After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

On the 29th day of the twelfth lunar month, the Gu family's old house was more than twice as lively as in previous years.

Grandpa Gu personally directed the soldiers to hang lanterns, and red silk was stretched from the main gate all the way to the screen wall, and also wrapped around the old locust tree in the courtyard.

Ye Zhen, wrapped in Gu Zheng's military overcoat, sat in a rattan chair in the main room, with a cup of jujube water beside her and a cotton cushion under her feet.

It's been over three months, and my belly is just starting to show. It's not very noticeable from the outside, but my waistline has already gotten bigger, and I can't fit into any of my old pants anymore.

Grandma Gu found an old tailor and quickly made three pairs of cotton trousers with elastic waistbands, filled with the softest Xinjiang long-staple cotton.

"Is the water cold yet? I'll go pour more if it gets cold."

Gu Zheng squatted down in front of her, one hand on her knee, the other hand touching the cup to check its temperature.

"It was just poured, it's not cold."

"Then have a couple more sips."

"This is the eighth time you've offered me water today."

"The seventh time, and one of the times in between was when they made you drink milk."

Ye Zhen paused for a moment, holding the cup, but didn't reply.

Grandpa Gu came in after fussing around in the yard, covered in red paper scraps, his beard bristling with laughter.

"Zhengzi, your dad called and said he'll be here tomorrow. Your second uncle's family is coming too, and Jianmin has also taken leave from the army. It'll be a big family, enough for at least two tables."

"Okay, should I go pick it up?"

"Why bother answering them? Ignore them."

Grandpa Gu walked up to Ye Zhen and bent down to look at her cup.

"Zhenzhen, what do you want to eat tonight? Grandpa will have the kitchen make something special for you."

"No need to make a fuss, just eat with everyone."

"That won't do."

Grandma Gu came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of stewed pears with rock sugar, holding the bowl on a towel as she walked carefully.

"Old Chen stewed pears all afternoon. I tasted them, and they're just the right sweetness. Drink them while they're hot; they'll upset your stomach if they get cold."

Ye Zhen took the stewed pear, but before she could even put the spoon to her mouth, Gu Zheng had already taken a bite.

"It's not too hot anymore, and the sweetness is just right."

Ye Zhen glanced at him, then lowered her head and took a sip.

The pears were cored, and only a small amount of rock sugar was added, resulting in a light and sweet flavor.

"I'm over three months pregnant, are you still experiencing morning sickness?"

Grandma Gu sat down beside her, speaking very softly.

"It started to get better last week, but I still feel nauseous occasionally."

"That's good, that's good. Things will be stable after the first three months."

Grandma Gu patted the back of her hand.

"When I was pregnant with Zheng'er's father, I vomited for five whole months and lost ten pounds. Your situation is relatively mild."

Gu Zheng's hand unconsciously went to Ye Zhen's lower abdomen.

He couldn't feel anything through the cotton-padded coat, but his hand just wouldn't move away.

Outside the courtyard, firecrackers could be heard sporadically, as if some child in the alley had set off firecrackers ahead of time.

The smell of gunpowder seeped in through the crack in the door, mingling with the aroma of braised meat wafting from the kitchen.

-

They live in the same city, but are separated by more than half a street.

In a semi-basement bungalow, there were no lanterns, no red paper, and even the windowpane was cracked, covered with a layer of old newspapers to block the wind.

Wei Peng lay on a creaking iron-framed bed, staring at the ceiling.

The ceiling had just been painted, and the white paint started bubbling up in the areas where the heating pipes were leaking.

He coughed for a month straight.

At first, he didn't take it seriously, thinking he had just caught a cold.

Later, I coughed up blood, and then, bruises inexplicably appeared on my arms. They just appeared on their own without me pressing on them.

A week ago, he took out the last of his money, counted it twice, and went to a small hospital.

When the nurse who drew blood came out holding the test results, she couldn't help but show an expression on her face.

An abnormally high white blood cell count was observed. Numerous immature cells were found in peripheral blood smears.

Bone marrow aspiration is recommended.

He did it.

He gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound when the bone aspiration needle pierced his iliac bone.

The pain wasn't the problem; what he feared was the outcome.

On the day the results came out, the internist on duty was a young man in his thirties. He spoke softly, but every word he uttered was like a nail.

"Acute leukemia, M2 type. With current medical conditions..."

The doctor paused, probably choosing his words.

"...Optimistically speaking, about three months."

Wei Peng didn't react at all at the time.

He sat on the peeling wooden stool and heard a child crying in the corridor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Three months.

Starting from the twelfth lunar month, he won't live past the Qingming Festival next year.

The doctor asked another question: "Has your place been renovated recently? Paint and coatings—some of these materials contain benzene, and long-term inhalation can affect the hematopoietic system."

He didn't realize it at the time.

Stepping out of the hospital and feeling the cold wind, I finally came to truly understand that sentence.

Returning to the newly painted basement, the moment he pushed open the door, the overwhelming smell of paint hit him like a slap in the face.

He moved into this godforsaken place because he couldn't go back to the compound.

The reason they can't go back to the compound is because of Gu Zheng.

Gu Zheng.

That name burned in his mind countless times, making his temples throb with pain.

He's fallen to this state, holed up in this poisonous room, inhaling the deadly paint bit by bit, slowly destroying his own blood.

And what about Gu Zheng?

His wife was at the height of her fame, and everyone in Beijing fawned over and respected her.

She made the front page of the Party newspaper, and the British Prime Minister shook hands and took a photo with her.

Wei Peng rolled over, and the metal bunk bed emitted a piercing scream.

He stared at the bulging white paint in the corner, his mind filled with only one thought—why was he waiting to die here while Gu Zheng lived such a glorious life?

"Bang! Bang!"

Someone knocked on the door.

Wei Peng opened the door, and there stood a man in a gray cotton-padded coat, his hat pulled low, and sunglasses perched on his nose, completely covering half of his face in the cold weather.

Wei Peng had never seen this person before.

"Who are you?"

The man didn't answer immediately. He stepped over the threshold, glanced around the room, and his gaze lingered on the pile of scattered medicine bottles by the bedside.

Then he took an oilcloth bag out of his cotton-padded coat and placed it on the table.

The cloth bag was opened to reveal a Type 54 pistol with four bullets in the magazine.

Wei Peng stared at the gun, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"A gun?"

The man chuckled, his voice low and carrying a heavy southern accent. "I heard you have a grudge against Gu Zheng and his wife? I guess you might need this."

"Are you trying to set me up?"

"You're a dying man, why would you care about these things?"

Wei Peng was speechless. "How did he know he was about to die?"

The man then took out a piece of paper folded twice from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over.

The address written on it is: Houhai, No. X Courtyard.

The sign next to it read: "Chinese New Year's Day".

"Gu Zheng will eat at this place." The man tucked the note under the barrel of his gun. "His wife will probably go too."

Wei Peng raised his head.

"Who exactly are you?"

The man had already retreated to the doorway, half of his face hidden in the dim light outside the doorway under the brim of his hat.

He smiled and casually uttered two words.

"Sand Sparrow".

The door closed.

A cold wind seeped in through the crack in the door, causing a corner of the note on the table to curl up.

Wei Peng stood in front of the table, staring at the gun for a long time.

He reached out, picked it up, and pulled open the sleeve.

The sound of the bolt returning to its original position was sharp and piercing in the empty room.

Three months.

What is there to be afraid of for a dying person?

He stuffed the gun into the inside pocket of his cotton-padded coat and burned the note over the fire.

The moment the flame touched it, the address on the note curled up, turned black, and turned to ash.

Houhai.

The gathering on the evening of the first day of the Lunar New Year was held in a courtyard house of a retired cadre. The attendees were mostly children of military personnel and familiar faces from the military region, along with a few old friends from the local area. There were three tables of people, and the atmosphere was lively and cheerful.

Ye Zhen didn't want to participate. She felt nauseous at the smell of alcohol, and crowded places were stuffy. But Gu Zheng said they would just show up, sit for a while, and then leave.

She went.

Gu Zheng didn't let her touch anything other than chopsticks the whole time.

He served the food and poured the water.

When someone came over with a glass to offer a toast, he stepped aside to block them, saying, "My wife is pregnant, I'll take hers instead."

One glass after another, the liquor went down like water, and his chopsticks were perfectly steady as he picked up food.

I drank seven glasses in one night, and my face didn't even turn red.

Ye Zhen sat in the corner, holding a cup of warm honey water in her hands.

Song Sisi kept her company and talked to her.

The two chatted for a while, and around eight o'clock, the sound of firecrackers outside intensified, making the window paper vibrate.

The smell of alcohol in the room grew stronger, and Ye Zhen felt a nausea.

She put down her cup, stood up, and told Song Sisi that she wanted to go to the yard for some fresh air.