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Father Zhang had figured his little princess would dabble in labor work, but never expected her to stick with it for so long. Seeing his precious baby so exhausted every day made his heart ache.
Zhang Chenjun sank onto the sofa, chugging a bottle of water to soothe her burning throat. “Dad, this is my last shot at an iron rice bowl. Please, trust me,” she pleaded, her voice patient yet determined.
When Father Zhang still hesitated, Zhang Chenjun pressed on. “I was reborn too late and missed last year’s civil service exam. I can’t miss this one,” she said, a hint of regret in her voice, her expression resolute.
“We—” Father Zhang understood, but still wanted to reassure her—their family wasn’t lacking, and there was no need to push so hard.
Zhang Chenjun cut him off, “Our supplies are limited, and there’s no guarantee we can keep them. As for Mr. Qiu and the guards…” She paused, her expression thoughtful. Then, shaking her head, she said, “They can help for a few years, but then what happens after that?”
Zhang Chenjun sighed. “We’ll have to rely on ourselves eventually. If I work harder now, things might be smoother down the road.”
“Then I’ll sign up too. We can go together,” Father Zhang said, resignation heavy in his voice as he wiped his face.
Zhang Chenjun laughed, her eyes alight with mischief and determination. “Better not. I’m still young. Dad, you should stay home and protect Mom.”
“Hmph, think I’m too old?” Father Zhang grumbled, a hint of amusement tempering his tone.
“Just looking out for you!” Zhang Chenjun’s laughter filled the air. “Be a good boy and listen!”
Father Zhang huffed, amused despite himself. He raised his hand in mock threat, then let it fall gently upon Zhang Chenjun’s head.
“You’ve worked so hard, carrying this family…” His voice was a hushed whisper.
He said no more and swiftly turned, retreating to the bedroom. Zhang Chenjun watched his retreating figure, her own eyes misting over.
“In this life, we’ll all be well,” she murmured.
Unaware of his daughter’s inner turmoil, Father Zhang walked on, lost in thought. He felt useless, unable to shield his daughter from her burdens.
Father Zhang sat down with slumped shoulders and prayed with unwavering faith, “God, please, have mercy on my Nini! She’s a good daughter. Let her path be smoother from now on.”
He took a deep breath, his voice firm with resolve. “God, I’d willingly sacrifice my own life, if only it could grant my daughter happiness in this life!”
Bi Qiao’an and the others had enjoyed a hearty lunch. But on the walk back, the midday sun blazed down, the air thick and stifling. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but now her high heels gnawed at her feet, each step a fresh wave of pain.
She had wanted to make the most of wearing heels while she could, but hadn’t bargained for this long trek. It was becoming unbearable. Bi Qiao’an winced, imagining the backs of her feet raw and bleeding by the time they returned to the office.
The others chatted cheerfully, but Bi Qiao’an felt the sun’s glare pounding against her, dark spots appearing in her vision. Along the way, rank odors rose up with the shimmering heat, making her stomach churn and her head spin.
By the time they returned to the office, everyone was sweaty, their clothes clinging to them and their faces flushed. Yu Shui grabbed the remote, cranking the air conditioner down to 18°C. The cool blast was a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat outside.
Usually, 26°C was standard, but after the sweltering afternoon, nobody complained. Relief was evident on everyone’s faces.
Unfortunately, Bi Qiao’an’s desk was directly under the air vent. The icy air made her shiver, her teeth chattering as goosebumps rose on her skin.
Something felt wrong. She quickly moved to a spot away from the air conditioner, her movements sluggish while her mind felt fuzzy.
No one usually came to the office at midday. After a filling lunch, a wave of drowsiness washed over everyone. They returned to their desks, heads drooping, ready for a quick nap. Only the steady hum of the air conditioner broke the silence.
Despite the quiet, Bi Qiao’an’s head throbbed, a loud buzzing that made it hard to concentrate. Her vision blurred, nausea churning in her stomach. She wanted to vomit, but nothing came up, the sensation only adding to her misery.
Tears welled up. Why was she the only one like this after the meal? Was she truly that fragile? The thought was pathetic.
Not wanting to draw attention, Bi Qiao’an buried her face deeper into her arm. Surely, she would feel better after a rest.
Half an hour later, her coworkers woke up refreshed, pulling out their phones to scroll through social media or watch videos.
Bi Qiao’an remained slumped over her desk, seemingly oblivious to the others around her.
Li Yueya, sensing something was wrong, approached and gently patted Bi Qiao’an. “Qiao’an, are you alright? Are you not feeling well?” Concern colored her voice.
Startled awake, Bi Qiao’an blinked in confusion, her eyes unfocused, her voice weak and slurred. “I’m fine, just… sleepy.”
Li Yueya’s eyes widened. “But you look so pale!” She reached out, her hand cool against Bi Qiao’an’s burning forehead. “You’re feverish! Let’s get you to the hospital.”
The commotion drew the attention of the others, who gathered around, questioning and concerned.
Wei Qin swiftly poured Bi Qiao’an a cup of hot water. “What’s wrong? Heatstroke, or an upset stomach?” She searched Bi Qiao’an’s face for answers, worry etched in her own features.
Bi Qiao’an thanked her, then replied weakly, “A bit of both, I think. I overdid it at lunch—too much spicy food, then ice cream… maybe upset my stomach. And the walk back was so hot and humid, I might have a touch of heatstroke too.” She grimaced, regret laced her words.
“Why don’t you take the afternoon off? There’s not much to do here anyway. I’ll ask Director Hong for your leave,” Wei Qin offered, already turning to go.
Bi Qiao’an tugged Wei Qin’s sleeve, pleading, “Auntie Wei, I’m alright, really. Just a bit off. A quick rest and I’ll be fine.”
Seeing Bi Qiao’an’s determination, Wei Qin hesitated. Worry still creased her brow, but she respected the younger woman’s wishes. “Alright, lie down then. If it gets worse, you call for us, okay?”
Bi Qiao’an nodded, a grateful smile on her pale face, warmth shining in her eyes. “Thank you, Auntie Wei, and thank you everyone.” Their concern touched her.
She rested her head on the desk, feeling hazy and weak. Each time the sickness flared, she would sip the hot water for relief—but it offered little help. Sip after sip, she finished the cup, yet her stomach still churned and her head pounded relentlessly.
A sudden, urgent surge of nausea sent her scrambling to the restroom. She vomited violently, her body trembling, eyes stinging with tears.
How she longed for the medicine in her space, so tantalizingly close yet impossible to risk. The thought deepened her misery, fueling the relentless pounding in her head. After rinsing her mouth and splashing cold water on her face, Bi Qiao’an returned to the office.
As soon as she got back, Bi Qiao’an sensed a strange atmosphere. Everyone was looking at her oddly. “Why the stares?” she asked, her voice weak and slurred. “Is there something on my face? I just checked in the restroom!”
One colleague replied with a strained laugh, eyes nervously shifting, “No, no, nothing at all. We… we just mistook you for a client since you came in all of a sudden.”
I think the fever had muddled her. The moment she started feeling unwell, she could have used her bag as a cover to slip a fever medicine to take while the rest were asleep, no?
I can understand why her coworkers didn’t offer her medicine, or why the office wasn’t stocked for emergencies. Medicine falls under the limited supply quota, so I guess it makes sense for people not to have extra on hand or to be selfish with sharing or loaning a tablet if they did have one.
As you journey through the pages of this apocalyptic tale, I hope it has captivated your imagination and stirred your emotions. If this story has resonated with you, I humbly request your support.
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Stay curious, and may the flames of hope guide you through the darkness ahead. 🔥
Katra1212[Translator]
Hi I'm Katra! Translator by day, lemon aficionado by night. Secretly suspects a past life as a citrus fruit. Squeezing the joy out of language, one word at a time.🍋