The saleswoman, overhearing his remark, looked at Tong Yan enviously.

It sounded like a young woman who had snagged a wealthy, doting husband, the kind who showered her with affection and fulfilled her every whim… But the meaning of those words was entirely different for the speaker and the listener.

Back at the hospital that evening, the other patient in the room was asleep, unattended by family. The family by the window had drawn the curtains, quietly chatting with their loved one.

Tong Yan opened her notebook and began reviewing a stack of printed lecture notes.

To emphasize the effort she had put into note-taking, Shen Yao had added parenthetical comments between the lines, such as (The guy next to me was checking me out), (The nightmare goddess is dressed so badly today), which painted a vivid picture of her lectures… After a while, Tong Yan sent Shen Yao a text: Gu Pingsheng is back.

Within a minute, Shen Yao called.

“He’s back? Really?” Shen Yao sounded even more excited than Tong Yan. “We need to have a serious talk with him. Such a big thing happened, and he only comes back now… But whatever, men always have excuses. As long as it’s not a deal-breaker.”

Tong Yan chuckled, stepping out of the room.

“Did he hug you tightly and give you a big kiss, saying, ‘Honey, you’ve worked so hard’?”

“…Sort of.”

Shen Yao giggled. “Are you at home? His place? Or the hospital?”

“The hospital,” she stood by the doorway, watching two nurses walk past. “It’s Grandma’s last round of chemo. She should be discharged in July, just in time for the final exams.”

Shen Yao, rattling around alone in their dorm, was practically bursting with loneliness. “Since he’s back, make him stay with you at the hospital overnight. Men should step up during times like these. It’s a test of his character.”

Tong Yan gave a vague reply and, holding up the notes, started asking Shen Yao about the illegible parts.

Shen Yao, whose Physics was just as abysmal, had forgotten most of what she had written, but she bluffed her way through the explanations, only confusing Tong Yan further.

Tong Yan decided to ask Gu Pingsheng tomorrow.

As she hung up, she overheard the night shift nurses chatting.

Amidst the gossip, she caught the words “Doctor Gu,” which piqued her interest. Pretending to be texting, she listened more closely. Something felt off. As she continued listening, she realized they were talking about his mother, Gu Tong Ke.

The comments were mostly positive.

Doctor Gu was kind, caring towards her patients, and supportive of the medical students under her supervision. Even when busy, she would travel to other provinces for surgeries. Tong Yan absently tapped on her phone, imagining what kind of person his mother had been… From his previous comments, she seemed to have been a calm, composed woman, even teaching her young son about emotional control.

“I’ve always heard good things about Director Gu, how kind she was. These days, doctors are so arrogant. The other day, I saw three deputy directors from cardiology fighting!” The young nurse rolled her eyes. “Two men and a woman, slapping each other. It was quite a show.”

The young nurse recounted the story with relish.

Tong Yan, having heard enough, was about to turn away when she heard his name mentioned.

“Actually, Doctor Gu’s son has quite a temper. Always cold and distant,” an older nurse, perhaps in her late twenties, said, not mentioning his name, but Tong Yan knew who she meant. “But doctors are all a bit eccentric; he’s relatively normal, just… aloof.”

Bad temper, aloof…

That was her impression of him when they first met.

“He changed a lot after SARS. He’s completely different now,” the nurse added wistfully. “I heard he witnessed his mother’s suicide, at home… It’s understandable that he changed; such a traumatic experience would affect anyone…”

Her heart clenched, and just then, she saw Gu Pingsheng walking towards them from the elevators.

After a moment of surprise, she quickly composed herself, turning to him with a smile, pretending she hadn’t heard anything.

From the nurses’ station, the corridor wasn’t visible, so they continued their conversation, oblivious to his approach. Only when he was close did the nurse who knew him abruptly stop, then, remembering his deafness, relaxed slightly.

Gu Pingsheng glanced at them and smiled politely.

The nurses greeted him awkwardly. “Doctor Gu? What are you doing here so late?”

They still habitually called him “Doctor.”

“Checking on my wife,” he said, gesturing towards Tong Yan. “I was worried she couldn’t handle everything on her own.”

He looked at her as he spoke.

The nurses followed his gaze, and Tong Yan blushed, realizing that being caught eavesdropping was even more awkward than gossiping.

In the ward, the patient and family who had been chatting earlier were now asleep. Not wanting to disturb them, she pulled him into the stairwell. The wind from the open window carried the sounds of the city, mixing with the smell of disinfectant, creating a slightly disorienting effect. She glanced at her watch; it was past eleven.

Three hours. They had been apart for only three hours, and he was back, in the middle of the night.

“I’m still adjusting to the time difference. I tried reading but couldn’t sleep, so I came to see you.”

That was his explanation, but his eyes told a different story.

He had missed her.

“I can’t sleep either,” Tong Yan said, her mind still replaying the nurses’ conversation, but not wanting him to see her worry, she held up her notes. “Since you’re awake, help me with my Physics problems?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she laughed. What a terrible excuse…

“Okay,” he chuckled, taking the notes and noticing Shen Yao’s parenthetical comments. “Shen Yao is quite a character.”

“Don’t call her ‘a character,’” she snatched the top sheet from him. “She’s my best friend. It feels weird when you refer to her like that.”

“Avoiding the issue,” he teased, then, continuing to read the notes, said, “Get me a newspaper.”

Tong Yan looked at him, puzzled.

“To spread on the windowsill, so we have a flat surface to work on.”

He had accepted her ridiculous request without question.

And so they began working on Physics problems in the stairwell. He explained the concepts patiently, while Tong Yan’s mind wandered. By three o’clock, she was nodding off, her elbow propped on the newspaper-covered windowsill. She felt a warm touch on her lips and opened her eyes blearily.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, putting the cap back on his pen. “It’s almost four.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Having no personal experience with jet lag, she looked at his clear, bright eyes, finally understanding. “No wonder you looked so exhausted during the day. I was so worried.”

“It’ll get better. I just got back; I’m still adjusting.”

“I’ll stay with you a little longer, just tonight,” she looked around the quiet stairwell. “Tell me a ghost story. I’m easily scared; it’ll keep me awake.”

“A ghost story?” Gu Pingsheng paused. “I can’t think of any.”

“But you said medical students are the best at telling ghost stories,” she reminded him. “That time we went to the upper campus, I told you a ghost story, and you weren’t scared at all. Didn’t you say medical schools are breeding grounds for ghost stories? Classrooms, laundry rooms, bathrooms, even every dorm room, every bed, has a ghost story attached to it?”

Gu Pingsheng looked at her innocently. “Did I really say that?”

“Of course! If medical schools have so many ghost stories, then hospitals must have even more.” Tong Yan suddenly narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down. “Confess! Have you been telling ghost stories to the nurses, trying to… take advantage of them?”

“I really don’t know any ghost stories,” he said, his expression even more innocent. “But I do remember that medical students used to carry donated bodies through this stairwell. Out of respect for the deceased, they wouldn’t speak, and over time, people started avoiding talking here.”

…

A chill ran down her spine, her heart pounding.

They had broken a taboo…

The pre-dawn wind was cold and eerie.

And he was still smiling.

“Really?” She didn’t dare look out the window, clutching his hand, her skin crawling, as she leaned closer. It was terrifying; such a simple statement, spoken in the middle of the night, fueled her imagination.

“No,” he pulled her into his arms. “Of course not. This is just the oncology ward.”

…

Because of his “ghost story,” Tong Yan couldn’t bear to stay in the stairwell any longer. After he left, lying on the folding bed, her mind still raced with unsettling images. Finally, she grabbed her phone and sent a message to the culprit: I can’t sleep now. This is your fault.

She turned over, her face buried in the pillow, staring at her phone.

The hospital was promoting a “no overnight companions” policy, which meant improved nursing care. Coupled with Auntie Liu’s help and the dedicated nurses and aides, these past few months hadn’t been too difficult.

Newspapers, books, her phone, her laptop, a folding bed.

Enough to get through the nights.

She often studied late into the night, partly to keep her grandmother company, as chemotherapy made it difficult for her to sleep, and partly because she missed him, wondering what he was doing during the day on the other side of the world.

Now that he was back, she still couldn’t sleep.

He had left, returned, then left again.

His back-and-forth trips within a few hours seemed rather dramatic, unlike him. But precisely because it was so unlike him, she knew that during those three months and seventeen days apart, he must have endured much more than she could imagine. Just like the many things she had endured alone, unwilling to burden him with.

He loved his mother deeply. She had sensed it that first night they met, when he sat slumped against the wall, his grief palpable, his words laced with anger. Even a simple power outage could make him so anxious… He had said that if he had been more attentive, if he had listened more carefully, his mother might not have died.

Her phone suddenly lit up. Blinking against the sudden brightness, she read his message:

Don’t worry, Mr. Gu is a responsible man. I’ll stay until you fall asleep. TK