Civil Engineering in the Mortal World: Ten Years Without Knowing Today's Events

Tomorrow is the wedding. My mom and I have been busy these past few days, borrowing money, notifying relatives, buying what needs to be bought, and making orders. But there's one thing that's been weighing on our minds: my dad's health.

At the beginning of the month, Dad's leg became severely swollen, making it impossible for him to walk. He went to the hospital to have the fluid drained. The doctor initially recommended hospitalization for observation, but Dad insisted on being discharged.

After dinner, Dad was sitting on the sofa with a blanket over his legs. The TV was on, showing a traditional opera channel. Hearing the door open, he turned around and looked at me.

I sat down next to him. Under the blanket, his legs were still swollen, his ankles were thicker, and his skin was shiny, like an inflated balloon.

"Dad, is tomorrow okay?"

"Okay." His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. "I'll be in a wheelchair tomorrow. Your mom will push me."

"dad--"

"Leave me alone." He was watching TV, not looking at me. "You just do your thing. I'll just sit here and not say a word."

Mom came out of the kitchen, her apron covered in flour. "Xiao Mu, we've ordered six dishes for tomorrow's banquet. Is that enough?"

"That's enough, Mom."

"Where are the cigarettes? Where is the candy?"

"I bought it. It's in my bag."

"Where are the firecrackers?"

"I bought it."

Mom nodded.

I couldn't sleep at night. Lying in bed, I listened to the sounds from the next room. Dad coughed a few times, and Mom got up to get water. Then it was quiet. The insects outside the window chirped softly. I suddenly remembered a night like this when I was little, lying in this bed, listening to the coughing next door, feeling safe and secure. Because Dad was there.

May 18, 2025, Sunday, sunny.

The wedding was very simple. There was no wedding planning, no wedding car procession, and no wedding photos. Xiao Hui wore a light blue dress, her hair was tied in two braids, and she wore a pair of red plastic hair clips that she bought at a small goods market for two yuan a pair.

I was wearing a navy blue polo shirt; the collar was a little frayed, but it had been ironed and was neater than usual. I had a pack of cigarettes in my pocket, which I offered to everyone I met, though I didn't smoke any myself.

Dad sat in his wheelchair, pushed by Mom under the shed. He wore a dark gray jacket with the collar up, concealing his thin, prominent collarbones. His hair was combed and styled with gel. His face still had that sallow complexion, but it seemed lighter today—perhaps because of the sunlight. His legs were swollen, stretching his trousers tightly, but the blanket concealed it.

The emcee was Uncle Zhang from our village; he officiated at weddings and funerals. He had a loud voice, and standing in the middle of the tent, he shouted, "First bow to Heaven and Earth!"

Xiao Hui and I bowed to the door. When they called out "Second bow to the parents," I turned around and bowed to my parents. My father, sitting in his wheelchair, couldn't sit up straight, but he nodded slightly. My mother stood beside me, her eyes red, but she didn't cry.

When they called out "Husband and wife bow to each other," I looked at Xiaohui. She looked at me too, her eyes bright, and we bowed to each other face to face.

Uncle Zhang called out one last time, "Send them to the bridal chamber!" Everyone laughed. Xiao Hui didn't know what everyone was laughing at, but she laughed along. Her laughter was pure, like a child's; she didn't know why, she was just happy.

The banquet began. I went from table to table toasting, holding a wine glass. Xiao Hui followed beside me, holding a drink. Every time I said "Cheers," she would take a sip. Someone started to say, "The bride has to drink," but Xiao Hui looked at me and I said, "She drinks a beverage," and the person stopped talking.

At Dad's table, I was the slowest to offer my toast. I held my wine glass, walked up to him, and squatted down. He was shorter than me in his wheelchair, and our eyes were barely level.

"Dad, I salute you."

His hands were trembling, but he still picked up the glass. It contained water; he couldn't drink alcohol. Our glasses clinked together, making a crisp sound.

"Dad, don't worry."

He looked at me and nodded. He didn't say anything. He finished the water in his glass, his hand still trembling as he held the empty glass. "Xiao Mu, Dad saw this today."

He spoke those words slowly, each word seeming to require immense effort. I squatted there, looking into his eyes. His eyes were yellow, but there was a light within them—not the kind of light that shines only after a period of waning, but the kind of light that says, "I've finally waited for this." I had never seen such a look in his eyes before. From childhood to adulthood, his eyes had always been tired, restrained, as if he had swallowed everything. This was the first time I had seen satisfaction in his eyes.

"Dad, it's good that you saw it."

"Okay." He placed the empty cup on the table, rested his hand on the armrest of his wheelchair, and said, "Go and greet the others."

I stood up and turned around. Tears streamed down my face. I wiped them away with the back of my hand and continued offering toasts.

In the afternoon, the relatives left. Xiao Hui went back to her room for a nap; she takes a nap every day without fail. Mom was tidying up, moving dishes, chopsticks, tables, and chairs one by one. I pushed Dad around the village in his wheelchair.

The weather in May is neither too hot nor too cold. The poplar trees lining both sides of the road have turned green, their leaves rustling softly. The sun is shining brightly, warming you on your skin. The wheat in the fields is filling out, and when the wind blows, it looks like green waves.

"Dad, look, the wheat is almost ripe."

"Hmm." He squinted, looking into the distance. "Xiao Mu, your grandfather farmed this land, your father farmed it. But you won't farm it here anymore."

"Dad, I don't know how to farm."

"You don't need to know," he said softly. "You have your own way of living."

I didn't reply. I pushed the wheelchair and continued walking forward.

"Xiao Mu, Xiao Hui is a good child. Don't dislike her. She may be a little slow-witted, but she has a kind heart."

"I know, Dad."

"Live a peaceful life. Don't argue. She won't argue, so don't bully her."

"Won't."

"Keep an eye on your mother's situation too. Her health isn't good either."

"Um."

He was silent for a moment. The wind blew in from the front, carrying the scent of wheat and earth.

"Xiao Mu, Dad is happy today."

I pushed the wheelchair, slowing my pace. I looked down at the top of his head. His hair was white and thin, revealing his scalp. I wanted to say something, but something seemed stuck in my throat, and I couldn't speak.

"Dad, I'm happy too."

I pushed the wheelchair slowly along the dirt road in the village. The setting sun cast long shadows of us across the wheat field, like an adult leading a child.

That evening, Dad ate half a bowl of porridge, more than usual. Mom said he hadn't eaten this much in a long time, and Dad said, "I'm happy today." That night, I was lying in bed when I heard his voice coming from the next room. I thought he wasn't feeling well, so I went over and opened the door.

He was still awake, leaning against the headboard, looking out the window. His mother was beside him, already asleep.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He turned to look at me. "Xiao Mu, come here."

I walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Dad wants to talk to you about something." His voice was soft but steady, not like that of a patient, but like that strong man who used to work on construction sites.

"Go back to the provincial capital tomorrow and work hard. Don't worry about Dad. I've seen you get married, and I have no regrets in this life. From now on, live your life as you please."

"dad……"

"Let me finish." He paused. "You have to remember, you're not alone anymore. You have a wife, and you'll have children in the future. You have to hold on. You're a man."

I nodded.

"Okay, go to sleep."

I stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back. He was already lying down, the blanket pulled up to his chin, his eyes closed. I didn't know if he was really asleep, but I didn't push the door open again.

I closed the door and stood in the hallway. The clock on the wall was ticking. I stood there for a while, then went back to my room. Xiao Hui was already asleep, lying on her side with her legs curled up like a cat.

I lay down next to her. She turned over, put her hand on my arm, and didn't wake up. I didn't move, just lay there, listening to the insects chirping outside the window. A soft, gentle chirping.

I think I'll remember May 18th. Not just because of the wedding, but also because of what my dad said, "Dad saw it."

This is enough.