deadline each day, Xiaoyu would be overjoyed. Before bed, she would chatter away to Jinzi, saying she could feel herself getting closer to the baby they both wanted.

Ovulation induction, ovulation release—finally, the egg retrieval surgery arrived. After the operation, two embryos were successfully fertilized. Jinzi hugged Xiaoyu, tears streaming down his face, but little did they know, their nightmare was far from over.

Due to ovarian damage and abdominal fluid caused by the egg retrieval surgery, the two frozen embryos weren’t implanted in the uterus the following month. When Xiaoyu finally recovered, the first embryo implanted resulted in a biochemical miscarriage after three weeks, and the second one followed suit.

That was their first experience with IVF. They tried again for a second and third time.

The last failure hit especially hard. Xiaoyu, swollen from prolonged hormone injections, clutched the pregnancy test stick and wept like a fountain. Jinzi held her, his gaze falling on the increasingly visible parting in her hair.

Back when they first started dating, Jinzi loved Xiaoyu’s thick, glossy black hair. She used to tie her hair into two braids, each as thick as a rolling pin.

But over the years, frequent high-dose injections, failed implantations, and miscarriages seemed to age her faster than her peers. Now, when she tied her hair up, it formed only a thin strand, and her scalp was beginning to show through.

Jinzi felt immense pity for her, but no matter how painful it was for him, it paled compared to what she endured.

Her body was riddled with wounds, and her psyche must have been equally scarred.

So that day, Jinzi steeled himself and told Xiaoyu they couldn’t continue with IVF. The reason was simple—they were out of money. Each round of IVF cost 60,000 yuan, none of which could be covered by medical insurance. Over the years, they had poured all their savings into the treatments, even depleting the retirement funds Aunt Siqin had set aside.

They couldn’t afford it anymore, and they didn’t dare try again.

Jinzi’s stance was firm. Xiaoyu screamed, hitting him, cursing him, clawing at him. For days, she threw tantrums, but Jinzi repeated the same phrase: “We’re done.” He even tore down all the posters of babies she had plastered across their bedroom walls and threw them into the trash.

Because they had promised their parents during the tea ceremony that they would grow old together, divorce wasn’t an option for them. In the end, Xiaoyu reluctantly agreed to give up on IVF.

After recounting these personal struggles that he had never shared with anyone, Jinzi felt a weight lift from his chest. He thought that although Xue Jing might not understand their obsession with continuing their bloodline, Ha Yue surely would.

People from big cities, no matter how warm and friendly they seemed, carried an air of detachment that clashed with their values. But the life growing inside Xiaoyu was a real, living being! Even if the worst happened and the child was born with defects, it was still their flesh and blood. How could they possibly kill it?

“Sister, so no matter whether the child is healthy or not, we’ve accepted it. Being able to become a family is already a blessing from heaven. At worst, Xiaoyu and I will take care of him for the rest of our lives.”

“Blood ties aren’t something you can easily sever. Didn’t you come back from Jicheng for Aunt Zhao?”

“We both value family too much. In the end, isn’t life just about holding onto that small family? Without a home, what does it mean to be human?”

“Oh, right! Sister, Brother Xue Jing paid 30,000 yuan for Xiaoyu’s hospital fees. I don’t have that much in my WeChat wallet right now, but tell him not to worry. My mother’s retirement account still has over 20,000 yuan, and my salary is coming this month. Once the hospital lifts its lockdown, I’ll transfer the money to him as soon as I go to the bank.”

When the nucleic acid test report popped up, Jinzi quickly ended the call.

Through the earpiece came a busy signal, and Ha Yue was left with only a faint whisper: “But…”

Yes, even though Jinzi had spoken so movingly about their attachment to bloodlines, Ha Yue still felt deep down that this couple shouldn’t take such risks.

What exactly is the concept of “family”? Is carrying on the bloodline really that important? To say something against traditional morality, if it were her, Ha Yue believed she would have chosen to cut her losses after the first failed IVF attempt.

And what about the child brought into this world without a choice? If something unexpected happens, would he or she even want to bear the burden of such profound familial love?

The only ones with the power to decide were Jin Zhenliang and Cao Xiaoyu. Her advice was neither here nor there, and she could only say so much.

Just as she had misunderstood Xue Jing’s supposed cold-heartedness, Jinzi had also misinterpreted her “empathy.”

If before making the call, Ha Yue had been filled with disdain for Xue Jing, now she suddenly felt an unsettling illusion of being abandoned by both worlds.

When she was in Jicheng, she was a Suicheng native who carefully packaged herself to fit in. But after returning to Suicheng, she became a Jicheng person at heart, her roots lost. She was like a rootless weed, drifting wherever she went but never truly accepted.

Jicheng hadn’t completely stripped her of her rural essence, but it had taught her some hard-learned lessons about self-preservation and weighing pros and cons—lessons etched into her very flesh.

It turned out that she wasn’t really one of “our kind” after all. Like Xue Jing, she would never agree with Jinzi and Xiaoyu’s decision. But at least Xue Jing had his own principles; he chose to respect others’ fates.

But when she made the call, she arrogantly believed she was doing the right thing, while thinking her neighbors were being foolish.

But who was she, really? Someone who would never sacrifice herself for the next generation, someone who retreated to her hometown under the guise of filial piety after her own failures. She seemed to be no one at all, living in a vacuum devoid of emotional fluctuations.

Ha Yue stood in the kitchen, slowly moving the phone away from her ear. Before she could gather her thoughts, she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

A sharp pain shot through her right hand—Zhao Chunni, who should have been sound asleep in bed at this hour, had suddenly snatched her phone from behind.