You can tell she's in a bad mood.
I was furious. I've worked so hard for her, how can this woman be so stubborn?
I drove to my parents' place; it's better to clarify some things.
Zhang Qian
I opened the door to find Grandpa sitting in front of the TV watching a drama.
Dongdong lay on the ground drawing. With him as the radius and his grandfather as the diameter, the area around him was filled with the little guy's drawing paper.
I opened his pencil case, took out an eraser, and erased all the drawings on the paper. I erased repeatedly and forcefully, using correction fluid for the parts that the watercolor pens couldn't clean.
It can't be wiped clean.
Take out the watercolor paints, squeeze out the white paint, and mix it with water. Take out a brush and apply the white paint to the drawing paper.
I laid out the sheets of drawing paper to dry on the balcony. Once dry, they looked brand new, except for the many wrinkles that appeared afterward.
Zhang Qian
On the first workday after the weekend, I sat in the garment factory office. A new batch of samples had recently arrived; the designer had created a series of coats with a distinctly Korean style, incorporating elements of Korean fashion.
Summer is approaching, and fashion companies typically begin preparing for the next season's clothing as early as the current season. Summer garments are often ready by winter, with samples and patterns being made, so that they can be released in autumn and create a buying frenzy. This is how fashion always stays at the forefront of trends.
Our factory employs fitting models specially hired from modeling agencies. When selecting models, we don't choose those with similar figures; we choose those with slight differences. Why? Because we need to create samples. We record the measurements of the thinnest model, and then record the measurements of each subsequent model. These figures are then used by the designer to standardize the measurements and create S, M, and L sizes for the garments.
Some clothes are designed to run small, so an XL size is offered. However, the XL size is only slightly larger than the regular M size.
No wonder more and more people are trying to lose weight, and the problem of clothes being too small is nothing new.
I made a sample on cardboard, measured it with a tape measure, and handed it to the craftsman.
"Zhang Qian'er, you look great lately," the master teased.
"Really? It's the same as always."
“We were all saying the other day that we’d probably be getting your wedding candy soon,” colleague Xiao Cao added to the conversation.
"Don't talk nonsense."
"Qian'er, who was that man the other day?"
"Which one?" I pretended to be clueless; there were some things I didn't want others to know.
"It's the one who waited for you at the factory gate last Friday." The foreman put down the sample and moved a chair next to me. "Hey, you two hugged each other later, right?" Her expression was like that of a young girl in love, not a middle-aged woman.
"Tell me, who is it?" Comrade Xiao Cao, just like his master, moved a chair and squeezed next to me.
"elder brother"
He hung up a measuring tape, grabbed a board, and went to another table to start selecting fabric. The murmurs behind him didn't stop.
"It should be there."
"Yeah, look at her face, she's never asked for leave like this before."
Do you think they have that kind of thing?
"Yes, I didn't expect someone who seems so quiet to be so quick in action."
Accidentally, the needle pierced his flesh, causing excruciating pain. The master and Xiao Cao, engrossed in their excited discussion, neglected their work, and spittle flew everywhere in the office.
He carried the piece of cloth back to his seat.
"After drinking the oral liquid, my complexion is rosy and I look healthy."
After failing to get a response from his master, Xiao Cao moved his chair back, finally finding some peace and quiet again.
This is just the beginning; I made this choice myself, didn't I?
Anqi
Early in the morning, a banner was hung at the hospital entrance, and below it, like posting portraits of martyrs, were photos and resumes of the poverty alleviation doctors. My photo was displayed in the most conspicuous position, with a large red flower pasted on the collar of my one-inch passport photo.
"Director An!" It was Dr. Du from the anesthesiology department, who had gone with me on the poverty alleviation mission.
"Good morning!" I greeted him and continued walking.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Dr. Du called out from behind.
"What's up?"
She ran up, straightened her clothes, and smoothed her hair in one fluid and efficient motion.
"There's a Party member commendation meeting this afternoon. I tried calling you yesterday but couldn't get through, and you didn't reply to my messages. I was afraid you'd forgotten about the meeting."
"Thank you." She smiled and patted the kind-hearted Dr. Du on the shoulder.
"etc!"
We stopped again.
"There will be a celebration banquet tonight."
"Okay, got it." There were many people queuing for the elevator, so I moved forward and secured a good spot.
The elevator doors opened, and a group of people squeezed in. The old elevator slowly ascended. It stopped at every floor, and a group of people would surge in or out on each floor. In front of me stood a patient receiving an IV drip, his family member holding the bottle high. The family member accidentally stepped on Dr. Du, who was standing next to me. I pulled Dr. Du behind me.
"Thanks"
"Why don't you use a stand?" I asked the person receiving the IV drip.
"It has a frame, but the wheels are broken, so it's a bit inconvenient."
I thought to myself, this hospital is really corrupt. They take in all that money every year, but they never replace the equipment; it's been the same old thing for ten years. You even have to pay a rental fee or usage fee to borrow a reclining chair or stay in an air-conditioned room.
Sixth floor, out of the elevator. Several nurses chattered like sparrows, then composed themselves and turned to look at the sign at the stairwell. Building 1, sixth floor.
Yes, it's Building 1. I thought I had gone to Building 2 by mistake.
"Dr. An, you're back!"
After exchanging greetings along the way to the office, I changed my clothes and took out my phone to send a message to Zhang Qian, but then I thought better of it. I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket.
I took it out again and looked at the photo on the back of the phone. There used to be an anti-radiation sticker on the back of the phone, but now there was another photo on top of it.
This was taken secretly in Guiyang. I printed it out, enlarged it, cut it, and pasted it on.
I knocked on the door, and the head nurse came in.
"Dr. An, the patient in bed 44 from before is here again."
"Okay, let him in."
I stretched and put my phone in my uniform pocket.
"Dr. An!!" The patient in bed 44 slowly walked into the office with the help of two family members.
"Dr. An, look, look! These are my new X-rays!"
I took the film and looked at it through the window for a while.
"Doctor, I need a gastroscopy!" the patient in bed 44 volunteered; I'd never seen anyone like him before.
"You can only do it twice a year at most, and your time hasn't come yet."
"Doctor! I've been having blood in my stool lately!!" His eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Black or red?"
“Red, bright red!!!” he shouted, and suddenly I felt he looked a bit like Pavarotti.
"Open your mouth" and shine a flashlight into his mouth.
"Alright," he said, turning off the flashlight. "Go to the fourth floor and find a doctor surnamed Gu."
"Dr. An!! You must be joking. Last time you told me to go to Building 2 to see Dr. Chen, but he treats mental patients!!"
“Last time you were emotionally unstable, I contacted Dr. Chen and asked him to prescribe some calming medicine for you. Illness often stems from the mind, so try to relax.”
“This time you absolutely have to treat me yourself! I trust you with this illness! You were the one who diagnosed it in the first place, how can you just give up like this?” He got so emotional that he choked on his phlegm, and his family quickly patted his back.
I pulled out a tissue and handed it to him, and his family nodded gratefully at me.
"That's hemorrhoids. Go to the proctology department on the fourth floor and make an appointment."
"Not a stomach hemorrhage?" he wondered again.
"no"
"Not a perforated stomach?"
"Um"
"Are all the videos normal?"
"No one is healthier than you."
"Thank you, doctor." She gripped my hand tightly, expressing her heartfelt gratitude.
"You're welcome!" I returned the handshake firmly.
"See you later!"
It's better to cherish the memory than to meet again.
The patient in bed 44 broke free from his family's support and walked out of the office on his own, greeting each nurse in the corridor with a smile.
When noon came, I took out my phone and sent a text message to Zhang Qian.
"The hospital is holding a celebration banquet; I'll come pick you up."
Half an hour later, her message arrived.
Four words: "Working overtime tonight"
Anqi