“Huaiyuan… go help me request leave from the school first, then come back and take me to the hospital,”

Qiao Jiuru instructed her husband, who had just brought her breakfast to the bedside.

She no longer refused to go to the hospital as she had just done.

“Alright. I’ll take a leave too.”

Seeing that her complexion had improved slightly from earlier, Su Huaiyuan readily agreed.

But before leaving, he handed her a freshly made bowl of brown sugar egg water and watched as she drank it.

Only then did he leave to ask the school leaders for leave.

As soon as he stepped out, Qiao Jiuru quickly grabbed the millet porridge, steamed bun, and boiled egg from the cabinet and devoured them in a few bites. Then, bracing her unwell body, she staggered toward the desk in the room.

She expertly reached into a hidden layer of the drawer and pulled out a savings passbook. Opening it, she confirmed that it still contained the 5,000-plus yuan she remembered.

Over five thousand yuan — not a fortune, but definitely a considerable sum for that era, when many families couldn’t save up nearly as much.

Next, Qiao Jiuru retrieved an ox-hide envelope from the drawer containing various ration tickets, loose change, and household expenses.

Inside the drawer were also two very valuable fountain pens for that time — one Parker and one Montblanc — Su Huaiyuan’s prized possessions and, aside from the passbook and a watch, the most valuable visible items in the household.

Without hesitation, Qiao Jiuru took the two pens and the passbook and tucked them into the inner pocket of her clothing. Her eyes then fell on the calendar on the desk.

Today was March 18, 1972 — not March 17.

Her family was scheduled to be sent down on March 25, 1972.

That left only seven days.

“March 25, 1972…” she murmured as she stared at the calendar, lost in thought. It was a date etched in her memory — one she could never forget.

“Ah-Ru, where are you?! I’ve got the leave approved for both of us. Let’s go to the hospital now!”

Soon, Su Huaiyuan rushed back, panting.

Not finding his wife at first, he had panicked, only to find her still in their room.

“Alright.”

This time, not only did Qiao Jiuru not refuse — she actively picked up her bag and changed shoes.

After locking up, the two of them rode their bicycle out of the faculty housing compound and headed to the hospital.

“Professor Su, Professor Qiao, where are you two headed?!”

“Qiao-jie, are you going to the hospital? Are Dabao and Xiaobao doing better?!”

“They’re still not well?!”

“Old Qiao, you don’t look good yourself. Are you sick too?!”

“Oh no, really?! Old Su seemed anxious when he came back earlier. What happened?!”

“Hmm? Why does Teacher Qiao look so pale?!”

…

They hadn’t gone far before they were stopped by concerned neighbors from the faculty compound, who were sitting around chatting.

At the Peking University housing compound, there were hardly any secrets — everyone knew the Su family’s twin grandsons had fallen ill and were hospitalized, and the family had been running between the school, home, and hospital.

“Thank you all for your concern. I wasn’t feeling well this morning, and Old Su rushed home after class because he was worried. He insisted on taking me to the hospital.”

Uncharacteristically, Qiao Jiuru — usually quiet and private — explained proactively and even exaggerated her illness a little.

“Old Qiao, Old Su did the right thing. Don’t force yourself if you’re sick. Go get it checked out.”

“Exactly — better safe than sorry. Don’t let a minor illness become serious.”

“Yeah, if you need help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, everyone.”

Su Huaiyuan didn’t stop pedaling, while Qiao Jiuru responded warmly, waving as they left the compound and campus behind.

The hospital wasn’t far — less than ten minutes by bike from the university, and only about fifteen minutes on foot.

They locked their bicycle and went straight in.

“Huaiyuan, let’s go find Brother Zhang and have him take a look at me.”

Just as Su Huaiyuan was about to register at the front desk, Qiao Jiuru stopped him and said this quietly in his ear.

“Alright. We can also ask him how the kids are doing.”

He never questioned his wife’s suggestions — he simply did as she asked.

“Brother Zhang” referred to Zhang Hong, the hospital director.

His office was on the third floor, and the couple were very familiar with him.

“Huaiyuan, Jiuru, what brings you here? I just checked on the little ones — they’re doing much better. A couple more days for observation and they can go home. Don’t worry too much.”

Seeing them together in his office, Zhang Hong assumed they were concerned about their grandchildren and reassured them with a smile.

“Thank you, Brother Zhang. We’re relieved to hear that. Actually, I’m the one not feeling well. Old Su insisted I come in for a check.”

“Yes, yes — she looked pale after breakfast and didn’t respond for a while. I was worried.”

Qiao Jiuru knew from her past life that the boys would recover in a few days, so she went straight to the point.

Su Huaiyuan added his part — their son had already come home during breakfast and updated them on the children’s situation before heading to work.

Zhang Hong immediately turned serious and checked her pulse — first the left wrist, then the right. He looked at her eyes and tongue, then finally relaxed.

“It’s nothing serious — just exhaustion and a slight cold due to the cold weather. I’ll prescribe you some medicine. Make sure to stay warm and rest, and you’ll be fine.”

He picked up his pen and wrote the prescription, while offering comforting words.

Actually, Qiao Jiuru already knew this. In her past life, she had felt unwell on this very day but hadn’t gone to the hospital. After two days of rest at home and drinking brown sugar ginger tea, she recovered.

But…

“Brother Zhang, could you prescribe a bit more medicine — cold medicine, fever reducers, cough syrup, pain relievers, anti-inflammatories, stomach meds, and some cotton swabs and iodine?”

She glanced toward the door, confirmed no one was around, then lowered her voice to make this request.

This — getting medicine — was the main reason she had agreed to come to the hospital today.

Only someone like Director Zhang could legally and quietly provide what she needed in these times.

“Jiuru, no need to act like a startled bird. Are you still shaken up by the kids being sick? As long as you come to the hospital in time, nothing serious will happen.”

Zhang Hong thought she was overreacting from the earlier stress and smiled to comfort her.

“Exactly, Ah-Ru — listen to Brother Zhang. When you’re unwell, just come to the hospital. Don’t try to treat it yourself at home.”

Su Huaiyuan also chimed in, not understanding why she needed so many types of medicine.

Getting proper treatment from professionals was basic common sense — of course Qiao Jiuru knew that.

But after being sent down, they would have no access to hospitals and barely any medicine. Her current discomfort reminded her to act now while she still could.

“Brother Zhang, to be honest, I really am scared. Also, I just don’t feel secure without some medicine at home. We may not be doctors, but if one day we don’t have time to get to the hospital, having basic medicine at home could help control symptoms in time and buy us precious minutes. Isn’t that the point of medicine — to be ready for emergencies?”

She knew Zhang Hong couldn’t give out large quantities of medicine, even as director.

But she was determined.

Fortunately, her words made sense to him.

“Alright, I’ll give you one bottle of each — cold meds, stomach meds, painkillers. At our age, it’s expected to have these at home. No one will question it.”

As he spoke, he continued writing the prescription, but he skipped the diarrhea meds, iodine, and cotton swabs — those were too obviously unrelated to her current condition and might raise suspicion.

He handed over the prescription.

Qiao Jiuru glanced at it — most of what she wanted was there.

She finally felt a bit more at ease.

But…