IJLHTW - 23

The hotel was a six-story building, the best in Conakry, complete with air conditioning and Wi-Fi. For Huo Ci, who had prepared for everything, this was an unexpected delight.

She had a single room on the sixth floor, the top floor of the hotel. Everyone in their group was assigned to the sixth floor, but the soundproofing was poor—opening a door next door could be heard immediately. Even loud noises from adjacent rooms were clearly audible. For instance, Ye Mingshi, who stayed next door, was currently making a safe call to her parents.

Huo Ci opened her suitcase, preparing to take a bath.

She brought only one suitcase, half of which was filled with photography equipment. Since her clothes were light and thin, she managed to fit quite a bit. There were also various skincare products and essentials, stuffing the entire suitcase full.

She took out her camera and sat on the bed to adjust it.

Outside the hotel was a balcony. After adjusting the lens, she stepped out. The power supply here was insufficient; looking out, it was pitch black with only scattered lights visible. Outside felt like a giant steamer. As soon as she stepped out, sweat broke out all over her body, and even the palm of her hand gripping the camera became damp.

The crescent moon in the sky hung like a hook on the dark expanse.

Holding her camera, she took a few shots of the area below. Cars occasionally arrived at the entrance—imported Mercedes-Benzes, BMWs, and the roar of sports cars. No matter how impoverished a place, there were always wealthy people.

“Frozen corpses on the roads, while behind red doors, the smell of wine and meat.”

Suddenly, the light bulb in her room started to sizzle, flickering between bright and dim. Huo Ci frowned.

Then came a deep silence.

The power went out.

A sudden scream echoed—it was Ye Mingshi next door.

Huo Ci lazily leaned against the balcony railing. Her shirt’s back was probably soaked through. The darkness seemed to intensify the stifling heat in the air.

Then she noticed a small flame.

It was from the neighboring balcony. To Huo Ci’s right lived Ye Mingshi, and to her left was Pan Chen, the cheerful Beijing man. Next to Pan Chen was Yi Zecheng.

He lit a cigarette with his lighter, and Huo Ci thought she could smell the nicotine drifting over.

It was somewhat enticing.

She raised her camera, pointing it in his direction. The entire building had lost power, and voices of complaints could be heard above and below. In the darkness, he stood quietly on the balcony smoking. The night enveloped him, leaving only a vague silhouette and a red glowing dot in mid-air.

“Got any cigarettes?” Huo Ci asked, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

Yi Zecheng turned to look at her. With his sharp eyesight, he immediately spotted the object in her hand. He frowned: “Young lady, no smoking.”

He was six years older than Huo Ci. When he was in high school, she was still in elementary school. When he was in college, she was just a middle school kid. Thinking about that, he found it amusing that he would be pressured by a brat like her.

Yi Zecheng’s nature was too cold, exuding an aura that warned others to keep away.

He wouldn’t dilly-dally with women, always handling things cleanly and decisively. Most women, with their delicate egos, after being directly rejected once, wouldn’t dare approach again. But she was different—she was the kind who boldly proclaimed, “I’ve set my sights on you. If you haven’t noticed me yet, no problem, I’ll give you time to slowly see.”

Though he didn’t talk much, he had eyes that saw more than anyone else.

Even he couldn’t think of a way to deal with her for now.

“Am I really a young lady? Haven’t you already checked?” Huo Ci suddenly laughed, thinking of what happened that night in the bathroom, licking her lips.

Yi Zecheng choked and coughed twice, glaring at her. She really dared to say anything.

But reminded by her words, Yi Zecheng also recalled the collision in the bathroom that night. When she crashed into him full force, he couldn’t deny stiffening. That soft fullness, separated by only a layer of fabric, pressed tightly against his chest. He could even feel those hardened points.

Perhaps it was the blackout that made his thoughts run wild.

Huo Ci put the camera back in the room and walked back onto the balcony. She climbed over the railing directly to the neighboring balcony. Yi Zecheng, who was originally smoking, noticed her movement and roared, “Stay where you are, don’t move.”

Huo Ci originally climbed over because the gap between these balconies was too narrow.

Since he wouldn’t give her a cigarette, she decided to get it herself.

When Yi Zecheng flipped over, he glared at her angrily: “Do you know how dangerous that was?”

Huo Ci: “... Dangerous? Didn’t you also flip over?”

“What do you want?” Yi Zecheng felt defeated by her, surrendering. He asked.

She always managed to defeat him in her own way. Yi Zecheng took the cigarette from his mouth and sucked hard on it.

“I just wanted to borrow a cigarette from you,” she said.

Yi Zecheng held the cigarette between his fingers, looking down at her. Just for this?

He pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stuffed it into her hands, “Take them all.”

He turned to leave, but Huo Ci grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, softly saying, “What about the lighter?”

Yi Zecheng turned to look at her and asked, “The mangoes here are pretty good, very sweet.”

Before Huo Ci could finish wondering, the pack of cigarettes was snatched away again. Then he took her hand and passed through Pan Chen’s room, heading to the corridor.

He led her to the second-floor restaurant and ordered a plate of mangoes.

Smoking is bad, better eat some mangoes.

**

The next morning, before seven o’clock, Huo Ci woke up. They were setting out at eight today, and the journey was long.

Today, she wore a beige shirt, still loose and breathable material, paired with wide-legged pants. The mosquitoes here were too fierce, so despite the hot weather, she still wore long sleeves and pants.

After getting ready, she went downstairs to the restaurant to meet up.

As soon as she entered the restaurant, she saw Yi Zecheng and Pan Chen already sitting inside, talking in low voices. Huo Ci walked over and saw the red Médecins Sans Frontières logo on Pan Chen’s white short-sleeved shirt.

Seeing her staring at his shirt, Pan Chen smiled and said, “If Miss Huo is interested, you can join us.”

With a slight smile in her eyes, Huo Ci asked, “Can I join?”

“Of course, our organization welcomes capable people like Miss Huo. Many have misconceptions about Médecins Sans Frontières, thinking only doctors can join. That’s not true. Look at me—I used to work in finance. Now I serve as logistics personnel in MSF. A great photographer like you, if you joined us, would certainly promote our work more effectively.”

Pan Chen’s eyes sparkled when he talked about his work.

Many people wouldn’t understand the choice of Médecins Sans Frontières, thinking it was too naive or foolish. Africa has been plagued by poverty for centuries, with many countries embroiled in continuous warfare. Some even mocked their choice, questioning why they didn’t help their own country first if they had such capabilities.

Yet, they persisted year after year on this barren land, driven by the belief in their hearts.

At this moment, Huo Ci turned to look at Yi Zecheng. She was more curious about why he chose to join.

She asked, “Do you think I’m suitable to join?”

This time, she was asking Yi Zecheng. She was here for compensation, not purely as a volunteer.

Yi Zecheng looked up this time, his expression serious as he said, “This isn’t a simple choice. You need to seriously consider whether this is the career you want. This job isn’t noble; others’ praise won’t change the situation. As you see, this land is poor, ravaged by various infectious diseases. Even accidentally touching someone might expose you to HIV. So whether to join or not, you should ask yourself, not me.”

Listening to his words, Huo Ci began to understand him.

On the surface, he appeared cold, but his heart was softer and warmer than anyone else’s. He left his comfortable life to come to this unfamiliar and impoverished continent, helping people he didn’t know. Those wars and conflicts never ceased—he was walking on the edge of death to save these people.

He had a heart more sincere than anyone else’s.

They boarded the vehicle heading to Buri, hundreds of miles away from Conakry. MSF had a temporary clinic there—a small clinic serving 200,000 residents from surrounding villages.

Not long after leaving the capital, the surroundings turned desolate. January was Guinea’s dry season, and everywhere you looked was covered in yellow.

The so-called highway was just a yellow dirt road. As the car drove past, it stirred up thick clouds of dust.

In the car, besides Huo Ci and Yi Zecheng, everyone else wore the white short-sleeved shirts with the MSF logo. It was their symbol and passport on this land.

The journey was long. Before leaving, Huo Ci had ordered several mangoes from the restaurant.

By the time they reached Buri, it was nearing noon. As their vehicle stopped at the entrance of the temporary clinic, Huo Ci saw a sea of heads through the car window. They were patients coming for treatment—men, women, children, standing, lying, sitting.

With her camera around her neck, Huo Ci followed the group out of the car.

Who knew that upon entering, they received bad news—one doctor suddenly started shivering.

Malaria was rampant here, and even doctors weren’t spared.

Just as Huo Ci was about to look around, there was a commotion at the entrance. A bloodied child was carried in by a few adults. One black man urgently spoke a string of words to the doctor. Though Huo Ci couldn’t understand, she could tell that this child was likely taking his last breaths.

“Now that Doctor Williams is suddenly sick, there’s no one to perform surgery,” a staff member who understood the local language anxiously told them.

Three people in their group wore uniforms, so the people here pinned their hopes on them.

Pan Chen was stunned and looked at Yi Zecheng.

He and the other man were logistics personnel; only Yi Zecheng and Ye Mingshi were doctors.

Yi Zecheng looked at Ye Mingshi and softly said, “You’ll perform the surgery.”

“But, Senior...” Ye Mingshi nervously looked at him. She hadn’t expected such an emergency right after arriving.

Yi Zecheng’s usually calm eyes were exceptionally resolute at this moment. He said, “I’ll go into the operating room with you.”

Ye Mingshi nodded, and everyone quickly carried the child into the operating room.

Huo Ci wandered around the clinic. At the entrance was a makeshift shed—that was the clinic. With one doctor now ill, only another nurse remained. She raised her camera and repeatedly photographed the surroundings until a little black girl shyly raised her finger toward the lens.

Huo Ci smiled at her and pointed at the camera. The girl seemed to understand and spun around in place.

Her colorful skirt fluttered, her black skin gleamed under the sunlight, and her smile was sincere yet bashful.

The surgery inside lasted three hours without ending. Huo Ci returned to the car and peeled and ate the mangoes she brought. Just as she finished eating, she saw Pan Chen come out, talking on the phone, his face anxious. Finally, he even shouted.

Huo Ci immediately got out of the car and called out, “Brother Pan, what happened?”

Pan Chen irritably rubbed his hair, seemingly frustrated, even his eyes were red. He whispered, “There was an occupational exposure inside.”

Huo Ci froze. Having studied medicine before, she was familiar with this term.

She asked, “Who?”

Pan Chen hesitated and looked at her, gritting his teeth, “It’s D.K.”

Here, they still habitually called him D.K.

**

Huo Ci leaned against the corridor outside the operating room until the door opened, and someone rushed out. Running to the corner, they collapsed and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Why are you howling?” Huo Ci frowned.

She had the nerve to cry.

Ye Mingshi turned to look at her, tears streaming down her face.

Finding solace in Huo Ci, she cried bitterly, “Senior, what should he do?”

Pan Chen had just informed her—it was Ye Mingshi’s mistake. She directly cut through his surgical gloves. Both layers of medical gloves were torn. The patient’s blood had come into direct contact with him. In Africa, anyone could potentially be an HIV carrier.

Huo Ci originally looked at her with disdain, but hearing this, she sneered.

“No matter what happens to him, I, Huo Ci, will.”

Behind her, the man in the white coat quietly watched her.